Death's Door (42 page)

“Why?”

“What crime have I committed on Vatican ground? The mutilation of a pillow?” He smiled, wiping away the dampness on his cheeks.

“You have just confessed to murdering Monsignor Corrigan,” Kaz said.

“I was present, yes. But the crime occurred outside the boundary, as determined by the Lateran Treaty. And the Vatican Gendarmerie has already turned the murderer over to the authorities in Rome.”

“Soletto,” O’Flaherty said. “He was murdered well inside the walls.”

“I never said I harmed him. Simply that once a course is set, it must be followed.” He straightened his shoulders and held his head high, a newfound confidence replacing the display of weeping sorrow. “Please, call Inspector Cipriano, and ask him what charge can be brought against me. Actually, it was I who was assaulted tonight. Only
my
blood was shed.”

Kaz, Diana, and I retreated to the hallway, leaving O’Flaherty standing guard over Bruzzone.

“I don’t like it,” Diana said. “He is probably a little crazy, but smart. He went right back to his original story.”

“He’s gotta be a little nuts. We should have had Cipriano here to see all this,” I said. “But he was a possible suspect too.”

“Bruzzone was obviously under a lot of pressure,” Kaz said, “keeping everything bottled up. Now that he has confessed his sins,
he has retreated into self-preservation. After months of deceit, it is likely second nature to him. What should we do? He is right that our standing here is precarious as best.”

“I’m going to try something,” I said. We went back into the room.

“Are you going to let me go?” Bruzzone asked.

“I think we can put together a case against you with Inspector Cipriano,” I said.

“Of course, I forget. I stole a cheese knife as well. Good luck, my friend.”

“Okay,” I said, shaking my head as if we’d been outfoxed. “Let me congratulate you. You’re doing everything right. Stick to your story, I’m sure that you’ll be able to hang on here until the Allies arrive.”

“Yes,” Kaz chimed in, already with me. “Then there will be a different police force in Rome. They will certainly take up the case of the murder of an American monsignor.”

“So sit tight,” I said. “You know that Corrigan was friends with Wild Bill Donovan, head of the OSS? I’m sure he’ll send in a team with the first Allied troops to enter Rome. It may be a month or so, but your day will come. Enjoy the time you have left.”

“I will go to the Germans. I cannot be kept here against my will.”

“Don’t you be so sure, Renato,” O’Flaherty said. “Inspector Cipriano may put you in protective custody. Monsignor Corrigan has a lot of friends here who may wish you harm, regardless of the legal issues. It would be for your own good.” O’Flaherty was quick on the uptake himself.

I watched Bruzzone’s eyes go from calm and confident to wary and worried. We had him. “There is another way,” I said.

“What?” he asked.

“I need to close out this case. Write out what you told us here—”

“Never!”

“Just as you told us. Nothing about crimes committed in the Vatican. But Genoa, Rossi coming here, contacting the Gestapo, Koch, all that. Nothing that Cipriano could arrest you for.”

“And what will you do for me?”

“I will get you out of here by noon today. I’m in contact with a German intelligence officer who can take you north. He’ll want to hear about you contacts with the Gestapo and Koch. Maybe they’ll set you up with Mussolini in Salò, on Lake Garda. Ought to be nice there in the spring. The Fascists could use a tame priest, don’t you think?”

We went back and forth for a while before Bruzzone caved. I had him convinced it would be either a short wait for the Allies and a possible OSS assassination team or a chance to leave the Vatican behind and head north with a German escort, putting miles and a lot of munitions between his own precious self and the advancing Allies. By the time he’d written out his statement, he was chuckling over what a great deal he’d made.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

A
FEW HOURS
of sleep later, Diana and I stood by the white border in Saint Peter’s Square, her face turned up to the warming sun. Kaz and Abe stood a few yards back with Bruzzone, each of them grasping an arm. It was a pleasant day.

“What’s the purpose of the statement, Billy? You can’t use it for anything. Nothing legal, anyway,” she said.

“Right, but I needed Bruzzone to believe it was worth something to me. And he thinks it will put him in the good graces of the Germans, having warned them of an Allied agent at the Spanish Steps.”

“But he doesn’t know that you are turning him over to one of Colonel Remke’s men.”

