by Mick Hare
“It is now common knowledge in the Allied territories that the Nazi’s have embarked upon a policy of mass extermination of the Jews. It is murder on an industrial scale. If there are any Jewish populations left alive it is purely because, logistically, the Nazi’s haven’t got round to them yet. So it became the turn of the Jews in Rome. In a cruel and deceitful prelude to the evacuation, the German Governor of Rome announced that the population would be spared evacuation to the death camps on payment of a ransom. Gold in the amount of fifty kilograms was demanded. We don’t yet know the exact figure demanded. Most right-thinking people assumed that the Pope would simply hand over the gold and take the Jewish inhabitants of Rome under his personal protection. But Pope Pius could not be prevailed upon to make any comment or any contribution. So the people of the ghetto and Italian civilians all over the country dug into their own pockets and collected the enormous ransom fee in gold. The German Governor took the money and then proceeded to break the agreement and ordered the mass evacuation of all Jews in Rome to Germany. Once again, Pope Pius XII disgraced his office. As the Storm troopers moved in and drove the Jews onto the cattle trucks he closed the windows of his Vatican Palace and turned his face away. These were innocent men, women and children who had lived out their peaceful lives within view of the walls of the Vatican. They were to be exported to Germany and Poland as slave labour or to be murdered never to be seen or heard of again.”
Robert sat back in his seat suddenly aware that he was shouting in barely controlled rage. Lily reached out and touched his hand where it rested on the arm of his chair.
“So the record of Pope Pius XII is indisputably a disgrace to the name of Holy
Mother Church,” said the apothecary, taking up the thread where Robert had left it. “But why, you may ask, should we act against him now, and what possible good could it do to our cause? Well here is our argument. Intelligence sources are aware that a Papal encyclical has been prepared and is ready to be issued. As you know, a Papal encyclical is a document which elucidates what the Pope declares to be an article of faith. What an encyclical says, a Catholic must believe. The Pope is infallible. His word is the word of God. This encyclical is a rejection of the race and blood doctrines that Nazism has adopted and enacted in the most brutal and bloodthirsty ways. Scholars in the Vatican have studied the race laws and subsequent actions of Nazism and have mounted a wholehearted rebuttal of them. The encyclical calls on all Catholics, as a matter of faith to reject them and condemn the perpetrators.”
The apothecary paused, played with the cuffs of his smock and sat forward in his easy chair.
“I can anticipate your next question,” he said with a wry grin. “Why target the Pope now just as he is finally coming down from his ivory tower of wilful ignorance?”
Nobody spoke, but one or two in the room displayed a flicker of agreement with this question on otherwise expressionless faces.
“I’ll tell you why. This Pope has read the encyclical and made the unilateral decision to shelve it. He refuses to issue it. He is behaving true to his past form.”
There was a silence as this news sank in.
“We have strong reasons to believe,” went on the apothecary, “that a new Pope would immediately issue this encyclical. It would come as a dagger to the heart of Nazism within Germany. Every Catholic in the country, and that’s about thirty per cent of us, would have to re-think their allegiance to this odious regime. The effect on Catholics throughout the rest of Europe and the world would be as stunning. The Nazi edifice could crumble. We could shorten the war by years.”
The silence that followed left the apothecary’s words echoing in the room.
“There is one more thing I have been instructed to tell you. Everyone in this room is a Roman Catholic. We are not anti-Papist bigots. We undertake this mission from a Catholic position.”
Robert was the first to respond.
“You have explained the rationale very clearly. I am in no doubt as to the validity of this mission. I suggest, unless anyone has some objections to raise, that we get on with the practicalities.”
“Thank you, Doctor. Our access to the Pope will be via the Convent of Our Lady of Perpetual Succour,” and he paused here to acknowledge the nun to his left hand side. She nodded at him and glanced around the room at the others without smiling. “…and the school that is attached to it,” and again he paused to acknowledge the smartly dressed smoker. “Helga is a teacher in the school. Our objective is to get Robert and Lily accepted as regular visitors to both the school and the convent so that no one will wish to apprehend them when the time comes to act. As most of you know, both institutions fall within Dr. Robert’s responsibilities. However, we cannot await the vagaries of fate to call upon him to visit. We must engineer the immediate commencement of his visits. Sister Fatima has bravely volunteered to facilitate this objective. In a moment I will administer a small dosage of herbal poison to Sister Fatima. It will be extremely unpleasant but will leave no long-term effects. Later tonight, the good Sister will experience extremely unpleasant gastric symptoms and Dr. Robert will be sent for. It will be the first of many visits this week, during which it will be up to Robert and Lily, Sister Fatima and Frau Helga,” he nodded at the teacher, “to develop the relationship to ensure that Robert and Lily’s visits continue until Pacelli arrives.”
