The Vatican's Last Secret

by Francis Joseph Smith

  Wenke stood before him, looking for an opportunity to escape, the fear in his eyes betraying him. “I wouldn’t tell a soul, Colonel,” he replied meekly. “No one.”

  “I am sorry,” Heber said nonchalantly before shooting Wenke through the upper torso and then while lying on the ground, another round in his head for good measure. He required no survivors. The treasure was his alone.

  Well, his and Bormann’s…….

  CHAPTER 58

  PRESENT DAY – FLORIDA KEYS

  Eian and Jim had just returned from gathering supplies to find Dan sipping a whiskey in Perluci’s room, him staring at the dead body.

  Jim looked to Perluci’s body lying on the bed then back to Dan. “No foul play?” he said skeptically. “Don’t bullshit me!”

  “I’m telling you he had a heart attack. He up and died right where he lies. We were having a drink one minute, the next he clutched his heart and just died.”

  Jim shook his head before speaking aloud. “And he just happens to have a bible in his hands?”

  Dan nodded as he looked first to Perluci then to Jim.

  Jim then points to the nightstand. “Of course he didn’t spill any whiskey, and his glass just happens to be placed on the coaster on his nightstand?”

  “Dead bodies always give me the willies,” said Eian as he approached Perluci uneasily, blessing himself before applying his fingers to Perluci’s neck in order to check for a pulse. “Oh, there’s no doubt, he’s departed alright.”

  “Scouts honor,” said Dan in response to Jim’s stare.

  “I know the bastard set you up in Ireland,” said Jim, his tone conciliatory. “I understand he’s the one who made you leave Ireland and spy on my father or he would turn you in to MI-5 for your IRA activities, but come on, the man’s pushing ninety something!”

  “He was,” said Eian, “Was pushing ninety something. I think his birthdays are done.”

  “Jim, first of all, I didn’t harm the man. Secondly, we have all the information we need to proceed. And thirdly, its one less share to pay out.”

  “Here, here,” said Eian. “I’ll agree to that one. Hell, the man was too old to spend it anyway.”

  “I can’t believe you two,” replied Jim, not knowing whether to admonish them or laugh. “I can tell you two are from the same family.”

  “Till the end,” said Dan, satisfied everything was now in the past.

  Jim touched Eian on the shoulders. “All right, we have to get rid of the body,” Jim said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Besides the three of us, he informed me he had no immediate family. So this will be a quick and easy disposal.” Jim professionally patted down Perluci in his search for a wallet, tuning him slightly to the side before discovering it in his rear pants pocket. He extracted the worn leather wallet easy enough, opening it, he summarily rifled through the wallet for any additional clues about the man. Inside he found a small amount of paper money, both Euro’s and Dollars and laid them on the bed beside the body; followed by an Italian driver’s license, two credits cards, and a Vatican identification card. He was ready to give up when he noticed a small pocket on the side, clear tape covering it. He pulled off the tap and from within the pocket removed a white business card with two names hand written on it in blue ink; Maria Celnoleni and Licio Gelitoni. Under their names were scribbled The Vatican Bank with a phone number. “This looks promising,” said Jim, holding the card up before handing it to Dan.

  Dan instantly recognized the name of Gelitoni. “He’s the man in the know,” said Dan, holding up the card. “From what I have heard over the years, this guy knows absolutely everybody. I even heard he was chummy with Hitler and Mussolini. He even buried the damn bodies for them.”

  Eian let out a low whistle. “Just mentioning those bastards’ names aloud bring back ghosts from the past.”

  Jim nodded as he now searched Perluci’s leather travel bag. “At this stage of the game the last thing we need is any form of scrutiny. All we need is some detective wanting to make a name for him or herself. They put two and two together and our little adventure is over before it begins.”

  “And I need the cash,” replied Eian in a serious tone.

  Dan just shook his head. “You always need the cash, Eian. Money flows through your hands like water. You are in a constant state of owing some bookie or casino.”

