The Lost Catacomb (23 page)
“
Orano used
to be the rector of the University of Perugia and has just published a new
biography of
Il Duce
, I
’
m told.
Mussolini da vicino
.
And Orano has now been appointed a
deputy of the Fascist Party.
Quite
a feather in his cap, I would say.
”
Rostoni paused for a moment and continued.
“
How
’
s your Italian?
The title means
‘
Mussolini up close.
’
I
imagine that it won
’
t take long for the first book to be translated into
German.
Would you like me to
introduce you to him?
”
“
Most
certainly,
”
Weizs
ä
cker
replied, rising from his seat.
“
I think we
’
ll find
that we have a lot in common.
Bitte
sch
ö
n
.
”
“
And by the
way,
”
Weizs
ä
cker now
said to Rostoni,
“
there
’
s someone I
’
d like you to meet, a German art agent named Bruno Lohse,
whom we took the liberty of inviting here tonight, along with the rest of our
entourage.
He has been sent to Rome
by G
ö
ring himself to find paintings for the Reich Marshal
’
s private
collection, and for a larger project of ours, a very special museum that
—
how
shall I say?
—
will be the only one of its kind in the world.
Unique,
”
he reiterated.
“
Absolutely
and completely unique.
“
Perhaps
you can introduce him to some of your people in the Vatican Museums.
I
’
m sure that new pieces of good artwork come out on the
Italian market all the time, especially nowadays,
”
he added with light emphasis.
“
And I
’
m equally
sure that the Vatican does not need or wish to acquire all of them.
After all, you already have one of the
finest art collections in the world, do you not?
Though perhaps we will eventually have
one that will rival and outshine yours.
”
Meanwhile, in another corner of the room, two German
officers were seated on a luxurious, striped silk chaise longue with a timid,
middle-aged priest who had been subtly maneuvered into joining them in a toast
to the Reich and now appeared to be more than a bit tipsy.
The two Germans had banked on the
possibility that the awkward looking fellow never indulged in anything stronger
than the occasional, few sips of Communion wine.
The older of the two officers now took a
taste from a crystal champagne flute and then offered it to the clearly
intimidated priest, who made as if to refuse, but then swallowed the entire
contents, fearful of offending these important guests of the Holy Father.
The older officer, who had the subtle air of a practiced
predator about him, glanced furtively at his companion, a young man of about
twenty-four named Helmut, who now rubbed his shoulder casually against that of
the now indisputably inebriated cleric.
“
Tell me
about your work in the Archives,
”
he
asked in a wheedling, intimate tone of voice that carefully masked the note of
authority and deliberate intent behind it.
“
I imagine that you must do some pretty important work
there.
That you
’
ve seen
rare manuscripts, perhaps even art work, that is generally off limits to the
rest of us mere mortals,
nein
?
”
“
You give
me far too much credit,
”
the
priest replied modestly, sagging for a moment against the broad shoulder of the
German lieutenant and barely stifling a hiccup.
He blushed and then spoke hesitatingly,
slurring his words slightly as he did so.
“
Actually, I could show you a thing or two if I wanted to.
”
He hiccupped again, and the two Germans exchanged covert
glances, the older one now raising his eyebrow slightly.
“
And what
might that be?
”
asked
the younger one, reaching out to straighten the dark skullcap on the cleric
’
s head,
his hand pausing to lightly stroke the priest
’
s cheek in
the process, as if by accident.
“
Well, we
have several underground annexes to the Museum which even
I
have never
been inside of, but I know where the keys are kept.
I
’
m told there
’
s some pretty valuable artwork there.
Things no one really knows about that
have never been displayed.
”
The two Germans eyed each other conspiratorially, and
Helmut now put his arm around the priest
’
s shoulder.
“
Perhaps we
should go outside and get some fresh air, my friend.
You look a bit pale.
It
’
s rather stifling in here, wouldn
’
t you say?
”
They assisted the priest to his feet and supported him as
they walked towards a nearby door.
As they did so, they glanced in the direction of Weizs
ä
cker, who
wordlessly acknowledged them with a nod and then continued his conversation
with Paulo Orano.
In the meantime, Mauro Rostoni had begun to circulate among
the guests and was now engaged in deep conversation with Kesselring on the
subject of the protected status of the Holy See.
“
I think
you will understand, my dear Rostoni, being so close to the Holy Father, that
our interests are actually quite similar,
”
said
Kesselring.
“
Our
F
ü
hrer
has made it quite clear that our common goal must be to
keep the status quo as regards the Vatican.
