Death's Door (29 page)

“But—”

“Two days. Excuses are irrelevant. I will leave you both alone now, for twenty minutes. Do not attempt anything foolish. My men are in the corridor and on the street.”

With that, he left the room. Diana and I were alone, two pawns in a game of giants. The only thing a pawn can do is to move ahead, slowly, hoping to reach that final rank where it can be anything it wants.

I figured I was halfway there. Maybe even a little further, I thought, as I looked into Diana’s eyes, inhaled her scent, felt the coolness of her skin, and fell into her embrace.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

A
NOTHER TRIP THROUGH
narrow Roman streets, only this time I was alone in the backseat of Remke’s staff car. The little swastika banners on the fender snapped as the BMW sped down the Via Nazionale, the driver leaning on the horn as he encountered traffic and slow-footed pedestrians. Soon it would be Chryslers barreling through these streets, but for now a black BMW with blood-red pennants still had the right of way.

“Here,” Remke pointed out from the front seat as we passed the Piazza Navona. “It is only a short walk from the Vatican. The Fountain of the Four Rivers is at the center. We are on the Corso Vittorio Emanuele, named for the Italian king.”

“I met him,” I said. “Wasn’t impressed.”

“I agree. A small man, in many respects. Too often, nations do not have the leaders they deserve. Instead, they are burdened with the weak, the stubborn, or the blind.”

“That’s the good thing about living in a democracy. We can get rid of them every few years.”

“Perhaps. But your President Roosevelt seems to be under the spell of Stalin, and I doubt he will be thrown out of office for that offense, even though it should be a crime. Churchill, now there is a man who knows how to govern as well as fight.”

“You’re hoping he will talk Roosevelt into accepting a negotiated peace?”

“He must. Otherwise Europe will be a wasteland.”

I bit my tongue. The Germans had gotten a good start on the wasteland business all by themselves, but there was no percentage in antagonizing Remke when he was about to let me go. I needed him to free Diana, as well as Rino and Abe. Ending the war, that was a chance in a thousand; but getting those three on neutral territory, I figured the odds were more like four to one in my favor, so I kept my trap shut.

Remke beat a rhythm with his fingers on the door, his arm out the open window. His head swiveled to the left, then the right, taking in everything happening around him. He was obviously a professional, a soldier and spy who knew what he was doing. But something had clouded his judgment. Something had him in its grip, causing him to miss the big picture. No matter how logical the plotters’ plans were, even if they got Hitler this time, the die was cast. Soviet tanks and armies of men were moving west, surging toward Germany. Not like the painful crawl of our few divisions up the boot of Italy. Not even like the invasion of France, whenever that would be. No, there were hundreds of divisions, all out for blood and revenge. And a single emotion blinded Remke to that inescapable fact. Hope.

This plan gave him hope, not only for his nation, but for himself and his family as well. He didn’t strike me as a man who believed all the Nazi propaganda about the pure Nordic race. Instead he seemed an honorable man for an enemy. I had to admire him, but all I believed in right now was getting Diana out, and freeing Abe and Rino. I knew I didn’t want their deaths on my conscience. Well, maybe that was blind hope too. I’d have to watch out for that.

We had to wait to cross the Tiber. A column of half-tracks and trucks about a mile long snaked its way along the road ahead, blocking the intersection. I lay back, closed my eyes, and savored the memory of twenty minutes alone with Diana.

We’d sat on the couch, wordlessly holding each other, grasping at the minutes as they slipped by. I hadn’t known what to say, what sentence I could possibly form that would make sense in this upside-down
world of elegant prisons, disguises, and German rescuers. Our desire to touch, to caress lips, cheeks, and hands, to feel the physical sensation of being together was overpowering, our bodies having survived so much danger, abuse, and separation. We kissed, but ultimately our passion was trumped by relief, fear, sadness, and the ticking clock, and we simply held onto each other like drowning swimmers. When it came time to depart, we gripped each other so tightly that I must have left a bruise on Diana’s arm as I struggled to draw her in, to bring her close, to remember the feel of her, the smell of her hair, the contours of her shoulders, arms, waist, and hips. Everything was sharp and clear, my mind on high alert to drink in every detail, even as Remke took me by the arm and closed the door, leaving Diana standing alone, tears glistening on her face.

We hadn’t spoken a single word.

