“Very well, Bishop Zlatko. Thank you. Do not let me keep you from your duties.” Zlatko looked stunned at the dismissal, but recovered quickly. As he passed me, he made eye contact and gave a slight nod toward the door. We’d meet outside.
“Gentlemen, I have unfortunate news,” Montini said after the door had shut behind Zlatko. “I have just spoken with His Holiness. He is much disturbed by the activity of Banda Koch. They invaded the extraterritorial properties at Saint Paul’s Outside the Walls. They took over sixty refugees, Jews, antifascists-anyone without papers.”
“It is terrible,” O’Flaherty said, a touch of belligerence in his voice. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. “What is the Holy Father going to do about it?”
“He feels this may be the first step in a German takeover of the Vatican,” Montini said. He had a pained expression that said he thought this was wrong, even foolish. “We have heard rumors of a plan by the SS to invade the Vatican and place the Pope under Nazi protection. In Germany, of course. His Holiness believes that the actions against our properties may be the first step in implementing this plan.” Montini sighed, not making eye contact.
“What are you not telling us?” Bruzzone asked.
Montini folded his hands on the table as if in prayer. Then he spoke, so quietly that I had to strain to hear him. “In order to avoid giving the Germans a pretext for invasion, His Holiness has directed that all guests be expelled from Vatican properties outside these walls. It is to be done immediately.”
“That is outrageous!” O’Flaherty barked as he stood. “I don’t believe it.” Bruzzone pulled him back down onto the flowered couch, where he sat, teeth gritted against the anger straining to burst out of him. He struck me as the kind of priest who had to really work at obedience.
“What will you do?” Bruzzone asked.
“I have managed to dissuade the Pontifical Commission from making this their work. If I had not, this would be an official meeting with the cardinals present, instead of a gathering of steadfast friends. And their welcome guests.”
I could feel O’Flaherty exhale. “You are going to throw a monkey wrench into the works, then,” he said.
Montini waved his hand and shrugged, granting the point even if he didn’t understand what a monkey had to do with a wrench. “Do you recall when the commission ordered the Swiss Guard to turn away Allied prisoners entering the piazza?”
“Yes,” O’Flaherty said. “The order was never enforced.”
“And once His Holiness has ignored an order-his or the commission’s-it remains ignored. So leave it to me. No one will be expelled. But it means this is a difficult time to ask the Pope to engage in espionage.”
“Again, Giovanni,” O’Flaherty said. “He did so in 1940. We know much more now about what is happening in these camps. It makes it even more important.”
“Yes, I agree. But in 1940 there were no German divisions in Rome. The SS did not run Italy.”
“Sir, may I speak?” I half rose from the chair. I wasn’t sure of my status here, but I figured I had little to lose.
“Yes,” Montini said, smiling. “Mr. Boyle, is it?”
“Yes sir. I understand how this is a delicate matter, and that timing is important.” I took a deep breath, willing myself to slow down and make sense. “But remember, what Colonel Remke is asking for is simply an acknowledgment that you’ve received the document about the planned coup. He mentioned you by name, Monsignor. Not the Pope.”
“True,” Montini said. “But as an officer of the Secretariat, I speak for the Pope. It would have been different if this colonel had asked Monsignor O’Flaherty to sign such a letter. He could do so, without repercussion. Would that satisfy the colonel?”
“No. He was quite clear about you, given your position here.”
“Monsignor?” Kaz rose and walked toward Montini.
“Please, feel free to speak, Baron Kazimierz.”
“You have seen the Auschwitz Protocol as well?”
“I have. We have heard many reports, but this is the first detailed documentation. It is beyond belief. Shocking.”
“Yes, Monsignor. It would not be espionage, would it, to accept receipt of this report?”
“No. We often receive reports from other parts of occupied Europe. Why?”
“He is onto something, Giovanni,” O’Flaherty said, slapping Kaz on the back, almost sending him reeling. “Listen to the lad, it could save three people from the Germans with no risk at all.”
“Go on,” Montini said.
“You could give us a letter acknowledging receipt of the Auschwitz Protocol. An experienced diplomat such as you could also insert language which the knowledgeable reader would understand referred to another, separate document.”
“Will that work?” Montini asked. “Would it free Sister Justina and the others?”
“It’s better than nothing, Monsignor,” I said. “If you absolutely can’t acknowledge the information about the plot, at least do that. It will give us a chance.”
“I agree,” Bruzzone said. “It may work, and you can sign such a letter without fear of incident. You have drafted letters for His Holiness on this very subject, responding to reports from bishops in Poland.”
“Perhaps,” Montini said. He rose from his seat and approached O’Flaherty and Bruzzone. All pretense of an official meeting was gone. The three men huddled together, conversing in Italian. They had an easy familiarity, their places in the Vatican hierarchy less important now than their common bond as friends and conspirators.
“Do you really think it can work?” Kaz whispered to me.
“It has to,” I said. “That was sharp thinking. It’s a good-faith effort on our part, which has to count for something. I wonder if we should have pressed Montini more, though.”
“If the Pope is nervous about the Germans taking the Vatican, I doubt he would associate himself with any document that would put him in league with the Allies and the anti-Nazi plotters.”
“Gentlemen,” Monsignor Montini said. “I believe I can craft the letter as you suggest. I will work on it today. Meanwhile, Monsignor Bruzzone will deliver both documents to Sir D’Arcy. He can get them to Switzerland, I imagine.”
“I made copies last night,” O’Flaherty said. “We will keep those for when the time is right. I have a priest working on a translation of the Auschwitz Protocol into English. I’ll give you a copy, Billy, when that’s done.”
“This must be kept secret, for the moment,” Montini said to Kaz and me. “I trust the monsignors implicitly. We have worked together many times during this war, to help the unfortunate among us. They are both good men, as you are, I am sure. Can I trust your silence?”
“Yes,” I said. “But I will have to report this to my superiors, once this mission is complete.”
“Of course,” Montini said. “Have you made progress in your investigation?”
“We have,” I said. “As soon as we return with Diana-Sister Justina-I expect we will be very close to finding the killer.”
“Excellent,” Montini said. “We were greatly saddened at the loss of Monsignor Corrigan. The work we do is not without danger.”
“How soon can you have the letter ready?” I hoped he’d say within the hour. All I could think of was Diana crossing that white line.
“Not until later today. I have other pressing duties to attend to. Have Monsignor Bruzzone bring you to my office in the Papal Palace at three o’clock.” So much for my high hopes. One more day, then.
“Grand work, boys,” O’Flaherty said after Montini left us. “That ought to do the trick. Monsignor Bruzzone will get you the letter this afternoon. I must leave you now. We have a bit of a crisis in one of our houses.”
“In Rome?” I asked. “Remke warned you about the Gestapo, remember?”