by Mick Hare
“Pardon my rough Bavarian manners, Signora. Please take my seat. I have been too long in the army. My soldierly ways have blunted my behaviour.”
“Please, captain,” replied Lily. “I am good here. You need to conduct your business with the Monsignor. Please keep your seat and forget about me.”
Lily’s faultless German had surprised the captain as he had assumed that she was Italian.
“Pardon me again, mein Frau. I had mistaken you for an Italian.”
At this point Robert spoke up, also in his own faultless German, “We three are seconded from Fatherland security to the Vatican. Our current task is to ensure the Monsignor is successful in his mission. I am sure the Monsignor will explain everything to you.”
The captain nodded slowly as if trying to weigh and sift the information he was receiving.
“Very well, Monsignor,” he said turning to O’Shea. “How can I help you?”
O’Shea hesitated and glanced around at his three captors.
“Well,” he began, “It has been brought to the attention of the Pontiff that two Catholic children may have been delivered to you in the last twenty-four hours or so. They were accompanied by their mother, who may or may not be a Jewess.”
“How is this?” interjected the captain. “Catholic children of a maybe, maybe not Jewess. I don’t think I understand. I am a simple soldier. You will have to spell it out more clearly for me.”
O’Shea shifted uncomfortably in his seat and once more glanced around at his captors.
“Well,” he coughed, “It is not as complicated as you might think. The woman might be a Jewess. That still needs to be verified. But the children are definitely Catholic. The Vatican has documentary proof of their baptism. You see their father, now deceased, was a Catholic of Austrian descent. Unfortunately, some sons of the church disregard the best advice and enter into mixed marriages. This was possibly one such unfortunate example. But, whatever the regrettable circumstances of their birth, the stain of original sin was washed from their souls and they have been received into the Catholic communion. They should not be here. It is the Pontiff’s own wish that they be returned to the Holy City and placed under the direct care of the Church. A good Catholic family will be found for them. They will be adopted and brought up in the sight of God’s grace. As for the mother, a thorough investigation will be carried out and, if it is proven that she is a Jewess, she will be returned to you for deportation.”
The captain listened carefully and when O’Shea had finished he reached for some papers that were lying in a tray on his right hand side. He scanned the papers in his hand and then said, “I know the family you are speaking of. She is an extremely handsome woman this Frau Hildberg.”
Lily felt Robert bristle at this comment and touched his arm to defuse his rising anger.
“But,” the captain went on, “I have no evidence of a Catholic heritage in this family. The name Hildberg suggests a Jewish husband rather than an Austrian Catholic.”
O’Shea responded quickly and impressed Lily with his dexterity of thought.
“Exactly, my good captain! That is why we think the confusion has arisen. The name is quite common among the Jewish population, but it is not exclusively Jewish. There are examples of Hildbergs of pure German or Austrian extraction going back centuries. I believe a branch of Himmler’s extended family was called Hildenberg, which is of course another form of the name.”
This seemed to mollify the captain, who was thinking that this was a remarkably unimportant family and one not worth falling out with the church over. He slowly got to his feet, obviously coming to a decision.
“You have persuaded me, Monsignor O’Shea. Please, bear with me for a moment. I will have the family delivered to this room immediately.”
He barked orders at the Carabinieri, who hurried into the room. As the captain gave his instructions, Robert walked over to O’Shea and spoke to him quietly in Irish.
“Tell him I must accompany the Carabinieri to ensure we get the right people.”
Overcoming his shock at the sound of Irish so close to his ear from a man he once considered a friend and who he now considered the most evil and dangerous man on Earth, he nodded. The captain agreed to O’Shea’s request and Robert left with the Carabinieri.
The Carabinieri’s boots echoed along the brick-tiled corridor as Robert followed him below the high windows. Robert fancied he could detect a faint odour of malt coming from the very walls, but it may have just been a suggestion in the mind.
At the end of the corridor they stepped out into bright, late-afternoon daylight and, immediately, Robert saw the railway truck at the end of the yard where Grete and the children were. Robert followed the Carabinieri up to the door of the truck and watched as he put a key into the large chain lock and threw the doors open. Light spilled into the truck and the occupants all covered their eyes from the glare. The stench of human waste drifted out and the Carabinieri covered his nose with his sleeve and made some indignant comment. He shouted out the name Hildberg.
Robert recognised Grete and the children but they could not distinguish his features as their pupils tried to adjust to the light. All they perceived were two silhouettes and the sound of their name. Eventually, Grete persuaded the children to accompany her to the door of the truck and Robert helped them down onto the ground.
