Death's Door (40 page)

“Mind if I join you?” I asked.

“Please,” Montini said. “I am so glad you all came back to us safely. The letter worked, I take it?”

“I can’t say. We were interrupted by Banda Koch. I don’t know if they were after me or Colonel Remke, but after we fought them off, Remke took the letter and let everyone go.” An honest enough answer.

“My sources in the city say you saved the colonel,” Cipriano said. “Were you armed?”

“If your real question is am I armed, the answer is no. We have no weapons here.”

“That is good,” Montini said. “I am sure you have heard that feelings against the Allies are running high since Monte Cassino. The Allied High Command has compounded this tragedy by threatening to bomb Castel Gandolfo. The abbey was not Vatican territory, so while we mourn the loss of life and such a grand monastery, it is not considered an attack on the Holy See directly. But to bomb the Pope’s residence, where thousands have taken refuge, that would strike against all notions of neutrality and safe haven.”

“I understand, Monsignor. As soon as I return, I will make every effort to pass that message on.”

“That is good to know. Your return may need to be sooner than you like. Cardinals are pressuring the Secretariat for some action in response to the bombing. Your expulsion may satisfy them. I am sorry if this interferes with your investigation.”

“Not at all,” I said. “We were successful in getting Severino Rossi released.”

“Where is he?” Cipriano demanded.

“He can’t be moved,” I said. “And you can’t turn him over to the
Rome police again. They beat him to within an inch of his life. He’s here, in the German College. I give you my word he won’t be going anywhere.”

“Has he told you anything?” Cipriano asked.

“A little, just a few hours ago. He said he didn’t do it, and that he saw a figure approach Corrigan. He couldn’t speak further. Sister Cecilia says he needs a good night’s rest, and tomorrow he should be well enough to tell us more.”

“I should see him immediately,” Cipriano said. “He is a murder suspect, after all.”

“Please, let him rest. Until tomorrow morning, at least.”

“I think we can honor your request,” Montini said. “After all, this poor soul was already turned over to the Fascists once. We do not need to persecute him further. We will come together tomorrow and decide what is to be done.”

“Very well, Monsignor,” Cipriano said. He drained his wine and then looked to me. “Where?”

“Upstairs,” I said. “The room directly above Monsignor O’Flaherty’s. It was empty, so we set him up in there. Please, keep this confidential.”

They both nodded agreement, Cipriano nervously drumming his fingers on the table. I could tell he didn’t like it, and I couldn’t blame him. No cop likes being overruled by a civilian.

“Gentlemen, thank you so much for coming tonight,” Diana said, gliding up to the table. Montini and Cipriano both rose, the inspector giving a little bow and kissing her hand, all very suave and continental.

“I am happy you are returned to us, my dear,” Montini said. “Even if we have lost a sister.” We all laughed dutifully.

“I wanted to ask about the documents,” Diana said. “Have they been passed on?”

“They should be in Switzerland by now,” Montini said, keeping his voice low. “Our ambassador there has been instructed to turn them over to the Allies. I hope something good may come of all this.”

“Will His Holiness speak out?” Diana asked. “This is so important, so many lives are at risk.”

“The situation is quite difficult,” Montini said. “As you know, Pius does not want to grant the Germans any pretext for invading Vatican City. He feels this may give them the excuse they hope for. Then all the people in our care, here and in the other properties, will be forfeit.”

“But he’s the Pope,” I said. “Shouldn’t he say something?”

“To what end, that is the question,” Montini said. “Words cannot stop transports to the east. Every time we have protested, the Nazis have increased their brutality. We have had reports from our own priests in the concentration camps asking us to not speak out, since the reprisals visited upon them are so harsh. Believe me, if words could free these poor souls, I would beg the Pontiff to speak them.” He paused to sip from his wineglass, and shook his head as if losing an argument with himself. “But I think words fail us. Only actions seem to have any effect. Actions such as giving sanctuary.”

“I’m glad I’m not in your shoes, Monsignor.”

“Nothing is easy in this wicked world,” he said.

I left them to brood as Diana went to fetch a fresh bottle of wine. I picked up some food and stood by Bruzzone and O’Flaherty, who were in a corner speaking in hushed tones.

