Eva continued staring steadily at the captain. He raised a brow, waiting for her to respond. When she didn’t, he leaned into her, as if confiding in her, and his voice lowered convincingly.
“You can save each other. I have no wish to harm either of you. I just want to do my job. There is a great deal of pressure from Herr Himmler himself.” Captain von Essen took her hand. “So why don’t you tell me, Eva. Where is your brother hiding his Jews?”
“I am the only Jew he has helped, and that is only because we were raised together,” Eva said steadily.
“You must be so very grateful,” von Essen said softly. He pulled his weapon suddenly, and Eva gasped, but instead of firing it, he used it to backhand Angelo across the face.
Angelo’s head snapped back, and the left side of his face bloomed in hot pain, but he almost laughed in relief. If this was the captain’s approach, he welcomed it. Ask Eva the questions, torture Angelo. He wanted to sink to his knees in grateful prayer.
“You have me. Let him go,” Eva cried.
“Tell me what I want to know, and of course he may go.”
“I am the only Jew he has helped,” she repeated, her eyes closing, as if she couldn’t watch what came next. This time it was the right side of Angelo’s face that took the brunt of the force.
“I am the only Jew Father Angelo has helped!” Eva cried. “You have me. Let him go!” she repeated, tears beginning to slide down her cheeks. Clearly, Captain von Essen thought she would be easier to break. Angelo knew differently. Eva wouldn’t talk. She would suffer with him, but she wouldn’t break.
“Where did you get your pass? It is very authentic.” Captain von Essen changed his line of questioning.
Eva answered immediately, clearly relieved she could answer without endangering anyone. “A man named Aldo Finzi. He worked for my father’s company at one time, as a printer.”
“A Jew?”
“Yes.”
“And where can I find Mr. Finzi?”
“He is dead.” Angelo cut into the conversation, pulling the captain’s attention from Eva. The captain raised his brows disdainfully.
“How convenient,” von Essen said drily.
“I’m sure Aldo Finzi would disagree,” Angelo shot back.
“And how did he die?”
“You shot him in the street a month ago near the rail station. Don’t you remember?” Angelo challenged.
He’d caught the captain by surprise, and von Essen tipped his head as if searching his memory.
“You shot him in the back of the head after you told him to drop his pants.”
Captain von Essen looked stunned that Angelo knew the details. Had he felt so powerful, so invincible, that he hadn’t really thought anyone might have seen?
“You killed a man in cold blood,” Angelo said quietly. “But I won’t name you if you let Eva go.” He willed Eva to stay silent. Captain von Essen did not need to know it was she who had seen him murder Aldo.
“You think anyone cares about the death of one Jew?” Captain von Essen said, incredulous. “This is what you bargain with?”
“The war will end. Germany will lose. And you will answer for your sins,” Angelo said, spitting the words through bloody lips. “Let Eva go. I will testify on your behalf. The testimony of a priest will mean something. I will say you were a merciful man. You will be able to go back to Germany with your wife, unlike the others who will be punished for their war crimes.”
Von Essen laughed. “I don’t know how you know about the Jew in the street. But clearly you were there, which makes me even more certain that Eva is not the only Jew you have assisted.”
He leaned out the door once more, and two SS men entered the room seconds later.
“Take her back to her cell,” von Essen told the soldier behind Eva. To the two new arrivals he directed, “And take the father away too. Keep working him over until he talks. Make sure the girl can hear his pain.”
It had been thirty-six hours since they’d been separated. Thirty-six hours of Angelo being questioned and tortured. Thirty-six hours of hell.
Eva had heard him ask for a drink. He’d been given nothing. Instead, he’d been doused in ice water and deprived of sleep. She’d heard him cry out in pain, though she knew he tried not to, for her sake. They’d hurt him. They’d beat him. They’d threatened him with descriptions of what they’d do to her. But he never talked, beyond prayers and the quiet insistence that he had no information.
On Friday, the guards started pulling men from their cells, clearing them out, Jew and non-Jew alike, leaving only Eva and two other Jewish women—sisters—who had been detained and were awaiting deportation on the next train. Eva heard the guards open Angelo’s cell and tell him to get up. She rushed to her door and pressed her face to the glass, aching for a better look as they dragged Angelo past. His swollen and bruised face was hardly recognizable, but they hadn’t taken his cassock, and his formerly white collar was splattered in blood. He turned for one last look, struggling to stay on his feet.
“Angelo!” she screamed. “Angelo!”
The two remaining guards elbowed each other and walked over to her cell. She moved away from the glass as they unlocked the door, but as soon as it was opened, she fought to see beyond them, desperate to know where Angelo was being taken.
She was immediately pushed back, shoved hard enough to make her fall back against the adjacent wall.
“Come now, Fr?ulein. You mustn’t carry on this way. What will your Jewish friends think?”
“Yes! They might think there is something going on between you and the priest.” One of them mimed prayer while pumping his hips lewdly.
“Go to hell,” Eva spit out in German, her tears bottled up behind her shocked eyes, her head pounding with denial. Angelo hadn’t just been dragged away. Surely, she would see him again.
“Ahh! The little Fr?ulein speaks German!” The officer sounded surprised.
“You speak German,” the other said flatly. “Are you a German Jew?”
“Go to hell,” she repeated.
He brought his face an inch from hers, his eyes cold and icy. Blue. The same color as Angelo’s. But Angelo’s eyes were like the sky. Warm. Clear. Endless. Beloved.
“I’m already there, madam. But unfortunately for you, this hell isn’t quite as bad as where you will be going. And you will be going there soon.”
“Good news, though,” the other guard said with false levity. “Your priest won’t have to live without you. You know where they’re taking him, don’t you?”
She waited, knowing that they were going to enjoy telling her.
“He will be executed with all the others. Thirty-three German police died yesterday from a bomb set by partisans on Via Rasella. Ten Italians will die for every policeman who was killed. Via Tasso isn’t the only prison we emptied out. The prison at Regina Coeli was emptied too. Every Jew, every partisan, every antifascist we could find. Now we’re pulling civilians off the streets. Three hundred and thirty men. Next time, maybe the partisans will think twice about setting bombs.”
“There won’t be a next time for some of them,” the other guard added. “There won’t be a next time for your priest. I hope you gave him something to remember you by.”
Eva covered her head with her arms and sank to the floor, too despondent to listen any longer. She wasn’t even aware when they left.
24 March, 1944
Angelo Bianco, my white angel.
They have taken you
and I am lost.
But we were both here,
once.
Eva Rosselli
CHAPTER 21
ARDEATINE CAVES