by Mick Hare
Lily ran silently along the landing to the top of the staircase. She gestured down the stairwell to Robert. She then went back in and sat with the guards. If anyone came along she would find some way of distracting them and preventing them from entering. Robert mounted the stairs three at a time. He tapped his breast to check his inside pocket. The bulge beneath his palm told him that his emergency pack was there. His touch recognised from memory the shape of the syringe and the phial of diacetylmorphine contained within. On reaching the top of the stairs he began the short walk to the Pope’s chambers. A wave of euphoria swept through him. With a sense of disbelief he realised that he was moments away from accomplishing his mission. It would be his last mission, he knew that. The man who killed the Pope would not be employable hereafter. So, here he was, moments from the culmination of his active career. As that thought hit he reached the Pope’s door. He did not knock. His hand reached out to lift the latch. As his thumb pressed the lever and the latch rose Lily came to the door of the ante room just in time to catch sight of his back as he slipped in.
Fifty-three
Lily remained at the door of the ante-room. Half in, half out. A grunt from one of the sleeping guards startled her. She went over to them and checked that they were still unconscious before going back to the door. Seconds passed. Where was Robert? Had he finished and come out while she was checking the guards? How could he be taking this long? The deep silence and gloom of the corridor intensified each moment, lengthening them to infinite proportions.
Suddenly, as if no time at all had passed, there he was stepping out into the corridor, placing his trilby onto his head. She closed the ante-room door and ran to him. He turned to receive her into his arms. He answered the unspoken question.
“It is done!” he said. “We must go!”
But as they turned to walk the length of the corridor a voice called out to them.
“What is done?” it said. In the hollow emptiness the voice flew like a dart. They turned instinctively, both incapable of disguising the startled guilt etched on their faces.
They heard footsteps as the figure stepped out of the shadows towards them. A black clad figure emerged. Robert stared into the gloom desperately trying to decipher the features on the approaching face. Too late, he realised that in his determination to know who was approaching them, he had allowed the stranger a too-clear look at his own face.
“Oh my God,” the voice suddenly said in English. “I know you!”
‘O’Shea,’ thought Robert. With the speed of a serpent he darted across the floor towards the priest. With fear rising to a crescendo in his voice O’Shea screamed, “What have you done? Why were you in the Pope’s room?”
Robert became aware on a secondary level that doors were opening along the corridor. Sister Pasquelina emerged from her room just as Robert’s fist smashed into O’Shea’s face, knocking him to the ground. Robert had made an unconscious decision that this was the opportunity he had dreamed of. O’Shea at his mercy! He would now kill him with his bare hands.
More doors opening! Mother’s voice calling out! Sleepy faced nuns appearing from their cells. His fist smashing again into O’Shea’s face! Blood spurting from his nose and lips like juice from a tomato. Screams and shouts and Lily’s hands tugging at him - pulling him away. But she is not strong enough. Nothing will stop him now. O’Shea is going to die.
Suddenly he is spun around and pushed against the wall. He pushes himself upwards to find himself face to face with Friedrich. Friedrich the SS man.
“Enough!” yelled Friedrich.
Lily took her opportunity at that moment. As Friedrich turned to look at O’Shea. Lily rushed forward, grabbed Robert’s arm and dragged him away.
“What is happening?” screamed Mother.
“Stop them,” shouted Galeazzi-Lisi. “Don’t let them get away. Call the police.”
Before anyone could formulate a coherent thought to precede action, O’Shea let out a hoarse cry.
“The Holy Father. Check the Pope.”
A number of nuns clasped palms to their mouths. Mother stumbled and had to be caught by Friedrich. Galeazzi-Lisi knew that he had to be the one to act. He entered the Pope’s chambers, immediately followed by Sister Pasqualina. Soon morbid screams could be heard coming from within.
“Mother of God, what is happening here? We will be cursed for all eternity,” Mother sobbed. And then, suddenly remembering Robert and Lily she shouted, “They’re getting away. Stop them! In the name of Jesus, stop them!”
At this point Fraulein Todt came along the landing. “What’s happening? Why were Robert and Lily running down the stairs?”
Friedrich took hold of her, “Which way did they go?”
“They were heading for the entrance but when they saw me Lily pulled Robert away towards the cellar.”
“Mother,” said Friedrich. “You must help me. I have to apprehend those two assassins.”
Mother turned to Fraulein Todt, “Which cellar did they enter?”
“The south cellar, just beyond the central hall.”
