In time, Gemma wheeled Rosa into the isolation ward, to a bed by the window. Rosa slept soundly, and Gemma kissed her on the forehead, struggling to remain in emotional control. With God’s help, this would not be the last time that she kissed her daughter.
* * *
—
Gemma helped move all of the other Jewish patients into the isolation ward, and after it had been filled, the doctors returned to their rounds and the nurses to their stations. It was all according to Giovanni’s plan, which required them to pretend that this was a normal day at the hospital.
She stood outside the closed door of the isolation ward with Sister Anna Domenica. They both looked over to see Salvatore striding toward them, his expression grim.
“Ladies, it’s time.” Salvatore reached them. “The Nazis are downstairs, twenty of them. They’re talking to Giovanni. He’s going to tell them the cover story and stall them as long as he can. Leonida is typing a patient list now. All of the names will be false. She’ll stall them, too.”
Gemma suppressed her fright. The thought of Nazis in the hospital terrified her.
“Gemma, we need to hide you.”
“Of course.” Gemma had been so focused on Rosa and the others, she hadn’t thought of herself. “What about a supply closet?”
“No, they’ll search everywhere.”
“What should I do? Should I pose as a patient in the isolation ward?”
“No, we need you.”
“But between my clothes and the weight I’ve lost, they’ll know I’m Jewish if they find me.”
Sister Anna Domenica interjected, “Gemma, they won’t find you if you do what I say.”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FOUR
Marco 16 October 1943
Marco and his father raced up the span of the Ponte Garibaldi. They gained momentum on the downward slope. Rain gusted in sheets off the Tiber. Clouds blackened the sky.
Rome was awakening. People appeared on the street under umbrellas. Traffic was picking up.
Marco feared that they were running out of time. He accelerated, and so did his father. They reached the end of the bridge and ran up Via Arenula, a major artery north of the Ghetto.
His father glanced over, his broad chest heaving. “Marco, we won’t make it in time. We need to change plans. Take Via del Pianto.”
“Okay.”
“Yes. Even so, there may not be time.”
“We have to try.”
“Of course.”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIVE
Gemma
16 October 1943
Gemma and Salvatore stood in front of the closed door of the isolation ward. According to Giovanni’s plan, Salvatore was pretending to be the head doctor of the ward and she was a nurse, dressed in Sister Anna Domenica’s habit. It turned out to be the perfect disguise, since its voluminous black folds disguised the unhealthy thinness of Gemma’s body, and its stiff wimple and veil covered her hair.
Giovanni and a Nazi captain were striding toward them, followed by a cadre of Nazi soldiers. Gemma stiffened with fear, and even the sight of her old friend Giovanni didn’t reassure her. He was in his forties, with thinning gray hair, large, almond-shaped dark eyes, a gray mustache, and a calming smile. The Nazi towered over him, a heavyset man with a square jaw, in a greatcoat dotted with rainwater.
Giovanni motioned to the Nazi. “Captain Weber, please meet Dr. Cristabello and Sister Anna Domenica.”
“Captain Weber, pleased to meet you,” Salvatore said, extending a hand.
“You, too.” Captain Weber shook his hand.
Giovanni cleared his throat. “Dr. Cristabello, Captain Weber and his men are here to arrest our Jewish patients. I’ve informed him that we keep no records of our patients’ religions. He and his men have searched the hospital. They have found no Jewish patients. Your isolation ward, for patients with Syndrome K virus, is the only place left to check. However, I have informed him of the extremely contagious nature of the Syndrome K virus.”
“Thank you, Dr. Borromeo.” Salvatore turned to the Nazi, his manner professional. “Captain Weber, I am in charge of the isolation ward and—”
“Tell me about the Syndrome K virus.”
“In layman’s terms, Syndrome K is a lethal and highly transmissible virus. If you or any of your men enter this isolation ward, you will contract the virus. In addition, if an infected soldier takes the virus back to his unit, he will infect everyone in proximity.”
Gemma kept her lips sealed. There was no such thing as the Syndrome K virus. It was a brilliant ruse fabricated by Giovanni, exploiting the germaphobia of the Nazis. The name of the ersatz virus was an inside joke, as the K in Syndrome K referred to Field Marshal Kesselring, the Nazi commander.