“Billy, I’m afraid I spilled the beans to Monsignor Bruzzone,” O’Flaherty said. “I told him about poor Severino, in the room across from mine.”

“Just keep it quiet, okay?” I asked Bruzzone. “We don’t want word getting around.”

“Of course, you have my word. Has he told you anything yet?”

“A little, but we wanted him to build up his strength. By morning we should know everything.”

“Good, good,” Bruzzone said. “You know that might be all the time you have. The College of Cardinals is meeting tomorrow. You could be expelled before nightfall. I was telling Hugh he may want to prepare a safe house in Rome for you.”

“Thanks for the warning,” I said, wondering just how safe any house in occupied Rome might be.

“Let me know if I can help,” he said to O’Flaherty, and then returned to the table for more food.

“Billy, I don’t like deceiving a friend,” O’Flaherty whispered.

“It has to be done this way. Think of it as excluding a friend as a suspect.”

“Still, it’s a lie.”

“Cops lie all the time. It’s often the best way to get at the truth.”

“Now there’s one for the philosophers,” he said.

I cornered John May and confirmed that Sir D’Arcy had received a copy of the Auschwitz Protocol and Remke’s letter. May knew about the documents going to Switzerland. May knew most everything that went on, but not the Severino Rossi story. His version had Rossi in O’Flaherty’s room. I asked him to pass on the news that we might have the investigation wrapped up by tomorrow, and that we needed passage out of here. He had his own communications network in place, and I didn’t want to know details, except for when Kaz, Diana, and I could get out.

And maybe Nini, I thought, as I watched her and Kaz together. As I did, the door opened, and Bishop Zlatko strode into the room. Everyone stopped talking and stared.

“Now you all see that I was right when I said these spies should be cast out,” he said. “The Allies have desecrated Monte Cassino, and will destroy the Vatican itself!”

“Bishop Zlatko, this is not the place for accusations,” Monsignor Montini said, rising from his seat.

“You are right. Tomorrow will be the time. I only hope Monsignor O’Flaherty will also be dealt with. He is obviously an Allied agent consorting with these provocateurs.”

“Bishop, I know we don’t agree, but come break bread with us,” O’Flaherty said, clearly doing his best to keep his temper at bay.

“Bishop, please, for the peace of this house,” Montini said, gesturing toward the table.

“Yes, of course,” he said, visibly calming himself. “Forgive my
rudeness. The news of Monte Cassino has been quite upsetting.” He came to the table and I poured him a glass of wine.

“So, what happened to our deal?” I asked.

“I did act to stop proceedings against you, as I said I would.”

“But you didn’t get me the list of informers I asked for. Instead, you headed straight for Koch’s headquarters.”

“Of course, that is where I was going to get the information. What better place? I was simply surprised when I saw you there, in that German uniform.”

“So then I guess you know we have Severino Rossi?”

“What of it?”

“He’s about healed up enough to tell us who killed Monsignor Corrigan.”

“You would believe a Jew? He’d say anything to save his own skin,” Zlatko said, his lips twisted in disgust.

“That describes a lot of people. What about the informer?”

“Oh, I know exactly who it is. But I have no reason to tell you now. You have no standing here and there is nothing you can do against me. You will be tossed out into Rome proper soon enough. Thank you for the wine, it was mediocre.” He barked out a harsh laugh, turned on his heel, and left, not even slightly curious as to where Rossi was.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

“N
OW WE WAIT
,”
I said. I’d gone outside with the last of the guests, to make sure everyone had left the building. John May was the last to go, and I watched him walk through the cemetery in the courtyard of the German College.

“Do you think it will work?” O’Flaherty asked.

“It already has,” Nini said. She stood at the table where she’d been cleaning up. “The cheese knife is missing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. It had a white bone handle and a long, thin blade. Sharp enough to slice through that pecorino.”

“Okay, we need to move. Rino, take Nini and Diana back to Nini’s place. Abe, take Rosana home, okay?”

“Good luck, Billy,” Diana said, giving me a kiss. I squeezed her hand and then she was gone, no protest, no argument about staying to help. It wasn’t like her. Whatever the reason, I was glad to have her out of harm’s way.