  “Knock it off you two,” said Jim. “We have to get rid of our friend’s body before we head off to Austria in search of our first clue. The least we can do for him is a mass of a Christian burial at sea.” Jim turns to Dan. “Let’s take this boat of yours out a few miles and allow him to slip into the deep.”

  Dan nods. “I know the funeral Mass by heart,” he said alluding to his guise as a phony priest for over 20 years in order to spy on Jim’s father. “I can say a few words for the man. Lord knows we owe him that much.”

  “I’ll get the anchor,” said Jim to Dan as he went topside to start the boats engine. “Let’s get this over with.”

  CHAPTER 59

  PRESENT DAY: STROBL, AUSTRIA

  “Are you sure this is the right town?” said Jim as he wearily drove the rental car down the town’s main street after a late night flight from Miami to Munich, a rental car from there.

  “I’m positive,” replied Dan. “We take the main road here, it looks like it’s called the Schoberweg and then we look for the Wolfgangsee Strasse. That takes us outside of town for eight or nine miles. No worries, by my calculations were almost there."

  They had left Eian on Dan’s boat to provide some form of a ‘base of operations.’ Also, with Eian’s status as a pilot, there was the distinct possibility they would require his unique services towards the end of their mission. No need for Eian to waste his time with them as they accomplished the legwork.

  Nora Robinson on the other hand, had informed Jim that she was following up on several leads in Vatican City and Jerusalem before she would meet up with them in Lebanon to discuss their progress.

  Jim eyed the clock on a baroque style church, a sign outside proclaiming it to be St. Sigismund Parish Church. “We are making good time,” he noted. “It’s only 11:30.” They sat silently as Jim drove and Dan now eyed a railroad map looking for the main rail line from Vienna to Salzburg, noting the line hadn’t changed much since WWII.

  Jim had been unable to sleep on the flight from Miami and was now starting to feel the effects of being awake for 26 hours straight. He navigated down the narrow two-lane road outside of town, wanting to see something of interest to keep his mind invigorated, rewarded with nothing but mile after mile of state game lands. He felt the need to keep talking in order to stay awake. He looked over to Jim, him with his cheater glasses on trying to read the small print of the railroad map. “You know, with the exception of Perluci’s unexpected death,” he said, “it’s all coming together.”

  “Like a well-oiled machine,” said Dan, nodding as he folded the map, placing it in the glove compartment. He now pulled out his iPhone six, punching in their present coordinates. He looked to Jim: “But what’s puzzling was the wealth of documents left at Nora’s door. It’s like somebody is giving us a leg-up to where we want to go; even leading us in a sense.”

  Jim nodded in agreement. “That’s what makes me a bit apprehensive. Is someone setting us up? Or, like you said, leading us.”

  “We’re the good guys, Jim. Everyone roots for the good guys to win.”

  “I bet the Indians thought they were the good guys when they beat Custer at Little Big Horn.”

  Dan’s iPhone announced that they had arrived at their destination. Dan pointed over to fire road that cut through the forest. “The tracks are just past the tree line,” he said excitedly.

  Prior to their leaving Florida they had performed extensive, on-line research of US Army action reports from the Strobl area; specifically for the period from 2 May to 8 May 1945. The Army was very strict in their documenting of any combat action, especially one where US Army lives were lost. Wi
th the Strobl area located some 35 kilometers southeast of Salzburg and the only location along a rail line to encounter casualties during their specific timeframe, at least causalities that involved any mention of two railcars and two German trucks, this had to be the right area.

  They pulled off the main road and drove down the fire road that cut into the forest. The fire road ended after a mile or so at the train tracks.

  Dan smiled. “This is it, Jim,” he said, giddy with joy. “I can feel it in my bones.”

  They parked alongside the tracks before exiting the car.