“Say nothing,” he hissed into Grete’s ear. But as he lifted David down, the boy threw his arms around his neck and shouted, “Uncle Robert!”
The Carabinieri looked at Robert and asked, “What did he say? Does he know you?”
Fortunately the Italian did not understand German and so Robert could just shrug. Before David could say anything else Robert put him onto the ground, shook his shoulders and roughly ordered him to shut up. David immediately began to cry and went to his mother.
“What is happening,” Grete asked anxiously. “Why are you here?”
“Be quiet woman,” he snapped. “You are coming with me.”
As he herded the family of three together and pointed in the direction he wanted them to walk, Grete suddenly pulled away and rushed back to the door of the truck.
“The Marinos!” she cried. “The Marinos must come with us.”
Robert ran after her and pulled her away from the truck.
“You must come now,” he shouted in as officious a manner as he could manage.
Grete struggled as he pulled her away and the Carabinieri began to lose patience in the situation.
“What is going on here?” he asked Robert as he began to un-shoulder his rifle.
Robert roughly pushed Grete towards her children and went across to the Carabinieri. He palmed his hands in a calming gesture but he could see that the Carabinieri had made a decision and he continued to raise his rifle. Robert sprang like a snake and pushed the rifle upwards into his face. The rifle fell to the floor and Robert seized the Carabinieri in a headlock. Using his knowledge of anatomy he squeezed the man’s throat until he lost consciousness. Throwing the man over his shoulder he hurried with him to the truck and threw him in. Climbing into the truck after him Robert was again overcome by the stench of human waste. He pointed at the man nearest to him and demanded his belt. Using the belt, he trussed the unconscious Carabinieri’s arms tightly behind his back and then, taking a woman’s scarf, which was lying on the floor beside her, he tightly tied the Carabinieri’s legs together. He then took a rag that was lying on the floor and stuffed it into the unconscious man’s mouth. Getting to his feet he looked around him.
“Signor Marino,” he said. In the dark he was still having difficulty making out the features of the twenty-five or so people in there.
“Signor Marino,” he called again, impatience rising in his tone.
A man got to his feet at the back of the truck and shuffled forward towards him.
“Are you Signor Marino?” Robert asked.
The man nodded.
“Where is your wife?”
From the sam
e dark corner a woman got to her feet and came towards them.
“Come with me,” he ordered.
Robert turned and jumped down from the truck. The Marinos had not moved.
“Now!” he barked and they obeyed him. He helped them both down and taking them on each side of him by the elbow, marched them towards Grete and the children.
“We do not have time to waste,” he hissed at them. “Just follow me as quickly as you can.”
So saying, he let go of the Marinos, took David and Lisa by the hand and marched back towards the captain’s office. Grete and the Marinos ran to keep up with him. As they walked back inside the building Robert realised that the absence of his escort and the presence of the Marinos had changed the situation. There was no way they were going to get out of this holding station without a fight.
* * *
When Robert had left the office with the Carabinieri escort, Lily and Friedrich had settled down to a nerve-wracking wait. The captain asked if they would like some tea but before O’Shea could say yes, Lily snapped, “We do not have time. We must get these people back to the Vatican for proper identification.”
“As you wish,” said the captain with a shrug. He returned to his seat and reached out for the telephone. His hand hesitated over the receiver as the sound of pistols being cocked grabbed his attention. He looked up to see the soldier and his woman accomplice pointing barrels into his face. His stomach churned as he realised he had been duped. The captain looked at the cleric, Monsignor O’Shea. O’Shea read his thoughts.
“They are heinous assassins. I am their captive. They are going…”
“That’s enough,” barked Lily. “Not another word from either of you.”
And they waited.
* * *
Approaching the office, Robert knew he had to deal with the guard standing outside. Halfway along the corridor he stopped and turned to Grete.
“Stay here,” he said. “I am going to go ahead and speak to the guard. When I signal, come quickly to join me.”
Grete just nodded. By this time she was numbed into obeying his orders. Robert went ahead and approached the guard. He leaned close to whisper conspiratorially. As the guard tilted his head to listen, Robert clamped his hand over the man’s mouth and simultaneously brought his knee up sharply between his legs. The man crumpled into Robert’s arms. Robert span him around and with one hand across the man’s chest and one tightly gripping his chin, he snapped his neck with one sharp pull. He lowered the guard to the ground and beckoned the group to join him.
When he entered the office he could not at first see Lily and Friedrich. He saw the captain sitting opposite O’Shea. Both sat in complete silence. As he moved into the room Lily and Friedrich stepped out from the space behind the door. Robert ushered his party inside and Lily shut the door. She answered Robert’s unspoken question and he answered hers.