“Kaz and I will be in your room, Monsignor,” I said as the three of us took the stairs up. “With the door cracked open we’ll have a view of the hallway. I doubt Montini is our man, but he and Cipriano think Rossi is in the room above yours. In case it’s either of them, I want you upstairs in the room opposite that one.”

“I cannot believe either the monsignor or the inspector is guilty.”

“That’s because you see the best in people, Monsignor.
Occupational hazard for a cop is to see the worst.” We stopped on his floor. “We’ve got three possibilities. John May was given your room, and Brackett and Bruzzone were told it’s the room across.”

“Too bad Zlatko did not take the bait,” Kaz said.

“He still could have heard a rumor. Or maybe he’s certain of getting his information from someone else. We have to watch for him as well.”

“Are you sure the best place for me is upstairs?” O’Flaherty asked.

“Yes,” I said. “We could miss a light tread on the staircase. Sound the alarm if you hear anything, and we’ll come running.”

“All right, me boy,” he said, opening the door to his room. “Let’s catch a killer before the night is over. I took a lot of abuse moving people out for the night. I hope it was worth it. Arm yourselves.” He took a golf club from a bag by the door and hefted it. “I haven’t played since the Germans took over. It will feel good to swing a nine iron.”

Kaz and I settled in after O’Flaherty went upstairs. I figured we had time, as the killer would wait for at least an hour to be sure everyone was asleep. It wasn’t quite ten o’clock, but for the Vatican that was the middle of the night. I decided to make one quick circuit of the building. I grabbed a three iron and left Kaz staring through the slim crack of the open door.

Downstairs I checked the kitchen, making sure no one was hiding there. I went out the back door and circled the grounds, watching for anyone approaching. Nothing moved but the frost on my breath. I came in through the cemetery, where the tall stone markers and the evergreens cast shadows in the faint moonlight. Part of the cemetery wall was being repaired, and I stepped carefully around a pile of bricks and scaffolding. A series of arches ran along one wall, creating a covered walkway that led from the cemetery. The main door was off this walkway, and I checked to be sure it had been left unlocked. On the side of the courtyard, an exterior staircase went up to the second floor. That door was locked fast. Good. Only one way in. I retraced my steps, checking the courtyard as I did. There were no lights showing, no sign of activity anywhere. A balcony ran along the second floor, where doors led to the rooms opposite
O’Flaherty’s, but there was no access from the outside. The staircase was a separate structure, and with that door locked, passage was blocked.

I thought I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I entered the cemetery garden, watching the breeze rustle the pines. Maybe that was all I saw. I waited, letting the night settle in around me. No sounds other than the wind came to me, so I left the cemetery behind. That was time enough with the dead.

Back in the room, Kaz shrugged, indicating nothing out of the ordinary. We waited some more. The bells tolled eleven. We took turns watching through the crack in the door. Anybody coming up the staircase from the main entrance would be in our line of sight, whether or not they were headed to our floor or the floor above. I hadn’t wanted to insult the monsignor, but I preferred him out of the way. First, he was too important to all the POWs and refugees hidden in Rome, and second, he seemed too kindhearted for the work that might need to be done tonight.

More time passed, and the bells chimed midnight. I began to have doubts. Corrigan, Soletto, and Rossi might not have the justice they deserved. Maybe I’d overthought things. Maybe I was dead wrong.

I heard a noise. So did Kaz from his post at the door. He moved it open, wincing as it squeaked. No one was in the hall. Another sound, this time from the room across the hall. We both tiptoed, golf clubs in hand, and I had a fleeting thought of how ridiculous we must look. I put my hand on the door handle, and slowly opened it.

Another noise, but the room was empty. The bed, where we had made up pillows and blankets to look like a sleeping man, was pulled apart, feathers from the pillow strewn about.

The door to the balcony was open, and I sprinted outside in time to see a form drop from the balcony onto the staircase. Bruzzone, Zlatko, or Brackett, I couldn’t tell.

“Kaz, go out the main door,” I whispered.

I went out on the balcony and saw in an instant. He’d come up from the staircase, using a drainpipe for leverage, and pulled himself
up over the balcony. I leapt onto the stairs, losing my balance, tumbling down, the golf club slipping away. There was a sharp pain in my knee, and I rolled over, trying to get up, but my knee buckled.