by James R Benn
“What about the Vatican police?” Diana asked.
“With Soletto gone, someone may take over the role of chief informant for the Fascists. You are safe with Cipriano, I am sure of that. But I wouldn’t announce myself at headquarters. Any over-zealous gendarme could arrest you for violating Vatican neutrality at the drop of a hat.”
“How is Rossi? Any improvement?”
“Bad news, I’m afraid. He died a few hours ago.”
“Damn! Who knows about it?”
“No one but myself, the baron, Nini, and Sister Cecilia. You wanted his presence kept quiet, so I decided that meant in both life and death. Sister Cecilia and I moved his body to the mortuary. He is listed as unidentified, and no one’s the wiser.”
“You’re sure no one got to him?”
“Positive, lad. The room was fortified and the story put out that Nini had come down with influenza. Everyone steered clear. Only Sister Cecilia went in and out.”
“Who exactly is Rossi?” Diana asked.
“Severino Rossi was the one man who could have identified the murderer of Monsignor Corrigan. And he still might,” I said.
“This is the Holy See,” O’Flaherty said. “But do not expect we can raise the dead, me boy.”
“What I had in mind was that celebration you mentioned, remember? Think we could throw a little party tonight, to toast the return of Diana and the others?”
“Of course. But why, and who is invited?”
“About a dozen people. Here’s what we’ll need-”
“Ciao?” a voice asked from the open door, spilling light into the darkened room. “Hello?”
“Who’s there?” I asked, blinded momentarily by the brightness.
“It is Monsignor Bruzzone, Billy. You are safely returned?”
“Yes,” I said. “We had a bit of trouble, but we’re fine. I don’t know if you’ve met Diana Seaton? Formerly Sister Justina.”
“No, I have met neither. Pleased to meet you, Miss Seaton,” Bruzzone said, extending his hand.
“ E un piacere di conoscerla,” she said.
“Did Monsignor O’Flaherty call you here?” I asked, wondering at Bruzzone’s sudden presence.
“No, no, I am here purely by accident. I am preparing for midafternoon prayers. This is the chapel of the Vatican Gendarmerie Corps. As I mentioned, I sometimes fill in for their chaplain, as I must do today. There is a shift change at the Hour of None, and many come to the service.”
“Well, we must be going,” I said, not wishing to fight through a crowd of cops to get out.
“You will not stay for the prayers?” Bruzzone said, looking at O’Flaherty as well as Diana and me.
“No, unfortunately we have a sick friend to visit,” I said. “But I hope you’ll join us tonight, to celebrate our safe return.”
“Certainly,” Bruzzone said, then went to prepare for the service.
We left, stepping into the street, the cold outside not as biting as in the old church. The sun was already low in the sky, with dark-gray clouds creeping in.
“What is the Hour of None anyway?” I asked as we made our way through the Vatican Museum. I wondered about the coincidence of Bruzzone showing up.
“The ninth hour after dawn, observed at three o’clock,” O’Flaherty said. “Part of the Divine Hours, the schedule of daily prayer. I would wager you didn’t pay much attention in confirmation class, Billy.”
“I must have missed that one,” I said.
“The death of Christ is commemorated at None,” Diana said. “And legend says that was also the hour of the day when Adam and Eve were driven from the Garden of Eden.”
“Ah, a lass who knows religious lore. ’Tis a pleasure to converse with you, Diana,” O’Flaherty said as we descended a marble staircase, colorful frescoes on either side. “Are you aware that nine is considered an incomplete and unlucky number?”
“Yes, as opposed to the perfection of ten,” she said. “Isn’t the novena for the dead derived from the nine days of mourning?”
“From the ninth day, to be exact, my dear,” O’Flaherty said. “The funerary day.”
They chatted back and forth like that, but I didn’t pay much attention. I’d lost count of how many days we’d been here, but for sure I wanted to leave before that ninth day came around.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
“So what’s with the new threads?” I asked.
“Do you like my new look?” Diana asked as we climbed the steps to Nini’s apartment.
“I thought you were locked up, waiting for me to rescue you,” I said, maybe with a touch of pique. It was one thing to snatch the woman you loved from her captors, but it was another thing to find her decked out in high fashion when you did.
“Colonel Remke sent out for new clothes for me. An Italian lady friend of his went out to a nearby shop. Thank goodness the Germans set up headquarters in the richest part of town. I certainly like it better than my nun’s habit, unless you’d like to see me back in the clothes of chastity and prudence?”
“That didn’t stop us in Switzerland, remember?” We’d had a brief encounter on that neutral ground when Diana came across the border to report to her spymaster. I put my arm around her and we stopped short of Nini’s door. “I can’t even put words to it, Diana. I’m so glad you’re free. And we’re together.”
“Me too, Billy,” Diana said. We kissed, long and languorously, until a door opened and we both jumped.
“Diana!” It was Kaz. They embraced amid laughter and tears.
“It has been so long, Kaz,” Diana said. “How are you?”
“Aside from the war, I am wonderful,” he said. “Have you met Nini?” At the mention of her name, she came out of the room and stood next to Kaz, linking her arm with his. I noticed Diana glance at the intimate touch.
“I know of Princess Pallavicini, but we haven’t met. Diana Seaton,” she said, extending her hand.
“Please, call me Nini. Kaz has told me so much about you. And Daphne as well. I’m glad to meet you.”
