The Double Agent, page 28
He carefully folded the orders and buttoned them into the SS uniform tunic. As the Russians had taught him, he then sat quietly for a moment to collect his thoughts, review his plans, and inventory all his goods. Sometimes you had to go out the window, but if you didn’t then it was all too easy to make mistakes while dashing about in a frenzy. He was sure he had everything he needed. The SS uniform went into the paper sack on top of his Italian clothes. He buckled on his ammunition belt, slung the Beretta submachine gun over his shoulder, and tucked the sack under his arm.
It wasn’t quite every man for himself yet, but the activity in the courtyard was frantic enough that no one in the motor pool bothered him when he grabbed the keys to a staff car.
Alexsi was out of the courtyard before anyone could ask what he was doing.
He parked near the Circus Maximus and changed into the SD uniform right in the street. There was no one around to ask him what he was doing. The uniform was a little tight, but acceptable.
Fully costumed, he looked at his watch. Just after three o’clock. Good. Anyone with any authority left work before the sun went down. More so in Italy. The less rank that was there in the prison in the early-morning hours, the fewer questions.
Alexsi was standing there beside the staff car, smoothing out his SD uniform, when the distinctive put-putting of an Italian engine sounded down the otherwise empty road. Open-mouthed, Alexsi watched as Erich Priebke, in uniform, sped by him with a friendly wave to another SS uniform. Then the Fiat braked hard and Priebke was standing up in the seat of the open-top, shouting, “I knew it! Traitor!”
Alexsi already had the Beretta nestled in the pocket of his shoulder, and he gave the Fiat and Priebke the entire thirty-round magazine without pause. Priebke disappeared below the seat. While Alexsi was reloading there was a grinding of gear and squealing of rubber tire, and the Fiat sped down the street.
Son of a bitch! Alexsi tossed the submachine gun onto the front seat and slid in behind the wheel. There was no time to waste. Priebke might decide to save himself. Or he might decide to find help and return to look for him.
Back on the road, Alexsi crossed the Tiber on the Ponte Palatino. Regina Coeli was on the western side of the river, just south of Vatican City. There was still military traffic moving on the roads, but fortunately he had gotten around it.
The prison vehicle gate was unmanned when he drove up. It was a huge wooden gate in the wall, which had to have been first planned to accommodate a team of horses. Alexsi honked the horn. A guard came scurrying up out of the darkness. Probably sleeping, Alexsi thought. That was good if there weren’t a lot of visitors tonight.
The Italian looked surprised as he opened the gate. Alexsi fervently hoped there weren’t any real SS or Gestapo already there in the prison. And that after all this, he wasn’t too late.
47
1944
ROME, ITALY
“Have any other Germans been here today?” Alexsi asked the Italian jailer escorting him into the building. Just making conversation.
“Earlier, Excellency. To take five prisoners to Fort Bravetta.” The Italian gave him an ingratiating grin, then pointed his finger and made machine-gunning sounds. Loud laughter followed.
Alexsi’s stomach compressed itself down into a tight little knot.
They reached the prison offices, and the grinning escort took his leave.
Alexsi had no idea why, in every prison he had ever been in, the walls were cream-colored. Probably to make it easy to see the blood.
Another jailer unlocked and opened the door. He nodded his head slightly, which passed for a bow, and motioned Alexsi toward a long desk. Alexsi handed the forged order to the sergeant behind it.
The sergeant looked the paper over, then called out, “Captain?”
The captain emerged from his office, uniform coat unbuttoned and open, eating a sandwich. Still eating, he looked insolently at Alexsi, then took the paper from the sergeant. He read it deliberately slowly, word by word, handed it back, and nodded.
The sergeant thumbed through a roster on his desk. “The woman is here,” he announced in German. “The man is not.”
“I want to know where he was sent,” Alexsi said. “I also want a list of everyone who was sent to Fort Bravetta.”
The captain bent over the sergeant’s desk. “The German is yesterday’s news,” Alexsi heard him mutter in Italian. “Yet he still expects us to dance to his tune.”
Without a word Alexsi slid over the desk and rammed the barrel of his submachine gun into the captain’s ample stomach. The man folded in half, and a piece of the sandwich came flying out of his mouth. Alexsi grabbed him by the coat and threw him back into a chair. Now the muzzle of the Beretta was inside the captain’s open mouth.
This was how the SS acted every day. Alexsi would have preferred not to, but he also would have preferred not to be fucked around all night long. He said to the sergeant, “Call for the woman prisoner. If I see anyone but her and her escort come through the door I’ll paint the wall with his brains. Then I’ll deal with you.” And then to the door locker, “You just sit there and don’t make a nuisance of yourself.”
With his free left hand he removed an egg grenade from his belt pouch and set it on the desk. “If I have to wait too long I’ll pull the cord on this and leave it here for you to deal with. Capisce?”
The sergeant snatched up the telephone and called for the prisoner to be brought up immediately. “It is done, Excellency,” he said in German.
“Thank you,” Alexsi replied. “Now I want the lists of everyone who was sent to Fort Bravetta in the past two weeks.”
