“I guess you could say I’m working on a matter related to the work of the Historical Commission.”

“How so?”

“I have reason to suspect that shortly after the war ended, the Vatican may have helped a wanted SS man named Erich Radek escape Europe.”

Donati stopped chewing, his face suddenly serious. “Be careful with the terms you use and the assumptions you make, my friend. It’s quite possible this man Radek received help from someone in Rome, but it wasn’t the Vatican. ”

“We believe it was Bishop Hudal of the Anima.”

The tension in Donati’s face eased. “Unfortunately, the good bishop did help a number of fugitive Nazis. There’s no denying that. What makes you think he helped this man Radek?”

“An educated guess. Radek was an Austrian Catholic. Hudal was rector of the German seminary in Rome and father confessor to the German and Austrian community. If Radek came to Rome looking for help, it would make sense that he would turn to Bishop Hudal.”

Donati nodded in agreement. “I can’t argue with that. Bishop Hudal was interested in protecting fellow citizens of his country from what he believed were the vengeful intentions of the Allied victors. But that doesn’t mean that he knew that Erich Radek was a war criminal. How could he know? Italy was flooded with millions of displaced persons after the war, all of them looking for help. If Radek came to Hudal and told him a sad story, it’s likely he would have been given sanctuary and help.”

“Shouldn’t Hudal have asked a man like Radek why he was on the run?”

“Perhaps he should have, but you’re being naïve if you assume that Radek would have answered the question truthfully. He would have lied, and Bishop Hudal would have had no way of knowing otherwise.”

“A man doesn’t become a fugitive for no reason, Luigi, and the Holocaust was no secret. Bishop Hudal should have realized he was helping war criminals escape justice.”

Donati waited to respond while the waiter served a pasta course. “What you have to understand is that there were many organizations and individuals at the time who assisted refugees, inside the Church and outside. Hudal wasn’t the only one.”

“Where did he get the money to finance his operation?”

“He claimed it all came from the accounts of the seminary.”

“And you believe that? Each SS man Hudal assisted required pocket money, passage on a ship, a visa, and a new life in a foreign country, not to mention the cost of providing them sanctuary in Rome until they could be shipped off. Hudal is thought to have helped hundreds of SS men in this way. That’s a lot of money, Luigi-hundreds of thousands of dollars. I find it hard to believe the Anima had that kind of spare change lying around.”

“So you’re assuming he was given money by someone,” Donati said, expertly twirling pasta onto his fork. “Someone like the Holy Father, for example.”

“The money had to come from somewhere.”

Donati laid down his fork and folded his hands thoughtfully. “There is evidence to suggest that Bishop Hudaldid receive Vatican funds to pay for his refugee work.”

“They weren’t refugees, Luigi. Not all of them, at least. Many of them were guilty of unspeakable crimes. Are you telling me Pius had no idea Hudal was helping wanted war criminals escape justice?”

“Let us just say that, based on available documentary evidence and testimony from surviving witnesses, it would be very difficult to prove that charge.”

“I didn’t know you’d studied Canon Law, Luigi.” Gabriel repeated the question, slowly, with a prosecutorial emphasis on the relevant words. “Did the pope know Hudal was helping war criminals escape justice?”

“His Holiness opposed the Nuremberg trials because he believed they would only serve to further weaken Germany and embolden the Communists. He also believed the Allies were after vengeance and not justice. It’s quite possible the Holy Father knew Bishop Hudal was helping Nazis and that he approved. Proving that contention, however, is another matter.” Donati aimed the prongs of his fork at Gabriel’s untouched pasta. “You’d better eat that before it gets cold.”

“I’m afraid I’ve lost my appetite.”

Donati plunged his fork into Gabriel’s pasta. “So what is this Radek fellow alleged to have done?”

Gabriel gave a brief synopsis of Sturmbannführer Erich Radek’s illustrious SS career, beginning with his work for Adolf Eichmann’s Jewish emigration office in Vienna and concluding with his command of Aktion 1005. By the end of Gabriel’s account, Donati too had lost his appetite.

“Did they really believe they could conceal all the evidence of a crime so enormous?”

“I’m not sure whether they believed it was possible, but they succeeded to a large extent. Because of men like Erich Radek, we’ll never know how many people really perished in the Shoah.”

Donati contemplated his wine. “What is it you want to know about Bishop Hudal’s assistance to Radek?”

“We can assume that Radek needed a passport. For that, Hudal would have turned to the International Red Cross. I want to know the name on that passport. Radek would have also needed a place to go. He would have needed a visa.” Gabriel paused. “I know it was a long time ago, but Bishop Hudal kept records, didn’t he?”

Donati nodded slowly. “Bishop Hudal’s private papers are stored in the archives of the Anima. As you might expect, they are sealed.”

“If there’s anyone in Rome who can unseal them, it’s you, Luigi.”

“We can’t just barge into the Anima and ask to see the bishop’s papers. The current rector is Bishop Theodor Drexler, and he’s no fool. We’d need an excuse-a cover story, as they say in your trade.”

“We have one.”

“What’s that?”

“The Historical Commission.”

“You’re suggesting we tell the rector that the Commission has requested Hudal’s papers?”

“Precisely.”

“And if he balks?”

“Then we name-drop.”

“And who are you supposed to be?”

Gabriel reached into his pocket and produced a laminated identification card, complete with a photograph.

“Shmuel Rubenstein, professor of comparative religion at Hebrew University in Jerusalem.” Donati handed the card back to Gabriel and shook his head. “Theodor Drexler is a brilliant theologian. He’ll want to engage you in a discussion-perhaps something about the common roots of the two oldest religions in the western world. I’m quite confident you’ll fall flat on your face, and the bishop will see right through your little act.”

“It’s your job to see that doesn’t happen.”

“You overestimate my abilities, Gabriel.”

“Call him, Luigi. I need to see Bishop Hudal’s papers.”

“I will, but first, I have one question. Why? ”

Donati, having heard Gabriel’s answer, dialed a number on his mobile phone and asked to be connected to the Anima.

THE CHURCH OF Santa Maria dell’Anima is located in the Centro Storico, just to the west of the Piazza Navona. For four centuries it has been the German church in Rome. Pope Adrian VI, the son of a German shipbuilder from Utrecht and the last non-Italian pope before John Paul II, is buried in a magnificent tomb just to the right of the main altar. The adjoining seminary is reached from the Via della Pace, and it was there, standing in the cold shadows of the forecourt, where they met Bishop Theodor Drexler the following morning.

Monsignor Donati greeted him in excellent Italian-accented German, and introduced Gabriel as “the learned Professor Shmuel Rubenstein from Hebrew University.” Drexler offered his hand at such an angle that for an instant Gabriel wasn’t sure whether to shake it or kiss the ring. After a brief hesitation, he gave it one firm pump. The skin was as cool as church marble.

The rector led them upstairs into an unpresumptuous book-lined office. His soutane rustled as he settled himself into the largest chair in the seating area. His large gold pectoral cross shone in the sunlight slanting through the tall windows. He was short and well-fed, nearing seventy, with a gossamer halo of white hair and extremely pink cheeks. The corners of his tiny mouth were lifted perpetually into a smile-even now, when he was clearly unhappy-and his pale blue eyes sparkled with a condescending intelligence. It was a face that could comfort the sick and put the fear of God into a sinner. Monsignor Donati had been right. Gabriel would have to watch his step.