The Lost Catacomb (40 page)
Nicola stood near the front door of Bruno
’
s apartment, debating
whether or not she should try to run out and find him.
He had stepped out a short while ago to
pick up some fruit and freshly baked
panini
for breakfast at a small
vendor
’
s stall in
the nearby piazza and would probably not return for another fifteen minutes.
Poor Matt, she thought to herself anxiously.
I hope he
’
s all right.
While it wasn't unusual for him to be so focused on an investigation,
he'd never sounded so tense or harried in all the years she
’
d known him
—
and, if she were
honest with herself, he
’
d
actually sounded afraid.
It was so
unlike him.
And the fact that he
hadn
’
t mentioned
anything at all about their relationship convinced her that his situation was
serious.
When Bruno returned, she told him about the call and Matt
’
s request that they try
to find corroborating evidence in the Secret Archives.
“
Look,
cara
,
”
Bruno
said,
“
we need to
go into the Archives anyway, to look at the files on other Jewish catacombs,
besides those at the Vigna Randanini, in order to verify our theories about the
crypt.
I think we should consider
confiding in Father Benedetto again and have him requisition the material
relating to Greece during World War II, as well as any records connected to
Catholic Charities International.
I
don
’
t see how we
can ask for them on our own without arousing some suspicion, or at the very
least, some unwanted attention and curiosity.
”
He
rinsed out their mugs and put
the remaining fruit into a brightly colored ceramic bowl on the kitchen
counter.
Turning to Nicola, he now
said,
“
I can
’
t believe how complex
all of this is becoming.
“
As
I see it,
”
he
continued thoughtfully,
“
we
have several problems to deal with.
First of all, we
’
re
about to open a Pandora
’
s
box with respect to the catacombs.
There
’
s a
Pope buried there, as well as a Jewish martyr.
That means that ownership and legal
control of the crypt is still unclear, which is not going to make either side
to the dispute particularly happy.
“
Second,
we seem to have discovered a rather unpleasant little secret, namely that
artifacts from the ancient Temple in Jerusalem appear to have been appropriated
by the Church centuries ago and that knowledge of their existence was obviously
fatal, at least to our unnamed Pope and the woman he loved.
That doesn
’
t mean that the Vatican still has these treasures in
its possession, of course.
But then
again, maybe it does.
And if it
does, well, that will be an ownership dispute of even greater magnitude than
what we thought we were involved in initially, as we
’
ve already discussed.
“
Third,
just to complicate matters,
”
he said, as he sat down at the breakfast table across from Nicola,
“
we now have the
additional problem of stolen Greek, and maybe Iberian, artwork making its way
to Rome, and possibly to the Vatican, during World War II.
And I can
’
t even imagine for what purpose.
“
I
think we
’
ve been
pretty circumspect, cautious even, about analyzing the data.
And we
’
ve been discreet about our relationship, not that it
should have any real bearing on our ability to do the job properly.
I know you
’
ve said that you thought we were being followed
—
at that caf
é
on the Via Appia
—
and that the
break-in at my office might have been related to our work for the Vatican.
But I can
’
t imagine why anyone would want to keep tabs on
us.
I don
’
t think we
’
ve
done anything, so far, that could be problematic for the legal position of the
Church.
”
He paused and added,
“
Or
its moral position, for that matter.
And that
’
s
without our even knowing for sure if Rostoni is actually the criminal we
suspect he may be. Though if it turns out that he was a Fascist collaborator
during the war, that might go a long way towards explaining the shipment of
stolen artwork to Catholic Charities International, especially if he had some
sort of connection to the Germans who expropriated the art.
Frankly, I just don
’
t know what to think at
this point.
”
His hand rested on the table, and Nicola covered it with her
own, playing with his fingers and then kissing them one at a time while she
considered the matter.
Finally she
said,
“
Neither do
I, but I think you
’
re
right about calling Father Benedetto.
Let
’
s see
when he can meet with us.
And I
think a restaurant might be a good idea.
Somewhere far from the Apostolic Palace.
”
Although, at first, Father Benedetto had been skeptical about
the need for them to confer at an inconspicuous location, away from possibly
prying eyes at the Vatican, he had sensed the urgency of their request and
agreed to meet Nicola and Bruno for dinner that evening at a small
trattoria
off the Via Veneto
.