  Referencing his notes, Dan decided it best to start on the other side of the tracks. “Now the US Army report said they attacked two railcars that looked to already be ablaze and two German army trucks that, most likely, had just unloaded the railcars cargo. Under heavy fire, the trucks proceeded up a fire road where one of them stalled for ten to fifteen minutes, the US Army mounted an attack, losing fourteen men before retreating. The trucks then escaped a few minutes after that.” He points up the road they had just driven down. “This is the road,” Dan said. “We are on the spot where that bastard S/S Colonel Manfred Heber prepositioned his trucks and unloaded the gold and silver.” He looked to the edge of the woods. “You look left, I’ll take right. Look for anything out of the ordinary. Their gold train had to have unloaded here.”

  Within a matter of minutes Jim called out to Dan. “Over here,” he said, pointing into the forest where four sets of rusting train wheels sat some 50 feet from the tracks. “This has to be from our railcars,” said Jim. “The wooden railcars burned down to only the steel wheels. After the war, the government would have pulled the wheels off the tracks to make the tracks usable again, rolling the wheels over here out of the way. Damn it if Perluci wasn’t right the whole time.”

  Jim took a picture of the train’s wheels. “Okay, now Perluci said a family was murdered towards the end of the war just 15 kilometers from here. He provided me the address.” He opens up his notebook to a blue tab, pulling it back before showing it to Jim. “It’s outside the town of Lupitsch. Their bodies were discovered at the end of the war by the local authorities. It was significant because the area where they lived experienced no action during the war. It was murder. Their throats were slit. Perluci realized the gold train and the murder had to be connected. Now remember, Perluci actually met Heber outside of Salzburg after he performed his grisly work. He noted that Heber told him he collapsed a barn upon the treasure. Perluci knew that had to be the location where Colonel Heber hid at least half of his stolen goods.”

  “What the hell are we doing here?” said Jim as he jogged back to the car. “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 60

  VATICAN CITY

  Nora was still feeling the effects of the direct flight from Chicago as she exited the taxi in front of the Vatican Bank. She had come directly from the airport. Well, almost directly. She had the taxi driver drive past the Spanish Steps. The memories suddenly flooding over her when her parents brought her over as a shy fifteen-year-old. Her first love; her first sip of wine; her first kiss. All of it happened in Rome during that magical two-week vacation. She was still flush in the face as she walked up to the glass doors of the Institute for Religious Works (IOR) — commonly called the Vatican Bank, realizing she was several minutes early for her meeting with the banks president, Maria Celnoleni.

  Nora nodded to the heavily armed Swiss Guard who opened the door for her. I guess they really enjoy their security around here she thought to herself as she walked into the banks lobby. She stopped to admire the splendor of the banks floor-to-ceiling ornately carved columns.

  To her left, Maria Celnoleni quietly walked up to Nora and followed her gaze. “Magnificent, aren’t they?” she asked Nora. She extended her hand in greeting. “Maria Celnoleni, bank president. And you must be Nora Robinson of the Chicago Tribune?”

  Nora smiled. “You must forgive me,” she said, shaking Maria’s hand in greeting. “Even though I am a writer, I still find myself being an ardent student of History and Architecture. I just love what you have done to repurpose the building.”

  Maria nodded in understanding. “If you can believe it, before 1942, it was a chapel. If you have some extra time, maybe after our meeting I can arrange a personal tour of some of the more interesting buildings in our small country,” Maria said, alluding to the Vatican’s status as a country, albeit one of the world’s smallest.

  Nora nodded excitedly. “Are you kidding? I can make time.” But she realized after their meeting Nora would be the last person Maria or the Vatican would want hanging around, let alone touring its buildings and their contents.

  Maria led Nora into her office, shutting the door behind them, pointing to a seat in front of her desk. “Now to what do we owe the privilege of the Chicago Tribune paying our little office a visit?”

  Opening up a notepad Nora referred to her notes. “Well, first of all, I was hoping to meet the gentlemen who arranged our little meeting, Miguel Carducci.”