The driver floored it as soon as the column had passed, wakening me from my daydream, back into the nightmare of Remke’s fantasy. The bronze statues of Winged Victory on pillars flanking the bridge would have laughed at our pathetic plotting if they hadn’t seen so many thwarted plans and dashed hopes before. Mussolini must have tipped his hat to them once or twice, and look where that got him. We skirted the massive Castel Sant’Angelo, where popes used to hide out back when the Huns came calling. Not our modern motorized Huns, but their ancestors on horseback. The castle was useless now, pretty to look at, but nothing that would stand up to a few well-placed howitzer rounds.

We zipped up the Via della Conciliazione, the wide stretch of road Mussolini put in to connect the city with Saint Peter’s Square. It was supposed to be about conciliation between Rome and the Vatican, but it seemed to me tailor-made for armored vehicles.

We pulled up close to the white border line, a stone’s throw from the great granite obelisk at the center of the piazza. I got out, taking note of a thin figure in a black cassock walking nervously back and forth a few yards from the line. It was Kaz, but he hadn’t spotted me yet, probably not taking into account that I’d hitch a ride with a German colonel.

“Remember, Lieutenant Boyle,” Remke said, stepping out onto the curb. “Two days, no more.”

“And you remember, Colonel Remke, I want Severino Rossi. I hope we can both walk away winners.”

“As do I. I will find Rossi, if he is alive to be found,” Remke said, then pointed to the piazza. “Is that not your friend Lieutenant Kazimierz, dressed as a cleric as well? Baron Piotr Augustus Kazimierz?”

“Yes,” I said, figuring Remke knew for certain anyway. “Your people wiped out his family, so he probably wouldn’t be offended if I didn’t introduce you.”

“You Americans can be quite hypocritical, but I do not believe you have the self-awareness to realize it,” Remke said, his lips pressed into a thin, angry line. He moved to get into the car but halted, his face red with fury. “Does it come from the superiority you imagine you possess, secure on your continent, surrounded by oceans instead of rivals, competitors, and enemies in every direction? You Americans and your English allies, who have shown nothing but disdain for all our efforts to dispose of a madman, you do not hesitate to lump me and other honorable men in with Gestapo and SS thugs. With the Nazis. ‘Your people,’ you say. Was it not
your people
who wiped out the Indians and enslaved the Africans? Is that not how you built your sanctuary from the wars and cruelties of old Europe?”

Remke turned away and the car sped off, leaving anger and suspicion in the air. I tried to think of what I would’ve said if he’d given me half a chance, but I had nothing, so I stepped across the white line in case he changed his mind and came back.

“Billy!” Kaz ran to me, a look of confusion on his face. “What happened? What were you doing with that Nazi? Where are Rino and Abe? Did you see Diana?”

“It’s a long story,” I said, deciding not to correct Kaz on Remke’s party membership. “Let’s find O’Flaherty and I’ll explain everything.”

“Is it good news or bad?” Kaz asked as we walked to the German College.

“Diana is alive and well, that’s the good news. As for the rest, we’ve been had.”

“Tell me now,” he insisted.

“They knew our every move. They meaning the Abwehr. Diana and I spent the afternoon having lunch with a German colonel at the Excelsior. He wants us to help him end the war, but he’s keeping Diana, Abe, and Rino hostage in case I don’t go along with it.”

“If you don’t want to tell me, Billy, just say so.”

“Holy Mother of God,” O’Flaherty said minutes later. “Slow down and start over. I don’t think I’ve ever heard such an incredible story.” We were in O’Flaherty’s room, seated around the table where I’d laid out the documents Remke had given me.

“There is no Rudder,” I said. “The Abwehr nabbed the OSS team a while ago, and have been recruiting agents under that name and radioing in phony reports, probably salted with enough real information to make them credible. Brackett thinks he’s reporting to an Allied agent, but he’s been feeding dope to the Jerries. Corrigan too, I’m sure.”

“It would be a kindness not to tell Brackett,” O’Flaherty said. “It probably gave some meaning to his life here. But this means Rudder, or rather Colonel Remke, knew all about your arrival.”

“Yes. When he came across my name, he started putting the plan together. He’d found Diana in prison, where she was being held under her alias as Sister Justina. He may have known about Rino and his connection with you, Monsignor. He’s aware of your work, and that warning about the Gestapo was certainly in good faith. In any case, he was waiting for us.”

