The Lost Catacomb (27 page)
“
Done,
sir.
”
Tom got up, saluted, and headed for the door.
Outside, the moon winked through the
clouds and disappeared.
A perfect
night for a covert flight to France, he mused. Let
’
s hope that tomorrow will be the same.
’
s
office at the convent of the Order of the Holy Sisters on the Via Padrone.
She was somewhat apprehensive as she
waited for Father Donato.
He had
told Elena that he wished to explain her situation calmly and concisely to
Mother Teresa, and that he had certain other delicate issues to discuss that
Elena need not be privy to, for her own protection.
She wondered briefly if Father Donato was somehow involved
in Resistance work, but quickly dismissed the thought, taking this opportunity,
seated on the edge of a well-worn wooden chair, to reflect on her
position.
She had no idea for how
long she would be allowed to remain in the convent or what the other nuns would
be told about the circumstances of her possibly prolonged stay.
She was equally uncertain about how she
would be able to leave Rome eventually and where she could possibly go.
She knew that she had some cousins, on her mother
’
s
side of the family, somewhere in the Friuli region up north, in Udine and
Trieste.
But they were
distant relatives whose names and precise connections to her mother she could
remember only vaguely.
She had no
idea how to contact them, no addresses, no telephone numbers, no notion of what
their political sympathies might be, and above all, no idea as to how they might
react to the burden of taking in an extra household member.
It would be impossible to arrange for
food ration coupons without giving away her identity and city of origin, though
she knew that she probably had enough money to buy basic necessities on the
black market, if such a thing existed in the Friuli, as it did in Rome.
And, of course, at the back of her mind there was the
constant fear that she might be pregnant.
She could not even begin to imagine how the Mother Superior would react
—
if
she were capable of understanding how something of this sort could happen to a
girl from a good Catholic family, as she was sure Father Donato was describing
her to be.
And how could she hope
to find sympathy from relatives she
’
d
never met, if it came to that, even if contact could be made and she could
become a paid boarder in their home?
Worst of all, she felt disloyal to her dead lover.
Shouldn
’
t
she, in fact, be praying that something of him would have remained with
her?
That something of him would
survive the madness of this war?
Shouldn
’
t she really be
hoping
that she was pregnant?
It would be at least a week or two until she could know for
certain if she were really carrying Niccol
ò’
s child.
She
’
d been
late once or twice in the past, when exams and the habitual anxiety of striving
for academic excellence had taken its toll.
Meantime, she would have to conceal this
extra burden of fear as best as she could.
The door now opened, and Mother Teresa beckoned Elena into
the room.
“
Father
Donato has explained everything, my child,
”
she said.
“
You may
stay for as long as you need to.
For your own sake
—
to
ensure your safety and to protect us from prying eyes
—
we'll try to find some plausible cover story
to explain your presence here in the convent.
“
Father
Donato has suggested that we tell the other nuns that you're a novice. That
you've found your true vocation in the Church, despite your family
’
s objections.
I'll explain that you need time to
think, away from the pressures of the outside world.
They'll respect your desire for privacy,
for contemplation.
“
I'll
arrange for a comfortable room and suitable clothing.
You'll be given a novice
’
s habit, which will aid
in hiding your identity and help you blend in.
Your duties will be explained to you by
one of the other Sisters.
We'll try
to assimilate you as fully as possible into the life of our convent.
“
And
should you desire
—
or
need
—
to
leave the protection of our walls . . . well, we'll assist you in any manner at
our disposal.
”
She glanced at the old priest, who nodded cautiously at the
frightened girl and explained,
“
We
have our ways and means, Elena.
You
needn
’
t concern
yourself with what they involve at the moment.
You will be safe here for now.
Perhaps even until the end of the war,
if you choose.
”
“
Now
come, my dear,
”
the
Mother Superior said gently, ringing for her assistant.
“
I
will introduce you to Sister Lucia and the others.
”
“
Heil
Hitler
!
”
“
Heil
Hitler
!
You may be seated,
Hauptsturmf
ü
hrer
.
”
Jurgen Kessler stood at attention, his arm shooting out in
the traditional Nazi salute, his polished jackboots clicking together in
perfect synchrony.
He had just
entered the richly appointed offices of Hermann Goebbels at the
Wehrmacht,
or
War Office.
