by Mick Hare
Schirach studied her face. There was just enough embarrassment, or was it anxiety, there to suggest that the allegations against her would hold water. However, once having ushered the children inside she stepped confidently out to meet her visitors.
“Good morning, gentlemen. To what do I owe the honour of a visit from the SS? My husband is not here at the moment if you are hoping to see him.”
Schirach stood to attention, clicked his heels and formally presented himself to Frau Oberleutnant Bleibtreu.
“We may be seeking to interview your husband shortly, but for the moment I am sure you can provide us with the help we are seeking. I wonder – can we go inside?”
“Of course! Forgive me my poor manners.”
She pushed open the door and preceded them into the house. Before following, Schirach delayed Dortmuller and asked, “What do you think?”
“Guilty as charged,” he replied under his breath.
“Why?”
“Did you see the colour of their hair?” asked Dortmuller in response. “Black! A complete giveaway.”
“Sepp, your hair is black. Just like theirs.”
“No, not just like theirs. Theirs is Jewish black, mine is German black!”
Both men laughed as they entered the house.
It had taken Schirach less than an hour to break the children. They had a well-rehearsed story but his experience in interrogations had soon found the cracks in it. Dortmuller had used the field telephone in their car to order a vehicle to come to deliver them to Dachau as the first stage of their confinement. Meanwhile Schirach was completing his interrogation of Frau Bleibtreu.
“What I can’t understand is why. You have everything. Land, wealth, your husband is a loyal member of the Wehrmacht. It doesn’t make sense.”
Frau Bleibtreu spoke calmly when she replied, “You are quite right, Haupsturmfuhrer. It doesn’t make sense. It makes no sense at all. But then I might ask you why you are a Nazi. And your answer might not make sense to me.”
Schirach had no answer. He simply raised his arm and gestured her towards the car where Dortmuller was waiting.
“I want to see the children,” she demanded.
But her response had disturbed Schirach and he petulantly refused. He took her by the arm and dragged her forcibly to the car. From the room where he had locked them, the children could be heard calling.
“Please. In the name of all that’s good and holy. Please let me see them!”
But he was deaf to her plea.
On the way back to the city the rain began to fall. The river was grey and in full flow. Schirach had no desire to open his window and breathe the air this time. Dortmuller’s smoke filled the car. Both men were silent. Schirach began to think about the Netzer case again.
Back at his desk, Schirach telephoned Berlin to inform them of his actions and to recommend the arrest of Oberleutnant Bleibtrue as soon as hostilities in Greece allowed.
Fifty-two
Lily and Robert sat side by side halfway down the right side of the convent chapel. Friedrich sat at the back on the left. He was still in uniform and he carried the Mauser that Lily had given to him. She had introduced him as SS Standartenfuhrer Schmidt and explained that he had been assigned to them to ensure their safe conduct across the city. Mother Superior accepted the explanation without question and with less interest. Her mind was entirely preoccupied.
The congregation sensed an unusual expectancy and there was more than the usual amount of whispering. Even from behind where only her cowl could be seen Robert could determine a joy and delight on Mother Superior’s shoulders and he did not begrudge her. ‘Enjoy it while you can,’ he thought. ‘After tonight you are going to be infamously linked with the source of your joy for all time.’
A sudden hush descended and, on an invisible signal, the congregation rose. Robert was anticipating looking for the changes in the slight figure he expected to emerge from the sacristy. The figure he had encountered once before in Berlin when the future Pontiff had met the future Fuhrer. But his search for the Pope as he emerged into the chapel to lead Benediction was abruptly curtailed when his eyes fell upon O’Shea. O’Shea? Surely not? How could it be?
Even in those flamboyant embossed and embroidered robes there was no mistaking him. Each gesture, each movement, each turn of the head and tilt of the shoulder was scorched into his brain like a brand. He felt himself succumb to an involuntary flinch that jerked his whole body. For an instant he thought he was going to rush the altar. Lily looked at him, concerned. She took his arm and held it tightly. He felt his knees go weak and his mouth filled with saliva. He pulled away from Lily’s grip and slumped to the pew. He sat with his elbows on his knees and put his hands together as if in prayer.
Meanwhile the Benediction had begun. Scents of incense and sounds of bells. Call and response in the deep growl of a Catholic congregation. Echoes in the beams of the chapel roof. The gleaming Monstrance held aloft. Held aloft in the Papal hands. The pale, thin, Papal face below the Host. The Host that will become the living, breathing Jesus whenever the Pope and all his priests on Earth perform the miracle of the Mass.
Even for Robert, who was struggling for sanity, the service ended in an instant. The Pope and his entourage were exiting into the sacristy.
