The Rules in Rome (22 page)

Gracie had blown her cover
as Concetta Gallo. When Ostheim woke, he would know what she’d done. If Ley succeeded, maybe she could stay in Rome with a new name and a new address, but meeting him would get complicated. They might be able to set up a dead drop for his reports, but Ostheim’s suspicion could easily extend to Dietrich—perhaps it was time for both of them to leave.

Gracie paced around Ley’s hotel suite, looking at the clock every fifteen seconds. He’d told her to run if he wasn’t back by 1900 hours, and it was 1902. Ley had given her two absolute commandments that night: she wasn’t to go anywhere alone with Ostheim, and she was to leave Rome as quickly as she could if he wasn’t back on time.
I’ve already broken one. Should I break the other as well?

Obedience or patience?
If something had gone wrong, how long would it take the Gestapo to search Ley’s suite? If they had Ley, she assumed there would be no rush to search his rooms. They’d question him first, wouldn’t they?
Ten more minutes.

She let ten minutes stretch into twenty and knew it was time to leave.
Just because he couldn’t make it here doesn’t mean he’s captured. Maybe he and his friends escaped but couldn’t come back.
Despite her mental assurance, she
dreaded leaving without him. What if she never found out what happened to him?

Gracie reached for the suitcase containing her radio and some of her clothes and pulled it from under the couch, then slid it back when she heard something in the hallway.

Voices. Loud. German. Agitated. Someone thumped on the door, and she knew she’d waited too long.

“Concetta, are you in there?” It wasn’t Ley’s voice, but it seemed familiar. “I can’t find Adalard’s keys.”

She hesitated, but it wasn’t as if she could escape now—the balcony was too high to jump from, so she was trapped. She opened the door and saw Heinie and another German soldier holding a stretcher while a third man with gray hair looked on. Lying on the stretcher, eyes closed and unmoving, was Ley.

Gracie let out a cry, and her hands flew to her mouth. A wave of dizziness hit her as she saw the dark red stain along his torso. “Is he . . . is he alive?” she asked as Heinie and the other man brought him into the room.

“For now,” the third man said as he closed the door. He spoke Italian, but his accent told Gracie he was German.

“Will he be all right?” She felt like a vise was clamped around her chest as she followed the stretcher into the bedroom.

No one replied as Heinie and the other soldier moved Ley from the stretcher to the bed.

Gracie looked at Heinie. “He’ll be all right, won’t he?”
Please say he’ll be all right.

Heinie took her arm and pulled her away from the bed, making room for the gray-haired man. Gracie hadn’t noticed before, but he had a black bag with him. “What do you think, doctor?” Heinie asked.

“I think you should have let me take him to the hospital.” The doctor took supplies from his bag and cut Ley’s uniform, pulling it away from the wound.

“He told me he didn’t want to go to the hospital. There’s better security
here.” Heinie’s voice wavered as if he wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing.

“He’s lost a lot of blood. It would be easier to give him a transfusion in the hospital.” The doctor removed the makeshift bandages and examined the damage.

Gracie couldn’t help staring at the bloody hole, and what she saw made her lightheaded and queasy. She knew why Ley had said to skip the hospital—a blood transfusion with the wrong blood type might finish him off—but if he needed blood, was he going to die anyway? Ley’s wound started bleeding again, and the doctor swore as he used a long set of tweezers to dig into Ley’s injured abdomen.

Heinie glanced at her. “Why don’t you wait in the other room, Concetta?”

“I’d rather stay.”

“Then sit down before you fall down.” He pushed a chair over to her, and she took his advice, numb with terror as she took in all the blood and the white-gray shade of Ley’s face.

“What happened?” she whispered.

“Someone escaped from the Via Tasso. Shot Adalard, killed three other guards.” Heinie manipulated the lampshade on the bedside table to give the doctor better light. “I was finishing up some paperwork when I heard the shots and went to see what was going on. Passed two dead guards and then found a dead officer and Adalard in a jail cell. He was conscious
just long enough to make me promise to bring him here instead of the hospital.”