The furniture was
massive, as good Aryan taste dictated, a reflection of the solidity of the
Reich and its thousand-year old values.
A gleaming, black leather sofa with button upholstery on its seat and
back rested against one wall, and the draperies were a dull red, picking up the
colors of the vaguely oriental carpet underfoot.
“‘
Heil
Hitler
!
’
I said.
At ease.
Please, sit down,
Hauptsturmf
ü
hrer
Kessler,
”
Goebbels repeated
crisply.
Kessler sat down on the chair indicated, near an imposing
desk, and glanced quickly around the room as the German Minister of Propaganda
shuffled through some papers.
The
walls were decorated with Nazi artwork typical of the period.
Large, clumsy oils of Aryan-looking
types loomed nearly larger than life.
The figures held up farming implements or posed with healthy-looking
children
—
husky,
solid, blond-haired and blue-eyed
—
the
glowing future of the Reich
’
s
untainted gene pool personified.
Most of these works had been made available to Goebbels by
the
Reichskammer der
bildenen Kunste
, the Reich Chamber for the
Visual Arts, in cooperation with the Chamber of Culture, the
Reichskulturkammer
.
These two agencies, of course, had even
more valuable pieces of art in their possession, works that would never grace
the walls of
Wehrmacht
or
Abwehr
offices, and that could not, by
any stretch of the imagination, be categorized as pure Aryan art.
These were designated for the private
collections of the
F
ü
hrer
and his closest associates, made available to them through plunder, the
occasional purchase, and gifts from those who wished to curry favor with the
powerful and mighty.
All were
legitimate resources, from the German perspective, in times of war.
Kessler had been summoned half an hour ago to the
Wehrmacht
’
s central office in
Berlin, hurried out of his favorite nightclub,
The Blue
Angel
,
without a clue as to the apparently pressing reason for the inconvenience.
Now, it seemed, he was about to be
informed.
“
Please,
make yourself comfortable,
Hauptsturmf
ü
hrer
.
I am sure you are terribly curious about this unusual request to present
yourself here at this time of night.
Naturally we are sorry to drag you away from your evening
’
s entertainment, but
the business of the Reich must always take precedence over personal pleasure,
as you no doubt understand.
”
“
Of
course.
”
Kessler sat up straight and nodded his head expectantly.
He was a 29-year-old bachelor, tall,
with fair hair, grayish-blue eyes, and a build that had already made him a
greatly favored participant in the Nazis
’
Lebensborn
project.
Lebensborn
was the Reich
’
s ultimate plan to ensure the continuation of the
Aryan race and its greatest physical and intellectual qualities.
The best looking Nazi officers were
literally brought to stud with female volunteers of the proper physical
type.
The young women were proud to
have been selected to mate with these virile young men, who eagerly attempted
to impregnate them, all in the name of the Fatherland.
As a matter of fact, Kessler hoped that he was now about to
be dispatched to one of the many mansions maintained for just this purpose both
in the city and on the outskirts of Berlin, where sexual congress took place
around the clock to guarantee the preservation of the Reich and its Aryan
superiority.
He listened impassively, with no small measure of
disappointment, however well masked, as he learned that he was about to be sent
to Italy to help in the implementation of its Racial Laws and the planned
deportation of degenerate racial groups.
All of this would take place within the next several weeks.
“
We
intend for you to serve as liaison between Field Marshal Kesselring
’
s office in Rome and
Italian administrative offices,
”
Goebbels informed Kessler as he handed him a sealed envelope with
orders.
“
Kesselring and Weizs
ä
cker have most things under control, but we cannot
allow for any complications, particularly any potential interference by the
Catholic Church.
You will see what
I mean when you get there.
“
I
think you should know that we have managed to break some of the codes used by
the Pope and his associates in their correspondence and radio
transmissions.
And of course
their diplomatic pouch deliveries from Berlin and other nunciatures have been,
shall we say, compromised as thoroughly as possible.
“
Unfortunately,
however, the Vatican has recently come up with a new, more sophisticated
system, the KIF, which we have not yet been able to break, so your role in
gathering information will be critical.
”
“
I
understand,
”
Kessler
replied soberly.
“
We
are well aware that the Catholic Church may be pressured into placing some
obstacles in the path of our resolution of the Jewish problem in Italy,
”
Goebbels observed with
distaste,
“
though
so far they have made no attempt to interfere in our activities within the
Reich itself.
