by Mick Hare
Friedrich pulled up a stool and seated himself beside Robert. Robert took out an envelope and handed it to him, “Here you are my friend,” he said. “These should help relieve the headaches.”
They drank their beers.
“Why do you think I’m getting these headaches, Robert?”
Robert laughed at the thought of the answer forming in his head.
“Well, my good Friedrich, Sigmund Freud would say they are the result of a latent trauma in your past. Probably a mild hysteria caused by the repression of your feelings for Sadie.”
Friedrich grunted.
“But don’t worry,” Robert added. “Freud was only an old Jew. What did he know?” After a pause he asked, “How was work today?”
Friedrich had told Robert he was an administrator. The way he had said it told Robert much more. The vagueness used in contemporary Germany was always a signal of some Government involvement. It was a way language found to sidestep totalitarianism without falling foul of it.
“Big cargo today.”
“Outgoing?”
“No incoming. Which is worse for me.”
“How so?”
“Well outgoing there is one amount of paperwork per unit. Not so bad. But incoming there is one amount of paperwork for every item returning from that unit.”
“Item? What do you mean item?”
“Think about it,” said Friedrich in his helpful manner. “One unit outgoing might produce a dozen items incoming. A gold tooth! Six gold teeth. Who knows? A watch! A ring! Spectacles!” I tell you, the paper work it creates is horrendous.”
Robert stared at his friend.
“No wonder you suffer from headaches,” he remarked.
“No wonder at all,” agreed Friedrich
There was a final contingency Robert decided upon and he set about organising that now. He retraced his steps to Marienplatz and then exited the square on the south side. He continued until he entered the residential area where the apothecary was situated. The terrace was occupied with children playing around a street light which had a rope dangling from it. There was a knot of mothers in housewives’ wraparound robes chatting on one corner and the occasional cyclist and vehicle trundled over the cobblestones.
Robert walked straight past the apothecary noticing that it was still closed. The broken windows remained un-mended and there was a sense of increasing desolation about the place. Robert found his observations agreeable and turned at the end of the street to double back into the lane behind the row of houses in which the apothecary stood.
The lane was empty and he rapidly moved to the back gate of the apothecary and scrambled over it. He hurried across the yard and with three mighty bumps of his shoulder against the door, burst into the back of the shop. He spent the next forty minutes or so examining the property. He searched from the basement to the attic in the roof. He found that there was running water and a gas supply to a cooker. There was no electricity but there were candles and matches and there were tins of food. When he had finished he was satisfied that he could hideaway here for a short period of time if he had to. He also found a large variety of drugs still on the premises. He made a quick search and helped himself to generous amounts of diamorphine, sufficient cyanide to match his needs, sleeping pills, amphetamines and laxatives.
When he had finished he sat in the upstairs room where the apothecary and his assistant had swallowed their cyanide capsules and he dozed until it was dark. On waking he guessed the curfew would have started and he quickly left by the way he had entered and walked straight home, confident that his medical documents would satisfy any wardens or police officers out patrolling the curfew.
Lily was anxiously waiting for him when he entered the house.
“Where have you been,” she asked.
Her anxiety and the scene they were enacting painted such an orthodox picture of domestic married life that Robert could not help but smile.
“What is amusing you? I have been worried.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You made me feel like a normal husband in a normal world for a moment. It made me smile.”
He could see that his remark had hurt her and he put his arms around her and said into her hair. “I’m home now. You can stop worrying.”
“We were supposed to be at the convent for Benediction. It’s curfew now. We shan’t be able to go.”
“Damn the curfew. We have to go. Mother has got to invite us over next Tuesday to meet the Pope. Do we have anything to eat? I am ravenous.”
“Yes. I bought some dried egg powder today. I will make you scrambled eggs. You can eat them with some rye biscuits.”
Robert thanked her and went to wash. Lily did not eat with Robert. She sat opposite him as he devoured his light meal. What he would give for a big plate of potatoes, bacon hock and cabbage.
“You not eating, my love?” he asked.
“No, I ate earlier,” Lily replied.
“You haven’t told me about your day. Anything exciting happen to you?”
He lowered his knife and fork and paused to look into her eyes. She looked straight back.
“Nothing of interest. I went to town. I bought the dried eggs. I also got a ham bone from the butcher. I will try to get some vegetables to go with it tomorrow. I went to the convent school and examined some of the children. That’s it. Not really exciting.”