“Exactly. I mentioned an intelligence officer, but he didn’t put two and two together. He was so desperate to find a willing sponsor to take him north, away from the Allied armies, he didn’t consider that possibility.”

“So the confession is really for Remke,” she said, her eyes still closed and lifted toward the sky. “Funny.”

“What?”

“That if Bruzzone were not so desperate for his own life, he might have taken the time to think it all through. Now, his lust for life will be the death of him.” I didn’t agree that it was funny, but I didn’t quibble about it either.

A few minutes later, a staff car rolled up and stopped by the white line. Bernard rolled down the driver’s window and gave a wave. Dieter got out on the passenger’s side, his arm in sling, but with a smile on his face. Nice to have pals among your enemies.

“It seems you owe us an automobile as well as a uniform,” Dieter said, clicking his heels and executing a slight bow in Diana’s direction. I decided the friendliness was especially directed toward her. But I was used to that.

“I didn’t think you’d want the car back full of holes. But I do have your uniform, cleaned and pressed. Boots shined as well,” I said, as I handed him a small valise.

“Thank you, Billy. I do not think I will see Italy again for a long time. I am glad at least to leave with my hand-tailored uniform and good Italian boots.”

“I have something else for you,” I said, handing him the paper and gesturing with my thumb toward Bruzzone. “A murdering monsignor. He’s the guy who tipped off Koch about our meeting.”

“And the man who killed Monsignor Corrigan and Commissario Soletto?” Dieter asked.

“Word gets around,” I said. “Your informers are quick off the mark. Yeah, that’s him.”

“Why give him to us?” Dieter asked. “Not that I mind getting my hands on the man who was the cause of my wound.” He rubbed his arm as he eyed Bruzzone.

“Certain legal questions have been raised. The Lateran Treaty, jurisdiction, that sort of thing. There’s a chance he could get away with it, given the current situation.”

“He doesn’t look worried,” Dieter said, glancing at Bruzzone.

“Well, he doesn’t know who you are. He was trying to get in good with the Gestapo, so they would protect him from any charges. He thinks you’re the next best thing. I promised him you’d take him north.”

“He is the murderer, you are certain?”

“We are,” Diana said.

That seemed to settle that. “He will be taken north, you have
my word.” Dieter nodded to Bernard, who bundled Bruzzone into the back of the car. I thought I saw a look flash across his face, concern perhaps, or maybe the ache in his head had worn off and he was thinking more clearly. But it didn’t last. I could see the killer’s wheels spinning, the process of rationalization kicking back in. He was telling himself a story and willing it to be true. He was going north, yes.

We waved good-bye.

“Let’s walk through Saint Peter’s,” Diana said after we’d watched the car drive off. Rino and Abe had disappeared, and we were as alone as we’d been in a while, the huge square behind us.

“I don’t know,” I said as we neared the entrance. “I don’t know if I want to go inside.”

“Billy, it’s beautiful. Awe-inspiring. And I’m not even Catholic.”

“That’s just it. I am. But the people I’ve seen here are no different from people anywhere. Some decent, some bad, and a lot in between. I thought it would be different at the Vatican, like a shining city on a hill. But it’s just another town on high ground, with good and evil pretty well evened out. For every Zlatko there’s an O’Flaherty, and too many Bruzzones—weak and willing to trade their souls.”

“I saw a lot of good here, Billy,” Diana said. “But then it did not have to live up to my youthful ideals. That’s a lot to ask for.”

“Not here. It shouldn’t be.” I’d sent a man north, knowing what that meant. Even though he’d murdered and betrayed people who trusted him, it weighed on my mind. The Vatican didn’t seem worthy of my childhood vision of it, and at the same time I felt the stain of death upon me and wished I could have found more solace here.

“All right then,” she said. “Let us stroll in the gardens. I can’t tell you how many times I walked through them and thought of you by my side.”

We agreed on the gardens, and I didn’t look back as we left the basilica. We passed the gardener’s cottage, and saw Abe and Rosana sitting on the front step. Abe nodded a brief greeting, and then turned his eyes upon Rosana with her two children at her side. A happy ending, for them at least.

We walked along the old Leonine Wall, the ancient fortified wall of the city. We skirted the radio tower with its association with sudden death. It felt like springtime, green grass and early flowers blooming in the bright sun. A starling chattered in a treetop, and we grinned like idiots at such a simple pleasure.

