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.
“Because we know you’re one of Rudder’s agents. It’s something we stumbled onto during the course of the investigation. I thought you’d want to know.”
Brackett went for his pipe, fiddled with it for a moment, then tossed it down on the desk. “All right,” he said. “How long has it been compromised?”
“It happened two days ago. When’s the last time you made contact?”
“Four days ago. Whenever I have something to report, I walk along the border at nine o’clock in the morning, circling the Bernini colonnades. Enrico-that’s my contact’s code name-comes into the piazza.”
“Enrico may not know,” I said. “Stay away from him, all right?”
“Sure,” Brackett said. “You certain about this?”
“It has been confirmed,” Kaz said. “You have been of great service. You are to be commended.”
“It saved my life, I’ll tell you that,” Brackett said, a regretful sigh escaping his lips. “This place is a prison at best, a lunatic asylum at worst. It has broken some people, you know. The Peruvian minister disappeared one day, vanished. The Honduran drank himself to death-in my opinion, mainly from being cooped up with his wife.”
“What was the last thing you reported to Enrico?” I asked.
“The status of your investigation. He said Rudder wanted to be informed. I figured we’re all on the same side, so it wouldn’t matter. Right?”
“Well, it’s hardly top-secret stuff. What else?”
“Oh, Soletto and Bishop Zlatko, that sort of thing.”
“What do you mean?” Kaz asked.
“Listen, I didn’t mean to do anything wrong,” Brackett said, finishing off his drink and topping off the glass from a brandy bottle.
“The letter,” Kaz prompted him.
“Right, the letter. How did you find out? Oh, never mind. Anyway, I didn’t want to chance it that Zlatko would really blow my cover. So I gave him the letter. I said he was a valued Allied agent, that sort of thing. Only, Soletto found out.”
“What?” Kaz and I both said at the same time. This was news.
“Yeah,” Brackett said, slurping his brandy and smacking his lips. “He sent for me, and waved the carbon copy under my nose.”
“You kept a copy on file?”
“That’s what we do here. Type things in triplicate. I never thought-well, let’s just leave it at that.”
“What did Soletto want?”
