“Yes. Many times.”
“And what did you say?”
“I asked God to provide, to save the innocent, to protect the refugees, to ease suffering, to succor the weak, and to help me control my lustful thoughts.”
“Did you have many?” she asked sweetly, her lips lingering at the corner of his mouth.
“Yes,” he sighed.
“So he didn’t answer that particular prayer.”
“I really didn’t want him to.”
She giggled again, and his mouth returned to hers, insistent, hungry, plying happy sighs and sweet promises. When they finally parted, her lips were swollen and her heart was light, and as she fell asleep that night, there was hope in her heart and a prayer on constant replay in her mind—the same prayer she knew so many others were uttering.
“Save us, Lord. Deliver us,” she pleaded. “Please, deliver us.”
21 March, 1944
Confession: Sometimes I think the Germans are invincible.
American forces landed on Italy’s Anzio Beach at the end of January, securing the beachhead and taking the Germans completely by surprise, but instead of pushing immediately toward Rome and forcing the Germans to retreat and pull off the Gustav Line, they stopped, inexplicably entrenching themselves, and the Germans were given ample time to reinforce their defenses and launch a counterattack. Two months later, thousands of lives have been lost and the battle rages on. The Americans, only fifty-eight kilometers from Rome on January 22, remain fifty-eight kilometers from Rome on March 21. I fear this war will never end, and I will be trapped at Via Tasso forever, smuggling gold and smuggling kisses from a man who won’t truly be mine until Rome is liberated.
Eva Rosselli
CHAPTER 20
VIA RASELLA
Captain von Essen was very quiet when he arrived on Wednesday. He shut his office door and stayed locked inside all morning. At lunchtime Eva waited for Greta, who had sent word the day before that she wanted to whisk Eva away to some new shop. But Greta never showed. A little worried about her, Eva knocked tentatively on the captain’s door and was told to enter.
“Is Greta well?” she asked as soon as she set foot inside.
“Yes,” the captain answered, but something flickered in his eyes.
“We were going to have lunch together.”
“I see,” he said softly. He sat back in his chair and studied her, his head cocked to the side. It was a strange response, considering his wife was technically unaccounted for.
“Sit down, Eva.”
Eva perched at the edge of one of the chairs in front of his desk, the same chair she always chose when he insisted she take dictation or instructions. He leaned forward, across his desk, and clasped his hands in front of him, eyeing her quizzically.
“Did you know that not one of our monastery raids was successful last weekend? Not one. No Jews. No partisans. No antifascists. How can that be? The lieutenant colonel was so sure the answer was with the church. But no.” Captain von Essen pushed the tips of his fingers together and rested his chin on them, like he was lost in thought. “I went home to my wife so disturbed that she avoided me for three days. But last night she told me something I could hardly believe.”
He continued to study Eva but didn’t explain what it was his wife had told him. She waited in silence, her stomach in coils of ever-tightening knots. He breezily changed the subject.
“You were wonderful Saturday night, my dear. Wonderful. Such a lucky coincidence for me that you play so well and you were so willing to perform.”
Eva thought it better not to remind him how truly unwilling she’d been.
“Thank you,” she said simply. “Can I bring you some coffee, Captain von Essen?”
“That won’t be necessary. But I do need you to do something for me. Surely, there is a way for you to reach your brother at the Vatican?”
“No. I have never contacted him there.” It was the truth, but von Essen raised his brows as if that were hard to believe.
“Ah, but surely they could get a message to him if you needed him.”
Captain von Essen picked up the receiver on his shiny black telephone and turned the rotary, waiting for an operator to connect him.
“The Vatican, please,” he said and winked at Eva. “Your brother works with a monsignor. What was his name again?”
“Monsignor Luciano,” she answered numbly, wondering if the captain wanted her to say Monsignor O’Flaherty. Did he know that Angelo worked with O’Flaherty? Was that what this was about? Von Essen repeated the name to the operator. He waited for several moments, smiling benignly at Eva as she rose slowly from the chair and stood before him, her unease growing by the second.
“Ah. Very good. My name is Captain von Essen of the German Police. I need to get a message to Father Angelo Bianco, assistant to Monsignor Luciano. It is very important.” He paused as if he’d been instructed to hold.
“Please tell Father Bianco that his sister has been detained and is being questioned at Gestapo Headquarters.”
Angelo was kept waiting in a small holding room at Via Tasso for over an hour. No explanation was given, no answers were provided. He was told to wait, and he did. When he had received Captain von Essen’s message, he’d known the end had come. He only prayed it was his end and not Eva’s.
He’d informed Monsignor Luciano what had happened and was forbidden to leave the Vatican. Several priests who had worked in the underground had been detained and tortured, some executed, and some sent to prisoner-of-war camps in Germany.
“You cannot help Eva if they have taken her. You cannot save her, Angelo. But you can save yourself. Think of the people relying on you, my son. You must think of them.”
He’d kissed Monsignor Luciano’s hand and asked that he tell Monsignor O’Flaherty. O’Flaherty would understand, he was certain. And if he could help, he would. He’d taken more risks than anyone.
“We won’t be able to save you! The Pope can’t intercede. She isn’t worth your life, Angelo!” Monsignor Luciano cried, following him down the hall. But Angelo hadn’t looked back. He’d left the protection of the Vatican and taken the two buses across town to Via Tasso, knowing full well he was being lured out. But he’d had no other option. Von Essen had known the key to Angelo was Eva. And he’d used it. Angelo wasn’t surprised when it was Captain von Essen himself who finally entered the room.
“Thank you so much for coming here, Father Bianco. I would have come to you, but relations with the Vatican are so political, so dicey. Plus, there is the whole matter of diplomatic immunity. I thought it would be easier to have a discussion here, in case things don’t go according to plan.” He sat down and crossed his legs. His boots were so shiny Angelo could see the reflection of his cross in them.
“You wanted me to come here because you have no authority beyond the white line that separates the Vatican from the rest of Rome,” Angelo said calmly.
“But why would I need to do that? You are merely a humble priest. You wouldn’t know anything about Jews hidden all over the city, would you?” von Essen protested silkily.
“Where is my sister? Why has she been detained?”
Von Essen threw up his hands. “Oh, no. You misunderstand. She’s simply being questioned. And come now, Father, let’s not continue the charade. Eva is not your sister, is she?”
Angelo’s blood turned instantly to ice.