James Benn: Death

“Just keep it quiet, okay?” I asked Bruzzone. “We don’t want word getting around.”

“Of course, you have my word. Has he told you anything yet?”

“A little, but we wanted him to build up his strength. By morning we should know everything.”

“Good, good,” Bruzzone said. “You know that might be all the time you have. The College of Cardinals is meeting tomorrow. You could be expelled before nightfall. I was telling Hugh he may want to prepare a safe house in Rome for you.”

“Thanks for the warning,” I said, wondering just how safe any house in occupied Rome might be.

“Let me know if I can help,” he said to O’Flaherty, and then returned to the table for more food.

“Billy, I don’t like deceiving a friend,” O’Flaherty whispered.

“It has to be done this way. Think of it as excluding a friend as a suspect.”

“Still, it’s a lie.”

“Cops lie all the time. It’s often the best way to get at the truth.”

“Now there’s one for the philosophers,” he said.

I cornered John May and confirmed that Sir D’Arcy had received a copy of the Auschwitz Protocol and Remke’s letter. May knew about the documents going to Switzerland. May knew most everything that went on, but not the Severino Rossi story. His version had Rossi in O’Flaherty’s room. I asked him to pass on the news that we might have the investigation wrapped up by tomorrow, and that we needed passage out of here. He had his own communications network in place, and I didn’t want to know details, except for when Kaz, Diana, and I could get out.

And maybe Nini, I thought, as I watched her and Kaz together. As I did, the door opened, and Bishop Zlatko strode into the room. Everyone stopped talking and stared.

“Now you all see that I was right when I said these spies should be cast out,” he said. “The Allies have desecrated Monte Cassino, and will destroy the Vatican itself!”

“Bishop Zlatko, this is not the place for accusations,” Monsignor Montini said, rising from his seat.

“You are right. Tomorrow will be the time. I only hope Monsignor O’Flaherty will also be dealt with. He is obviously an Allied agent consorting with these provocateurs.”

“Bishop, I know we don’t agree, but come break bread with us,” O’Flaherty said, clearly doing his best to keep his temper at bay.

“Bishop, please, for the peace of this house,” Montini said, gesturing toward the table.

“Yes, of course,” he said, visibly calming himself. “Forgive my rudeness. The news of Monte Cassino has been quite upsetting.” He came to the table and I poured him a glass of wine.

“So, what happened to our deal?” I asked.

“I did act to stop proceedings against you, as I said I would.”

“But you didn’t get me the list of informers I asked for. Instead, you headed straight for Koch’s headquarters.”

“Of course, that is where I was going to get the information. What better place? I was simply surprised when I saw you there, in that German uniform.”

“So then I guess you know we have Severino Rossi?”

“What of it?”

“He’s about healed up enough to tell us who killed Monsignor Corrigan.”

“You would believe a Jew? He’d say anything to save his own skin,” Zlatko said, his lips twisted in disgust.

“That describes a lot of people. What about the informer?”

“Oh, I know exactly who it is. But I have no reason to tell you now. You have no standing here and there is nothing you can do against me. You will be tossed out into Rome proper soon enough. Thank you for the wine, it was mediocre.” He barked out a harsh laugh, turned on his heel, and left, not even slightly curious as to where Rossi was.

“Now we wait,” I said. I’d gone outside with the last of the guests, to make sure everyone had left the building. John May was the last to go, and I watched him walk through the cemetery in the courtyard of the German College.

“Do you think it will work?” O’Flaherty asked.

“It already has,” Nini said. She stood at the table where she’d been cleaning up. “The cheese knife is missing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. It had a white bone handle and a long, thin blade. Sharp enough to slice through that pecorino.”

“Okay, we need to move. Rino, take Nini and Diana back to Nini’s place. Abe, take Rosana home, okay?”

“Good luck, Billy,” Diana said, giving me a kiss. I squeezed her hand and then she was gone, no protest, no argument about staying to help. It wasn’t like her. Whatever the reason, I was glad to have her out of harm’s way.

“Kaz and I will be in your room, Monsignor,” I said as the three of us took the stairs up. “With the door cracked open we’ll have a view of the hallway. I doubt Montini is our man, but he and Cipriano think Rossi is in the room above yours. In case it’s either of them, I want you upstairs in the room opposite that one.”

“I cannot believe either the monsignor or the inspector is guilty.”

“That’s because you see the best in people, Monsignor. Occupational hazard for a cop is to see the worst.” We stopped on his floor. “We’ve got three possibilities. John May was given your room, and Brackett and Bruzzone were told it’s the room across.”

“Too bad Zlatko did not take the bait,” Kaz said.

“He still could have heard a rumor. Or maybe he’s certain of getting his information from someone else. We have to watch for him as well.”

“Are you sure the best place for me is upstairs?” O’Flaherty asked.

“Yes,” I said. “We could miss a light tread on the staircase. Sound the alarm if you hear anything, and we’ll come running.”

“All right, me boy,” he said, opening the door to his room. “Let’s catch a killer before the night is over. I took a lot of abuse moving people out for the night. I hope it was worth it. Arm yourselves.” He took a golf club from a bag by the door and hefted it. “I haven’t played since the Germans took over. It will feel good to swing a nine iron.”

Kaz and I settled in after O’Flaherty went upstairs. I figured we had time, as the killer would wait for at least an hour to be sure everyone was asleep. It wasn’t quite ten o’clock, but for the Vatican that was the middle of the night. I decided to make one quick circuit of the building. I grabbed a three iron and left Kaz staring through the slim crack of the open door.

Downstairs I checked the kitchen, making sure no one was hiding there. I went out the back door and circled the grounds, watching for anyone approaching. Nothing moved but the frost on my breath. I came in through the cemetery, where the tall stone markers and the evergreens cast shadows in the faint moonlight. Part of the cemetery wall was being repaired, and I stepped carefully around a pile of bricks and scaffolding. A series of arches ran along one wall, creating a covered walkway that led from the cemetery. The main door was off this walkway, and I checked to be sure it had been left unlocked. On the side of the courtyard, an exterior staircase went up to the second floor. That door was locked fast. Good. Only one way in. I retraced my steps, checking the courtyard as I did. There were no lights showing, no sign of activity anywhere. A balcony ran along the second floor, where doors led to the rooms opposite O’Flaherty’s, but there was no access from the outside. The staircase was a separate structure, and with that door locked, passage was blocked.

I thought I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I entered the cemetery garden, watching the breeze rustle the pines. Maybe that was all I saw. I waited, letting the night settle in around me. No sounds other than the wind came to me, so I left the cemetery behind. That was time enough with the dead.