Though it was pleasantly cool for that time of year and
sitting at a table outside the restaurant would have been a far more attractive
option under any other circumstance, they requested a quiet corner table
inside.
They asked their waiter to
bring them their
antipasti
,
bruschetta
, and wine together with
their
secondi piatti
, and not to disturb them until they signaled that
they were ready for espresso and dessert.
The request seemed a little odd to the waiter, but he understood that
the size of his tip would undoubtedly be directly proportional to the degree of
his compliance.
The food arrived, and they began to eat.
Between sips of a mellow house wine
tasting of young Trebbiano grapes, Bruno and Nicola told Father Benedetto of
their concerns.
“
This
puts me in a rather peculiar position, as I
’
m sure you both realize,
”
he said when they had finished,
“
but frankly, I find
this new element, this piece of information regarding Greek artwork making its
way to Rome during the war, rather disturbing myself.
I can only assume that your friend
’
s information is
accurate, Nicola.
”
“
Matt
’
s the best there is,
”
she insisted.
“
If
he says there
’
s
evidence, then it does exist.
”
“
In
that case,
”
Benedetto
replied slowly, thinking out loud,
“
I
’
ll get hold of the
relevant files myself the next time you enter the Archives.
I won
’
t need anyone to assist me in finding them, and I
’
ll make sure to tuck
them inside some other dockets that relate to your catacomb inquiries.
It would be best if no one knew that you
’
re looking into this.
“
With
respect to Catholic Charities International, I have a cousin who works in the
IOR
,
that is, the Vatican Bank, and I believe he can make some discreet inquiries on
our behalf, since the organization is still connected to the Vatican.
This way we
’
ll have yet another source of information, in
addition to archival records.
I prefer, by the way, that you say nothing about this to your friend in
Greece, at least not yet, and that you let him follow his own leads for the
time being.
“
As
for my cousin, let
’
s
just say that he owes me a favor or two
—
some
things I
’
ve done
for his family in the past
—
and
he won
’
t question
the need for complete confidentiality or even dream of asking for an
explanation.
He most definitely has
access to the financial records of various charities whose monies are disbursed
through the
IOR
, and he can provide me with transaction printouts, no
questions asked.
“
But
what I still don
’
t
understand, Nicola, is why you want more information about Cardinal Rostoni
’
s background.
I
’
ve already told you where he got his degrees and
where he was ordained.
I don
’
t quite see the
connection to the rest of the things we
’
ve
been discussing.
Is there something
else you need to tell me?
”
Nicola caught Bruno
’
s
eye, unsure as to how she should respond, and seeing him nod in the
affirmative, she began to speak, framing her words carefully.
“
This
is very difficult for me, Father.
But I
’
ll
try to explain as clearly
—
and
as dispassionately
—
as
I can.
”
She took a deep breath and
swallowed audibly.
“
As
you know, I returned to New York recently because my grandmother had a stroke
and was hospitalized.
We
’
re very close, and in
fact, as far as I know, I
’
m
her only living relative.
My . . .
”—
and here she
hesitated for a fraction of a second
—“
my
grandfather died about a year ago.
My mother was an only child, and she was killed in a car accident
together with my father when I was very young.
My grandparents were my legal guardians
and brought me up.
“
While
I was at my grandmother
’
s
bedside she told me some things about my family that I didn
’
t know before.
Things that I still need to assimilate
and accept.
”
She paused and took a sip of
water.
“
Things that I never imagined possible.
”
“
Go
on, Nicola, please,
”
Father
Benedetto prompted.
“
Whatever it is, you can
tell me about it.
”
“
Okay,
”
she sighed.
“
What
I haven
’
t told you
yet is that my grandmother was born in Italy, here in Rome.
During World War II, her family was
denounced to the local Fascist
squadisti
because she had a Jewish
boyfriend.
Her parents and brother
were arrested.
They were never seen
nor heard from again.
Her boyfriend
was murdered by Blackshirt thugs and his parents were arrested.
Also presumed dead.
”
She turned to Bruno, with tears in her eyes.
