“You’ve got his number, I think,” O’Flaherty said. “There’s no going back for a man like Remke, if you’re right about him.”
“Then we must find a way,” Kaz said. “We must get that letter.”
“There’s one other thing,” I said. “I asked him to find Severino Rossi, if he’s still alive.”
“Admirable, Billy,” O’Flaherty said, a tinge of exasperation in his voice. “Here we are discussing the deaths of millions, the killing of a dictator, and a possible end to the war, and you’re still itching to find the murderer of a single man.”
“Two men,” I reminded him. “Two men the war wouldn’t have gotten, at least not yet.”
“Fair enough,” O’Flaherty said. “A soul is a soul. What do you think Severino Rossi will tell you?”
“Something I may already know,” I said. It had to do with hope. Rossi and Remke were from different worlds, but I was beginning to see a similarity. Both had come to Rome out of hope. Hope for themselves, for the world that they used to inhabit, now upside-down with violence and death. Rossi had come to Rome for something specific, I was sure of it. He’d made it out of France and to Genoa. Why not stay there? What drove him to journey to Rome, without identity papers, and hide in Saint Peter’s?
“He wanted to see Corrigan?” Kaz guessed.
“No,” I said, and then something else clicked. Another favor I should have asked Remke. Now I’d have to wait until noon tomorrow. “Kaz, we need to see Zlatko now. Monsignor, I’d like to leave these documents with you, for safekeeping. We’ll check with you soon about Montini.”
“I’ll take them, boy, but it’s a heavy burden we must share. I thought it was hard enough to care for dozens, then hundreds of poor souls. But this, how many thousands of lives stand in the balance?” He stared out the window, as if trying to keep his eyes from the papers on the table. There was no need to answer.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“You are certain Diana is in good health?” Kaz said for the tenth time.
“Kaz, she’s at the Excelsior. Even in a locked and guarded room, how bad can it be? Remke had her on ice at the Regina Coeli, but she was well-treated. All we have to worry about is getting that letter from Montini.”
“Is that why we are looking for Bishop Zlatko?”
“No. I figure we have a little time before things heat up over Remke’s documents. So I want to try something with Zlatko.”
We were headed through the Vatican Gardens, and as we passed the gardener’s house, I saw Rosana peering out from a window. I felt a twinge of guilt as I put my head down and hustled up the hill to the radio station. Maybe I should tell her Abe was on a mission. Maybe I should apologize for getting him captured. Or mind my own business, but it was kind of late for that, so I focused on Zlatko. He was due for a radio broadcast in Croatian, and we had to hustle to catch him.
“Bishop,” I said, waving as he drew near on a path leading to the tower. He carried a briefcase and appeared to be in a hurry. Or maybe he’d spotted us already.
“Gentlemen, I have no time to chat. I have a radio address in five minutes.” He walked faster, and we matched his pace.
“Colonel Remke sends his greetings,” I said. Zlatko kept his head down, but the tip of his shoe caught on the gravel and he almost lost his balance.
“I do not know of anyone by that name,” he said. He seemed short of breath. Lying is hard work.
“I’m sorry, I meant to say Rudder. You know, the German agent you’ve been feeding information to. In violation of the Holy See’s neutral status.”
“How dare you!” Zlatko stopped and faced us.
“Interesting that you want to get rid of me as an Allied agent, when all along you’re working for the Nazis. Gives neutrality a bad name.”
“Where did you come up with this fairy tale?” Zlatko said, his chin held high. He must’ve been practicing the Mussolini look.
“Colonel Erich Remke. Today, while we were lunching at the Excelsior Hotel. You should try it. Or maybe you have? It’s the German military headquarters; you’d feel right at home.”
That got to him. His eyes widened and he didn’t deny it. I could see him calculating the value of the truth versus a lie. “Yes, I have been in contact with the colonel,” he said, giving up the charade. “I will do whatever it takes to protect the church against the godless Bolsheviks.”
“But the struggle against Communism didn’t preclude you from hedging your bets with Brackett, did it? You tried to tell him you were a double agent, to be on the winning side when the Fifth Army rolls into Rome. Did you threaten him? Tell him you’d reveal his connection to Rudder, and have him expelled from the Holy See?”
“What could that weakling do for me?”
“He could put in writing that you were working for the Allies,” Kaz said, his eyes latched onto Zlatko’s. “Then you could murder him, perhaps as you murdered the others.”
Zlatko flinched. “I am not a murderer,” he said. It came out slowly, as if he wished he’d thought of killing Brackett and was kicking himself for it.
“But you did get a letter from him,” I said.
“I do possess evidence that I provided information to the Allies,” Zlatko said, working the Mussolini chin move again.
“I’m sure that will come in handy when the Pope sends you back to Croatia. You can show it to the Soviets. You’ll need to at your trial for war crimes.”
“Where did you hear that?” Zlatko asked, apparently not in a hurry to get closer to the Russian front.
“I have connections,” I said. “Tell you what, you do me a favor and I’ll do one for you. Get me a list of informers within the Vatican. Anyone feeding the Germans or the Italian secret police information. By first thing tomorrow. Then I’ll put in a good word for you.”
“That is impossible,” Zlatko said. “There are informers everywhere. How am I expected to know them all? This is Rome, for God’s sake!”
“Then it should be easy. Start with the Germans. That may be enough. Come up with the goods and I’ll fix it so you stay in Rome.”
“But how can I-”
“Aren’t you late for your broadcast, Bishop?” Kaz said. We walked away, leaving him to return to his calculations. This time it was the value of cooperation versus confrontation. The way I had Zlatko figured, if cooperation would save his hide, I’d have names by sunset.
“Good play,” I said to Kaz. “How’d you come up with that bit about the letter?”
“It occurred to me that such a document would be very useful, especially if the person who wrote it could not retract it at a later date. I had been thinking how your Colonel Remke was quite smart to only request a letter acknowledging receipt of his peace offering. It requires little commitment while at the same time attaching importance to the document.”
“Let’s talk to Brackett and see what he has to say.”
“That should make Zlatko call off the proceedings to have us removed from the Holy See,” Kaz said as we crossed the gardens and descended to the Governatorato. “Was that why you wanted to question him?”
“Partly. If word gets around he’s naming names, we may stir things up a bit.”
“So Zlatko is the scapegoat, staked out for the killer?”
“Wouldn’t sacrificial lamb be a better description, since he’s a man of the cloth?”
“Either way,” Kaz said, “he is an excellent choice.”
We found Brackett in his office. His desk was a mass of papers and he had a drink in his hand, getting a head start on the cocktail hour. He offered us a drink but we declined. I wouldn’t have minded a belt, but I didn’t like drinking with a guy who did it to pass the time. That sort of thing ended in a fistfight, blubbery tears, or worse yet, both. I wasn’t in the mood.
“We came to warn you,” I said. I remembered what Monsignor O’Flaherty had said about letting Brackett down easy, so I decided a white lie would do. “The Rudder network has been turned.”
“Why tell me?” Brackett said, pouring himself another brandy.