We believe that
that is because it is also in their own interests.
After all, the Church has never been
particularly fond of Jews.
“
But
because the Jews of Rome live practically within the shadow of the Apostolic
Palace, we must make every effort to ensure that no misplaced sentiments of
responsibility for their welfare will be allowed to influence the Vatican
’
s behavior.
”
Kessler nodded sagely, indicating his appreciation for the
unusual delicacy of the situation.
“
There
are some other important facts that you must bear in mind, as well, direct
regarding this assignment,
”
Goebbels continued.
“
We consider the Church
to be a threat to the success of our plans precisely because it transcends
borders and regards itself as a supreme temporal, as well as religious,
authority.
“
Our
attempts to recruit informants to provide intelligence on Vatican activities
have had only limited success.
You
will need to come up with an appropriate strategy for dealing with the more
recalcitrant figures in the Vatican
—
to
convince them of the priority of our needs over what they may perceive as their
own special interests.
Fahrstehen
sie
?
”
“
Of
course.
”
“
Let
me make myself perfectly clear,
Hauptsturmf
ü
hrer
.
Your job will not only be to obtain and assess information, but to
persuade these individuals to cooperate.
I believe that you now understand why I myself, in my capacity as
Minister of Propaganda, have gone to the trouble of briefing you
personally.
And let me add that
although we have been laying the foundations for this assignment for many
months, we felt it best to wait until now to apprise you of the role you will
play.
“
We
have been observing your very satisfactory performance for a long time and feel
sure that you will come up with some means of handling the situation, no matter
what it takes.
And here I will not
mince my words.
You will not only
need to make yourself conversant with all of the workings of the Department for
Jewish Affairs at our headquarters in Rome, but will need to make yourself
available to entertain various important individuals in the Vatican, both
formally and informally.
“
A
certain budget will be allocated to you for this part of the job.
And if necessary, you will find out
precisely what the, let us call them,
‘
recreational
’
needs of these
important individuals are and arrange for them.
We operate our own little circle of very
attractive young women in Rome, both German and Italian, who can provide every
service imaginable and cater to every taste, with all of the necessary
discretion that this entails.
“
Of
course, there may be some whose preferences run to handsome young men.
I would not wish to trouble you
personally in that direction, despite your classic Aryan good looks
—
and of course,
knowing how enthusiastically you have embraced your
Lebensborn
duties,
you could find that somewhat distasteful.
But I am sure you will be able to oblige in figuring out a way to
satisfy everyone.
”
At this last remark, Kessler raised an eyebrow, but carefully
refrained from comment.
Noting this with satisfaction, Goebbels went on.
“
You
are to leave tomorrow morning at 5 AM by military transport.
A driver will be waiting outside your
apartment at precisely 4:30 AM to take you to the aircraft that will fly you to
Rome.
Be sure to take enough
clothing and extra uniforms.
You
will be stationed there indefinitely.
“
We
have, of course, made suitable arrangements for your accommodations and
transportation needs within Rome.
But please do not hesitate to let us know if anything else is required.
Rooms have been secured for you in the
Villa Mauritana, close to Kesselring
’
s
headquarters.
You will have a
driver at your disposal and secure communications lines from the Villa.
You may go home now and pack.
”
Thus dismissed, with a wave of the Minister
’
s hand, Kessler stood up,
clicked his heels together, saluted once more, and left the building.
He decided to walk the short distance to
his apartment.
The night air was
refreshingly cool, and he wanted to enjoy one last time the peacefulness of a
Berlin evening stroll before this involuntary exile from the Fatherland.
He decided to regard it as an important
career opportunity.
And, he
promised himself, he would ignore the possibly personal implications about the
kind of entertainment he might be expected to provide for some of the
well-connected, but more unconventional, clergymen at the Holy See, devotion to
the Reich notwithstanding.
On his way back to the apartment, Kessler took a brief detour
to look in once more at
The Blue Angel
.
Just before the two SS officers had dragged
him away from his brandy, he'd had his eye on a curvaceous blonde whom he
’
d never seen there
before.
It had been several days
since he
’
d been to
that particular cocktail lounge, mainly the result of some important meetings
in restaurants favored by the Gestapo colleagues who had invited him to
dine.
Perhaps the intriguing
fr
ä
ulein
would still
be there at a corner table, aloof and beautiful.