“Who was the other officer?”

“Untersturmführer Ostheim.”

Gracie wasn’t sure if she was more horrified or relieved that it was Otto Ostheim. Dead, he couldn’t retaliate for the blow she’d given him to the back of his head. But if he’d made it to the prison cell, that meant she’d failed to keep him from the Via Tasso. Ley was dying, and it was her fault.

She watched the doctor retrieve the bullet and put in about twenty stitches. Ley’s face remained unchanged, as if he was too far gone to feel anything.
Please don’t let him die
, she prayed. The doctor checked Ley’s vital signs and put a dressing over the sutures. Most of the bleeding seemed to have stopped by the time he finished.

“You’ll be here all night?” the doctor asked her.

“Yes.”

“Good. I don’t think he’ll wake up, but if he does, give him some water.”
He took a syringe from his bag. “If it seems like he’s in pain, give him this and write down when you gave it to him. I’ll be back in the morning.” The doctor packed his bag and exited with the other man, leaving Gracie with Ley and Heinie.

She stood and walked to the bed, wanting to get a better look at Ley’s face. He seemed calm, but his coloring was all wrong—pallid and gray. She realized she was crying when she felt tears falling down her cheeks. Heinie came up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m glad you found him,” she said.

“I’m glad he’ll have your help while he recovers.” Heinie squeezed her shoulder. “I can stay with him part of the night.”

Gracie was thankful that Heinie was willing to help, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to close her eyes anytime soon. “I doubt I’ll be able to fall asleep.”

“I’ll come by around 0300 and take a shift. Maybe you’ll be able to sleep
by then. If he needs anything, or if you need anything, I’ll be just across the hall.” He squeezed her shoulder again and let himself out.

Gracie tugged the boots off Ley’s feet and grabbed an extra blanket from the closet to cover him. Then she dragged the chair next to the head of the bed and sat beside him. She felt his face and forehead. He felt a little cold, but his breathing was consistent.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t distract him longer, and I’m sorry you got shot. Please get better . . . and please forgive me. I tried . . .” Gracie’s voice broke after that. She couldn’t talk anymore, so instead, she prayed.

* * *

When Heinie shook her awake the next morning, Gracie glanced at the clock.
It was 10:00 a.m. She pushed herself into a sitting position on the couch, where she’d fallen asleep when Heinie had come almost seven hours ago.

“Has he woken up yet?”

Heinie shook his head. “He seemed like he was in pain though, so I gave him that shot of morphine two hours ago.”

If Ley was reacting to pain, maybe that meant he was further from death, but she didn’t want him to suffer. She smoothed and twisted her hair, then
pinned it away from her neck. “The doctor hasn’t been by yet?” she asked as she walked into the bedroom.

“Not yet. I have to leave soon, but I thought I could help change his clothes before I go. You know Adalard. He doesn’t like to be dirty, and I think that uniform is a total loss.”

Ley’s face wasn’t as gray this morning, and his temperature felt normal, but he didn’t look as peaceful. There was more tension in his jaw. “Thank
you for sitting with him. You’re a good friend, Heinie.”

Heinie shrugged. “He’d do the same for me.”

Gracie pondered Heinie’s statement before agreeing with him. Ley was kind enough to sit with a friend, even one in an SS uniform, as long as it wouldn’t endanger his mission.

Gracie pulled the blanket back and took off Ley’s socks while Heinie removed what was left of Ley’s tunic and shirt. She stared at his lower legs. They were scarred, just like his hands. “How do you suppose he got all these scars?”

“Haven’t you asked him?” Heinie seemed surprised.

It hit her then that Heinie and everyone else would expect her to have intimate knowledge of every square inch of Captain Ley’s body. “I haven’t seen them before. He keeps his socks on most of the time. Something about living through a Russian winter—he said your toes never recover.”