“Why will the Pope be visiting the convent in Munich?” It was the first time either of the men had spoken.
The apothecary looked at the man who sat forward in his chair and leaned his elbows onto his knees.
“I will call this man Adolf,” he said to the wry amusement of everyone there. “He has connections in the Police and through them to the Gestapo.”
Sensing the unease this announcement had brought, the apothecary went on quickly, “Adolf has been vetted thoroughly by our people. He can be trusted totally. He will prove a very useful contact for us. In answer to your question, Adolf, the Pope has been a regular visitor to our little convent ever since he was Papal Nuncio to Bavaria in the early 1930s. He comes for rehabilitation and contemplation and he comes at least once a year. He has a passion for horse riding, which he can pursue in the convent’s extensive grounds. The war has not prevented him from maintaining this habit. Our information is that he will be here sometime within the next six weeks.”
Doctor Robert recognised the reference to horse riding in connection with this Pope. Adolf sat back in his chair, satisfied with the response from the apothecary.
Suddenly everyone jolted forward in their seats as there came a knock at the door. The third man, who was seated nearest the door jumped up and put his hand on the knob.
“Who’s there?” he called.
“Me! Ilsa.” It was the voice of the girl from the shop.
With a nod from the apothecary, the man opened the door and Ilsa entered. She had a pretty face, with jet black hair and a good figure, but her shoulders stooped as if the result of too many hours bent over a counter. Rubbing her hands together to stave off the cold she leaned into the room apologetically and said, “I’m sorry to interrupt but I thought you ought to know that there are two policemen who have walked past the shop front three times now. I know they have seen me and I’m worried that they are getting a little too interested in me and why I am still here.”
Adolf stood up and said, “I’ll deal with this. Ilsa, come with me.” And they went downstairs together. Adolf led Ilsa by the hand back into the shop and they crept to the window to survey the street.
“There they are,” whispered Ilsa. Adolf followed her gaze and saw them just moving away from the corner at the top of the street back towards the shop.
“Well, Ilsa,” whispered Adolf. “I suppose I should apologise to you first but, you know, there is only one way out of this predicament. I know those two. They’re not bad sorts. Just not very bright! I know what will satisfy their under-developed curiosities.”
By now the two policemen were almost outside the shop. Quickly,
Adolf pulled Ilsa to him and moved them both in front of the glass door. As the two drew level, he pulled Ilsa into his arms and kissed her passionately, apparently oblivious of the two onlookers. They kissed like this, Ilsa suppressing her shock, until there came a tap on the glass.
Adolf and Ilsa sprang apart in mock surprise. Then Adolf’s two colleagues recognised him and he feigned surprised recognition of them.
“Look Sepp,” said one to the other, “it’s Adolf.”
The one called Sepp beamed from ear to ear. “Adolf you old dog. What are you up to?”
Adolf just put on an embarrassed grin and shrugged, as if to say, “What do you think?”
“Hey, Adolf,” called the first policeman whose name was Heinrich, “Open up, let us in. It’s freezing out here.”
Adolf looked at Ilsa and gave her a reassuring nod. He opened the door and the two pushed their way in.
“Are you on duty then Adolf?” asked Heinrich. Sepp and Heinrich looked at each other and burst out laughing. “This is a fine way to police the Fatherland, I must say!” They guffawed again.
“No I am not on duty,” retorted Adolf, and he went on, “and please do not embarrass my good friend here.”
“Many apologies to you and your Fraulein,” said Sepp with mock seriousness.
“So why is the young lady working so late?” asked Heinrich becoming business-like.
“She wasn’t working late,” answered Adolf. And before Heinrich could contradict him and take it further he added, “But we were!”
Looking at each other and slowly getting his meaning the two of them burst into rude laughter once more.
“Well you sly old fox, Adolf,” taunted Sepp. “I never thought you had it in you.”
Just then a scraping sound came from behind the door at the back of the shop.
“What was that?” asked Heinrich as the four of them froze.
Ilsa spoke for the first time. “It’s the cat. She’s waiting for me to put her out. Don’t tell me you’re frightened of a little old pussy.”
“No, I’m not,” replied Heinrich. “I’m a cat lover. Let me have a look at her.”
So saying he moved across the shop to go behind the counter to the door. Behind the door Robert held his breath. In his hand he held a nine inch dagger and he caressed the handle with nervous fingers.
Adolf shot across after Heinrich and took hold of him by the shoulder. He spun him around so that they faced each other.
“Look, Heinrich my friend,” he growled with a murderous expression on his face, “If you don’t get out of here and let Ilsa and me get on with our work, I will not be responsible for what I might do to you.”
