Aldo considered his options, but there were none. He couldn’t reveal to Marco that he himself was an anti-Fascist, for fear of compromising his brother. Nor could he quit the anti-Fascists, for then he’d be unable to learn the details of Operation First Strike. The more he knew, the better he could protect Marco when the time came. The anti-Fascists had no idea of his inner conflict, for none of them knew the others’ real names or identities, so they didn’t know that his brother worked at the fascio.
“Everybody, quiet down,” Uno was saying. “We remain on our countdown to Operation First Strike at Spada’s retirement party. I have made progress since we last met. I can now announce to you that I have already delivered the money to buy the guns. So we’ve accomplished our first step.”
The thought made Aldo sick to his stomach. He was a step closer to his ride to Orvieto. He had pledged to pick up the guns that could kill his own brother. He felt his face drain of blood, and he knew he must look like a ghost in the crypt. He didn’t think anyone noticed, for they generally didn’t notice him, and they were so excited about Uno’s announcement.
Only Loud Mouth shouted, “What if they cheat us?”
“We will not be cheated, I promise you that. I know our cohorts in Orvieto personally, and I vouch for them. Now, as for timing, we had to wait through September because of Mussolini’s trip to Berlin. As you know, because he took the train from Rome, the route was protected by army, OVRA, and Blackshirts. It was too dangerous to send Signor Silenzio north to Orvieto.”
The anti-Fascists responded: “Mussolini only did it for the propaganda!” “There were more pictures than people!”
Uno shook his head. “True. Mussolini’s visit was a stage show, but it increases instability. Danger grows on the world scene, with the agreement between the Germans and the Japanese against the Russians.”
“Vaffanculo!” someone yelled profanely.
Uno chuckled. “I agree, friend. However, men, I have made another decision. Even though Mussolini has returned, I believe that we should nevertheless delay in sending Signor Silenzio for our guns.”
Aldo sent up a prayer of thanks, wondering if this was the sign from God that he had been waiting for. The delay would give him more time to think of a way out of the situation, and he felt a temporary reprieve. He plastered a disappointed expression on his face, not to arouse suspicion and to match the disapproval of the men around him.
“Why wait?” Loud Mouth shouted, and others joined in: “What’s the holdup?” “We need our weapons! We need time to train and drill with them! My shooting is rusty!”
Uno pursed his lips. “Put matters in perspective, and in context. Mussolini has signed the agreement, and Italy is officially allied with Germany. Mussolini and Hitler are setting themselves up as defenders of Western values against the threat of the Soviets. We know better.”
“They’re the threat!” hollered the Tsar. “Not Bolshevism!”
Uno nodded. “Brothers, we need the situation to cool down before Signor Silenzio can travel.” Uno turned his spectacled gaze to Aldo. “Signor Silenzio, I know you’re ready to go, but I would never risk your safety unduly. Do you understand my reasoning?”
“Yes, Uno,” Aldo called to him, masking his relief. “I agree with you. It’s better to be prudent now, to ensure our success later.”
“Exactly.” Uno frowned. “By the way, you look like you’ve been losing weight. Stay strong, we’re counting on you.”
Uno turned to the others. “Now, as far as Spada’s retirement party, I have further information. The party is an official function, so no family members of the brass will be in attendance, not even Spada’s. I regard this as good news, and you will, too. We don’t want the blood of wives or children on our hands. They are off-limits.”
“Good, good!” the men chimed in. “We’re not animals, like they are!”
Aldo masked his reaction. Family members were off-limits for others, but not for him. If the attack went as planned, he would be an accomplice to his own brother’s murder. He could never allow that to happen.
Uno continued, “I have it on good authority that Spada is a widower, and his only daughter is estranged from him. From what I understand, the old codger is even more selfish than most Fascists.”
The men chuckled, and Aldo knew exactly how selfish Spada was, from his brother’s stories.
Loud Mouth snorted. “Then he deserves what’s coming to him! They all do! Every one of them will get their just deserts!”