James Benn: Death

“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.

“Uscire 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.