reveal the truth about the camps. It had haunted her when she began to hear bits and pieces after first coming to Rome. We’d been able to grab a few hours together between assignments not long ago, and she’d told me about the trains, the transports to the east, and thousands disappearing. Industrial killing, on a scale so inconceivable that it was hard to accept, and even harder to convince her superiors that the reports were not exaggerations or deliberate propaganda.
“Now tell me about this person you want,” Remke said, rising from the table and walking to one of the windows. “A prisoner, I assume?”
“Severino Rossi, and I hope he still is,” I said, watching Remke as he pulled a drape back, looking like a gangster checking to see if John Law was on his tail. “He’s a French Jew who made it to the Vatican and got fingered for the murder of Monsignor Corrigan. Commissario Soletto turned him over to the police in Rome, without much of an investigation.”
“If it has been more than a week, I doubt Monsieur Rossi is still in Rome. Or alive, I regret. This is the crime you were sent to investigate, yes?”
“It is. I haven’t had much success yet. I need to talk to Rossi and find out what he knows, before the killer strikes a third time.”
“Who else has been killed?” Diana asked.
“Soletto. Last night,” I said.
“Really? I did not know that,” Remke said. He didn’t sound as if he was used to secondhand news. “Who do you think is responsible?”
“Hard to say. There were a lot of people around the radio tower, where it happened. Might have been Bishop Zlatko, but he’s on the top of my list mainly because I don’t care for the man. Monsignor Bruzzone was there, along with Robert Brackett, the American diplomat. Radio technicians, Swiss Guard, gendarmes, various refugees, the list goes on.”
“There is a slight chance Rossi was not sent for transport if he was involved in a criminal case. I will look and see what I can find out. If Rossi is alive, and you keep your end of the bargain, I will give him to you.” Remke let the drape go, apparently satisfied with the street scene.
“How will we make contact?” I asked.
“I will give you a military pass, which allows you to go about the city unmolested. Be at Piazza Navona tomorrow at noon, precisely. Stand by the Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi and I will meet you there. At that time, I will tell you what I have found out. You must have the acknowledgment from Montini by the next day.”
“Two days? What if he won’t see me?”
“Make it your business to see that he does. If not, I will be forced to take Miss Seaton with me to Germany as my prisoner, and your two comrades will be back in the Regina Coeli.”
“But-”
“Two days. Excuses are irrelevant. I will leave you both alone now, for twenty minutes. Do not attempt anything foolish. My men are in the corridor and on the street.”
With that, he left the room. Diana and I were alone, two pawns in a game of giants. The only thing a pawn can do is to move ahead, slowly, hoping to reach that final rank where it can be anything it wants.
I figured I was halfway there. Maybe even a little further, I thought, as I looked into Diana’s eyes, inhaled her scent, felt the coolness of her skin, and fell into her embrace.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Another trip through narrow Roman streets, only this time I was alone in the backseat of Remke’s staff car. The little swastika banners on the fender snapped as the BMW sped down the Via Nazionale, the driver leaning on the horn as he encountered traffic and slow-footed pedestrians. Soon it would be Chryslers barreling through these streets, but for now a black BMW with blood-red pennants still had the right of way.
“Here,” Remke pointed out from the front seat as we passed the Piazza Navona. “It is only a short walk from the Vatican. The Fountain of the Four Rivers is at the center. We are on the Corso Vittorio Emanuele, named for the Italian king.”
“I met him,” I said. “Wasn’t impressed.”
“I agree. A small man, in many respects. Too often, nations do not have the leaders they deserve. Instead, they are burdened with the weak, the stubborn, or the blind.”
“That’s the good thing about living in a democracy. We can get rid of them every few years.”
“Perhaps. But your President Roosevelt seems to be under the spell of Stalin, and I doubt he will be thrown out of office for that offense, even though it should be a crime. Churchill, now there is a man who knows how to govern as well as fight.”
“You’re hoping he will talk Roosevelt into accepting a negotiated peace?”
“He must. Otherwise Europe will be a wasteland.”
I bit my tongue. The Germans had gotten a good start on the wasteland business all by themselves, but there was no percentage in antagonizing Remke when he was about to let me go. I needed him to free Diana, as well as Rino and Abe. Ending the war, that was a chance in a thousand; but getting those three on neutral territory, I figured the odds were more like four to one in my favor, so I kept my trap shut.
Remke beat a rhythm with his fingers on the door, his arm out the open window. His head swiveled to the left, then the right, taking in everything happening around him. He was obviously a professional, a soldier and spy who knew what he was doing. But something had clouded his judgment. Something had him in its grip, causing him to miss the big picture. No matter how logical the plotters’ plans were, even if they got Hitler this time, the die was cast. Soviet tanks and armies of men were moving west, surging toward Germany. Not like the painful crawl of our few divisions up the boot of Italy. Not even like the invasion of France, whenever that would be. No, there were hundreds of divisions, all out for blood and revenge. And a single emotion blinded Remke to that inescapable fact. Hope.
This plan gave him hope, not only for his nation, but for himself and his family as well. He didn’t strike me as a man who believed all the Nazi propaganda about the pure Nordic race. Instead he seemed an honorable man for an enemy. I had to admire him, but all I believed in right now was getting Diana out, and freeing Abe and Rino. I knew I didn’t want their deaths on my conscience. Well, maybe that was blind hope too. I’d have to watch out for that.
We had to wait to cross the Tiber. A column of half-tracks and trucks about a mile long snaked its way along the road ahead, blocking the intersection. I lay back, closed my eyes, and savored the memory of twenty minutes alone with Diana.
We’d sat on the couch, wordlessly holding each other, grasping at the minutes as they slipped by. I hadn’t known what to say, what sentence I could possibly form that would make sense in this upside-down world of elegant prisons, disguises, and German rescuers. Our desire to touch, to caress lips, cheeks, and hands, to feel the physical sensation of being together was overpowering, our bodies having survived so much danger, abuse, and separation. We kissed, but ultimately our passion was trumped by relief, fear, sadness, and the ticking clock, and we simply held onto each other like drowning swimmers. When it came time to depart, we gripped each other so tightly that I must have left a bruise on Diana’s arm as I struggled to draw her in, to bring her close, to remember the feel of her, the smell of her hair, the contours of her shoulders, arms, waist, and hips. Everything was sharp and clear, my mind on high alert to drink in every detail, even as Remke took me by the arm and closed the door, leaving Diana standing alone, tears glistening on her face.
We hadn’t spoken a single word.
The driver floored it as soon as the column had passed, wakening me from my daydream, back into the nightmare of Remke’s fantasy. The bronze statues of Winged Victory on pillars flanking the bridge would have laughed at our pathetic plotting if they hadn’t seen so many thwarted plans and dashed hopes before. Mussolini must have tipped his hat to them once or twice, and look where that got him. We skirted the massive Castel Sant’Angelo, where popes used to hide out back when the Huns came calling. Not our modern motorized Huns, but their ancestors on horseback. The castle was useless now, pretty to look at, but nothing that would stand up to a few well-placed howitzer rounds.