Mother turned to Friedrich, “But they can’t get out of there. That witch Lily thinks it will be open as it usually is. But tonight it is locked. With His Holiness here we took no chances.”
The inappropriateness of her comment caused her to wince. Friedrich pulled the Mauser from its holster. “If the cellar is locked we have them trapped like rats in a trap. Quick, come with me to lock the door they entered. Then I must use your phone and summon assistance.”
Friedrich was navigating his way through the scenario he had rehearsed with Robert and Lily many times during their preparations for tonight. It was a strategy designed to give them maximum escape time.
Mother’s eyes glistened and her nose started to run. The distraction in her face was painful to observe.
“Mother,” urged Friedrich. I must apprehend them. Come with me. The rest of you wait here. My colleagues will be here shortly.”
Friedrich took Mother by the elbow and instructed her to lead him to the entrance to the cellar. She retrieved a key from beneath her tunic and handed it to Friedrich. He inserted it into the lock and turned it. The culprits were trapped. When he had done so Friedrich slipped the key into his own pocket.
“Now, quickly, let’s go to your office.”
They hurried along the corridor to Mother’s office and once inside Friedrich went to the telephone. Before dialling he said, “Get me the key for the outer door to the cellar.”
“But why would you wa…?” Mother began but Friedrich interrupted her.
“Don’t waste time!” he snapped.
Mother responded obediently to his authoritative manner. She slid open a drawer in her desk and handed a brass key to Friedrich. Friedrich dialled a spurious number and then spoke whilst keeping his hand upon the telephone cradle. He spoke briefly giving the details of the situation and finished by adding, “Be quick. I am going to confront them now.”
He turned to Mother and said, “Stay here in your office and wait for me.”
She watched him go. Her restlessness and sorrow would not let her sit. She paced backwards and forwards rubbing her hands in anxiety.
Friedrich reached the cellar door and opened it. Stepping inside, he carefully closed and locked the door behind him. Beginning his descent he called out, “It’s me, Friedrich. Where are you?”
A light came on and Lily and Robert appeared before him. This part of the plan had been agreed upon to allow them a head start before the hue and cry after them began in earnest. They would enter the cellar where Friedrich would apprehend them and shoot them dead. Friedrich would then placate the others by informing them that the culprits were dead and that he would deal with the bodies whilst they waited for the Police SS, who were not coming. Telling Mother that he was removing the bodies they would make their escape. However, the cellar door was not supposed to be locked. It had caused a complication, but he seemed to have overcome it.
“Mother to
ok the precaution of locking your escape route to improve security for the Pope,” Friedrich explained.
“Where is the key kept?” asked Robert.
“I have it.”
“Well done, Friedrich,” said Lily. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Okay,” said Friedrich with finality. He walked past them to the outer door and unlocked it. He looked outside and saw the steps leading up to the garden. He went back in, closing the door behind him. He lifted his Mauser and pointed it at Lily and Robert. Just before he squeezed the trigger he said, “I’ll be back in a minute. Wait by the door. Now put your fingers in your ears.” He pulled the trigger twice. The noise was a physical blow on the chest. At the top of the stairs when he re-emerged into the corridor, Doctor Galeazzi-Lisi was there.
“Where are those useless Swiss Guards?” asked Friedrich.
“They have been drugged,” the doctor replied. “What has happened down there?”
“The criminals are dead,” Friedrich replied. “Resisting arrest. Go and tell Mother that the assassins are dead and I am removing the bodies to the outside. Have the police van come to the back to collect them. Tell her my instructions are for every one to stay in their rooms and to wait for my colleagues to arrive. Anyone disobeying my instruction could be accused of obstructing the SS in the execution of their duties. You go and work on those Guards. Wake them up whatever it takes.”
“When I left Mother she was on the phone to the Police. She sounded angry. They said there had been no earlier report from here about the assassination,” said Galeazzi-Lisi.
Friedrich swallowed before replying, “Useless incompetents! What can you expect from the imbeciles we are left to work with when every good man is doing his duty on the Russian front?”
As soon as Galeazzi-Lisi was out of sight on his way back to Mother’s office Friedrich opened the cellar door and entered. Taking the cellar stairs three at a time, calling, “It’s me!” as he went, he bounded across the cellar floor to the rear door. Robert and Lily were at his side.
“We do not have long,” he whispered. “Mother took it upon herself to call the SS.”
The moon shone brightly in a star-filled sky, illuminating the convent grounds. The air-raid sirens started to whine as Lily said, “This way!”
