The 34th Degree

43

T he cable from Berlin was on Commandant Buzzini’s desk by noon. Unfortunately, it was in a sealed envelope, so the Italian couldn’t read what Berlin had forwarded to General von Berg.

Buzzini looked at the “most urgent, most secret” envelope in his hand. What sort of mysterious correspondences did the good Baron have with Berlin? And what sort of nefarious Nazi work proceeded within the Achillion that he-the commander of an island occupied by Italian forces, no less-was not allowed to know?

Before Buzzini knew what he was doing, he had torn open the envelope and found himself staring at gibberish. They’ve coded it, he realized with horror. He would need von Berg’s personal key to decipher it. He got on the phone. “Sergeant Racini, come here immediately.”

The sergeant from Palermo appeared instantly and could see the panic in his superior’s eyes. “What is it, Commandant?”

“This cable for the Baron. I’ve opened it by mistake.”

Sergeant Racini’s eyes widened. “You have opened the Baron’s mail?”

“Yes. From Berlin.”

“Mother of God!” cried Racini.

“Fortunately, it is encoded, so I have not comprehended its contents.”

Sergeant Racini sighed in relief.

Buzzini asked, “Can we reseal it somehow?”

Racini looked at it and shook his head. “The risk is too great that he would know it had been opened and resealed.”

Buzzini paced the floor nervously. “Then I want you to deliver it to him personally. With my apologies.”

“Surely you cannot ask me-”

“Go, Racini. He is at the Achillion.” Sensing the sergeant’s hesitation, Buzzini barked, “Now, Sergeant.”

Sergeant Racini picked up the cable with trembling fingers and left the office. Buzzini looked out the window and watched Racini’s staff car drive off toward the Achillion. Then he sat down at his desk and wiped his brow.