For God and Country. Mark Bowlin
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Yarpies, Rhodies—and soldiers from a hundred points in the British Empire that you and I never heard of before. Think of the footprint of a thousand Allied soldiers. So . . .”
“So,” Perkin said, finishing Hill’s thought, “if there are that many looking to get out, and they’re using the Church as a conduit, they’ve now come to the German’s attention.”
“Yes!” said Ackernly. “Therein lies the rub. O’Flaherty’s come not only to our attention, but that of Jerry as well, and I imagine the SS and the Gestapo are preparing to bugger him like a choirboy. I can’t tell you how much I admire this man whom I’ve never met, so I would feel dreadful were that to occur.”
Perkin thought for a moment. “Are you positive that he’s come to the Germans’ attention?”
Colonel Scrope looked at the others, and when Ackernly nodded, Scrope answered, “Yes. Can’t discuss sources, but we’re sure.”
“Do you have a feel for when the Gestapo might move against him?” Perkin felt his excitement mount, and he wondered, What’s my role in this?
Scrope answered again. “No. We’re getting a sense that there may be a power struggle among German intelligence agencies on this issue—specifically the Abwehr and the Gestapo. We’re not sure. We believe that the SS is conducting this train, and we have further reason to believe that they have prepared contingency plans to depose the Pope and occupy the Papal territory. We’ve even heard of plans to establish an Anti-Pope in Lichtenstein. But . . . we also have indications that a move against the Vatican is being held in abeyance.”
Ackernly nodded and said, “If that’s the case, what would you suppose that they are waiting for, young man?
Perkin considered the question. “Well, it may be that the cost of doing it would be too severe, that it’d cause too many perturbations, specifically among the Austro-German Catholic population, or in, say, Vichy France or Hungary or Croatia or neutral Ireland—that the plan’s not postponed, but in fact shelved indefinitely. No sense inflaming all of Catholicism over a thousand POWs. Or perhaps they’re waiting to see if there is a change in the fortunes of war—a turnabout on the Eastern Front. A postponement of the channel crossing. Maybe a stalemate or even a victory here in Italy. Maybe if the war shifts back in their favor, who cares what the world of Catholicism thinks?” Perkin saw Ackernly lift his eyebrows and shrug. Perkin thought he knew what Ackernly was thinking and he continued, “On the other hand, when’s Hitler ever given two hoots about what anybody thinks of him? Maybe he just wants an airtight case against the Vatican before he moves first?”
“I think that’s a triple twenty, Captain Berger.” Scrope had a pleased yet serious look about him.
Ackernly asked another question of Perkin. “Do you see how this comes together now?”
“Yes, sir, I think so . . . The Germans will use Grossmann to penetrate O’Flaherty’s network—posing as an American or British soldier. He can spend time in the Vatican halls learning O’Flaherty’s mysteries, and that information will then be used to build Hitler’s case against the Pope.”
“Indeed,” Scrope said. “Grossmann will use his unique capabilities to infiltrate O’Flaherty’s network. The information that he gathers may be used to either construct a false case positing a relationship between the Pope and Allied Intelligence, or be used as a justification for abandoning the Concordat. Remember that this is a man who we believe burned the Reichstag in order to declare emergency powers, and who certainly staged a flimsy pretext for war against Poland. This is not beyond Hitler. Regardless, the best case is that the Pope is hopelessly compromised, and the worst case is that Pius XII’s reign ends in a concentration camp, and Hitler loots Vatican City three ways to Sunday!”
Perkin nodded seriously. It was plausible. “OK. We’re in agreement about this, so what does this have to do with me?”
“Well, let’s work through the next steps together, young man.” Ackernly may have been a policeman, but he seemed more like a teacher to Perkin. “What would you do?”
“I’d go to Rome and kill Grossmann.” Judging by the reactions Perkin saw on the faces of the three men around him, he wasn’t sure that was the preferred course of action. While Hill nodded in silent approval, Scrope had an amused look about him, and Ackernly was openly skeptical.
Ackernly spoke, “Just like that?”
“Well, you gotta find him first, but yes, sir. Just like that. If O’Flaherty has an underground railroad to get escaped prisoners out of Italy, then it can work in the other direction. Look, I’m just a battalion intel officer and I’ve only been that for a few weeks . . . I don’t know about these things, but surely the OSS or MI6 have people in Rome. Why not use them? Or their transportation?”
“It’s not that simple, young man. Grossmann may be getting close to penetrating Vatican City, in which case, it’s too late. British or American intelligence needs to get to him outside the walls of God’s little acre. We can’t run the risk of establishing any linkage between us and the Pope, and while we’d like to get to him in Rome, unfortunately, our people there are few and are not the sort of chaps that specialize in the type of work you suggest. Besides, they don’t know what Grossmann looks like.”
Perkin rapped his knuckles on the table and said, “Well, I do. Send me, and if I get the chance, I’ll kill him for God and country—in Saint Peter’s Basilica, if necessary.” Perkin hardly thought about the words as he spoke them, but they were the truth. The unspoken words were, “I’ll kill him for myself.” Perkin had a burning desire to avenge the murder of Gianina, and he would be willing to take extraordinary chances to exact it.
“I’m afraid that’s out the question, Perkin,” Hill said. “You don’t have the training or the language skills for this. No,” he raised a hand to forestall a protest from Perkin, “you have demonstrated amazing talent and determination, but this isn’t for you.”
“I don’t get it, gentlemen,” Perkin said, shaking his head. “Y’all don’t have the bubbas in Rome to do it. You’re unwilling to let me do it. So what is your plan, and please, Mr. Ackernly, let’s not play the didactic game again.”
Scrope and Hill smiled as Ackernly said, “I apologize, Dr. Berger—my wife says that’s a very annoying habit. Well, here’s what we’d like from you. Enjoy your stay with Eighth Army until after the New Year’s, and then we have a small favor to ask of you.”
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