The sergeant tore through the papers on his desk and handed them over.
Alexsi read them while still holding the submachine gun in the captain’s mouth. “Try to stop shaking,” he advised. “It is bouncing my finger on the trigger.”
A wet stain began spreading across the crotch of the captain’s trousers.
“All I required was a little cooperation,” Alexsi said to the captain. “And it had to come to this.”
“Please, please…” the captain was begging, though the words had to be indistinctly formed around the barrel of the gun.
“Look, as long as I get what I want, you’ll be telling this story to your wife tonight,” Alexsi said. Then, glancing down, “While she washes out your underwear.” Over his shoulder, he added, “Sergeant, would you please sit still? You’re making me nervous and putting your captain in jeopardy.”
“Yes. Yes, Excellency.”
“Forget that,” Alexsi said. “Everyone tonight is moving like a caterpillar across a cabbage leaf. Instead make another call and hurry them along.”
The sergeant shouted into the telephone this time.
“I almost forgot,” Alexsi said. “Make another call and have her clothing brought here, also.”
That storeroom must have been closer, because the bag with the princess’s clothing arrived only a few minutes later. The jailer who brought it stared with his mouth open at the captain with the gun in his.
“Get back to work and forget all about this,” the sergeant told him.
“No,” Alexsi said. “Join us. Sit down and relax.”
The store man did so dutifully.
Forty-five minutes later another jailer appeared with the princess. Coming through the door, she froze in place at the sight of Alexsi in his SD uniform.
“Take the handcuffs off her,” Alexsi said.
He stood up and removed the gun barrel from the captain’s mouth. The captain immediately fainted dead away.
“When he awakens tell him I pardon him for drooling on my gun,” Alexsi said to the sergeant. He pocketed the egg grenade and handed the sack of clothes to the Princess Santangelo, who had yet to say a word. After he motioned with the Beretta, the sergeant rushed to unlock the door for him.
Alexsi said, “Thank you, Sergeant. Now, if any one of you do anything foolish—if I hear any alarms, see anyone running about, have any doors locked to me, or am hindered in any way—I’ll come back here, blow this door open, and make all your wives widows. Capisce?”
“Yes, Excellency.”
“Good. I’m sure you’ll enjoy working for the Allies tomorrow even more than you did us today.”
He took Abrianna by the arm and pushed her through the door. As he shut it he whispered, “Say nothing until we’re out of here.”
The staff car was parked in an inner courtyard that separated the administrative building from the prison itself.
His original escort was there at the door. Alexsi looked out over the automobiles there. “Say, who does that Alfa Romeo belong to?”
“Captain Benedetto.”
“The one inside?”
The escort nodded.
“Do you like him?” Alexsi asked.
An Italian shrug that was better than a no.
Alexsi looked the Alfa over. It was a 6C 1750, red. The keys were in the ignition. Alexsi opened the passenger door for the princess. “Have a seat.”
She primly sat down without a word, the paper sack of clothes in her lap.
Alexsi took his own sack of clothes and handed them to her also. Then he took the petrol can from the staff car and filled up the Alfa, just in case.
The guard was watching like it was the best show in town.
Alexsi flipped him the keys to the staff car. “You can tell Captain Benedetto that I traded automobiles with him. And of course I had a gun, so there was nothing you could do about it.”
Now the grin was so wide that all the missing teeth were apparent.
Alexsi also handed him some lira. “For your trouble.”
“Thank you, Excellency. Excellency?”
“Yes?” Alexsi said.
“Forgive me, but you are the finest German I ever met.”
“Well, there’s a reason for that,” Alexsi said.
48
1944
ROME, ITALY
The princess said, “Where is Francesco?”
Alexsi had certainly been expecting the question, just not for it to be asked that calmly. “I don’t know. He wasn’t at Regina Coeli. He’s not at Via Tasso. He wasn’t taken to Fort Bravetta. He’s not on any execution lists. I couldn’t find him anywhere. I’m afraid he was sent north to a labor camp.”
Her composure finally cracked, and she burst into sobbing tears.
“There is hope,” Alexsi said. Though not much. They would be building fortifications for a new defense line to the north. The brat would have to learn to keep his mouth shut and survive, which would be particularly hard for him.
Far enough away from the prison, Alexsi pulled the car over at the Piazza di San Giovanni della Malva. He got out and checked up and down the streets. The Romans were still staying indoors. “Change into your clothes.”
The tears were still streaming down her face. “What? Here?”
“Sorry, no dressing room. In case you hadn’t noticed, the sun is coming up and you’re wearing a prison gown.”
He stood guard while she changed. Thinking about what would be the best option for him. A German uniform was going to be a target for everyone soon. Less risky in civilian clothes. He would keep his army paybook, though. If they were stopped by the Germans, it had his assignment to the Via Tasso in it. He would say he was on a secret mission for Kappler, who had probably skipped town already.
The princess had changed, and now she held the prison gown in her hands in a questioning pose. Alexsi motioned for her to get rid of it. She threw the gown into the gutter and spat on it.