A tingle ran down Robert’s spine. So it was true. She was a double agent. She must have killed Helga. A surge of adrenalin ran through him. So the game develops an infinitely greater complexity. He smiled at Lily and went back to his eggs.
After Robert had cleaned his plate, they slipped into their coats and headed out into the night. They both carried their medical identification cards and documents and were well prepared for any zealous curfew patrol they might encounter. Tonight, however, they were not stopped.
Robert and Lily managed to slip into the back of the chapel just as Father was raising the Monstrance and the altar boy was chiming the bell. They were seen arriving late by Mother Superior, but afterwards, in her quarters she forgave them when they told her about the awful day they had had and how their lateness had been unavoidable but they had been determined to come anyway.
Tonight Lily and Robert were alone with Mother Superior. Herr Todt and his wife had not attended Benediction because Herr Todt had been feeling under the weather. As they sipped the Mother’s sherry around the log fire in the hearth, Robert and Lily kept the topic of conversation centred on religion. They discussed the importance of the church world-wide. They talked about the miracle of Fatima. They drew the talk around to the Holy Father in Rome and as that topic developed Robert got up to top up the sherry glasses. As he poured them he slid some powdered amphetamine into Mother’s glass and returned to the fire. As the sherry and the mild amphetamine dose began to enter the nun’s bloodstream she became ever more garrulous.
“I hope you won’t think me immodest but I can boast that the Holy Father is a personal acquaintance of mine.”
“No!” exclaimed Lily.
“Well, you do surprise me!” added Robert.
Mother leaned forward conspiratorially in her armchair and said, “I’ve been meaning to tell my exciting news for sometime now.” She paused to sip her sherry. She looked down at it. “By the sweet Lord,” she said. “This has never tasted so good.” She sat back as if having forgotten why she had leaned forward in the first place.
“Um. You said you had some exciting news, Mother?” Lily prompted.
“Oh yes,” replied Mother, sitting forward again. “Well, the Holy Father, himself, God bless him…” And at this she made the sign of the cross… “is coming here next week.”
“The Holy Father coming here?” exhaled Robert. “I don’t believe it. Oh forgive me Mother. I did not mean to doubt your word. I meant to say such an honour is unbelievable to the likes of me.”
Mother smiled at him forgivingly, “Well you can believe it now because it’s true. And as two of
the most devout Catholics in Munich I want you to be here to meet him.”
The relief in Robert’s demeanour was almost visible. Here it was at last. The invitation. The moment they had worked for all this time had just arrived.
“Well, Mother,” he said. “I must say you overwhelm us with this honour. What do you say Lily?”
“Absolutely overwhelmed!”
Forty
Swiss Guards stood at either side of the vast double doors leading to the papal offices. From along the arched passageway a group of three men, escorted front and back by another two pairs of Swiss Guards, came between the tall marble pillars. The sun threw black lines of shadow across the shiny floor which echoed to the sound of the group’s footsteps. Amongst the party of three, two were in military uniform and the third was in formal black suit and ceremonial red and yellow sash.
On arrival at the doors to the papal office the Swiss Guards crossed their lances barring the group’s way. An exchange was barked between the lead guard with the party and one of those barring entry. The guards uncrossed their lances; stepped backwards opening the doors and the Spanish ambassador to Italy was admitted to the presence of God’s representative on Earth.
Many formalities took place including the exchange of gifts. The item most prized by the Pope was a painting of the Madonna and child that Franco had recovered from the ruins of a church of San Francisco in Madrid. Franco’s letter to the Pope claimed the church had been desecrated by the Anarchists but, in fact Franco’s own artillery had destroyed the church. After blessing the party the Pope signalled the ambassador to accompany him into a generous recess within the enormous space of the office. There were comfortable chairs there and a table. The two men could talk here without being overheard.
The ambassador had with him a file which he handed to the Pope as they talked. The file contained Franco’s greetings to the Pope and an outline of his plans for restoring Holy Mother Church to her position of ascendancy within Spain. He made reference to the restoration of the monarchy but claimed this would have to be postponed for the time being. Franco himself needed to keep executive control of the government whilst the task of mopping up the remnants of the hated Jewish-led communists, anarchists and other various atheistic groups which remained.
The file also contained a report on the position of monasteries and convents within Spain. Franco’s notes declared his determination to restore to them their property, land and wealth.