“The captain was going to make a telephone call.”
“The Marinos. They sheltered Grete and the children from the first round-up.”
Lily nodded. She then stared at Grete closely for the first time. Robert did his best not to notice her expression.
“Watch them closely,” Robert said to Friedrich and then pulled Lily to one side.
“There’s a dead guard outside. Help me pull him in before someone sees him.”
As they dragged him in, O’Shea groaned and blessed himself. It was more a groan of self pity than outrage at an atrocity. Conferring secretly once more with Lily, Robert said, “There’s one guard trussed up in the truck. I think he’ll be unconscious for a good while longer. Then there are the four guards at the gate and the captain.”
“What are we going to do with them?”
“Well our ruse with O’Shea has crashed. There’s only one way out of here. We have to get rid of them all.”
After a pause Lily nodded.
“You’re right. But we need to do things in the right order or we are going to end up in the truck.”
“Okay. Let’s think it through. Four guards at the gate are too many for us to deal with in one go. Two we can manage. Then there’s the captain.”
“And O’Shea,” added Lily.
“Yes,” mumbled Robert looking across at the worried priest. “Then there’s O’Shea.”
Taking his pistol out, Robert walked over to the captain and stood behind his seat. Placing the barrel against his temple he said simply, “Call the gate and get two of your men up here immediately. Tell them they are to escort the visitors out of the camp.”
The captain slowly reached for the receiver. He lifted it to his ear and dialled one number. Through the open window they could all hear the external telephone bell at the gatehouse ringing.
“No smart ideas,” warned Robert, tapping the barrel gently against the captain’s temple.
The ringing stopped and a voice spoke on the line. The captain gave the instructions he had been told to and then replaced the receiver. In a moment the sound of boots at the double coming up the yard could be heard. Friedrich and Robert moved the body of the dead guard to a corner out of view from the doorway and then stood back against the wall alongside the door. Lily stood behind the captain where she could pick off either the captain or O’Shea if she needed to.
The sound of boots in the corridor. A loud knocking at the door. After a prod from Lily the captain called, “Come!”
The door opened and two elderly Carabinieri stepped up to the captain’s desk and stood to attention. Robert and Friedrich jumped forward and took one man each around the neck. A flash of steel in each hand and a sharp drag of metal upon throat. Friedrich’s victim fell like a stone. He tipped to one side and fell onto O’Shea’s lap, his blood spilling voluminously onto his cassock. O’Shea leapt to his feet in fear and disgust. He then fell to the floor as Robert and his guard stumbled in a death struggle into Friedrich, who in turn had bumped O’Shea. Witnessing this horror, the captain’s face froze into a permanent mask of anguish as Lily sliced his throat open with one sleek slash. Grete, the children and the Marinos hid themselves in a huddle to avoid witnessing the carnage going on around them as Robert and his stubborn victim still wrestled in a death dance that had embroiled Friedrich. Finally, the stubborn Carabinieri fell to his knees, overcome by loss of blood and Robert and Friedrich were able to disentangle themselves from him. He tilted forward on to his face and gave up the ghost.
Struggling for breath, Robert said, “Quick! Everyone to the car!”
He quickly scanned the room. His heart froze.
“Where is O’Shea?”
His eyes went from Lily to Friedrich and back again.
“Where is O’Shea?” he repeated.
“He must have crept out in the melee,” said Friedrich, wiping blood from his hands.
In a frenzy, Robert made a dive towards the door but Lily’s scream halted him in his tracks.
“No!” she yelled.
Robert turned to look at her.
“What is more important?” she asked. “O’Shea or…?” And she looked at the huddled group in the corner of the room. Robert realised, in his despair, that she was right. He stood, torn for a moment between two courses of action and then almost reluctantly repeated his first instruction.
“Everyone to the car!”
Lily ushered them all outside into the corridor and then closed the office door behind her. They hurried along the corridor to the large oak doors and stepped out into the now fading afternoon light. Lily climbed in on the driver’s side and the Marinos got in beside her along the bench. Grete and the children climbed in the back. Robert and Friedrich marched ahead of the car in their blood-stained uniforms, out of the brewery yard and along the dusty path to the gatehouse. The two guards ahead, the only two now left at the holding station, were laughing at some joke. Robert and Friedrich approached them swiftly. They were surprised at the sudden appearance of these two Germans and had insufficient time to raise their rifles when they saw the pistols pointed at them. Two
shots rang out and two Carabinieri fell to the dust, head wounds spilling blood like red surf onto dark sand.