David Morrell - League of Night and Fog

by League of Night

  Church officials did nothing to try to stop the slaughter. Their rationalization was that, to protect its existence, the Church had to remain neutral. If Hitler won the war and if he'd perceived the Church as his enemy, he would destroy it just as he had Yugoslavia. "Pray and wait" became the Church's motto. "Survive these desperate times as best we can." Following Hitler's defeat in 1945, one of the Church's methods of compensation was to assist refugees, particularly through the Red

  Cross. By then. Father Pavelic had been transferred from Croatia to

  Rome, where he arranged to be assigned to the Red Cross refugee program.

  From there, he secretly passed word through his contacts in the Ustashi that he would help defeated followers of what he still believed to be a just cause to escape retribution for what the Allies were calling war crimes. He would do this for a fee--to assist the Church in its good works. The fee was the equivalent of the then considerable sum of two thousand dollars per fugitive. Only high ranking Nazi officials were able to plunder enough to afford such a price. As a consequence, Father

  Pavelic's clients were among the most-hunted of war criminals, some of those directly responsible for the organization and perpetration of the

  Holocaust Using Red Cross passports. Father Pavelic provided them with new identities and arranged for their safe passage to hiding places in

  South America, Mexico, the United States, Canada, and the Middle East On occasion, he disguised his clients as priests, sequestered them in monasteries, waited until their hunters had lost the trail, and men used

  Vatican passports to expedite their escape. But if his clients thought they'd heard the last of him when they reached safety, they were soon surprised to learn (hat he'd kept track of them--where they'd finally settled, how they earned their living--and demanded a yearly bonus payment from them in exchange for his silence. Failing that, he threatened he would expose them. He took a risk, he knew. If his clients refused to pay and he had to inform against them, those he'd betrayed would no doubt implicate him in their escape. But it never came to that; his clients were too afraid of being punished to refuse his demands. He took another risk as well--that his clients would try to kill him rather than pay their yearly tribute. To protect himself, he made sure they understood mat the documents about them were carefully hidden. If he were killed, a trusted associate would receive instructions about where the papers were, with orders to relay them to the authorities. His clients acquiesced. At first, their yearly payment was the same as what they'd paid initially--two thousand dollars. But as they prospered. Father Pavelic increased the amount. In total, he'd received millions. The money was not for his own use. He wasn't venal.

  Every penny was given to the Church, to support the Faith. With the power that the money gave him, and with his talent for bureaucratic intrigue, he managed to attract supporters within the Vatican. Other

  Curia members, who'd discovered the nature of his activities during and after the war, found that they too had to support him, for unless he was promoted, he threatened to embarrass the Church by implicating it in his rescue of Nazi war criminals. Here, too, he took a risk--his loyalty to the Church was such that he would never have created a scandal about it

  But his enemies weren't aware of his scruples, and along with his supporters, they did promote him. By the age of thirty-five, he was both a cardinal and a junior member of the Church's governing body. Five years after that, he became a senior member, one of those responsible for administering the Church's finances. Saul, Drew, and Arlene learned all this from Father Dusseault. The priest's explanation wasn't coherent. They had to assemble the puzzle on their own. But when his portion of the interrogation was completed, they knew that Father

  Dusseault, a member of the Fraternity assigned to the Vatican, using the cover of Cardinal Pavelic's assistant, had become suspicious about the source of some of the funds the cardinal was contributing to the Church.

  Through resources available to him as a member of the Fraternity, Father

  Dusseault discovered the cardinal's secret Outraged by the cardinal's participation in the Holocaust and his manipulation of the Church,

  Father Dusseault determined to see justice finally done.

  27

  Saul leaned even closer to Father Dusseault. Drew and Arlene had been told much of what they needed to know. Now it was his turn. Where was

  Erika and her father? The priest's story about Nazis and Jews made him more convinced than ever that he was close to the truth. "What did you do about what you learned? How did you seek justice?"

  "By telling the Jews."

  "What Jews? Who did you tell?"

  "Mossad."

  "Who in the Mossad?"

  "Ephraim Avidan." Saul's stunned reaction must have shown. Drew and

  Arlene looked at him in wonder. Of course, he thought. They don't know about the cabin in the Alps that Erika and I visited. They don't know about the diary Avidan kept. "Why did you choose him?" Saul asked.

  "He'd been in a camp... Wanted someone who'd act." Saul understood. In recent years, Israel had been much less assiduous in tracking down war criminals, preferring instead to create an image of restraint and balance, of being superior to the methods of its enemies.

  Vengeance had been replaced by politics and the due process of law.

  Impatient, Father Dusseault had used the resources of the Fraternity to find a Mossad operative who hated the Nazis for persecuting his family and himself as well as his race, whose background guaranteed direct reprisal in place of bureaucratic paralysis. "But Cardinal Pavelic discovered what you'd done?" Arlene asked. "Threatened me. Had to shoot him." The cardinal's body had been cremated just as many of his victims had been, a prudent and appropriate method of disposing of the cardinal's remains. An investigation into the cardinal's disappearance was less dangerous for Father Dusseault than an investigation into his murder. "Did you kill Father Victor?" Drew asked. Saul started to ask who Father Victor was, but Drew stopped him with a gesture. "Yes."

