“Please, can I see?”
“Yes. He’s in front of the third barracks from the end, on the left.” Marco handed her the binoculars. “Each barracks has a white sign. What number is their barracks?”
Elisabetta raised the binoculars. “I see him! And he still has the basil! I wonder if he got my note.”
“What number is their barracks?”
“Fifteen. I wish we could go in there right now.”
“Not until nightfall. Stay with the plan.”
“Oh no, something’s the matter with his face!” Elisabetta moaned. “Do you think they beat him?”
Marco felt enraged at the thought.
It was time for action, and tonight couldn’t come soon enough.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-EIGHT
Elisabetta
18 October 1943
A cloud cloaked the moon, and Elisabetta and Marco hurried ahead in utter darkness. Their clothes were dark so they blended in. They raced across an open pasture to the east side of the transit camp. There were no grapevines or ravines in which to hide, and they were vulnerable, covered only by night. They approached the transit camp, crouching down. They stopped at a tall umbrella pine tree near the back entrance, close to Sandro’s barracks.
The transit camp was quiet. The prisoners were inside the barracks, asleep at this hour. The Nazi guards stood at their regular posts. Elisabetta couldn’t see their faces under their helmets, but it didn’t matter if she remembered them. It mattered only if they remembered her, from when she had pretended to be a country girl, carrying wine.
Elisabetta and Marco split up at the umbrella pine, without exchanging a word. There was nothing to say, and they both knew the plan. She stayed behind the tree while Marco ran to the construction site, on the west side of the transit camp. There was no perimeter fence around the construction site, and it was unguarded at night. A few lamps there had been wired on posts, but they weren’t lighted.
Elisabetta crouched behind the tree, hidden. Marco would reach the site any minute now. He would set a small fire, which would grow, giving him time to get back to her.
She was supposed to count off five minutes, then go into action. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she forced herself to count slowly. She told herself to stay calm. She would do whatever it took to save Sandro.
She didn’t see Marco, but she had to trust that he would come in time. She counted to two minutes, then three, four, and five.
It was time.
“Hey, you!” Elisabetta called to the nearest Nazi guard, stepping out from behind the tree, with a smile.
The Nazi raised his gun, and a bolt of fear coursed through her body.
“It’s only me,” she called out, waving.
The Nazi lowered his gun, and Elisabetta breathed easier, remembering the German phrases Marco had taught her.
“I remember you, handsome. Do you remember me?”
“Natürlich,” the Nazi answered, keeping his voice low. He glanced behind him, checking to see if anyone was watching them.
“I like you the best. I need a man.” Elisabetta struggled through her fear to remember the German words. “I’m so lonely.”
The Nazi stood still, neither answering nor moving.
Elisabetta held her breath, not knowing what to do. She had to improvise. She pulled up her skirt in the front, leaving no mistake about her meaning. “Please, I like you the best. I need a man. I’m so lonely.”
The Nazi turned in the direction of the other guard, then shouted to him in rapid German. Elisabetta prayed to God he wasn’t informing on her. The other guard only nodded, so evidently he wasn’t.
The Nazi started walking toward the back exit of the transit camp, then let himself out the gate, unbuckling his belt as if he had to go to the bathroom.
Elisabetta slipped back behind the tree, watching the Nazi come closer. Her heart thundered in her chest. She checked the construction site. She couldn’t see if the fire had started. She could only hope Marco was on his way back to her.
The Nazi made a terrifying silhouette advancing on her, backlit. She wanted to scream, but instead she forced a naughty giggle.
The Nazi shadow loomed larger. She could hear him chuckling, in excitement. His belt jingled, and he unzipped his pants.
Elisabetta struggled to control her panic. The Nazi was almost there, saying something in German. She was supposed to reach out her arms, but she was too frightened. She didn’t see Marco anywhere.
The Nazi embraced her roughly. He kissed her hard on the mouth, tasting of cigarettes. His hand slipped under her dress, sliding up her thigh to her underwear.