and they reached the third floor, where Sandro had never been before, as it was off-limits. The stairwell emptied into a small conference room containing a round mahogany table and chairs. Beyond that was a large room with a wall that had glass on its upper half, so that Sandro could see inside. It was more akin to a rare book room than a library, lined with full bookshelves and document cabinets, with greenish shades over the windows to filter out sunlight.
Foà headed to the library. “As I say, you must be careful handling—”
“Let me confirm the salient facts,” the taller Nazi interrupted, as they walked. “In terms of value, it is our understanding that the Biblioteca della Comunità is one of the most important collections in Europe. It is said to contain rare texts, illustrated scrolls and manuscripts from the days of the Caesars, and original drawings from the earliest Popes. Is that true?”
“Yes,” Foà admitted reluctantly, as they reached the library.
“Is it also true that, taken together, the collections represent artifacts and history of early Judaism and early Christianity?”
“Yes.” Foà sighed, taking a keyring from his pocket.
“Where are the catalogs of these treasures?”
Foà pointed through the glass. “On the bookshelf at the left, though we haven’t catalogued everything yet.”
“We’ll be confiscating the catalogs.”
“What?” Foà recoiled.
Sandro’s father interjected, “But you said you wished only to browse. You may not confiscate any of the collection.”
“The catalogs are not part of the collection per se. They are essentially indices made by you. We wish to enter the library now. You stay here.” The two Nazis entered the library, then closed the door behind them.
Sandro, his father, and Foà stood on their side of the glass, watching. One Nazi crossed to the catalogs, and the other began scrutinizing the books. Sandro hated feeling so helpless, and he could see his father fuming, his thin skin mottled with emotion and his gaze trained on the Nazi captains.
“This is a disaster,” Foà moaned. “We need to stop them from sacking the library. They’ll ship everything to Germany. The plunder of such precious articles would be a loss for Italian Jewry and Italian culture forever. It’s our patrimony.”
Sandro’s father nodded. “We’ll fight back, using the full force of the law. I can prepare papers to file today, enjoining the ERR in court from any confiscatory action. I will courier an authorizing letter to Almansi for his signature, as only the Union has the authority to administer these libraries.”
Foà nodded.
“We need allies, so I would courier a letter to the Vatican, too. They should want to keep the collections in Rome. The Questura and the Badoglio government should have the same interest.”
Sandro interjected, “We can even call La Sapienza and other academic institutions. All of them should want to keep the collection in Rome. It has enormous educational value.”
“Right.” Foà looked encouraged. “When do we start?”
In unison, Sandro and his father answered, “Now.”
CHAPTER NINETY-ONE
Marco
6 October 1943
Marco had an errand to run for his boss and hurried down the sidewalk. He turned the corner, but was stopped by a large crowd blocking the sidewalk. They seemed to be watching something going on across the street, their backs to him. Their mood was grim, and they massed on the sidewalk and spilled into the street. Traffic had been detoured, which was highly unusual in this busy district.
Marco knew something was wrong. On the other side of the street was the headquarters of the carabinieri, Rome’s military police. He hustled around the crowd and got a clear view of a horrifying sight. Nazi soldiers surrounded the entrance to carabinieri headquarters, perhaps a hundred of them. A long line of covered trucks, maybe fifteen, idled in front of the building and down several blocks, escorted by Kubelwagens. Nazis guarded the vehicles and the sawhorses, cordoning off the headquarters.
Marco watched, shocked, as in the next moment, a cadre of Nazis emerged from the building with thirty carabinieri in handcuffs. He didn’t know what was going on; he couldn’t imagine that the carabinieri had done anything wrong. An angry murmur rumbled through the crowd, and many cursed the Nazis or made obscene hand gestures at them. The Nazis loaded the carabinieri into the back of a covered truck.
Marco kept watching, appalled to see another cadre of Nazis leaving the building with more carabinieri under arrest. The Nazis loaded the second group of carabinieri into another covered truck, and then followed with another group and another, in waves of arrests. As soon