Guards escorted them onto the property, and Massimo passed a massive Nazi banner with a black swastika against a field of blood red. Dread filled him, but he reminded himself to remain calm.
The men were escorted along a stone path to the massive villa, which had been the residence of the British Ambassador before the war. The grounds were beautifully landscaped, and Massimo hated to see this Roman jewel in Nazi hands. Set on the Esquiline Hill, Villa Wolkonsky was said to encompass five verdant hectares. Waning sunlight filtered through the fronds of its many palm trees, and the fragrance of lemon and lime trees scented the air. Thirty-odd bays of a Roman aqueduct built by the Emperor Claudius stood in the distance, and Villa Wolkonsky itself lay ahead, a magnificent home with squared wings, classic balustrades, and a porticoed entrance.
They reached the entrance, a grand door flanked by Nazi soldiers, then were escorted into an elegant office dominated by an ornately carved antique desk, with upholstered chairs in front. Massimo felt his heart begin to hammer when Lieutenant Colonel Kappler rose from behind the desk and strode toward them. The Nazi was fearsome in his gray uniform, its black collar embroidered with the runic SS insignia. He looked to be in his forties, with a widow’s peak in his light brown hair, framing a wide face with large eyes. He had a straight nose, thin lips set in a strong jaw, and a scar that creased in his left cheek.
“Good evening, gentlemen.” Lieutanant Colonel Kappler extended a hand, and Foà shook it with a nod.
“I am President Foà. Good evening.”
“Thank you for coming. It’s good for us to meet, face-to-face. Please introduce me to your colleagues.”
Foà made the introductions, then Kappler shook hands with Almansi and Massimo, who felt a tingle of disgust at the Nazi’s touch.
Kappler gestured to the chairs opposite his desk. “Please sit down.”
Foà, Almansi, and Massimo did so, and Kappler seated himself behind the desk. A Nazi flag stood behind the desk chair, next to walnut shelves lined with books.
“Gentlemen, I regret any inconvenience this may have caused your schedules.”
Foà nodded. “We were pleased to oblige.”
“If you would, first provide me some background. How many Jews are there in Rome?”
“About twelve thousand,” Foà answered. “There are maybe fifty thousand Jews in Italy, as a whole.”
“I thought there were more in Rome.” Kappler cocked his head. “Do most of the Jews in the city live in the Ghetto?”
Foà shook his head. “No, many have moved away.”
“But the converse is true, is it not? Everyone who lives in the Ghetto is Jewish, correct?”
“Yes.”
“So.” Kappler’s expression darkened quickly, like a sudden storm. “I will come to my point. You may be Italians, but that is of no importance to me or Germany. We consider you Jews, regardless of your nationality. Therefore, you are our enemy. We will treat you as such.”
Foà didn’t reply, nor did Almansi. Massimo’s mouth went dry.
Kappler sniffed. “I called you here to convey a demand. We need gold for new arms. Within thirty-six hours, you will pay us fifty kilograms of gold. If you pay, no harm will come to any of you. If you do not, two hundred Jews will be arrested and deported to Germany, then sent to the Russian frontier or elsewhere.”
Foà and Almansi exchanged horrified glances. Massimo hid his terror, refusing to give Kappler the satisfaction. The Nazi had presented his extortionate demand as if it were a mere business transaction, as if gold could be traded for human beings. Fifty kilograms was such an astronomical amount of gold that Massimo doubted that the Ghetto Jews could come close in such a short time, if at all. They had been left impoverished by the Race Laws under Fascism, and conditions had grown even worse under the Nazi occupation. The two hundred people to be deported could include Gemma, Rosa, Sandro, or himself. His neighbors, friends, or clients. His Community. Anyone.
Kappler broke the silence. “Gentlemen, if you have no questions, you may go.”
Foà cleared his throat. “I have a question or two. When does the time begin to run on the thirty-six hours?”
“Now.”
Foà recoiled, aghast. “Colonel Kappler, it will be impossible to find that much gold in such a short time. Isn’t there any way you can extend the deadline?”
“It depends.” Kappler leaned back in his chair. “If I perceive that you are proceeding with dispatch, I may be flexible. I may also be able to provide you with cars and light trucks to transport the gold in a secure fashion.”