‘Yes, Father. Holy Name. Founded in twelve hundred and three. It’s been closed for five years.’
‘Why?’
‘Officially, because there’s no congregation.’
‘The old story. You can’t be a good Party member and go to church as well.’
‘I suppose so. Father. Is there anything further you would like me to do in this matter?’
‘Contact Father Hartmann, at the Secretariat in East Berlin. Get a message to him by the usual means. I wish to see him in West Berlin at the Catholic Information Centre the day after tomorrow. Get me a seat for the morning flight on that day. Inform him of Father Conlin’s predicament and tell him I will expect the fullest possible information.’
‘Very well, Father. The file on the American, Van Buren, is on your desk.’
‘Good.’ Pacelli picked it up. ‘Get me the Apostolic Delegate in Washington on the telephone. I’ll be with the Father General.’
The young Scot looked bewildered. ‘But Father, it’s three o’clock in the morning in Washington. Archbishop Vagnozzi will be in bed.’
‘Then wake him,’ Pacelli said simply, and walked out.
The Father General of the Jesuits, leader of the most influential order in the Catholic Church, wore a habit as plain as Pacelli’s. He removed his glasses and closed the file on Van Buren.
‘The Devil and all his works.’
‘A genius in his own way,’ Pacelli said.
‘And how will Father Conlin fare at his hands, would you say?’
‘He survived Sachsenhausen and Dachau.’
‘A remarkable man.’ The Father General nodded. ‘We all know that, but times have changed. New techniques of interrogation. The use of drugs, for example.’
‘I have known Sean Conlin for forty years,’ Pacelli said. ‘His is a faith so complete that in his presence I feel humble.’
‘And you think this will be enough to sustain his present situation?’
‘With God’s help.’
The phone rang. The Father General lifted the receiver, listened, then handed it to Pacelli with a slight, ironic smile. ‘For you. Archbishop Vagnozzi – and he doesn’t sound too pleased.’
It was a surprisingly chilly evening in Washington for the last day in May, and in the White House the Secretary of Rusk, stood at a window in the Oval Office. The room was dark, the only light the table lamp on the massive desk, the array of service flags behind it. The door clicked open and as he turned the President entered.
John Fitzgerald Kennedy had celebrated his forty-sixth birthday only three days before and looked ten years younger. He wore dinner jacket and black tie, white shirt-front gleaming.
He smiled as he moved behind the desk. ‘We were just going in to dinner and I’ve got the Russian Ambassador down there. Is it important?’
‘The Apostolic Delegate came to see me this evening, Mr President. It occurred to me that it might be advisable for you to have a word with him.’
‘The Conlin affair?’
Rusk nodded. ‘You’ve read the file I prepared for you?’
‘I’ve got it right here.’ The President sat down at his desk and opened a folder. ‘Tell me – did this come in through the German desk of the State Department?’
‘No. A coded message to me personally from Gehlen himself.’ There was a pause while the President leafed through the file. Rusk said, ‘So what do we do?’
The President glanced up. ‘I’m not certain. It’s one hell of a mess, that’s for sure. Let’s see what the Vatican has to say.’
The Apostolic Delegate, the Most Reverend Egidio Vagnozzi, wore a scarlet zapata on his head and the red cassock of an archbishop. He smiled warmly as he entered the room and the Secretary of State brought a chair forward for him.
‘It’s good of you to see me on such short notice, Mr President.’
‘A bad business,’ the President said.
‘And one which could be a considerable personal embarrassment to you if Father Conlin is brought to trial, as is suggested. I refer, of course, to your Berlin visit.’
‘Does the Vatican intend to make any kind of official representation to the East German Government?’ Dean Rusk asked.
‘What would be the point? At this stage in the game they would certainly deny having him in their hands, and there are other considerations. The position of Roman Catholics, indeed of all declared Christians, is a difficult one in East Germany these days. We must tread very carefully.’
‘In other words, you’ll do nothing,’ the President said.
‘Nothing official,’ Vagnozzi said. ‘On the other hand, Father Pacelli of the Society of Jesus is going to Berlin as soon as possible to assess the situation.’
The President smiled, ‘Pacelli himself, eh? So you’re letting him off the leash? Now that is interesting.’
‘His Holiness, in spite of his unfortunate illness, is taking a personal interest in the matter. He would like to know, in view of the fact that Father Conlin is an American citizen, what your own views are.’
The President stared down at the folder, a slight frown on his face, and it was the Secretary of State who answered. ‘There are various aspects which are far from pleasant.
This man, Van Buren, for example, has been a considerable embarrassment to us for years. Naturally, we’ve kept a very low profile on him, and so far that’s worked.’
‘And then there’s Conlin’s own position,’ the President said. ‘They’ll try to brainwash him into saying his Christian Underground has been a tool of the CIA for years. The point of the exercise: a total smear to ruin every good thing I’m hoping to achieve by the German trip. The improvement in relations between ourselves and Moscow since Cuba has been considerable. Together with the British, we’re to resume three-power talks in Moscow aimed at a nuclear test-ban treaty. In a few days’ time I’m making a speech here in Washington at the American University in which I intend to make clear our recognition of the post-war status quo in Eastern Europe.’
‘A move of profound significance,’ Vagnozzi said.
The President continued. ‘As far as East Germany is concerned, Ulbricht is a Stalinist. He hates Krushchev, so my visit to Berlin is of great importance in the general scheme of things because it shows Ulbricht that we mean business.’
‘Which helps Krushchev to handle him.’
‘But more than that – it shows the Russians where we stand also. That trying to be reasonable doesn’t mean we’ve gone soft. We stand by West Berlin.’
Vagnozzi said, ‘So there is nothing we can do about Conlin?’
The President shook his head and the steel that was always there just beneath the surface showed coldly in the eyes for a moment. ‘I didn’t say that. What I’d like you to do is give me a little more time, that’s all.’
Vagnozzi stood up. ‘Very well, Mr President. I will delay making my official reply until I hear from you.’
‘Before morning,’ the President assured him. ‘I think I can promise you that.’
The archbishop went out. Dean Rusk said, ‘With the greatest respect, Mr President, I must point out that to attempt an official move at this time – to involve the CIA, for example – would be madness. If anything went wrong, it could only add substance to the kind of charges they intend to bring against Conlin