Just at the exact moment that Heinrich thought he might genuinely be in danger, Adolf gave him an outrageous wink. With nervous relief Heinrich let out a great bellow of laughter and he and Adolf clapped each other about the shoulders.
“Come on Sepp,” called Heinrich, “we must leave these two citizens to their patriotic war work.”
He looked at Adolf again, thumped him on the shoulder and laughed raucously. Adolf saw them out of the door.
“Don’t be too long with all this overtime Adolf,” said Sepp. “The British bombers could be well on their way by now. You don’t want to get caught with your trousers down when the bombs start falling.”
The pair of them walked off highly pleased with their own jocularity.
Upstairs Sister Fatima was swallowing a glass of water following the dose the apothecary had just administered to her.
“Now you must move swiftly,” he said to Sister Fatima and to the third man. He, in fact, was the gardener-come-caretaker at the convent and he got to his feet, took Sister Fatima by the arm and led her out of the room. Frau Helga accompanied them.
“God speed!” called the apothecary after them. Only Lily noticed how Robert almost winced to hear the expression.
Robert and Lily followed the directions the apothecary had given them in order to get back home whilst avoiding the main boulevards. They scurried down lanes and across waste ground. Twice they had to hide in alleyways to allow patrolling SS and regular policemen to pass by. The night was now black and the air raid siren struck up its infantile scream. Robert and Lily ran the last few blocks home and got inside just in time.
“English bastards,” muttered Robert ironically. “They could make tonight difficult. Why couldn’t they bomb Nuremburg or Essen instead?”
They sat in the dark in their parlour listening to the thud and boom of the exploding bombs. They had no compulsion to seek safety in a shelter, nor even in the cupboard below the stairs. They knew that they had already damned their fate and they had no incentive to attempt to thwart it, whatever it might bring. They shared a drink of whisky. Flames danced on the window from the results of a direct hit on a home two streets away.
Occasionally, above the whine of the bombs and the crackling of flames they could hear the cries of casualties. As a doctor, Robert knew he should go out there and join the rescuers and fire-fighters, but tonight he had more pressing business.
One of the longest waits of their lives transpired to be no more than two and a half hours. But when the gardener finally knocked on their door it seemed to them that they had waited half a lifetime. He spoke as if he had never seen them before.
“I have a message for you from the convent.” He handed Lily a note. She unfolded it and read it.
“Robert,” she said, re-folding the note. “You’re needed at the convent. She turned to the gardener, realising for the first time that he was not alone. The realisation shocked her and she checked back over her actions and words to see if anything she had done or said could have given away the fact that this was all a set up.
“Come in,” she said. “Come in quickly. Oh,” she said with feigned surprise, “there are two of you. Well come in before we all get bombed.”
Robert came along the hallway and tried not to betray any surprise when he saw the stranger.
“What is it?” he asked.
“It’s one of the nuns doctor,” said the gardener. “She’s terribly sick. I’ve never seen anything like it. The Mother Superior sent me. They’re afraid the Sister might die. Hans here,” he turned to acknowledge his companion, “saw me leaving and kindly drove me here. He is the Mother’s chauffeur. Luckily her car is well known to the authorities. It is one of the few cars that would not be stopped for being out during a raid.
Lily turned to Robert. “This is ridiculous. Send them away and tell them to come back in the morning after the raid.”
“Please mein Frau,” said the gardener. “I don’t think the Sister will be there in the morning if the doctor does not come with us now.”
Robert smiled down at Lily. “I’ll have to go. There’s no need for you to worry. These two good men will look after me.”
Lily walked down the hall and picked up her coat. “If you’re going, I’m coming with you.”
And before anyone could object she had walked out of the house and let herself into the back seat of the Daimler Benz that stood beside the pavement.
It was a hazardous journey without headlights and avoiding newly cratered roads, but they finally arrived within the grounds of the convent and were ushered in by a trio of anxious Sisters.
Twenty-five
Both Robert and Lily experienced a sense of unreality as they entered the dark, high-ceilinged reception area of the convent. For so many months now they had prepared for this. Most of their waking hours had been spent imagining this very moment. Now that it was here, it held a faintly surreal quality.
The gardener and the chauffeur evaporated from view and the Doctor and his wife were greeted with relief and gratitude by the Mother Superior herself and a small, handsome man in light coloured flannel trousers and an open-necked shirt. It was inappropriate clothing for early November but Robert guessed he was making a statement about his robust health. He was in late middle age but looked to be in excellent physical shape. Before Rober
t and Lily could speculate on his identity the Mother Superior introduced him as Herr Todt, the headmaster of the convent school. As headmaster he occupied a house within the school grounds. Sister Fatima was a member of his teaching staff. In her concern for Sister Fatima, the Mother Superior had called him for his advice and he had hurried over.