go.”
Bora was in full sight of those sitting in the truck. Indistinct faces were within, people he had no desire to get to know. In the frigid morning it made him unusually comfortable and secure to be warmly dressed, well dressed, to appear every inch authoritative. “Jews, all?”
“All of ’em.”
Bora turned on his heel and went indoors. When he returned outside, Nagel was with him. The guardsmen had got Sondermischung cigarettes from the German soldiers. The driver, resuming the at-attention stance, said, “ Signor maggiore , we haven’t had anything to eat since last night.”
“That happens, at war.”
“We could use something to eat, if you could spare some.” And, because Bora didn’t answer, “The prisoners haven’t had anything in forty-eight hours.”
“What’s that to me? You have a schedule to keep. It is already an imposition for me to give you two of my men as an escort. You should have organized yourselves better, and brought provisions.” But even as he said so, Bora ordered a soldier to get some food ready. “Go inside,” he said in Italian to the guardsmen. “It will be charged to your command. So will the petrol for your vehicle, since undoubtedly you carry no extra fuel.”
The guardsmen wasted no time going indoors, while Nagel drove the truck to the back of the building for refuelling. Bora followed him there. He commanded
the flaps of the truck to be lowered again. How many times had this happened, with small variations? A vehicle bringing prisoners from somewhere to somewhere, his part in it. “Take care of everything, Nagel,” he said. “You know how. When you’re done, go upstairs, and get Colonel Habermehl’s cognac from my room. Open it and give it to the Italian guardsmen. Monsignor Lai is to join the prisoners – no special treatment.”
Turco, who happened to be in Lago on an errand for Guidi’s mother, had caught the last moments of the transfer from the German command post.
“ Gesummaria , Inspector, it was a terrible sight. You wouldn’t expect it of our major,” he reported to Guidi at midmorning.
“ Our major? Since when is he our major?” It irritated Guidi that the Sicilian should imply that he trusted Bora. “He’d do the same thing to you or me if he were ordered. It’s a good thing he didn’t ask us to participate, given what came over the radio last night.”
“ Cosi di cani. Di cani! He wined and dined the guardsmen until two o’clock, but he wouldn’t give the prisoners the time to get a sip of water, or do what nature commands.”
Guidi slammed his hand on the desk. “It won’t make much difference to them, going where they’re going.” But it bothered him. Not because he trusted Bora. Because it confirmed what he suspected about him. “Do you think it’s the first time he does this? Partisans, Jews, priests – it’s all the same to him.”
“The sexton says the Germans dragged Monsignor Lai out of church right after the broadcast. Charged
with having a good radio, as far as anyone can tell. To think the old women bragged about the major being so devout, spending all that time in confession every Sunday! Cosi di cani. ”
“Goes to prove he needs confession more than most, Turco. Speaking of which, I’m off to Verona to meet Bora. If he doesn’t mention the Jews, I’m not about to bring them up. We don’t need to give him any ideas. Tell my mother I’ll get back when I get back, not to stay up, and while you’re at it, remind her I don’t want you to go grocery shopping for her.”
“A man as good as he, a master like him? I’ll never find the likes of him again.”
Had Bora’s taste run to dark women, Lisi’s last maid would have been a remarkable specimen. De Rosa, who’d arranged the meeting in his office to be forgiven the impoundment of Claretta’s car, watched him watch her now. “Not bad, uh?” he whispered to him in German. “Wasn’t Lisi a connoisseur?”
Bora replied in Italian.
Bora was in full sight of those sitting in the truck. Indistinct faces were within, people he had no desire to get to know. In the frigid morning it made him unusually comfortable and secure to be warmly dressed, well dressed, to appear every inch authoritative. “Jews, all?”
“All of ’em.”
Bora turned on his heel and went indoors. When he returned outside, Nagel was with him. The guardsmen had got Sondermischung cigarettes from the German soldiers. The driver, resuming the at-attention stance, said, “ Signor maggiore , we haven’t had anything to eat since last night.”
“That happens, at war.”
“We could use something to eat, if you could spare some.” And, because Bora didn’t answer, “The prisoners haven’t had anything in forty-eight hours.”
“What’s that to me? You have a schedule to keep. It is already an imposition for me to give you two of my men as an escort. You should have organized yourselves better, and brought provisions.” But even as he said so, Bora ordered a soldier to get some food ready. “Go inside,” he said in Italian to the guardsmen. “It will be charged to your command. So will the petrol for your vehicle, since undoubtedly you carry no extra fuel.”
The guardsmen wasted no time going indoors, while Nagel drove the truck to the back of the building for refuelling. Bora followed him there. He commanded
the flaps of the truck to be lowered again. How many times had this happened, with small variations? A vehicle bringing prisoners from somewhere to somewhere, his part in it. “Take care of everything, Nagel,” he said. “You know how. When you’re done, go upstairs, and get Colonel Habermehl’s cognac from my room. Open it and give it to the Italian guardsmen. Monsignor Lai is to join the prisoners – no special treatment.”
Turco, who happened to be in Lago on an errand for Guidi’s mother, had caught the last moments of the transfer from the German command post.
“ Gesummaria , Inspector, it was a terrible sight. You wouldn’t expect it of our major,” he reported to Guidi at midmorning.
“ Our major? Since when is he our major?” It irritated Guidi that the Sicilian should imply that he trusted Bora. “He’d do the same thing to you or me if he were ordered. It’s a good thing he didn’t ask us to participate, given what came over the radio last night.”
“ Cosi di cani. Di cani! He wined and dined the guardsmen until two o’clock, but he wouldn’t give the prisoners the time to get a sip of water, or do what nature commands.”
Guidi slammed his hand on the desk. “It won’t make much difference to them, going where they’re going.” But it bothered him. Not because he trusted Bora. Because it confirmed what he suspected about him. “Do you think it’s the first time he does this? Partisans, Jews, priests – it’s all the same to him.”
“The sexton says the Germans dragged Monsignor Lai out of church right after the broadcast. Charged
with having a good radio, as far as anyone can tell. To think the old women bragged about the major being so devout, spending all that time in confession every Sunday! Cosi di cani. ”
“Goes to prove he needs confession more than most, Turco. Speaking of which, I’m off to Verona to meet Bora. If he doesn’t mention the Jews, I’m not about to bring them up. We don’t need to give him any ideas. Tell my mother I’ll get back when I get back, not to stay up, and while you’re at it, remind her I don’t want you to go grocery shopping for her.”
“A man as good as he, a master like him? I’ll never find the likes of him again.”
Had Bora’s taste run to dark women, Lisi’s last maid would have been a remarkable specimen. De Rosa, who’d arranged the meeting in his office to be forgiven the impoundment of Claretta’s car, watched him watch her now. “Not bad, uh?” he whispered to him in German. “Wasn’t Lisi a connoisseur?”
Bora replied in Italian.
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