“No!” ordered Friedrich in contradiction. “You follow me. I know every back lane in Munich.”
They ran across the grounds towards the gardener’s shed. As they skirted the greenhouse, which stood adjacent to the shed, they were startled by a movement in the shadows and a voice cutting into the night.
“Over here,” it called hoarsely.
The three fugitives halted and froze. Friedrich reached for his gun.
“There is no need for that, comrade,” the voice continued.
Before their eyes Herr Todt stepped out of the shadows. Robert stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. “I told you to leave Munich. I expected you to be well on your way to Switzerland by now.”
“I couldn’t do it. I set off but it felt wrong. I felt if you could risk your life then I could do the same. I also did not realise I would be unable to leave my wife behind. I had allowed myself to believe that she was a stupid woman because she had swallowed the Nazi lies. But I realised that made her no more stupid than sixty million others. Her allegiance to the Nazis would not save her from their retribution for my treachery. I discovered I wanted to be with her. So here I am.”
Fifty-four
Schirach stood with Dortmuller in the fine drizzle that was descending onto the garden of the surgery of Doctor and Frau Hermann. Two labourers had just finished digging out the mound at the bottom of the garden. They were not happy about having to work outside whilst English bombers flew high overhead unloading bombs, even if they were concentrating their drop several miles away over the industrial sector. BMW and Seimens were taking a pounding tonight.
There was no dog corpse in the shallow grave. But they had just exhumed a human male corpse. The facial disfigurement was horrendous but it had been insufficient to hide Netzer’s identity from Schirach. As fellow SS men they had often trained at the gymnasium together. A wart on the left hand side of his torso, just below the rib cage, was a distinguishing feature that Schirach was familiar with. The shock of finding the indestructible Netzer like this was affecting both Schirach and Dortmund. One of the world’s constants had been removed. The world had become a shakier place. With a rush of guilt Schirach knew that his postponement of decision-making regarding this case was over. He needed to get into top gear immediately. His problem was that Netzer had kept him completely in the dark about his Doctor and Frau Hermann project. Besides, as far as he was aware, not only was Frau Hermann working with Netzer on this project, but she was also his lover. That’s what the rumour mongers would have the world believe.
Schirach was in the process of deciding that his starting point would have to be Netzer’s files, to which he would now have unfettered access until a replacement for Netzer was appointed and, following that, a thorough search of the surgery and home of the doctor and his wife. His thinking was interrupted by Dortmuller who called from their car where he was speaking on the field telephone.
“Haupsturmfuhrer!” Dortmuller’s tone could not disguise the urgency in his voice.
“What is it?” called Schirach as he began to run towards the car.
Dortmuller dropped the telephone into its cradle and began to run to meet Schirach. The men came together and Dortmuller gave Schirach a message that made his stomach turn.
“It’s the convent. The Sisters of Perpetual Succour. They’ve called in an emergency. According to reports the Pope has been assassinated. They’ve named Doctor and Frau Robert Hermann as the culprits. Both suspects are reported dead.”
Feeling a sickness swell up in him, all Schirach could scream was, “Everybody mobile! Follow me!”
Three black Daimlers screeched away from the surgery and headed for the eastern outskirts of the city.
Todt turned and headed down the path towards the fence at the southern end of the grounds.
“Come on,” he said. “I have a car waiting. I will drive you to the Hauptbahnhof. After that you are on your own and I shall return for my wife.”
They headed off into the night. Herr Todt drove without headlights. They were passing through a wooded area which lay between the convent grounds and the residential area, which marked the outskirts of suburban Munich. Ahead of them searchlights sliced across the skies and a burst of anti-aircraft fire painted a bloody fire on the night throwing the Munich skyline into a macabre silhouette.
With a sudden swerve, Herr Todt pulled the car off the road into an opening between the trees. A blaze of headlights ate up the road they had just exited as three SS cars screeched towards the convent.
“You were successful?” was all Herr Todt asked.
“We were successful,” replied Robert.
As the car made its way through the outskirts of Munich Herr Todt said, “Under the passenger seat there is a file. In it you will find paperwork that should assist you in your escape. There are identity papers and passports. There are also documents explaining your reasons for travelling. You will need to look through them and rehearse your new identity in your mind. If you are questioned it will be no good having to read your papers to explain who you are. There is another problem. I was not expecting a third party.”
He glanced across at Friedrich who was next to him in the passenger seat, “Our friendly SS man here.”