Finally, Franco had outlined his plans in respect of social policy. Atheism would not be tolerated. Divorce would be outlawed. Divorces which had been granted during the Republic would be overturned. Divorcees would be compelled to honour their marriage vows and families would be re-united. The sanctity of marriage would be re-established. The role of women would be clearly defined and their disastrous excursions into the political and business life of the nation would be curtailed.
As the Pope read these monumental legislative drafts he nodded with obvious pleasure. The ambassador had time to take in his surroundings. He observed the symmetry of the apartments they were occupying. The opposite recess to the one they were sitting in contained an altar and he presumed the Pope would use it to say mass.
Having read the file the Pope placed it on the table and proceeded to thank the ambassador and to formally request that he relay profuse thanks to General Franco for his heroic work and his devout Catholicism. The rest of the conversation was dominated by a consideration of the evils of communism and how best to combat it. He made it clear to the ambassador that the Church would look favourably upon any actions taken by Franco to rid the world of this evil. He spoke of his pain for the Russian people and of his fervent hope that one day they would be returned to the Christian, hopefully the Catholic faith. The most important duty of all Catholics at this time was to do everything in their power, whatever their role in life, to bring about the destruction of communism. Holy Mary, the Mother of God was grieving in sorrow at the suffering of her Russian children and she instructed all Catholics to fight for their freedom.
The Pope called for a jug of water and informed the ambassador that he would now say mass for the assembled group, after which they would have proper refreshments. He picked up a silver bell and shook it. Its tiny peals ran along the pillars and walls and a young priest in his black cassock came.
“Ambassador,” said the Pope, “Allow me to introduce the citizen of another neutral country and from another great national bastion of Catholicism. Monsignor O’Shea here is on a sabbatical from his native Ireland. His country has so recently been wrenched from the protestant clutches of the British Empire by the heroic actions of her brave sons. Monsignor O’Shea will assist me in the saying of mass.”
Forty-one
Robert woke early and lay in the pitch black of the bedroom. The blackout curtains permitted no light to enter as well as no light to escape. Beside him in the bed he could hear the deep innocent breathing of a sleeping Lily. He felt the warmth of her body and became slightly aroused. He wondered at his ability to be aroused by the woman who planned to betray him.
He knew that the assassination plot should be aborted and he should eliminate the woman asleep beside him and activate his escape plan. Any other agent would be halfway back to England by now. But Robert knew he had nothing to go back to. This mission was his only purpose. In fact, he knew he dreaded its conclusion because then he would have to make choices he could not face. If he died in action it would be the best possible outcome for him. He only had to take care that this attitude did not ruin his efficiency. He did not want to die before making this Pope pay for his complicity with Nazism. He turned the sleeping Lily to face him and levered himself on top of her. Lily woke to find herself being made love to. Half dreaming she succumbed to the explosion of pleasure that Robert induced within her. Her pleasure was so intense that tears fell from her eyes. Robert wiped them away with the palm of his hand and kissed her face. As he succumbed to the climax of his pleasure the ice re-formed in his heart and he withdrew without speaking and went to the bathroom.
Having washed in cold water, Robert opened the window and looked out over the suburb to the skyline of downtown Munich. The gaps in the skyline gave the city the look of a badly maintained mouth in desperate need of a dentist. He knew, even as he finished shaving, the plan of action he was going to carry out. Returning to the bedroom, he dressed in darkness. Although Lily lay still he knew she was not sleeping. He could feel her eyes upon him. He thought of things to say to her; pleasantries; small talk. But his mood would not let him. He left the bedroom in silence. As he closed the door her voice came out to him on the landing.
“Robert, don’t go. I want to say something.”
He paused but he did not go back into the bedroom. After a moment or two he went downstairs, collected his coat, hat and bag and went through the front door. ‘Goodbye Lily,’ he thought to himself.
After a breakfast of black beech nut and acorn flour bread and black coffee at the hospital, Robert performed four operations that morning. The staff worked tirelessly to clean and reset the theatre after each procedure and Robert had the good feeling a successful morning’s work gives one. He felt like the old Sean. Allowed an hour for lunch during a relative lull, he carried out part of the plan he had been formulating. His strategy was to disconcert Lily and whoever was controlling her. The only way he could think of doing that was to do the unexpected. Presumably they expected him to carry on as he had done so far. They could be forgiven for assuming he had no knowledge of the betrayal, otherwise they would have moved against him by now. So it was his intention to nonplus them. He would disappear. It was Thursday today and he had to remain at liberty until at least next Tuesday. By then he would have had the opportunity to carry out his mission.