Outside the chapel the congregation gathered in the cold night air striving to extend the event, unwilling to admit it was over and time to go home. Robert heard similar comments being shared within the several groups that clustered from the wind in the shelter of the chapel wall.
“God bless him. He sounds so gentle. He hardly looks strong enough to lift the Monstrance. God gives him strength. Such a soft voice. A saintly presence.”
Mother nodded at the various groups as she moved towards the convent entrance. As she passed Robert and Lily she stopped.
“So pleased you are here. You will come in of course.”
Before they could reply, the wind blew the boughs of a tree exposing Robert’s face to the light of the moon.
“Sweet Mother of God. What has happened to you Robert? I would not have recognised you but for Lily. Your face has been…” But she stopped herself.
Robert pulled the brim of his hat lower over his face. He managed a smile, “I got too close to an unexploded bomb whilst treating a trapped child,” he effortlessly lied.
“God bless you!” she said. “Follow me in.”
They waited in the nun’s common room. There were Lily and Robert. Friedrich was there, introduced by Lily, when necessary, as an SS Orpo assigned to them. Fraulein Todt was there, stricken and bereaved since the disappearance of her husband. An elderly, round-backed man in a black suit stood around smoking and looking bored. Doctor Galeazzi-Lisi, Robert correctly guessed. There were no members of the local Church hierarchy present. To invite one would have necessitated inviting all of them in order of seniority. The Pope needed these visits to be low key. He was here to refresh himself. He would ride every day in the grounds of the convent and he would have no formal engagements. Two senior nuns handed around glasses of water. The main body of nuns was excluded from this informal gathering. The Pope was in the chambers allocated to him being ministered to by members of his entourage and refreshing himself before going to meet the faithful.
When he was sufficiently refreshed Pope Pius XII, the man Sean Colquhoun first met as Cardinal Eugenio Pacelli, left his chambers and went to the office of Mother Superior. He was accompanied by Sister Pasqualina, two blue bereted and doubleted Swiss Guards and Monsignor O’Shea.
Mother rose from her seat as he entered her sanctum and got down onto her knees at his feet. She kissed the ring on his hand and he beckoned her to rise.
O’Shea paid close attention as Mother ran through the names of those in the small party waiting to meet the Pontiff. The Pope himself appeared uninterested. When Mother had related the full list he glanced at O’Shea. O’Shea could find nothing to object to and so Mother walked along to the common room and invited th
e group to her office.
They moved along the dimly lit corridor like a group of schoolchildren sent to see the Head. Doctor Galeazzi-Lisi went directly in, but the rest of them waited at the door to be announced by Mother. The two senior nuns were first to enter the presence. Robert almost envied them the sense of fulfilment they were obviously feeling. After Fraulein Todt, it was Robert’s turn. Mother spoke to him before announcing him.
“Look carefully at the blessed man. Cast your doctor’s eye over him. See what you can determine. I am going to ask him to let you examine him.”
Robert smiled down into Mother’s face. He could hardly believe what an ally she had become. When he entered, Mother accompanied him across the floor of the office right up to the Papal presence.
“Holy Father, this is Doctor Robert Hermann. He is a hero of the Munich bombing raids. You can see from his injuries that he risks his life doing God’s work, ministering to the sick and wounded. He has become a valued friend to the Convent and a faithful parishioner.”
At the sound of the word ‘doctor’ Galeazzi-Lisi had cocked an ear but just as quickly lost interest. O’Shea hardly glanced in the Doctor's direction. He did not recognise Sean Colquhoun in the same room as himself. He was obviously too over familiar with these public audiences to maintain any interest in the proceedings. Robert kept his head bent in deference to the Holy Father and away from O’Shea’s gaze. Just in case, Robert slightly altered the disposition of his face, as he had been trained to do, by pulling his jaw slightly to one side and projecting it a few millimetres; tricks learned by the secret service from criminals, who invariably attempted to disguise their appearance from the police photographer’s lens so that later attempts to identify them for future crimes would not be easy. Robert kept his eyes firmly fixed on the hem of the Pope’s robe. He knelt, took the Papal hand and kissed the ring.
“Our beloved Mother Superior speaks very highly of you,” the Pope said in fluent German.
“She is too kind, Holy Father,” he replied in his deepest German voice.
“No, you must not be modest. Your work is furthering God’s purpose. You are helping to maintain hope and order at home whilst the Wermacht struggles to defeat the Soviet atheists. Your own small contribution could well aid the return of Russia to the Christian fold. This is the fervent wish of Mary, the Mother of Our Lord Jesus.”
Throughout this brief exchange the Pope hiccupped continuously and Robert could not mistake the stale, pungent odour on his breath. Robert became aware of the fierce stare he was being subjected to from Sister Pasqualina. She scrutinised his every facial movement. She was obviously repelled by his injuries. At least that’s how it felt to Robert. He managed not to flinch or blush under the examination.