For a moment there was silence, and I was afraid the mention of Daphne’s name had put a damper on things. Nothing like reminding a girl of her dead sister the first time you meet. Especially when you’ve been sleeping with the dead sister’s lover. Glancing at Diana, I saw a tear in the corner of her eye.
Suddenly the two of them embraced. I heard a brief, muffled sob, and then they headed into Nini’s apartment, arms intertwined, leaving Kaz and me in the hallway.
“Kaz, do you understand women?”
“A bit more than you do, Billy, but not much,” he said, as we followed them in.
Inside, Nini poured wine and we toasted. “To a safe return,” she said.
“For all of us,” Diana added. Hard to argue with that sentiment, but I noticed Kaz grasp Nini’s hand. A safe return for him meant parting with Nini, and I could see that idea held little appeal.
“We’re so sorry to have lost Severino,” Nini said. “Sister Cecilia said he must have had severe internal injuries.”
“Did he regain consciousness? Say anything?” I asked.
“Nothing,” Kaz said. “Nini fed him broth, and he reacted to that, but no words. His head was so bruised he may have had an injury to the brain. And I know what you are going to ask next, Billy. No one got in. He died of his injuries.”
“Okay then, here’s the plan. We’re having a gathering tonight at the German College. Monsignor O’Flaherty is setting it up now. He’s providing food and wine to celebrate Rino, Abe, and Diana making it back safely. We figure with food rationed, no one will turn down an invite.”
“Who is on the guest list?” Nini asked.
“Robert Brackett, the American deputy charge d’affaires. Monsignors Montini, O’Flaherty, and Bruzzone. John May, butler to Sir D’Arcy. Inspector Cipriano. And Bishop Zlatko, if he’s turned up back in the Vatican. Plus our three guests of honor.”
“To what end?” Diana asked. “Although a good party is reason enoug
h after the Regina Coeli.”
“To smoke out a murderer. We may be sent packing any time, and I want to get to the bottom of things. Severino Rossi is the latest victim, even if he didn’t die at the killer’s hand.”
“Catch me up, Billy,” Diana said, taking a healthy sip of wine.
“Rossi was blamed for Corrigan’s killing. He was set up by the killer and Soletto, who turned him over the Fascist police. They in turn held him until Koch came looking for more victims. It was his handiwork that killed Rossi, but he was a dead man anyway. He would have been on a train to a death camp by now if Koch hadn’t taken him.”
“What will happen at the party?” Kaz asked.
“That’s the part of the plan O’Flaherty is working on. We’re going to announce that Rossi is back, and recovering. We expect him to be able to speak by the morning.”
“You think the murderer will try to kill him?” Nini asked.
“That’s the great part of this plan,” I said. “You can’t kill a dead man.”
The destruction of Monte Cassino was on everyone’s lips. O’Flaherty had commandeered a small dining room at the German College for the party, and provided ample wine and food. Breads, cheese, olives, sardines, bruschetta, plates of antipasti, bowls of pasta with garlic and olive oil-it all smelled like heaven, but the topic was still hell on earth. The bombing.
“I had to stand and listen to Cardinal Maglione tell me it was a colossal blunder, a stroke of gross stupidity,” Brackett was complaining. “When I told him the American government would help to rebuild it, he said that even if they built it with diamonds, it would never be the same abbey.”
“He’s got a point,” I said as Brackett tossed back a gulp of red wine. “And we can’t rebuild the lives of the civilians who were killed either.”
“We’ll pay compensation. But Cardinal Maglione is none too happy about your continued presence. He called it an insult for you to remain after the wanton destruction of the abbey. So take a hint, and wrap up your investigation toots sweet.” Brackett moved in close. His breath smelled of garlic and alcohol. “How’s it going?”
“We should have it wrapped up by morning,” I said, steering him away from the others. “I was going to report to you tomorrow, but I might as well now. We got Severino Rossi back from the police. He’s here.”
“Rossi? The guy who Soletto arrested?”
“Yeah. Turns out he witnessed the murder of Corrigan and was set up for it. He took a few beatings while he was in custody, but he’s starting to come around. He should be awake and talking by morning. We’ve got him stashed upstairs, in a room right across from Monsignor O’Flaherty. He’s keeping an eye on him.”
“Then what’s he doing here?” Brackett said, pointing to the monsignor across the room.
“I’m sure somebody’s watching him. But I’m not worried. No one knows he’s here. Keep it under your hat, okay?”
“Sure,” Brackett said, cutting a hunk of cheese for himself. The session with the cardinal hadn’t affected his appetite one bit. “Let me know what happens.”
“You’ll be the first to know,” I said.
I crossed the room to the table where the food was laid out, buffet style. Abe had brought Rosana along, and was introducing her to Nini and Diana. Rosana was quiet, her dark eyes flitting about the room, assessing each person, wary even in the midst of friends and abundant food. She was a survivor, a tough cookie who’d kept herself and her children alive, no small feat in occupied Italy. I wondered how she’d adjust to peace and comfort. How we all might struggle with letting our guard down.
Diana was sparkling. Nini had given her makeup and the loan of a string of pearls, which set off the rich fabric of her dress. They both took Rosana under their wings and soon had her smiling. Abe beamed, and gave me a wink.
Everyone had shown up, except for Zlatko. A message was left at his room and his office, but no one claimed to have seen him. Monsignor Montini and Inspector Cipriano were seated together, finishing up their plates of pasta.
“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 somethin
g?”
“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.