  "Because he suspected you'd murdered the cardinal?" Drew asked. "No."

  "Then why did you kill Father Victor?" Drew asked. "Discovered my attempts to destroy the Fraternity." A further layer was revealed. The priest had come to despise the militant philosophy of the order to which he belonged, convinced that God wanted peacemakers, not warriors.

  As he'd felt obligated to cleanse the Church of Cardinal Pavelic's corruption, so he'd set out to excise the cancer of the Fraternity from the Church, sabotaging its operations whenever he could. When Father

  Victor, an investigator for the Fraternity, had become too suspicious, his quarry had been forced to shoot him during a late-night meeting in the Vatican gardens. The pistol had been equipped with a silencer.

  Nonetheless, its muffled noise had been heard by a guard who raised an alarm. Father Dusseault had to escape before he could dispose of the body as he had Cardinal Pavelic's. That explained why he'd chosen the greater silence of a knife when he'd gone after Drew in the gardens.

  Saul was impatient. The priest had veered from what he needed to know.

  "Does the name Joseph Bernstein mean anything to you?"

  "No."

  "My wife followed you into the gardens. Did you have someone there with you, as a backup? Do you know why she would have disappeared?"

  "No." Saul rubbed his temples. He stared at his watch. "We've only got twenty minutes before Gallagher comes back to the other room," he told

  Drew and Arlene. "It's not enough time. How am I going to find out?"

  The phone rang, harsh. Saul flinched in surprise. "If that's Gallagher

  ..."

  "He might have called his own room," Arlene said. "When he didn't get an answer, he called here."

  "Maybe," Saul said. "But I don't think Gallagher would have used the phone. He'd have come right up. Besides, it isn't time for him to check in. He promised me a full two hours."

  "It could be he had misgivings and changed his
mind,"

  Drew said. The phone kept ringing. "Maybe it isn't Gallagher," Saul said. "Maybe it's--" He didn't say Erika, but her name screamed through his mind as he reached for the phone. "Hello."

  "Saul Gasman?" The voice belonged to a man. It was thin, with a faint metallic edge like a knife being sharpened on a whetstone. "Yes."

  "You must be distressed about your wife. No need to wonder any longer.

  We have her."

  "We? Who the hell--?" Drew and Arlene stood rigidly straight.

  "You surely don't expect us to reveal our names," the voice said. "All you need to know is that we have her and she's safe."

  "How do I know that?" Saul demanded. "Let me talk to her,"

  "Unfortunately, that isn't possible. She isn't with me at the moment, and even if she were, she's been sedated. But you can see her."

  "How?"

  "In fact," the voice said, "you can have her returned to you. If certain conditions are met. We'd like to arrange a trade. Your wife for the priest. You do have the priest, I hope. Otherwise there's no point to this conversation."

  "Yes. I have the priest."

  "We'd want to be sure of that. It wouldn't do to base your transaction on dishonesty. It would go very hard on your wife if you weren't completely honest."

  "I told you I've got him!" Saul said. "At six o'clock this evening, bring him to the Colosseum. In the last hours before sunset, the ruins will still be crowded with tourists. Blend with them. Sit the priest down in the middle of the terraces on the northern side. I'll use binoculars from the opposite side to identify him. Make sure he's reasonably alert. I want to satisfy myself that he's capable of walking under his own power. But I don't want him so conscious that he'll make trouble. As soon as I'm sure you've brought the priest, I'll arrange for your wife to be placed across from you, on the southern terraces of the Colosseum. Bring binoculars, and assure yourself that she too is in satisfactory condition. When each of us sees what he wants, a man who appears to be a tourist will set a blue travel bag beside her and walk away. That will be the signal for us to make the trade. Approach your wife by circling to the right of the arena. I in turn will circle to your left. In this way, we'll never pass each other, and there won't be a risk of an unfortunate confrontation. Wait five minutes before leaving the Colosseum with your wife. I'd prefer not to rush getting the priest out of there." Saul gripped the phone so tightly he thought its plastic would crack. "Agreed. At six o'clock."

  "There is one further condition." Saul began to sweat. "In questioning your wife,"

  the voice said, "I learned that she used to be an operative for the

  Mossad. Are they involved in this?"

  "No."

  "You'd say that, no matter what. I have to be sure. It's imperative--your wife's safety depends upon it--that you don't bring help with you when the transfer is made. No associates of any kind. That includes the man and the woman who were dressed as a priest and a nun in the Vatican gardens last night. We know what they look like. If we see them, if we suspect any sign of surveillance, any attempt to interfere with the transaction, your wife will be killed. When I leave with the priest, if I sense I'm being followed, I can still arrange for her to die." Saul imagined a sniper hidden somewhere in the Colosseum, in two-way radio contact with the man he now spoke to. But he wasn't prepared for the tactic the voice described. "A packet of explosive will be attached to your wife's back.

