But, being an intelligent girl, she had provided him with an escape route for his guilt: the information he provided was only being used in the interests of Roman Jewry if the Germans occupied Rome.
But Liam, now aware of the plotting within The Eternal City and The Vatican City, knew that far more was involved. He was being used by Maria’s friends, partisani, who were mustering their forces into an organised resistance movement. When the time came they would shoot, bomb, kill. Aided and abetted by Father Liam Doyle! Liam groaned aloud as he hurried towards his clandestine rendezvous with Maria. They met in a side street off the Largo Tassoni. The moonlight was in her hair and he could smell her perfume and he thought: “This is the last time,” but he knew it wasn’t.
“I’m glad you could come, Father,” she said.
Did she have any feeling for him at all? Or was he just a weakling to be exploited, a clerical courier to be used as she doubtless used other men.
“It is a fine night for a walk.”
“I have something important to ask you,” as they strolled beneath the stars.
“And what is that?” No longer my child.
“Sepp Dietrich visited the Pope yesterday.”
“Sepp Dietrich?”
She told him about the SS Commander.
“But why would a man like that seek an audience with the Pope?”
“That, Father, is what I would like you to find out.”
“From Bishop Hudal?”
“From the Nazi bishop,” she said, stopping and standing very close to him. “Will you do that For me?”
“I’ll try,” Liam said. And, hoping that she wouldn’t lie: “What has this to do with helping the Jews in Rome?”
Maria said: “The SS Special Action Units are responsible For massacring Jews. In Russia they’ve been killing 100,000 a month.”
But, from what she had told him, Liam had gathered that Dietrich was primarily a soldier. “You think he might organise a Special Action Unit in Rome?”
She nodded. “I do, Father.”
He knew she lied and it pained him.
But Liam Doyle was not destined to discover the reason for Sepp Dietrich’s visit to The Vatican from the German bishop, because the SS officer didn’t confide it to Hudal.
Dietrich distrusted priests. In particular eccentric priests trying to confuse pure National-Socialism with Christian doctrinaire.
But one day Hudal and the other pro-Nazi clergy with Vatican connections — men like SS officer George Elling, a priest, ostensibly studying the life of St. Francis of Assisi — would be vital links in the plan code-worded Grey Fox.
At the moment Dietrich wasn’t telling. His visit to S. Maria dell’ Anima was merely a preliminary move.
As he dismounted from the black Mercedes-Benz on the morning of the 29th July he vaguely noticed a priest and a girl struggling across the street and dismissed the scene as yet another example of Italian hysteria.
In the presbytery flanked by the tomb of the last non-Italian Pope, Hadrian VI, adorned with figures representing Justice, Prudence, Force and Temperance, he was greeted enthusiastically by the little prelate.
“It is indeed a pleasure to meet you,” Hudal said holding out his hand.
“The pleasure is mine,” Dietrich said without enthusiasm.
They went into a book-lined room where Dietrich noticed a painting of the Crucifix and photographs of Pius XII and Adolf Hitler on the walls.
On May 1st, 1933, Dietrich recalled, Hudal had entertained seven hundred guests, including top Nazis, on the premises and the place had rung with the cry: ‘German unity is my strength, my strength is German might.’
Hudal handed Dietrich a glass of wine. “And what brings you to the Holy City?” he asked.
“Pleasure,” Dietrich told him. He sat down on a threadbare easy-chair and crossed his stocky legs. “My unit has been transferred from the Russian Front. I’ve always liked Rome,” he lied.
He had visited the city once before. On May 2nd, 1938, in company with his beloved Führer, Von Ribbentrop, Josef Goebbels and the imbecile Rudolph Hess who had flown to Britain in 1941. He had detested the place then — its climate, its monuments, the instability of its people and its soldiery. Dietrich had even been forced to witness the Italian troops’ ludicrous imitation of the Nazi marching step known as the passo Romano.
“I am always pleased to receive a friend of the Führer,” Hudal said. He clasped his hands. “How are things on the Russian Front?”
“Not good,” Dietrich told him.
Hudal looked anxious. “But only temporary set-backs, I trust.”
Dietrich shrugged. It was only that morning that he himself had admitted the possibility of defeat. “We fought well in the Belgorod-Kursk sector.
Hudal leaned forward expectantly. “And?”
Dietrich said heavily: “General Model ordered a withdrawal. A strategic withdrawal, of course! The Ivans are marching on Orel at the moment.”
“But ultimate victory will be ours,” Hudal said, “It is God’s will. The Bolsheviks must be crushed. They are our principal enemies.”
“Our enemies? Do you mean enemies of the Church or enemies of Germany?”
The Vatican, Dietrich thought, was obsessed with the threat of Communism. From the Pope downwards. Thank God! He smiled thinly: it was an appropriate setting to mark his appreciation. And one of the leaders of the anti-Marxist movement was the fanatical little priest sitting opposite him.
Now Dietrich put the bishop to the test. “What if Germany were defeated?”
“Unthinkable,” Hudal snapped.
“But just supposing.”
“Then we would fight on.”
“We?”
“All of us loyal to the cause of National-Socialism. And Christianity,” he added as an afterthought. “After all, we rose from the ashes of the First World War.”
“The Americans and British wouldn’t let that happen again,” Dietrich said.
“They couldn’t stop us.”
“I think,” Dietrich said carefully, “that if we were to rise again it would have to be somewhere else.”
“You mean in Italy?”
The last place on God’s earth! “No, not Italy. The British and Americans would keep a tight rein on the Black Shirts here.”
Hudal looked at him suspiciously. “You seem very fatalistic, Gruppenführer.”
“Merely anticipating every eventuality.”
“Where then, Spain?”
“I hardly think so,” Dietrich said. “Franco has refused to cooperate with the Führer.” He paused, staring at the photograph of Hitler. “No, I think it would have to be farther away than that. Brazil maybe, one of the South American countries.”
“That seems rather far-fetched.”
But Hudal was out of touch. He hadn’t seen the slaughters in Russia. He didn’t seem to realise that the Allies would soon be on the mainland of Italy. That soon they would