But naturally that requires a certain
degree of
—
how shall we say?
—
flexibility and cooperation on your part.
”
Rostoni nodded.
“
Perhaps you wish to explain yourself more precisely?
I think that we need to understand each
other completely, diplomatic circumlocutions notwithstanding.
”
Kesselring smiled sardonically and began to clarify the
German position.
“
Let us
simply say that Major Kappler will be pursuing several courses of action that
are necessary to achieve the goals of the Reich in the area of implementation
of our racial policies, and we will expect the Vatican to remain neutral, even
silent, on these issues.
To be as
precise as possible, as you have insisted, if the Vatican wishes to remain an
independent entity, with our guarantee that its sovereignty will remain
unquestioned and untouched, then full cooperation must be the order of the day.
”
“
I see,
”
said
Rostoni dryly.
“
I am sure
that will pose no difficulty whatsoever.
I give you my personal pledge that I will speak to His Holiness
tomorrow, during our usual private morning conference, and obtain both his
understanding and consent.
“
As you are
no doubt aware
—
or we would not be having this little conversation,
”
he added,
“
the Pope
relies on me to shield him from the vagaries of non-essential information and
to process and convey other details to him on a need-to-know basis.
It is my task,
”
he said
with clear emphasis,
“
to be certain that he be troubled only by the most
significant of temporal issues.
And
this, I believe, qualifies as such.
”
“
I
’
m glad to see
that we understand one another fully,
”
Kesselring
replied.
“
I will be
sure to make mention of it in my next report to the
F
ü
hrer
.
”
He clicked
his heels together smartly, saluted, and made his way through the crowd towards
Kappler.
Rostoni, watching him leave, now asked a nearby waiter for
a glass of ice water, which was brought to him in a leaded crystal
tumbler.
He took a few sips, handed
the glass back to the waiter and made his way back towards the elevated dais on
which the Pope still sat.
Preoccupied by his discussion with Kesselring, he passed by the Cardinal
Secretary of State, who was engrossed in animated exchange with a German
officer, without troubling himself to join the conversation.
The Pope glanced wanly at Rostoni and beckoned him to come
closer.
He looked pale, as if the
mere effort to greet his guests was a trial to him.
It was well known that he had little
tolerance for matters that took him away from the writing of encyclicals and
his private meditations and prayers.
“
Is it going well, my friend?
”
he inquired.
“
Yes,
indeed, Holiness.
I believe that we
can work well with the Germans.
I
have every assurance that it will be so.
Perhaps we can go into greater detail tomorrow morning?
”
Rostoni
added.
“
Si
,
”
replied
the Pope.
“
Si
.
And perhaps now you will return to our
distinguished guests?
”
It was a
command rather than a question, and Rostoni instantly complied, the shadow of
something vaguely resembling a smile playing about his face.
The phone rang three times, perhaps more, before Rostoni made
an effort to pick it up.
He had
been standing near a set of windows overlooking the Vatican gardens, in his
private office down the corridor from the Pope
’
s study, lost in thought as he considered how best
to present the Reich
’
s
point of view to the Pope during this morning
’
s regularly scheduled meeting.
Sometimes the Pope could be stubbornly immersed in his own
personal concerns, whether spiritual or otherwise, and thus could be almost
totally detached from the exigencies, nay the realities, of the temporal
world.
As Rostoni had to admit,
sometimes the Pope failed to understand the political needs of the moment,
caught up, as he was, in his vision of an indomitable Church that would march
triumphant throughout the centuries, dispelling the cloak of spiritual darkness
that enveloped all those who did not subscribe to its beliefs, wielding the
crucifix and flaming sword of the true believer, converting the benighted to
the one true faith, and trailing bright clouds of Christian glory all the
while.
There was still more than half an hour left before they would
meet, and Rostoni had spent much of the previous evening, both during the
reception for Weizs
ä
cker
and after it, attempting to formulate a plan that would be acceptable to the
Germans and not unpalatable to the Holy See.
Not that he had actually lost any sleep over it.
It was simply yet another challenge to
his intelligence and skills that he both welcomed and, to an almost equal
extent, resented. He worked hard for the Holy See, harder, he felt, than many
in far more prominent positions did, including the Cardinal Secretary of State
and other, older members of the Curia.
Certainly, his ambitions had yet to be rewarded with full and public
recognition, despite his extreme youth.
“
Pronto
.
Father Rostoni speaking,
”
he said distractedly
into the receiver, which he finally picked up.