  I'll hide it under her jacket The bomb will have a radio-controlled detonator whose electronic trigger will be in my pocket. As long as I'm within a mile of her, I'll be able to set the bomb off if I feel threatened. Don't fool yourself into thinking that all you have to do is remove the bomb from her and then betray me. The explosives will be held in place by a locked metal belt that's been wired in such a way that any attempt to remove it--by using metal clippers, for example--will blow her apart. Only when I'm out of radio range will the detonator be deactivated. Only then can the belt be safely cut off."

  Saul felt as if insects had invaded his chest. "You seem to have thought of everything."

  "That's why I've stayed alive so long. Six o'clock. Don't try to be clever. Just do what you've been told." With a click, the line was disconnected. Saul set down the phone. He tried to keep his voice from shaking while he explained to Drew and Arlene. Drew was briefly silent, assessing the information. At once he spoke with resolve. "It's twenty after twelve. We've just got five minutes to take Father Dusseault back down to the other room before Gallagher shows up. You can question the priest for a while after that. But if he's supposed to be able to walk from the Colosseum, you'll have to stop giving him Sodium Amytal and let the drug wear off."

  "That's assuming Gallagher agrees to surrender the priest," said Saul.

  Arlene looked surprised. "You think he might not?"

  "Gallagher wants to learn everything he can about the Fraternity. He won't be happy about the deal I made. Suppose he thinks he can infiltrate a surveillance team into the Colosseum? Suppose he decides the threat about the bomb is a lie and figures he can get the priest back after the exchange? I won't bet Erika's life on someone else's tradecraft.

  And something else--I'm not supposed to have moved the priest. How am I going to explain to Gallagher where I got the phone call? I'd have to tell him I brought the priest here so the two of you could help question him. He'd learn about you." Drew glanced at Arlene. She nodded. 'Tell

  Gallagher," Drew said. "Your wife is more important than hiding us from

  Gallagher." Saul felt a surge of warmth. His voice was choked with feeling. "I know how much your privacy means to you. I appreciate your gesture. Truly. More than I can say."

  "It's not just a gesture," Drew said. "But even if I did let Gallagher know about you, it wouldn't solve the problem. I still couldn't count on his keeping the bargain I made. I don't want his men at the

  Colosseum, and the only way I can guarantee they won't be there..."

  "Is not to tell him?" Drew asked. "We're going to have to steal the priest." Drew committed himself immediately, reacting as if he and Saul had been working together for years. "Arlene, check the hallway. Make sure Gallagher isn't out there. Saul and I will carry Father Dusseault down the fire stairs. Get the car. Have it waiting for us outside."

  "But you'll be seen taking the priest from the hotel!"

  "We'll pretend it's an emergency. We'll leave so fast no one'll have time to question us."

  28

  When Icicle heard a knock on the door, he stood abruptly. He'd been staring at the unconscious woman on the bed, brooding about Seth's behavior. To kill as an automatic choice, without sufficient reason, was a sign of lack of control. It wasn't professional. It wasn't... He likes it, Icicle thought. That's what bothers me. The gleam he gets in his eyes. It's as if he's having... Sex? That realization made Icicle remember the near fight he'd had with Seth to keep him from abusing the woman. Employing drugs or force to interrogate a prisoner was justified. But abusing this woman merely for (he sake of self-gratification insulted Icicle's sense of dignity. Victims had a right not to be caused needless pain, not to be treated as objects.

  Keep thinking about your father, he told himself. Nothing else... not the woman, not your principles... matters. But he couldn't help noting that the conflict between Seth and himself was a replication of the lifelong enmity between their fathers. Was it happening all over again?

  He checked the peephole, identified Seth, and freed the lock on the door. He felt uneasy about the packages Seth carried and the gleam in his eyes. The gleam abruptly diminished when Seth glanced toward the bed. "You dressed her."

  "She was shivering."

  "Shivering?" Seth's gleam returned. "Since you feel so protective about her, I'm sure you'll be relieved to know that she'll be leaving us."

  "What do you mean?"

  "When you interrogated her, she told us her husband's name and where they were staying in Rome," Seth said. Icicle nodded. Seth put the packages on the bureau.
"I phoned her husband."

  "You what?"

  "I've made arrangements to exchange her for the priest."

  Seth opened the packages, revealing a fist-sized clump of plastic explosive along with a radio-controlled detonator and transmitter. There were batteries, wires, a metal belt welded to a metal box, a lock.

  "Where the hell did you get--?"

  "One of my contacts here in Rome." As Seth placed the explosive and the detonator in the metal box, he explained what he'd told the woman's husband. Icicle's lips parted in astonishment. No wonder Seth didn't want to reveal why he was going out, he thought. I would never have agreed to the plan. "It's too risky. Despite what the husband promised, there's bound to be a surveillance team."