Page 47 of Never Tear Us Apart
Beckoning to his associates, Elias half-stumbles, half-runs away, no doubt back to the underground tombs where he is a king of sorts.
Taking a breath, I compose myself as Nicco takes a seat at the table.
‘Please accept my sincere apologies,’ he says, picking up the envelope which he opens.
Waiting, I watch him take out the documents and examine them closely.
‘These are good,’ he says. ‘You will pass muster.’
He refolds them and hands me the envelope. Cautiously, I take it.
‘You need not be afraid of me, Maia,’ Nicco assures me. ‘I will not betray you for being on the island without the proper papers. Were you not provided with any before you arrived?’
It seems that Nicco might suspect I am a spy after all – an agent who has landed on one of the island’s remote rocky shores in the dead of night, come to spread disinformation and propaganda just like the foolish young man they hanged. And if he believes that and hasn’t turned me in, then he must think of me as an ally.
The count isn’t working for the good of the people of Malta. He’s working for the triumph of Italy.
‘Thank you.’ I lower my eyes, saying nothing. If I am still and quiet, it’s more likely he will talk. ‘I lost my papers at sea. A difficult crossing.’
‘I’m sure,’ he says, ‘though I’m surprised that the professor has taken you in.’
‘We are cousins,’ I say as if that is a sufficient explanation alone. ‘Sal wants to protect me.’
The more I can re-enforce the assumptions he has made about me without telling him anything, the better. Let him do the talking.
‘You wonder why a man of means such as I is running a black-market operation, profiteering from others’ misfortune? It’s a fair question.’
Silently, I raise my eyes to meet his; they are as dark as a moonless night and as impenetrable.
‘I am a man of layers, Maia,’ he begins to explain. ‘A count from an old family, but really, what does aristocracy matter in this modern world? It’s a relic of another age, and I am a man who believes in radical progress. Freedom and opportunity for all kind.’
It’s clear that this is a speech he has made a few times before. It’s well-rehearsed and polished. I’m sure the people he usually performs for are in awe of him. Heisimpressive.
‘In addition, I am a grocer of sorts. Finding ways to obtain what is very scarce for those who can afford it leaves more for those who cannot, does it not?’
An argument I’ve heard a thousand times before.
‘But the man I really am, at the heart of everything, is a patriot determined to help my country win the war.’
The question is: which country?
‘You had no papers – no need to tell me why. No need to explain why you didn’t seek replacements through the more formal channels,’ he says. ‘We all have secrets that we would like to keep, do we not? I will keep yours, and you will keep mine – agreed?’
I nod. ‘Yes.’
‘Then we are friends who understand one another, Maia,’ Nicco says. He signals the waitress. ‘And perhaps we will find a way to help one another when the time is right. Now, we will enjoy a nice cold beer on such a glorious day.’
‘Nicco.’ I pause, uncertain if what I am about to say is the right thing. I need something to tempt him with, something harmless but risky that means he will trust me with all of his secrets – some information that will show him I am who he wants me to be. I remember what Mabel said. ‘A huge convoy, protected by the US Navy, is already on its way,’ I say. ‘It won’t be long now.’
‘Do you know when it will reach the harbour?’
I shake my head.
‘Well, I wish them godspeed – they will need it.’
That Nicco is at the top of the profiteering and black-market operations run by Elias is not in doubt, but that doesn’t necessarily make him a spy or a traitor. If anything, it’s quite possible that the senior members of the British army know what he’s up to and even discreetly avail themselves of his services. The count is cautious and careful. He sees me in exactly the same way I see him, as an asset ripe to be exploited at the optimum moment.
And so we play on, sipping cold beer in the late-afternoon sun, each of us biding our time.