“Billy!” It was Kaz, trotting up the walkway. In a hurry. Good-bye to simple pleasures. Diana sighed and looked away.

“What?” I said, trying not to take it out on Kaz.

“John May wants to see us. We need to leave. The three of us,” he added, seeing the look on my face. Kaz turned abruptly and we followed as I wondered what his face looked like.

“This has nothing to do with the situation here,” May said as he served tea in Sir D’Arcy’s sitting room. “Monte Cassino, I mean. It is simply that everything is in place to get you out. Tides and the moon, that sort of thing. We have an excellent forgery on a travel pass. It will get a truck to the coast without a search.”

“How good a forgery?” Diana asked.

“Practically the original,” May said. “We have three lieutenants in one house who were going stir-crazy. They convinced their host to take them to the opera. So they dressed up in the finest clothes they could find, and she took them to her box. Wealthy woman. Right in the next box was none other than General Rainer Stahel, the military commander of Rome! So the lady begins flirting with him outrageously. She evidently thought it the best way to distract his attention from the very quiet young men sitting with her. At intermission, she asked him for his autograph, if you can believe it, and he scrawled it on her program. We have copied it and used it several times. Always works like a charm.”

“The best defense is a good offense,” I said. “When do we leave?”

“Within the hour. We need to get you down to Fiumicino before nightfall. It’s a little fishing village on the coast.”

“Can you take four of us?” Kaz asked.

“The princess?” May asked. Kaz nodded. “Yes, one more should be no problem.” That put a smile on Kaz’s face. We all dashed to
Santa Marta to give Nini the good news. We found her in the refectory, but her response was not what Kaz expected.

“I cannot leave with you,” she said, wringing her hands. “There is so much work with the refugees. And Hugh needs me. You know what it is like, Piotr. I have a duty, even though I am not in uniform. I am Italian, and so many of these are my people, Christian and Jew alike. I cannot leave them.”

“You do not want to?” Kaz asked.

“I wish to, with all my heart,” she said. “But I cannot.” She kissed me on the cheek, hugged Diana tearfully, then took Kaz by the hand and led him upstairs.

We waited. It wasn’t like we had a lot of bags to pack. Diana was still wearing her expensive duds, and I had my coat on, so we were as ready as we needed to be. A half hour later, Kaz came downstairs alone. He didn’t say a word.

John May didn’t ask about Nini. Maybe he’d known what her answer would be. He packed us in the back of a very old truck of indeterminate vintage, and threw blankets over empty crates shoved in front of us. He slapped the side of the vehicle, and a silent driver took us through the Sant’Anna Gate and out of the Vatican City State, into the unknown. I didn’t mind one bit.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

“U
SCIRE QUI
.”
THE
driver said after two hours of slow roads and one checkpoint. May had been right. We had been waved right through.

“This is our stop,” Kaz translated. It was the first thing he had said since we’d left.

We jumped from the back of the truck and stretched our stiff limbs. We were on a wharf, a scattering of fishing boats bobbing on the tide. The setting sun sparkled on the water. If we weren’t being smuggled out of enemy territory, it would have been downright pretty. The driver pointed to the most dilapidated craft in the harbor, at the far end of the wharf.

Walking toward the fishing boat, I felt exposed. Anyone along the shore could spot us, and there was no cover, nowhere to run. Our footsteps echoed on the weathered planks, the only other sound coming from the gulls squabbling for fish guts.

Our boat was thoroughly rusted, with what paint there was peeling off in great chunks. I saw movement in the cabin and wished I still had that Beretta.

“That you, Billy?” A large shadow emerged from the boat.

“Big Mike!” Diana said, running to give him a hug.

“Quiet down out there!” a rumbling baritone echoed from below deck.

“Come on,” Big Mike said, grinning as he helped Diana aboard. “We’re ready to shove off.”

We cleared the harbor as the sun vanished below the horizon, the only light coming from the distant stars. At the wheel, Lieutenant John Hamilton checked his compass with a flashlight, its red filter protecting his night vision.

“Will you tell this big lummox to stay out of the way?” Hamilton said. “I’m about ready to throw him overboard.” Hamilton had two crewmen along, Yugoslavian pirates by the look of them. They laughed, and I could tell it had become a running joke.