“
Please
hold for Field Marshal Kesselring, sir,
”
replied a crisp female voice in German-accented Italian.
Rostoni was instantly alert, wondering why he was receiving a
phone call from the Field Marshal so early in the morning and so soon after
last night
’
s
cocktail reception.
While
this might prove to be interesting, he was afraid that it was more likely to
prove problematic.
Surely
Kesselring was not calling to compliment him on the fine selection of wines or
tempting desserts that had graced the buffet tables last night.
“
Guten
Morgen,
”
Kesselring
said.
“
Are you able to speak unhindered?
”
he asked.
“
Certainly,
”
replied Rostoni
briskly, hoping to assert an adversarial advantage.
“
How
may I help you?
”
“
I
’
ll get right to the
point,
”
Kesselring
said.
“
Two of my officers had a rather enlightening
conversation last night with one of the priests who works in the archives of
your Museum.
One Father
Barrio.
Perhaps you are acquainted
with him?
”
“
Yes,
”
Rostoni replied,
making a conscious effort to sound bored and indifferent.
“
A rather colorless, pallid individual who makes
himself useful to us on occasion. What of it?
”
“
Well,
my dear Father Rostoni, it seems that he took some of my men on a private tour
of a rather special section of your Museum holdings last night.
Very special indeed, I might add.
I wonder if you have been privileged to
see it for yourself.
”
He paused for dramatic effect and then continued.
“
As
a matter of fact, Father Barrio was so drunk that I doubt he remembers anything
about it this morning
—
or
about any of his other, shall we say, nocturnal activities last night,
”
he added with a lewd
chuckle.
“
I
thought you were getting to the point,
”
Rostoni replied impatiently.
“
Indeed,
I am,
mein lieber freund
, indeed I am.
My officers were not too drunk to notice
the importance of what they were shown.
And your Father Barrio, it appears, has not only compromised his own position
at the Vatican in view of his behavior last night, but he has also enabled us
to guarantee the cooperation of the Holy Father.
“
By
the way, I
’
m
surprised that your
Pastor Angelicus
countenances such degenerate
behavior in his flock,
”
Kesselring
remarked dryly.
“
I
’
m sure that our
F
ü
hrer
will be most
interested to hear of it.
”
He waited for a response from Rostoni, and when none came, he
continued, with no small degree of satisfaction.
“
Are
we on a secure line, Father Rostoni?
Yes?
Good.
For now in fact I do come to the
point.
We are now aware that the
Vatican has in its possession antique treasures of inestimable value.
Treasures whose existence has never been
disclosed.
Not even hinted at.
And one doesn
’
t need to be a Biblical scholar
—
and of course I
apologize for the unavoidable reference to the non-Aryan Old Testament
—
to know just what
these treasures are and who else would be interested in knowing about them.
“
You
are finally beginning to grasp my point, are you not?
”
There
was no immediate, audible response, and Kesselring continued, in acid
tones.
“
I am so happy to hear it.
Yes, you will meet with the Holy Father
this morning, as planned.
As you
always do, my friend.
And you will
make sure that you obtain his commitment.
His full and uncompromising commitment to silence on the subject of the
Jews of Rome.
“
You
need not know, just at this point, precisely what we have planned and when we
intend to do it.
You will merely do
your job, or you have my personal assurance you will live to regret the
consequences.
I am sure I don
’
t really have to spell
them out, but I will, just in case there is something you haven
’
t quite understood.
“
We
will provide protected status to Vatican City only if you and the Holy Father
cooperate with us.
We will keep your
interesting little secret only if you comply.
And in the meantime, we will keep our
own hands off your little cache of goodies, despite the fact that they would
make a unique addition to the Museum of Dead Nations that our
F
ü
hrer
has planned.
“
Oh,
and one more thing,
”
Kesselring
added.
“
In the
event that the Allies are victorious some day, though that is highly unlikely,
in my professional estimate, your secret will be safe only if we Nazis are
safe.
Your imagination and widely
reputed intelligence will no doubt suggest some appropriate venues and
measures.
I suggest that you plan
ahead, my dear friend.
Just in
case.
”
The line went dead, and Rostoni hung up the telephone
receiver angrily.
And then he
noticed that his hands were shaking, which made him even angrier, this time at
himself.
He glanced at his pocket
watch and saw that he had only a few minutes left before his meeting with the
Pope.
He made an effort to compose
himself.
All would be well.
He now knew what he had to do with the copy of the ring that had so
conveniently, so fatefully, fallen into his hands.