“
This
is so hard,
”
she
said.
“
I don
’
t
know how I can do it.
”
“
Go
on, Nicola, you can tell him,
”
Bruno said, patting her hand encouragingly.
“
He
needs to know.
That
’
s why we
’
re here.
To tell him.
”
She took a deep breath.
“
My
grandmother hid in a convent for a while, disguised as a novice.
But when she discovered that she was
pregnant, the Mother Superior arranged for her to be spirited out of Rome by
the
Resistenza
.
It turned
out that an American spy whose cover was compromised accompanied her to
France.
And when he learned the
details about her difficult situation
—
she
was barely eighteen, pregnant, and an orphan with nowhere to go
—
he offered to
marry her so that she could have automatic American citizenship and a safe
haven.
She accepted his proposal,
they married, and eventually it turned into a true love match.
I never knew until last week that he
wasn
’
t my real
grandfather.
“
What
I haven
’
t told you
yet is that her family had been denounced by a neighbor.
Someone whose name will sound more than
a little familiar to you, though I can
’
t
be certain that it
’
s
the same individual.
”
She looked in Bruno
’
s direction, as if to
obtain his consent, and then said quickly,
“
His name was Mauro Rostoni.
”
“
What?!
”
exclaimed Father
Benedetto, nearly knocking over the carafe of wine in shock.
“
How
can that be possible?
”
“
That
’
s precisely what I want
to know.
My grandmother was quite
specific about the name.
If it
’
s the same Mauro
Rostoni whom we all know
—
Cardinal
Rostoni
—
that
is, the person who invited me here to Rome to work on the catacombs
—
then he
’
s the one responsible
for the deaths of my grandfather, both sets of my great grandparents, and my
great uncle.
I think that would
make him a mass murderer in anyone
’
s
book,
”
she added
bitterly.
“
I
can
’
t continue to
work on this project, knowing that at some point I have to face him in person
to report on our findings, without first determining if he
’
s the same Mauro
Rostoni who destroyed my family.
“
And
quite frankly, given all of our concerns about the possibility of a certain
amount of scandal, if not downright danger, stemming from the implications of
the manuscript we found, I think we also need to wonder about the extent to
which His dubious
—
possibly
murderous
—
Eminence
would go in order to suppress our findings,
”
she said with undisguised hatred in her voice.
“
For
all I know, given his Fascist past, or at least his suspected Fascist
sympathies, maybe he
’
s
even connected somehow to the stolen art.
It would make sense, given his background and current professional
interests.
Maybe he also colluded
with the Nazis.
It
’
s not beyond the realm
of possibility.
”
“
I
don
’
t know what to
say, Nicola,
”
Father
Benedetto replied.
“
I
’
m . . . I
’
m at a loss for
words.
Shocked.
Absolutely horrified.
I have to think about what we can do.
Do you know in which part of Rome your
grandmother lived or where her family went to mass?
Anything at all that would help me
locate parish records?
”
“
Unfortunately
not,
”
she answered
sadly.
“
And I
can
’
t ask her questions like these while she
’
s recovering from a
stroke.
She could have a relapse,
especially if she were to realize that I might actually be working for the
person who murdered her family in Italy.
When I received the original
invitation, I showed it to her
—
I
was so proud to have been asked to come here
—
and she looked a bit unnerved for a
moment.
The signature only used a
first initial, together with the last name, so she might simply have been taken
aback at seeing the surname, a name that must haunt and terrify her even after
all these years.
“
At
the time I thought she was simply upset about my being away for a possibly long
amount of time.
I
’
m sure she would've
said something if she'd really thought it was the same Rostoni she'd known back
in Rome.
”
She took a sip of water and continued.
“
Is
there any way for us to find municipal records of where her family might have
lived during the war?
I do know her
maiden name.
It was
‘
Conti.
’
Her first name is Elena.
Her parents
’
names were Guido and Luisa, and her brother
’
s name was Giulio.
Maybe we can find something that would show that a Rostoni family lived
nearby.
Maybe there
’
s some way for you to
find out where the Cardinal lived before his ordination
—
maybe in his file, if it still exists, at the
Gregorian University.
”