“Thank you, Holy Father. I am pleased to do whatever I can.”
Robert got to his feet and moved to the back of the room well away from O’Shea.
As Lily was presented to the Pope, Robert moved silently around the perimeter of the room until he was standing beside Mother Superior.
“You are right to be worried about the Holy Father,” he whispered.
Mother turned her head and cocked an invisible ear to listen.
“My guess is he is being treated for a stomach or bowel complaint with chromic acid. I’ve been reading up on it since you told me about his medical problems. It is a brutal form of medication probably doing more harm than good. It is used by dentists as an antidote to chronic gum disease. It is probably causing all of his digestive problems.”
Mother turned fully to look at Robert. Her expression was one of deep gratitude and an ironic satisfaction in being vindicated in her suspicions of the Papal physician.
“If you can arrange for me to conduct a private examination of the Pope, I might be able to affect a more accurate diagnosis.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
If the select audience had been expecting any further intercourse with the Pope and his entourage, they were to be mistaken. Sister Pasqualina summoned Mother Superior to her side and with a few brief snapped phrases informed her that the Pope would now be retiring to his quarters. He was tired from his journey and as the Mother was only too well aware, he was a martyr to bad health. The Pope walked from the room with Sister Pasqualina, Father O’Shea and Doctor Galeazzi-Lisi following in his wake. The two Swiss Guards outside the door snapped to attention as he emerged and followed him to his quarters.
Robert walked to the door of the office and observed their progress. They turned left at the chapel entrance, along the dimly-lit, blacked out corridor. Halfway along the Pope stopped at the foot of a set of stairs. He turned and with a swift movement of his right hand, blessed his followers.
“You will leave me now,” he said in Italian. “Take your rest. Monsignor O’Shea. You will wake me at 5:30.”
O’Shea had barely time to reply before the Pope had taken to the stairs.
“Good doctor,” he said to Galeazzi-Lisi, “you will accompany me.”
Galeazzi-Lisi shouldered his way through the group and took to the stairs in pursuit of his patient. Robert went back inside the office and going first to Lily he whispered, “Prepare the drinks.” She nodded and left the office. Robert then went to Mother. “Mother,” he insisted. “We must decide how we are going to get the Holy Father to let me see him.”
“You are right but I do not see…”
“I have an idea,” Robert interrupted. “Doctor Galeazzi-Lisi will be finished administering to the Pope in a few minutes. You must tell the Swiss Guards that there is a meal waiting for them in a nearby room. Whilst they are eating I will enter the Pope’s room and carry out an examination. Now Mother, as soon as Doctor Galeazzi-Lisi comes out, invite him to your office and keep him occupied for ten minutes or so.”
Mother looked worried.
“Are you sure, Robert? It feels like deception.”
“With the very best of motives, Mother. I might be able to help the Holy Father. If not, we have done no harm.”
Robert gave her his most reassuring smile. She nodded.
“You are right. I will take the guards to the ante room beside the Holy Father’s quarters and we will feed them there.”
“Don’t worry about the food, Mother. Lily is taking care of that.”
Somewhat taken aback by this comment, Mother hesitated momentarily.
“The guards, Mother,” Robert reminded her and she set off along the corridor to climb the staircase to the Pope's quarters.
When Mother Superior explained to the guards that they would be as close to the Pope in the ante room as they would be standing at his door, they overcame their reluctance and went with her to be fed. Mother left them there to wait for Doctor Galeazzi-Lisi to complete his ministrations to the Pontiff. The Swiss Guards relaxed in the ante room, one of them taking a look along the landing at the entrance to the Pope’s room every thirty seconds or so. Within five minutes Lily entered with a tray of food and drink.
“Here we are at last,” she said as she pushed her way in. She placed the tray on the table and started to lay out the food. There was black bread, French cheese, tinned pears and tinned milk. Black chicory steamed in the two enamel mugs she placed at the elbow of each guard. Both men went for the drink first, each pouring a generous portion of thick tinned milk into his mug before adding the hot liquid chicory. Neither man had time to taste more than a first mouthful of the French cheese before succumbing to the powerful drug Lily had mixed with the chicory.
So far so good.
Lily went to the door of the ante room, opened it a crack and peered out. After a few long minutes Doctor Galeazzi-Lisi emerged from the Pope’s room and Mother immediately intercepted him. Galeazzi-Lisi wore his usual bored expression. He was mildly interested by Mother’s suggestion that he must be very tired and probably in need of a brandy before retiring. He nodded agreement and followed Mother back to her office. As they passed along they did not notice Robert moving out of the shadow of the chapel door t
o wait at the foot of the stairs.