Vatican Radio.”
“Was he sending out messages?”
“No, only names, so families would know where their loved ones were. Maybe he made the bishop look bad, or maybe the Nazis didn’t like news bulletins about prisoners. Someone put the pressure on, Corrigan got his hand slapped and went back to his legal work.”
“Who could tell us more about that?”
“Another monsignor, name of Renato Bruzzone, also in the Holy Office. He and Corrigan worked together and got in the same hot water. Might have been something to it, since after Italy surrendered, and the POW camps were left unguarded, a lot of British prisoners came here, making a beeline for neutral territory,” Brackett said, frowning as if he disapproved. More mouths to feed. “Also Monsignor O’Flaherty in the Holy Office. A loose cannon, that one. I’d stay away from him if I were you.”
I resisted the urge to tell him I was damn glad he wasn’t me. “The escaped prisoners were given sanctuary?”
“Yes, but very quickly the Swiss Guard was given orders to bar their entry. Again, a question of not antagonizing the Germans. Now they turn them away quietly.” He made it sound as if they were granting a favor to his allies and countrymen seeking refuge. Beggars on the street to him.
“How many made it in?”
“Dozens, perhaps. It’s one of those well-known secrets no one talks about.”
“For fear of offending our enemy,” Kaz said.
“You would do well to remember our enemy is not the enemy of our host. Antagonize Vatican officials and you could find yourselves tossed out on the streets of Rome.”
“Yes,” Kaz said, with a glance out the window, and back to Brackett, who blew a plume of smoke toward the ceiling. “A terrible fate, indeed.”
“Have the Germans arrested any priests recently?” I asked. “Or nuns?”
“Not on Vatican territory, no. In Rome they arrest whomever they please. Or shoot them. Hardly the thing we can keep track of from within these walls.”
“No rumors? Gossip about priests or nuns gone missing?”
He frowned. “Missing? As in murdered?”
“No, as in taken by the Gestapo.”
“You’d have to inquire at the Regina Coeli,” Brackett said. “For your sake, I hope the opportunity does not arise.”
“Thanks for the concern,” I said. “Can you get a message out in the diplomatic pouch for us?”
“No. While we are permitted to use the Vatican courier to Switzerland, we cannot send any coded messages, and nothing on military matters. The Germans would be certain to invade if they knew the diplomatic courier was used for Allied espionage.”
“Well, somebody had to send out a message about Corrigan, otherwise we wouldn’t be here.”
“Quite,” Brackett said wistfully. “But the death of an American citizen, even if he also held a Vatican passport, was a legitimate item for comment. Who acted upon that information is another matter. In any case, your association with the OSS makes it all the more important that you not violate the neutrality of our hosts.”
“Is there any way we can talk with Soletto?”
“It may not be wise, or useful, but I can ask. He’s not entirely sympathetic to the Allied cause, but that may change, the closer our tanks get. Won’t be too soon for me.”
We talked some more, Brackett telling us again not to ruffle feathers. He said he had a meeting to attend, and I wondered what they would discuss. The war? Or the difficulties of getting decent tobacco? He made his apologies, and left us to wait for John Mayto return. We ate the rest of Brackett’s food, in the hope it might give him the feeling of contributing to the war effort.
“That was an interesting conversation,” I said, licking the last of the jam from my fingers. “Did you notice that he never answered my question when I asked who he thought killed Corrigan?”
“Perhaps he considered it undiplomatic,” Kaz said.
“Eight hundred days within one hundred acres,” I said, as I stood to
“Was he sending out messages?”
“No, only names, so families would know where their loved ones were. Maybe he made the bishop look bad, or maybe the Nazis didn’t like news bulletins about prisoners. Someone put the pressure on, Corrigan got his hand slapped and went back to his legal work.”
“Who could tell us more about that?”
“Another monsignor, name of Renato Bruzzone, also in the Holy Office. He and Corrigan worked together and got in the same hot water. Might have been something to it, since after Italy surrendered, and the POW camps were left unguarded, a lot of British prisoners came here, making a beeline for neutral territory,” Brackett said, frowning as if he disapproved. More mouths to feed. “Also Monsignor O’Flaherty in the Holy Office. A loose cannon, that one. I’d stay away from him if I were you.”
I resisted the urge to tell him I was damn glad he wasn’t me. “The escaped prisoners were given sanctuary?”
“Yes, but very quickly the Swiss Guard was given orders to bar their entry. Again, a question of not antagonizing the Germans. Now they turn them away quietly.” He made it sound as if they were granting a favor to his allies and countrymen seeking refuge. Beggars on the street to him.
“How many made it in?”
“Dozens, perhaps. It’s one of those well-known secrets no one talks about.”
“For fear of offending our enemy,” Kaz said.
“You would do well to remember our enemy is not the enemy of our host. Antagonize Vatican officials and you could find yourselves tossed out on the streets of Rome.”
“Yes,” Kaz said, with a glance out the window, and back to Brackett, who blew a plume of smoke toward the ceiling. “A terrible fate, indeed.”
“Have the Germans arrested any priests recently?” I asked. “Or nuns?”
“Not on Vatican territory, no. In Rome they arrest whomever they please. Or shoot them. Hardly the thing we can keep track of from within these walls.”
“No rumors? Gossip about priests or nuns gone missing?”
He frowned. “Missing? As in murdered?”
“No, as in taken by the Gestapo.”
“You’d have to inquire at the Regina Coeli,” Brackett said. “For your sake, I hope the opportunity does not arise.”
“Thanks for the concern,” I said. “Can you get a message out in the diplomatic pouch for us?”
“No. While we are permitted to use the Vatican courier to Switzerland, we cannot send any coded messages, and nothing on military matters. The Germans would be certain to invade if they knew the diplomatic courier was used for Allied espionage.”
“Well, somebody had to send out a message about Corrigan, otherwise we wouldn’t be here.”
“Quite,” Brackett said wistfully. “But the death of an American citizen, even if he also held a Vatican passport, was a legitimate item for comment. Who acted upon that information is another matter. In any case, your association with the OSS makes it all the more important that you not violate the neutrality of our hosts.”
“Is there any way we can talk with Soletto?”
“It may not be wise, or useful, but I can ask. He’s not entirely sympathetic to the Allied cause, but that may change, the closer our tanks get. Won’t be too soon for me.”
We talked some more, Brackett telling us again not to ruffle feathers. He said he had a meeting to attend, and I wondered what they would discuss. The war? Or the difficulties of getting decent tobacco? He made his apologies, and left us to wait for John Mayto return. We ate the rest of Brackett’s food, in the hope it might give him the feeling of contributing to the war effort.
“That was an interesting conversation,” I said, licking the last of the jam from my fingers. “Did you notice that he never answered my question when I asked who he thought killed Corrigan?”
“Perhaps he considered it undiplomatic,” Kaz said.
“Eight hundred days within one hundred acres,” I said, as I stood to
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