Chapter 76
AFTER THE MASS WAS OVER and the sky had turned an inky black, the procession reversed itself, and we stood by as Mary Magdalene, the portatori, the clergy, and a man carrying a portable PA system filed past us.
“Where are they going?” I asked Francesca, and she nodded in the direction of the harbor.
“Cala Gavetta,” she said. “Come on.”
We followed Mary Magdalene and her entourage to the waterfront, and as we walked, we listened to the prayers chanted by the clergy over the loudspeakers.
They were doing some sort of call-and-response that involved everyone in the crowd saying Mary Magdalene’s name again and again.
Santa Maria Maddalena, Santa Maria Maddalena, Santa Maria Maddalena.
Teo and I joined in, but when I looked around for Francesca and Bernardo, I realized we’d lost them.
Cala Gavetta was packed, so we had no hope of finding them there, but I was so distracted it didn’t make a difference.
All the sailboats and even some of the fishing boats had been decorated with twinkling lights, and the orbs of color dotting the water reminded me of bioluminescent jellyfish.
I regretted not bringing my camera, even though I knew that any photos I took were unlikely to turn out in such low light.
We watched as Mary Magdalene was carried onto the largest sailboat and set down on the deck, facing the open sea. The chanting grew louder, and when the boat bearing Mary Magdalene set sail, everyone went nuts—shouting and clapping and talking excitedly among themselves.
“They’re going to follow it,” said Teo, nodding at the other boats. Sure enough, the rest of the boats fell into formation, and together they made for the channel.
The flotilla was easy to see, even in the dark, because of all the twinkling lights, but nothing shone brighter than Mary Magdalene, whose fluorescent frame glowed like a bright white orb.
The experience of watching it disappear into the night wasn’t religious, exactly, but it did feel oddly spiritual.
When she was gone, Teo and I turned to face each other, unsure how to proceed. For the last half hour or so, we’d had something to focus on. Now it was just us.
“Do you want to get a drink?” he asked, but when I hesitated, he course-corrected: “Or a gelato?”
“A gelato would be good,” I said, and we wandered in the direction of Piazza Comando, where there was a popular gelateria that always had a long line on summer nights.
“I read your article. About the Mirfield,” I told him as we walked.
“You did?”
“With a dictionary. And a little assistance from Francesca.”
He smiled.
“Okay, a lot of assistance from her.”
“What did you think of it?”
“It was good. I’m just sorry you had to write it.”
“You don’t owe me an apology,” he said diplomatically.
We passed the spot where, weeks ago, protesters had called for the U.S. Navy to pack it up and go home.
“Things have been quiet lately,” I said.
Teo agreed. Anyone on the Mirfield who was awaiting trial had been transported to Naples, and the sub had finally received enough replacement crew members to head back out to sea.
“But I guess when things are quiet, you have less reason to be here.”
He laughed at this. “Don’t go making trouble just so you can see me.”
“I’m done with trouble,” I said, and if he took it two ways, that was fine.
“Actually,” he said, “CNEN is sending a team to La Maddalena in a few weeks, and I’m going to go out with them on their boat. So I’ll be back soon.”
I was happy to hear it, but I didn’t let on. Instead, I asked him to remind me who CNEN was.
“Italy’s Atomic Energy Commission.”
“That’s right,” I said. “What are they doing here?”
“They come out every six months to test the water. Ever since the U.S.S. Fulton showed up back in ’72.”
“Is that enough? If there was ever an actual problem?”
“Everyone’s pushing for more,” he said. “And CNEN says they can do more. Conduct a preliminary survey of the area and start doing more regular testing. But it all costs money, and no one can figure out who should pay for it.”
“Shouldn’t we pay for it,” I asked, “since they’re our subs?”
He laughed. “That’s a very logical argument, Mrs. Archer. But so far, Washington’s refused. They say the navy conducts its own environmental testing internally.”
He was, of course, referencing the work Paul did with RADCON.
“Francesca says the navy won’t share its results.”
“It’s a big problem.”
I thought about this for a minute, then asked, “Is it possible they know there’s something in the water?”
He bumped his shoulder, gently, against mine. “That’s a good question to ask your husband.”
I was about to say something when I saw Laura and Bobby walking toward us. They were maybe a dozen yards away, but the sidewalk was crowded, and I didn’t think they’d seen us. With zero warning, I took Teo’s hand and dragged him into a tabacchi shop.
“What are we—” he started to ask, but I cut him off, said something about how I wanted to buy a pack of cigarettes.
He was a smart guy and figured out what was going on right away. “Are we hiding from someone in particular?” he whispered in my ear.
“No,” I said quickly, because if I’d admitted to that, it would have meant admitting there was something to hide.