While he was changing, she said, “Are you really SS?”
The conspiracist again. “Of course not,” Alexsi replied. “I stole that to get you out.”
“Kappler did not order my release?”
Alexsi laughed out loud at that. “He would have been overjoyed to shoot you himself. But he’s very busy right now, so I typed your release and signed it for him.”
That took a moment to register, and then she said, “Thank you.”
Alexsi was knotting his tie in the auto mirror. “I was wondering how far into the morning we would get before I heard that.”
She burst into tears again. Covering her face with her hands, she spoke through them. “I am ashamed. As you always say, I have no courtesy.”
Alexsi slid behind the wheel and patted her knee. “By now I’ve gotten used to it.”
Now she laughed through her tears, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek.
“Much better,” he said.
“Where are we going?” she asked, as he pulled back onto the road.
“I’m taking you home. I don’t know if the German rear guard has orders to fight all the way through the city or not. Better to lie low until it’s over.”
“But my house,” she said. “What about Kappler?”
“Believe me, he has bigger things on his mind right now. Besides, for all he knows you’re in a prison cell.”
She squeezed his thigh.
“Shit,” Alexsi blurted out loud, swerving the wheel. He had been about to turn onto the Ponte Sublicio to get back across the river. But there was a 37mm flak gun sitting on it.
He sped down the Via Portuense, looking back over his shoulder to see if the cannon barrel was swinging around. It wasn’t.
“So much for an open city,” the princess said.
“Don’t believe everything you hear,” Alexsi replied.
The sun was full over the horizon now, and the thunder rumble of artillery to the south was even louder. Time for another decision. Alexsi said, “I’m worried there might be another gun on the Ponte Testaccio. Or that we won’t be able to get past the slaughterhouse. I don’t want to go too far south and bump into the fighting, but I think we should see if we can cross at the Ponte Industria and perhaps detour through Ostiense.”
“Are you asking me?” she said.
“Why not?”
“It sounds all right. I don’t know what’s going on, though. I’ve been in prison.”
“No one knows what’s going on,” Alexsi said. “That’s what happens when cities change ownership. And don’t worry. We’ll have time for you to tell me all about prison later.”
He slowed down and approached the bridge cautiously. There was nothing on it that he could see. But that didn’t mean anything. Infantry didn’t defend a bridge by standing atop it in plain sight.
“No choice,” he said out loud, and gunned the Alfa over. Though ready as always to stand on the brake and start talking fast, just in case.
They crossed without problems. This was an industrial area. Alexsi drove slowly, nearly standing up behind the wheel to see as far out ahead as possible.
He suddenly dropped down and swerved to the side of the road. “Get your head down,” he said, pushing her below the dashboard.
A few hundred meters up ahead a Tiger tank was clanking up the Via Ostiense, with German paratroopers riding atop it like a cluster of ants. “Keep your head down,” Alexsi hissed again, as she tried to rise and see what was going on. Combat soldiers would begin firing as a reflex if they saw any movement at all.
The Tiger disappeared through the intersection, heading north. Seconds later it was followed by another, also covered with Fallschirmjäger in their distinctive helmets and camouflaged smocks.
If they were pulling the Tigers out with infantry, then the Allies weren’t far behind. The trick would be to safely reach the princess’s house without bumping into either.
“Take the Via della Conce,” the princess suggested.
Good idea. It was the next left, a smaller road just before the Via Ostiense. He pulled back out and made the turn. They immediately went under the huge railroad bridge.
The road was narrow. The next intersection was dangerously close to the Via Ostiense. Alexsi felt it would be better to go slow and get a good look rather than race through at high speed and trust to luck. The Germans might have dropped off flank guards to secure their route out, and there might be an armored car or assault gun sitting right there.
Alexsi edged up to the intersection. There was a circular piazza out in front that would definitely slow him down once he crossed. He decided to stop the Alfa and get out on foot to take a look around the corner.
He said to Abrianna, “I’m going to…”
Just then doors opened on both sides of the street and more than half a dozen armed Italians dashed out.
Shit. They were too close for him to toss a grenade and race off without getting himself shot, and too spread out to risk taking on with his automatic without also getting himself shot.
“Red armbands,” he said out loud.
“Partisans,” the princess said in a low voice. “Comunisti.”
Wonderful. It would have to be Communists. If he spoke to them in his German-accented Italian they were just going to start shooting.
Idiot, Alexsi chided himself. Talk to them in English and tell them you’re a British intelligence officer. Which had the happy advantage of actually being true.
Not enough time to explain things to her, and he didn’t want them to hear him speaking German.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered in Italian. “I’ll handle this.”
They had their guns on him, so Alexsi wasn’t even going to make a demonstration with the Beretta propped up on the seat beside him.
He was just about to open his mouth when one of the Italians pointed to Abrianna and shouted, “I know you! You’re the black princess Santangelo!”
“Fascist whore!” another chimed in.
“Capitalist bitch!”
All Alexsi got out of his mouth was “I…”
Abrianna shouted, “He’s a German soldier! He’s taking me prisoner!”
