James Benn: Death

I caught the heavy drone a second later. A noise like no other, four-engine bombers headed in our direction. Once you’ve heard it, you don’t soon forget it.

“Come on,” I said, edging closer to the street. “How soon will they be overhead, Abe?”

“Any minute,” he said. “They’re a little to the south.” He edged around the corner and checked the street and the sky. “The Krauts are all looking up.”

We walked out into the street. Everyone was looking up, Germans, Swiss Guard, nuns, priests, passersby. The droning grew louder as we watched the planes passing far above the city rooftops-scores, maybe hundreds of them-flying across Rome, heading toward some target to the west. A few puffs of antiaircraft fire added to the show, but the bombers flew on unscathed. Abe nodded and we stepped out into the street, our heads craned skyward like everyone else, hands shielding eyes from the sun. We walked slowly, moving through the crowd like ghosts, unseen. Every soul around us was united in curiosity and relief that such a devastating force was going elsewhere, passing over with their bomb bay doors closed, the gods of war having decreed one more day of life and sunshine.

Such was the joy that no one noticed us as we stepped over the line, into the safety of the Holy See.

“Come, quickly, you must not be seen,” O’Flaherty said, beckoning us with an impatient wave of the hand, as if we were dawdling schoolchildren. Rino had asked one of the Swiss Guard to telephone the monsignor, who’d left a message for us to stay put. He arrived in two minutes, out of breath and with a worried look on his face. We were well within the Vatican walls, so I didn’t understand whom we were hiding from. “Here, inside.”

He held open the door of the Church of San Pellegrino and ushered us into a small chapel not far from the Swiss Guard barracks. Set between two larger buildings, it looked like an afterthought of the Vatican bureaucracy.

“You are all in one piece,” he said. “Thank the Lord. We heard reports of gunfire; you’re none of you hurt, are you?”

“No, Monsignor,” Diana said, laying her hand on his arm. “It was close, but we got away. Koch was waiting for us. Or for Colonel Remke.”

“The only good thing about Koch is that he provides proof of the very devil in our midst. And you, my dear, I’d almost not recognize you. Quite a change, quite a change,” O’Flaherty said, letting a smile creep over the concern on his face. I hadn’t had the time to notice, but Diana was nicely turned out. She wore a dark-blue dress and a fitted jacket under a stylish tan raincoat. She looked like she’d been shopping, not kept under house arrest.

“What’s the problem, Monsignor?” I asked, saving my questions about Roman fashions for later. “We’re safe now, aren’t we?”

“For the moment, yes. I take it you have not heard?”

“Heard what?”

“The Americans have bombed Monte Cassino. This morning, over two hundred bombers attacked the abbey. It is completely destroyed and many civilian refugees have been killed. Trouble is brewing over this, and the Germans are making the most of it.”

“What’s special about this abbey?” Abe asked. “We’ve bombed whole cities, so what makes this one joint so important?”

“The Abbey of Monte Cassino sits on the highest ground above the town of Cassino and overlooks the Liri and Rapidio valleys,” O’Flaherty said. “The hill is part of the German defensive line. They hadn’t occupied the abbey, but having control of the area around it gave them an extraordinary position for observation. Allied soldiers have been hit hard trying to take it.”

“You know for sure the Krauts weren’t inside?” Abe asked.

“Yes, we have had regular reports from the abbot, and the Holy See received official assurances from Field Marshal Albert Kesselring that no German troops would set foot inside. The occupants were monks, refugees, and priceless works of art. It was founded in the year 524 by the Benedictines, and took centuries to complete. Today it was destroyed by American bombs in one morning. Some cardinals want His Holiness to protest directly, but he has not yet made up his mind.”

“Surely we’re not in any danger?” Diana said.

“Many in the College of Cardinals are very angry over the bombing. Some because they still harbor fascist sympathies; others are genuinely appalled at the senseless destruction. There has been talk of expelling all Allied escapees within the Vatican. Not to mention you and the baron, along with Miss Seaton. Depending on what action His Holiness takes, you may indeed be in danger of expulsion.”

“What about his order to expell refugees in the other Vatican properties?” I asked.

“Monsignor Montini has managed to derail that idea,” O’Flaherty said. “But there is so much anger against the Allies now that he may not be able to do the same if the cardinals demand action. To make matters worse, the Allies have also announced they may bomb Castel Gandolfo, the Pope’s summer palace in the mountains above Anzio, claiming it is occupied by German troops, which is ridiculous! There are over fifteen thousand refugees there. Can you imagine the carnage if they bomb it? I must say, your generals wield their bombers with an indiscriminate hand. Now I’ve got myself worked up telling you this, but understand, you may need to leave soon, and quickly at that.”

“We need to get Abe to a safe place,” I said. “Bomber crew may not be the most popular guys around here. Best for him to lie low.”

“Rino,” said O’Flaherty, “will you take Abraham to my room? And perhaps you should stay as well, in case you were recognized by Koch. It might not be safe for you on the streets of Rome.”

“Yes, a good precaution,” Rino agreed. “We shall go through the gardens, less chance of us being seen.”

O’Flaherty checked the street, and motioned for them to leave. We decided to go out separately, in case anyone was looking for a group of four.

“You are safe with most of the Swiss Guard,” O’Flaherty said. “After helping me smuggle escapees in, they will have little heart for tossing them out. There may be a few with pro-German leanings, but not many.”

“What about the Vatican police?” Diana asked.

“With Soletto gone, someone may take over the role of chief informant for the Fascists. You are safe with Cipriano, I am sure of that. But I wouldn’t announce myself at headquarters. Any over-zealous gendarme could arrest you for violating Vatican neutrality at the drop of a hat.”

“How is Rossi? Any improvement?”

“Bad news, I’m afraid. He died a few hours ago.”

“Damn! Who knows about it?”

“No one but myself, the baron, Nini, and Sister Cecilia. You wanted his presence kept quiet, so I decided that meant in both life and death. Sister Cecilia and I moved his body to the mortuary. He is listed as unidentified, and no one’s the wiser.”

“You’re sure no one got to him?”

“Positive, lad. The room was fortified and the story put out that Nini had come down with influenza. Everyone steered clear. Only Sister Cecilia went in and out.”

“Who exactly is Rossi?” Diana asked.

“Severino Rossi was the one man who could have identified the murderer of Monsignor Corrigan. And he still might,” I said.

“This is the Holy See,” O’Flaherty said. “But do not expect we can raise the dead, me boy.”

“What I had in mind was that celebration you mentioned, remember? Think we could throw a little party tonight, to toast the return of Diana and the others?”

“Of course. But why, and who is invited?”

“About a dozen people. Here’s what we’ll need-”