“You both can come.” Elisabetta set her jaw, grabbed her bag, and hurried to the stairwell. “But I’m in charge.”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTEEN
Elisabetta
16 October 1943
Elisabetta was shown to a tastefully decorated office with brocade curtains, damask-covered chairs, shelves lined with leather-bound books, and oil landscapes of Tuscany in heavy gilt frames. She had asked Marco and his father to wait across the street because she had a personal relationship with Baron von Weizs?cker, from the restaurant. She knew that the Baron was fond of her and she hoped to use that goodwill to help Sandro and his father. She had thought of a plan, and Marco and his father had agreed that it might work. This was the first step.
Weizs?cker rose from behind an ornate desk, his blondish gray hair perfectly in place. His hooded eyes had a pleasant, if puzzled, glint at her presence, and he was typically well-tailored in a dark suit with a gray silk tie. He had an aristocratic air that previously would have made Elisabetta conscious of her humbler origins, but the war had changed her. Social class mattered less to her than it used to, and she had learned that there was only one class that mattered in war. Survivors.
“Elisabetta, come in and sit down.” Weizs?cker smiled with his nice, even teeth, gesturing to the chair across from his desk.
“Thank you.” Elisabetta took a seat, and Weizs?cker returned to the cushioned chair behind his desk.
“I’m accustomed to seeing you across a delicious entrée, not a desk.”
“I know.” Elisabetta managed a smile. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”
“Not at all. What is it you wanted to discuss?”
“First, I want to apologize for the last time you were at the restaurant, with Colonel Kappler. I’m sorry about my clumsiness.”
“Oh?” Weizs?cker lifted a gray eyebrow. “I don’t think it was accidental.”
Elisabetta hesitated, disarmed. “Baron, you’re right. You and I have known each other for a long time. Nonna always called you a gentleman. Colonel Kappler is not of your ilk.”
“Discretion dictates that I keep my own counsel.” Weizs?cker pursed his lips. “Now, why did you wish to see me?”
“Baron, I’m here asking for a favor. The Jews were rounded up from the Ghetto today and brought to the Collegio Militare. One of them is my boyfriend, Sandro Simone, and the other is his father, Massimo.”
Weizs?cker’s expression darkened, but he didn’t interrupt her.
“Sandro is a brilliant mathematician, and his father is a respected tax attorney. Isn’t there any way you can get the Simones out?”
“No.” Weizs?cker frowned, leaning back in his chair. “You’re mistaking my function. I am the German Ambassador to the Holy See, a member of my government’s Foreign Office. As a career diplomat, my aim is to smooth out differences, not to create them.”
“But there must be something you can do. You’re so well-respected, so important. You must have some influence. Please, help the Simones. I’m begging you.” Elisabetta leaned forward, unable to hide her urgency, but Weizs?cker’s expression remained matter of fact.
“I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. It’s simply outside the scope of my authority.”
“But it’s horrible, what happened today. It’s wrong, it’s criminal. You must know that, Baron. You can’t agree with this. You can’t do this to the Jews of Rome. I’m sure the Pope doesn’t—”
“Again, I have no power to order their release.”
Elisabetta swallowed hard, trying to maintain her composure. If she didn’t succeed here, all was lost. “Then I have a much more modest request. If you can’t have the Simones released, can’t you at least have them sent to a labor camp in Italy, instead of out of the country? There’s a labor camp at Fossoli. It’s in the town of Carpi, near Modena.”
“Again, you’re mistaken.” Weizs?cker spread his palms. “The camp at Fossoli is not a labor camp. It’s a transit camp, a way station before deportation.”
“But Italian Jews are being sent there, aren’t they?”
“Yes, but only temporarily.”
“And I understand the camp is building a new section, too. I assume it uses prisoners to do manual labor, doesn’t it?”
“I have no idea.” Weizs?cker cocked his head. “How do you know all this?”
“I asked around. I have to help Sandro and his father. Please, Baron, can’t you get the Simones sent to Fossoli? They can help build the new section. They’re both strong and able.”