  A sudden chill went down Maria’s spine. She smiled politely. “He went home sick. Flu I think.”

  “Funny, I thought we were done with that? No problem. I just wanted to meet the man who arranged everything so I could personally thank him. He even arranged to have me picked up at the airport.” She pulled out her trusty digital recorder. “May I?”

  “Be my guest.”

  Nora smiled as she turned on the recorder. She was ready to nail the bank and its illegal financing to the Nazi’s after the war. She hated Nazi’s. Now she had the documented proof. She also had James Myers and his father’s role as Hitler’s financier.

  “I would like to start by restating the purpose for my request for an interview,” Nora said.

  Maria nodded politely. Miguel had only informed her that Nora was doing a background piece on James Myers.

  “I have just come from interviewing the favored candidate for President of the United States, James Myers, in Chicago. He lives on a really posh, lavish estate. He used a lot of old family money to not only build the estate but also to run and manage his campaign. And that leads me directly to the reason why I have flown over 3,000 miles to interview you.” She extracted a plain manila folder from her worn canvas briefcase, removing eight photocopied documents and two photographs; the same ones she had revealed to Myers during their interview a few days before. She slides them across to Maria, a sly smile upon her face. “I know how busy you are so I will try and to make this as brief as possible and cut to the chase as we say in America.” Nora pointed to the papers and the photos. “I know you are familiar with James Myers, wealthy real estate executive, and his run for President of the US. I was just wondering if you knew how the Myers family went from having almost nothing in the bank in 1947, this just after the war, and this with their status as still refugees, to $12 million in a matter of a few years? Now, I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed but I think it had something to do with those documents in front of you and quite possibly this very bank.”

  Maria was taken back at first. She presented Nora with a scowl. “You Americans are always so brash in your assumptions. You think anyone of wealth received it from ill will and not through hard work.”

  Nora ignored her comment. “I can also translate the documents for you if need be,” she said in reply.

  “I am fluent in German, Italian, English and Latin,” replied Maria assuredly in a tone meant to demean Nora. She then casually looked at each document taking time to briefly read each page, all no more than a paragraph or two each. After several minutes, she pushed the papers aside, looking up to Nora. “Are you accusing this bank of something, Ms. Robinson? If you are, maybe I should have our attorney present?”

  “If you look at the documents you will see that Horst Myers, James Myer’s father, was Hitler’s banker. In such a capacity, he made a deal with the Vatican bank to safeguard monies stolen from Jews during WWII. I think that is the second document I handed you. I also have pictures of
Horst Myers with Martin Bormann, Hitler’s secretary.” She pushed across several pictures to Maria. “Can you at least comment?”

  Maria suddenly turned pale. “There is nothing to comment about.” She pushed the pictures and the documents back across to Nora. “I think it’s best if you leave, Ms. Robinson,” said Maria, sweat appearing on her brow knowing Nora was not far off in her accusations. She picked up her phone to dial security.

  Nora was just getting started and had no intention of leaving, at least not yet. She flew all of this way for a purpose. Damn it, she was going to get what she came for. “What about Licio Gelitoni?” she said slowly, deliberately. “Does the name ring a bell?”

  Maria’s eyes went wide with the mention of Licio’s name. She replaced the phone in its cradle thinking better of calling security. She nodded as she stood up and leaned across her desk, retrieving the documents and photos Nora had originally placed in front of her. “Allow me to reread what you have provided. I don’t want to be to hasty to our American newspaper reporter.” After several minutes she realized Nora had the basis for one hell of a story if she could only get confirmation. This time she handed the documents back to Nora. “What about Licio Gelitoni? She asked, resigning herself to Nora’s questioning.

  “Do you know him?” Nora asked.

  “Yes, I knew Licio Gelitoni.”

  “You knew him? As in past tense? You mean he’s no longer with us? Maybe dead?

  Maria looked off to the left before back to Nora. “My goodness, no. He is still very much alive.” Maria appeared flustered. “At least as far as I know.”