Pino wanted to linger, to see if Anna might reappear, but instead he saluted and left.
He drove the Daimler back to the motor pool, trying to replay his day, but his mind kept lurching between images of Mr. Beltramini dying, Carletto’s grief-driven rage, and the look Anna had given him before leaving the front hall.
Then he remembered his encounter with Mussolini and his mistress, and as he gave the night sentry the keys to the Daimler and walked on through the streets of San Babila toward home, he wondered if he’d hallucinated them. The August night air was thick and warm. The smells of fine cuisine dueled in the air, and many Nazi officers sat at outdoor cafés, drinking and carousing.
Pino reached Albanese Luggage and went around back to the sewing room entrance. When his uncle answered his knock, he felt waves of emotion.
“Well?” Uncle Albert said after he’d come inside. “How did it go?”
Raw grief burst out of Pino. “I don’t even know where to start,” he cried.
“What in God’s name happened?”
“Can I eat something? I haven’t had a thing since morning.”
“Of course, of course. Greta has saffron risotto waiting for you, and once you’ve eaten, you can tell us everything, right from the beginning.”
Pino wiped at his tears. He hated that he’d cried in front of his uncle, but the emotions had just come over him, or out of him, like a pipe bursting. Wordlessly, he ate two helpings of his aunt’s risotto, and then described everything that had happened to him during the course of his day with General Leyers.
They were shocked by his description of the slaves in the rail tunnel, though Uncle Albert said they’d been getting reports of the Germans taking factories and ammo dumps underground.
“You really went to Mussolini’s house?” Aunt Greta said.
“To his villa,” Pino said. “He and Claretta Petacci were there.”
“No.”
“Yes,” Pino insisted, and repeated what he’d heard about the factory strikes being resolved in return for Mussolini’s getting a seat at Kesselring’s table, and the promise of a phone call from Adolf Hitler. Then he recounted the worst of it: how Mr. Beltramini died thinking Pino was a traitor, and how his best friend never wanted to see him again because he was a Nazi, a disgrace.
“Not true,” Uncle Albert said, looking up from the pad where he’d taken notes. “You’re a quiet hero for getting this information. I’ll get it to Baka, and he’ll transmit what you’ve seen to the Allies.”
“But I can’t tell Carletto,” Pino said. “And his father—”
“I hate to be blunt about it, Pino, but I don’t care. Your position is too valuable and sensitive to risk telling anyone. You’re just going to have to swallow all that for now, and have faith that your friendship will come back when you’re able to reveal all. I’m serious, Pino. You’re a spy behind enemy lines. Take every insult someone may hurl at you, ignore it, and stay as close to Leyers as you can, for as long as you can.”
Pino nodded, but without enthusiasm. “So you think what I found out helps?”
Uncle Albert snorted. “We now know of a large ammo dump inside a tunnel near Como. We know the Nazis are using slaves. And we know Mussolini is a eunuch, powerless and frustrated because Hitler won’t take his calls. What more could I expect on day one?”
Pino felt good about that and yawned. “I need to sleep. He expects me early.”
He hugged them both, went downstairs and through the small factory. The alley door opened. Baka, the radio operator, came in, looked at Pino, and studied his uniform.
“It’s complicated,” Pino said, and left.
His father had gone to bed by the time Pino walked home and went through a quick security check in the lobby. He set his alarm, stripped, and collapsed on his bed. Terrible images, thoughts, and emotions created a whirlwind in his mind that had him sure he’d never sleep again.
But when he was finally able to limit his spiraling memories to Anna, he felt soothed, and with the maid firmly in his mind, he slipped off into darkness.
Chapter Seventeen
August 9, 1944
6:45 a.m.
Pino jumped from the Daimler he’d parked on Via Dante. He went into Dolly’s building, hurried past the blinking old crone and up the stairs, eager to knock on the general’s mistress’s door.
He was disappointed when Dolly answered. General Leyers was already in the hallway, drinking coffee from a china cup and looking eager to leave.
Pino went and got the valise, still not seeing the maid, and turned back toward Dolly and the apartment door, feeling even more disappointed.
Dolly called out, “Anna? The general needs his food.”
A moment later, and to Pino’s nervous delight, the maid appeared with the thermos and a brown paper bag. The general headed toward the apartment door. Pino went to Anna and said, “I’ll take them.”
Anna actually smiled at him as she handed him the thermos, which he slid under one arm before accepting the lunch bag.
“Have a nice day,” she said. “And be safe.”
He grinned and said, “I’ll do my best.”
“Vorarbeiter!” General Leyers barked.
Pino startled, spun around, and grabbed the valise. He hurried after Leyers, past Dolly, who held the apartment door open, and gave him a knowing look as he left.
Leyers had a four-hour meeting with Field Marshal Kesselring at the German House that morning. Pino was not invited to the table. The general appeared irritated and upset when he emerged after noon and told Pino to drive him to the telephone exchange.
Pino sat in the Daimler or lounged near it, mad with boredom. He wanted to go somewhere to eat but did not want to leave the car. He was mere blocks from Piazzale Loreto, and debated whether he should go find Carletto, tell him enough that he didn’t think him a traitor anymore. It would make Pino feel better, but should—?
He heard a voice calling over a loudspeaker and coming closer.
An SS vehicle with five speakers on top came rolling down Viale Abruzzi.
“A warning to all citizens of Milan,” a man brayed in Italian. “The cowardly bombing of German soldiers yesterday will not stand. Turn the bomber in today, or face punishment tomorrow. Repeat: A warning to all citizens of Milan . . .”
Pino was so hungry he felt hollow and jittery as he watched the vehicle go by and heard the echoes of the loudspeakers as it went up and down the streets that fanned off Piazalle Loreto. German soldiers came past him midafternoon, nailing printed copies of the same warning about the bomber on telephone poles and gluing others to the sides of buildings.
Three hours later, General Leyers stormed from the telephone exchange and looked furious when he climbed into the backseat of the Daimler. Pino had not eaten since six that morning, and he felt lightheaded and nervous getting into the driver’s seat.