“I pity the man if Banda Koch is his last resort. But he’s proved his worth to them already, by alerting them to your presence today. Leaving the Vatican tomorrow may be too dangerous, Billy.”
“We’ve changed the meeting spot to the church at the top of the Spanish Steps. I’ll dress in civilian clothes. There’s no sense in going out as a priest again.”
“Or a German,” Kaz said.
“Hard to believe we’ve thrown in with a German intelligence officer, against an Italian Fascist and a Croatian bishop.”
“The Vatican is not quite what I thought it would be,” Kaz said. “I am not a religious man, and what happened to my cousin colored my view of the church hierarchy. But there is much good here, as well as evil. In Poland, the priests were executed by the Nazis, along with all the others they butchered. In Croatia, it is the priests who lead the butchery, and the church does little to stop it. Yet many here risk their lives to save others. It leaves one confused, doesn’t it?”
“Only if you expect revelation,” I said, gazing out at the basilica. “I find it easier to set my sights lower. Just because people wear fancy robes, they don’t necessarily act decently. It’s who they were before they put on the robes that matters.”
“I think the robes do matter, Billy. Once they are donned, this becomes a place of absolutes. No shades of gray, only the glittering dome of heaven or the descent into hell. From O’Flaherty to Zlatko, they all act in the name of God, don’t they? I don’t know why I am surprised; perhaps I had more faith than I thought.”
“And now you’re disappointed?”
“It does leave me wishing for simpler times.”
“To simpler times to come,” I said, raising my glass and draining the last of the wine, wondering when those times might be. Kaz finished his drink and we sat quietly, the rays of the setting sun gathering around the dome, bathing the basilica in pure light.
“Do you think Remke can succeed with the plot against Hitler?” Even here, in private, Kaz lowered his voice to a whisper.
“If it can be done, it would take a man like Remke to do it. He won’t be the one pulling the trigger, but he does seem the type to set things in motion.”
“Speaking of him, we should get the letter from Montini. After I find you some new clothes.”
I went to the window as Kaz left to find a new set of duds for me. The sky had turned a deep red, the dome now dark against the fading light. Rossi cried out from the next room. I hoped my prayers about tomorrow actually meant something, and that I wasn’t committing a sin for thinking they didn’t.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
I was decked out in a nice blue suit, a little shiny on the knees and elbows, but it fit. I didn’t mind swapping the clerical collar for a dark-blue polka-dot tie either. Kaz ditched his cassock as well, since everyone within Vatican City seemed to know who we really were.
Monsignor Bruzzone was at his desk, and didn’t seem unhappy to leave the paperwork behind. “I suppose you have heard about Bishop Zlatko,” he said as he led us out of the Medieval Palace. “He has left the Holy See.”
“Just a step ahead of Cardinal Boetto,” I said.
“It appears so. His archbishop and Archbishop Boetto are bitter enemies. Since Bishop Zlatko is close at hand, he knew he would incur the wrath meant for Archbishop saric.”
“Not without reason,” Kaz said as we neared the entrance to the Apostolic Palace.
“No, of course not,” Bruzzone said, halting in the middle of the courtyard. It was cold, and not a single light showed anywhere. “I simply meant that the bishop saw the handwriting on the wall and acted to save himself. Or, perhaps he is the killer you seek, and thought you were close to apprehending him. Have you made any progress that might have frightened him?”
“No, nothing,” I said. “Once the business with this letter is settled, we might have something to investigate.”
“Ah yes, that is more important, isn’t it? Come, I will take you up.” Bruzzone pointed to the top floor of the darkened palace. Above us, the last remnants of light cast an inky glow across the sky. I shivered, and followed.
“Alois, come stanno sua moglie ed i bambini? Franco, come stai?”
Bruzzone chatted with Alois and Franco, who wore capes over their gray field uniforms. I heard our names and Montini’s mentioned, then the doors were opened and the guards gave us friendly nods.
“You and Monsignor O’Flaherty both seem to know all the Swiss Guard well,” I said.
“Of course we do. In our business; it pays to befriend those who stand guard at the gates, yes? I got to know them even more closely when their chaplain fell ill and I took over his duties for a brief time. They are good men, many of them willing to turn a blind eye when POWs or refugees show up in the piazza. Others even give their assistance willingly.”
“It seems orders from the top are not always carried out to the letter,” I said, remembering what Montini had said this morning about ignoring the Pope’s directive for refugees to be turned out of papal properties.
“But is it not the spirit we should be concerned with here?” Bruzzone gave a wink, and we followed him up the marble staircase to the third floor. He had a point, and I recalled what Kaz had said about this being a place of absolutes. True, there wasn’t a lot of middle ground between heaven and hell, but some of these guys managed to find room in the shadows to rationalize their own actions. As long as it was to my benefit, I had no problem with that. After all, a Boston cop learns rationalization at the knee of his daddy.
“Monsignor,” Bruzzone said as he knocked at the open door. Montini did double duty, working afternoons as the papal secretary. His office was at the edge of the Pope’s private living quarters, which stretched around one corner of the top floor. The single window was covered in blackout drapes, and heavy wood paneling deadened the sound, making Bruzzone’s voice sound meek and fearful.
“Yes, come in,” Montini said, rising from his chair. “You are here for the letter, I assume?”
“Yes, Monsignor,” I said.
“You have given up the priesthood, both of you?” Montini said with a sly grin. “I despair of losing two such resourceful candidates for the clergy.”
“By now most people within these walls know we’re not for real,” I said.
“Correct. If prayer flew as quickly as gossip, all the saints in heaven could not keep up with it. But take care when you cross the border line to deliver this.” Montini handed Kaz a thick white envelope. “There is a copy in English as well as in German. I thought the former might imply delivery to the English or Americans.”
“That’s smart, Monsignor,” I said. “But what does the letter actually say?”
“It is addressed to Colonel Erich Remke, Excelsior Hotel, Rome,” Kaz said. Then he read.
As Minister of Ordinary Affairs for the Vatican State Secretariat, I acknowledge receipt of the document referred to as the Auschwitz Protocol, along with other documents related to the conflict which now engulfs the world.
The Holy See has received many reports of vast atrocities involving noncombatants, tormented as they are, for reasons of nationality or descent, destined to exterminatory measures. When soldiers turn their weapons against noncombatants to exercise these measures, whether from the air or on the ground, such acts are no longer part of jus ad bellum, the criteria for a just war, but must be called murder. Such reports beg the question, How should the honorable man act?
Should he not, over the ruins of a social order which has given such tragic proof of its ineptitude, gather together the hearts of all those who are magnanimous and upright, in the solemn vow not to rest until a vast legion shall be formed of those handfuls of men who, bent on bringing back society to its center of gravity, which is the very law of God, will take just action?
Mankind owes that vow to the countless dead who lie buried on the field of battle: The sacrifice of their lives is a holocaust offered for a new and better social order. Mankind owes that vow to the hundreds of thousands of persons who, without any fault on their part, sometimes only because of their nationality or race, have been consigned to death. Mankind owes that vow to the flood of tears and bitterness, to the accumulation of sorrow and suffering, emanating from the murderous ruin of this dreadful conflict and crying to Heaven to liberate the world from violence and terror.