The Miracle of the Images. Welby Thomas Cox, Jr.

tube from DHL. It would soon be nine in the morning and if Aldo did not call soon, Handmaker would be off to court which would take the rest of the morning and at that time, Rome would be out of the business communication loop.

      Aldo ate up and made his apologies to Father Tim. He promised to touch base with him later in the afternoon, collect the corrected passport and have dinner together or take in a play. Aldo scurried across the hotel lobby to the desk of the hotel Concierge.

      "Por favor." Aldo said, "Do you have the scheduled delivery of DHL from the United States."

      "Yes sir...they have been here today...and your name sir?"

      "Grazie...my name is Aldo Selleri and I am in room 325."

      "Yes Senor Selleri...we do not have a delivery for you...but it may come again this afternoon, and I will make a special effort to find you."

      "You are too kind." Aldo said giving the Concierge a generous gratuity.

      Next Aldo headed for the newsstand and checked for any state side newspaper with a focus on the mid-west. He located the Cincinnati Inquirer...dear God in heaven... what a blessing Aldo thought...of all places, this paper...here in Rome... but after all, Cincinnati was a major Catholic city.

      Aldo nearly sprinted through the lobby and to the elevator. He got off at the 3rd floor and hurried as well to his room... after opening the door Aldo made his way to the bath room to read the paper. The headline buried in the first section was ominous...

      CENTERVILLE, OHIO... DHL TRUCK BOMBED... DRIVER KILLED.'

      `A plastic explosive device was ignited inside a cargo bay of a DHL route truck today killing the driver, thirty-two year old Gerald Toomes and causing mayhem in this quiet suburb of Dayton, Ohio. Police are investigating the cause and have not ruled out the possibility of a terroristic attack.'

      Aldo continued to read through the paper...there in the Neighborhood Section another bazaar story.

      NEWPORT, KENTUCKY... 'The body of an unknown white male was discovered by city sanitation workers in a small riverside park this morning. The death appeared to be a gangland type murder. The deceased had been strangled, stabbed in the jugular vein, in the eye and the tips of his fingers had been severed. Police are investigating the cause of the crime and trying to identify the dead man who appeared to be mid-forties.'

      ********************

      Wermuth found Freddy Fingers small white Chevete parked near the riverside park. He pushed the seat on the driver's side back as far as possible to enable him to push his huge frame into the car. Not an easy task...but Wermuth was nonplused about the circumstance...making the best of it he started the car and headed through Newport toward Covington, no more than three miles he turned left and made his way to an old neighborhood overlooking the Ohio River and the beautiful skyline of Cincinnati. As he passed the Cathedral, Wermuth crossed himself, kissed his thumb and wondered at the beauty of the lighted bell tower. Wermuth found the address easily enough and a parking spot nearby. He gingerly removed his massive frame from behind the wheel and replaced the seat to its original position. He carefully checked the interior, glove compartment and trunk and then locked the door and discarded his rubber gloves in a city trash container at the curb beside a small neighborhood grocery. Looks like a tasty little shop Wermuth thought knowing full well that they probably served great baloney on German rye with lettuce, pickle, onion, tomato and mayo for about a buck and a quarter. He wondered how they could do so and remain in business, his stomach moaned and he knew that he would soon be able to have an early breakfast or late dinner...maybe both.

      Cautiously, Wermuth put on surgical gloves and unlocked the front door...there was the sound of a radio down the hall...rather loud he thought...how rude...but it was best for his purpose. Apartment two on the second floor in the front of the old Victorian house appeared to be empty...he wasn't sure this was the home of Freddy McNair (aka Freddy Fingers) but the key worked. Inside Wermuth quickly turned on a small light in the kitchen, checked the refrigerator and found a Coors Light, which he opened and drank without stopping. He washed off the can and placed the can in his pocket.

      Wermuth cased the entire small apartment, found nothing...lit a cigarette, took several draws and placed it in an ashtray beneath a table lamp. An old, well used newspaper sat nearby, Wermuth placed the newspaper close enough to the cigarette that it would soon ignite. He went back to the kitchen, checked the small stove and put out the pilot light. He could smell the natural gas as he opened the door to the refrigerator once more and removed another can of Coors. The paper had ignited as Wermuth closed the door behind him and moved silently down the stairs and out the front door. He walked briskly down the darkened street toward the city skyline, it was quite in the neighborhood, Wermuth heard the sound of an occasional dog barking to come in the house, and then there was the squeak of his size sixteen shoes which Wermuth did not hear, probably because they were so far from his ears. Three blocks down in front of the Cathedral, Wermuth lit a cigarette and looked back toward the apartment...he could see a slight glow starting through the leaded window...soon he thought, Covington would have a lit skyline of its own.

      ********************

      Aldo sat at the desk in his hotel room. He had a piece of stationary with The Hotel Hassler letterhead. Dear Homer...I have today seen the stories in the Cincinnati Inquirer of the incident involving the DHL truck at Centerville. Should this give me cause to be alarmed in as much as the delivery from your associates in Rome has not yet arrived.

      Please advise if the mailing tube with my portrait was on this truck.

      Aldo went to the front desk. He gave the letter to the clerk with a front sheet and asked that the document be faxed to Handmaker as soon as possible. He gave the clerk a gratuity and eased away from the desk to go back to his room.

      "Grazie." The clerk said.

      "Prego." Replied Aldo.

      Instead of going to his room Aldo decided to walk down Via Bruxelles, Aldo was casually dressed in tan Dockers with a blue Polo dress shirt, loafers and Aviator glasses to shield his eyes from the noontime sun. His closely trimmed gray beard looked nearly white and more as though he had not shaven for a couple of days. His hair was cropped short as well and it too was turning white. He had a deep tan from working in the fields but many women glanced and smiled at him as though he was some middle aged actor...or artist which he was. They all acted as though Aldo was someone they should know or wanted to know. If they only knew how vulnerable he was at this moment...perhaps easy was the word.

      Not far from the hotel and the Tiber River a recent wall, perhaps nineteenth century surrounded the grounds to the old Parco di Villa Grazioli, now a subdivision of apartment buildings and large private residences. At number 56, Aldo stopped in front of a tall green gate. Aldo noticed that a dark blue Cadillac limousine with a golden seal of the United States awaited the gates opening. It opened and the Cadillac pulled through to reveal a four-story, beige brick and-marble structure that was the Embassy for the People's Republic of China.

      The window to the rear driver side was down and Aldo could see an immaculately dressed man in a gray suit with silver hair. Aldo had only just seen his photograph in the morning paper... it was the Ambassadore to Italy, S. Thomas Folsume. As the Cadillac pulled through the gated entrance, Aldo noted that a women had gotten out on the other side. The car passed her as she slammed the door. She was definitely too old to be the Ambassadore's daughter and dressed inappropriately to be his wife. She was wearing a New York Yankee's blue baseball cap on top of long auburn hair. She had a flight jacket and was wearing jeans and sneakers.

      Pretty obvious, the dress code for an action reporter. Probably a European correspondent for one of the world news agencies Aldo reasoned. They all looked alike...and wanted to appear that they were always in some danger mode...perhaps as close as they would come to Indiana Jones.

      She appeared to be going his way, so Aldo strolled along behind her at some distance. He was certain he had lost her when he turned off a side street to a corner trattoria. Aldo sat down outside and ordered an espresso. The waiter returned quickly and sat the small cup of black silt before Aldo.

      "Grazie" he said

      "Prego"