The Julian secret

CHAPTER SIX

Beneath the Vatican

January 8, 1941

Monsignor Ludwig Kaas was the financial secretary to the Reverenda Fabbrica, the organization charged with the day-to-day administration of the Papal State. Today, instead of pen, paper, and adding machine, he held a kerosene lantern, casting flickering shadows across what, in another setting, could have been the crown frame of a Roman dwelling. Next to it, several more, somewhat less elegant, were visible above the clay.

"Mausoleums," the priest stated, careful in his movements lest he slip in loose soil. "Roman tombs along a street in a necropolis. If we dig, below there should be a road between the buildings."

The lantern's light reflected off Pope Pius XII's glasses, making it appear that the man had fire for eyes. "But that would require the desecration of Christian graves."

"I fear so, Holiness."

The monsignor knew better than to wait for an answer. The Pope carefully weighed even simple decisions. This was far from simple. Easy enough to keep the pontiff unaware that these events were being described daily to Kaas's friends in Rome's German Embassy, difficult to explain to them the delay, friends who were keeping very close track of the events in the Vatican grotto.

"I shall have to seek guidance," the Pope said, "God's advice."

The longer you wait, the monsignor thought, God will have less to do with it than Goebbels' Ministry of Propaganda. The thought of the club-footed cripple made Kaas's skin crawl as did most Nazis, a most un-Christian feeling. Unlikable as they were, though, Hitler and his henchmen knew the real enemies of the Church: the Communists and their Jewish allies.

As a mere functionary in the bureaucracy of the Holy See, Kaas kept his opinions to himself. It was not by advocating politics he had been transferred here from Germany nor would he achieve his purpose by speaking out.

Sometimes, though, silence was difficult.