Heinie grunted, but he looked confused as he pulled Ley’s bloodstained undershirt gently over his head.

Gracie went to the closet to get clean underwear, hoping Heinie would finish undressing Ley without her.
You have two choices
, she told herself.
Refuse to help and blow your cover, or get used to the idea of seeing a man completely naked, and pretend you’ve seen it all before.

She was saved from either choice when someone knocked on the door. She went to answer it, leaving Ley in his underclothing. It was the doctor. He nodded to her and went right to the bedroom.

Gracie stood next to the bed while the doctor checked the stitches. She winced as a grimace spread across Ley’s face and he grunted in pain. Then his eyes opened. He seemed disoriented, and his breathing grew rapid as
he looked from the doctor to Heinie, finally settling on her face.

“Gracie?”

She was flattered that his first thought was of her, but then she realized what he’d done. His voice had been only a whisper, but in the absolute silence of the room, Gracie didn’t doubt that both the doctor and Heinie had heard Ley call her the wrong name.

Heinie was watching her closely, the muscles surrounding his eyes crinkled in curiosity. First she’d been surprised by the scars on Ley’s legs and now he was calling her the wrong name. She ran a hand over Ley’s forehead. He’d already closed his eyes again. “It’s his ex-girlfriend’s name. I thought he didn’t love her anymore . . .” She let her lips tremble and pretended her feelings were hurt, but really, she was scared as she turned and walked to the front room.

One good thing came out of Ley’s slip. Heinie finished changing Ley so Gracie didn’t have to do it herself. “Don’t feel too bad,” Heinie said on his way out. “He may have remembered her name, but it was your face he seemed happy to see. The morphine’s probably affecting his brain. Do you think you can forgive him?”

“Of course.”

“Good, because I think he’ll need your help for a while longer.”

When Heinie left, Gracie looked into the bedroom again. The doctor felt Ley’s pulse and replaced the bandages. She thought Ley was sleeping, but from the doorway, she heard him mutter, “Gracie shouldn’t be here,” and he said it in English.

On his way out, the doctor stopped and studied her suspiciously.
Does he know?
she wondered.
Did Ley say anything else while I was out of the room?

“Let me get you something to drink.” Gracie grabbed the bottle of liquor that had sat on Ley’s wet bar for almost four weeks.

The doctor glanced at the clock but sat in the chair. He didn’t complain when the only container Gracie could find was a teacup and didn’t seem to mind that she filled it full, even though she thought that type of alcohol was usually served in a shot glass.

“How is he today?” she asked.

“Better than yesterday.” The doctor took a sip, examined the teacup’s contents with a look of appreciation, and took another swig. “Let him sleep as much as he wants, but try to wake him up this evening and get some food in him. Something easy to digest. Soup. Bread. Milk.”

Gracie nodded, glad Ley and the hotel cook were on good terms.

“You’ll want to watch for infection. I’ll come by again tomorrow, but unless that wound becomes septic, I think he’ll be fine. No need to ship him home, but I’d still rather have him in a hospital.” The doctor sipped his drink again. “Never seen anyone so insistent as that obersturmführer yesterday, demanding I treat the hauptmann here.”

When the doctor left, Gracie sat at the table with trembling hands.
Ley spoke English, and the doctor heard.
Had he understood? Should she leave before the Gestapo came and arrested them both? But she couldn’t leave Ley, not while he was barely alive.

When her hands stopped shaking, she went through Ley’s things until she found his money. She took some of it with her, thinking she might need to bribe the cook, but when she went to the kitchen, the lady working there seemed happy to help without any monetary incentive.

“How is your new flat working out?” she asked Gracie as she handed her a basket filled with rolls and a large container of broth.

“I haven’t made it there yet,” Gracie said honestly.

The woman laughed. Gracie could still hear it echoing behind her in the hallway as she hurried back to Ley.
What is so funny?