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Canidy turned back to Nola and thought about what had just been said.
“Anytime after today?” he repeated.
Antonio stood up. Giacomo did the same.
“Why not today?” Canidy said.
“Buh-lets,” Antonio said by way of explanation, then rattled off something to Nola in Sicilian.
Nola translated: “They’ve got to go to work. They’ve been told to put the crates of bullets from the warehouse aboard a ship that has docked here from Messina.”
“And if I can go into the warehouse tomorrow,” Canidy said after a moment, “then that means they’ll be done with that by tonight.”
Nola nodded.
[FOUR]
Palermo, Sicily 1301 5 April 1943
The two warehouses that Francisco Nola ran his import-export business out of were six blocks up Christoforo Colombo from the office building. When they got to the warehouse that the Germans were not using, Nola went upstairs to its small box of an office that overlooked the floor, brought a pair of binoculars down to Canidy, then went back inside the office.
The warehouses had skylights and each was reasonably well lit by sunlight.
Canidy stood with the binocs to his eyes. He was just inside the great double doors. Fuller was behind him, also out of sight of anyone on the docks, watching the activity at the other warehouse over Canidy’s shoulder.
Under the gaze of the armed guard, Giacomo and Antonio Buda supervised the work of maybe ten longshoremen. The workers hand-carried or wheeled on low manual lifts the crates and other containers. Their steady line went from inside the great double doors out to a staging area on the dock beside the ship. There the cranes on the ship’s deck lifted the matériel up and into the cargo holds.
Canidy looked intently through the glasses at some pallets. They were topped with the Germans’ version of jerry cans, these particular ones painted a sand color.
I could’ve made them with my naked eyes.
They’re damn near identical in looks—and, I’d bet, function—to our jerry cans.
Probably meant for North Africa and never got there in time.
The metal sides were stamped with lettering and Canidy focused in on that:
* * *
WEHRMACHTKANISTEREN. KRAFTSTOFF 20L FEUERGEFÄHRLICH
* * *
Leave it to those tight-ass Krauts to label the obvious.
I sure as hell hope they’re flammable.
Beside the pallets were wooden boxes the size of footlockers. These were labeled: 8MM MAUSER.
Well, those are the rifle rounds.
And then he saw larger wooden crates. These were huge. Two or more of the Mauser boxes of ammo would fit in a single one.
Canidy adjusted the eyepieces of the binocs to get a clearer view. Then he read the stenciled marking: SONDERKART.6LE.F.H.18 T83 10.5CM.
Sonofabitch!
Those certainly are some buh-lets.