“This document is unbelievable,” Kaz said, reading through the Auschwitz Protocol. “It details the inner workings of an extermination camp. We’ve had word of atrocities, terrible mass murders, but this is—inconceivable.”

“I think he may have given us that to help change attitudes among the high command,” I said. “Perhaps Remke thinks Roosevelt and Churchill will deal with the anti-Nazi conspirators if it will help
put a stop to these mass murders. It’s the other document we have to deal with first.”

“I should be able to see Monsignor Montini easily enough,” O’Flaherty said. “Giovanni and I have worked well together before. He’s channeled money and resources to many refugee organizations. But a written acknowledgment.” He paused to consider that requirement. “That will be more difficult.”

“Why?” I asked. “It’s only a receipt.”

“Yes, but a receipt that could be used against the Holy See. Plotting with traitors to the Third Reich, working as a conduit to the British secret service. It would be enough to send a regiment of SS troops into the Vatican. Oh no, me boy. This is a dangerous piece of paper. Very dangerous.”

“If I don’t deliver in two days, he takes Diana with him to Germany. And Rino and Abe rot in the Regina Coeli.”

“Do you trust the man?” O’Flaherty said. “To do what he says, whichever way it goes?”

“I do,” I said. Remke didn’t impress me as a liar. Too spit and polish for that, even if he worked for the Abwehr. “But he’s walking a tightrope. This plan, the plot against Hitler, it means everything to him. If we don’t get what he wants from Montini, he’ll take Diana.”

“You’ve got his number, I think,” O’Flaherty said. “There’s no going back for a man like Remke, if you’re right about him.”

“Then we must find a way,” Kaz said. “We must get that letter.”

“There’s one other thing,” I said. “I asked him to find Severino Rossi, if he’s still alive.”

“Admirable, Billy,” O’Flaherty said, a tinge of exasperation in his voice. “Here we are discussing the deaths of millions, the killing of a dictator, and a possible end to the war, and you’re still itching to find the murderer of a single man.”

“Two men,” I reminded him. “Two men the war wouldn’t have gotten, at least not yet.”

“Fair enough,” O’Flaherty said. “A soul is a soul. What do you think Severino Rossi will tell you?”

“Something I may already know,” I said. It had to do with hope. Rossi and Remke were from different worlds, but I was beginning to see a similarity. Both had come to Rome out of hope. Hope for themselves, for the world that they used to inhabit, now upside-down with violence and death. Rossi had come to Rome for something specific, I was sure of it. He’d made it out of France and to Genoa. Why not stay there? What drove him to journey to Rome, without identity papers, and hide in Saint Peter’s?

“He wanted to see Corrigan?” Kaz guessed.

“No,” I said, and then something else clicked. Another favor I should have asked Remke. Now I’d have to wait until noon tomorrow. “Kaz, we need to see Zlatko now. Monsignor, I’d like to leave these documents with you, for safekeeping. We’ll check with you soon about Montini.”

“I’ll take them, boy, but it’s a heavy burden we must share. I thought it was hard enough to care for dozens, then hundreds of poor souls. But this, how many thousands of lives stand in the balance?” He stared out the window, as if trying to keep his eyes from the papers on the table. There was no need to answer.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

“Y
OU ARE CERTAIN
Diana is in good health?” Kaz said for the tenth time.

“Kaz, she’s at the Excelsior. Even in a locked and guarded room, how bad can it be? Remke had her on ice at the Regina Coeli, but she was well-treated. All we have to worry about is getting that letter from Montini.”

“Is that why we are looking for Bishop Zlatko?”

“No. I figure we have a little time before things heat up over Remke’s documents. So I want to try something with Zlatko.”

We were headed through the Vatican Gardens, and as we passed the gardener’s house, I saw Rosana peering out from a window. I felt a twinge of guilt as I put my head down and hustled up the hill to the radio station. Maybe I should tell her Abe was on a mission. Maybe I should apologize for getting him captured. Or mind my own business, but it was kind of late for that, so I focused on Zlatko. He was due for a radio broadcast in Croatian, and we had to hustle to catch him.

“Bishop,” I said, waving as he drew near on a path leading to the tower. He carried a briefcase and appeared to be in a hurry. Or maybe he’d spotted us already.