‘I’m sure it must have been there. Pensione Jaccarino is a run-down hotel, requisitioned by Koch – four floors of hell, or so I’m told. People herded together in rooms with no windows, and just mattresses on the floor, if they’re lucky. In the basement are the interrogation rooms – a foetid space, with straw on the floor to mop up the blood.’
Isabella shuddered.
‘Then there are the isolation cells,’ Salvato went on. ‘Imagine being alone in a cell for months on end, in a room no larger than a meat safe.’
‘I didn’t see any of that,’ she said weakly. ‘He did mention not putting me with the others, though. Now I think I understand why.’
‘He obviously likes you. I’ve not heard of him showing anyone else such mercy.’
‘Salvato, I asked to see you today not to discuss my own experience, but because I want to know how I can help Vicenzo. Koch told me they have him locked up. The thought of him in that place is too terrible.’ She looked up at Salvato with tears in her eyes. ‘We have to get him out.’
‘Look, Isabella,’ said Salvato, ‘you had a lucky escape last night. Don’t get involved. You’re not even a member of the Resistance. Besides, what Vicenzo needs is a good lawyer, not a friend.’
Shortly after Salvato had left, the phone rang.
‘Isabella Bellucci?’ It was a man’s voice she didn’t recognise.
‘Yes, that’s me.’
‘Commissario Koch will be at your house at twelve o’clock.’
The phone went dead before she had a chance to ask why. Had he listened to her earlier phone call? Was he going to arrest her again? Or maybe, given his ‘interest’ in her, he was going to proposition her. She went upstairs and changed, putting on a modest summer dress and flat shoes.
A blue open-topped car drew up outside at twelve o’clock precisely, with Koch at the wheel. He opened the passenger door for her and Isabella climbed into the seat next to him.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked nervously.
‘Nowhere,’ he replied evasively. He looked tired, she thought, his eyes red-rimmed.
They drove around for a while.
‘The Germans are pressurising me,’ he said at last, ‘to interrogate “your friend”.’ He spat out the word ‘friend’ venomously.
Uncertain how she should respond, and remembering Salvato’s words of advice that she should not get involved, she decided to remain silent.
‘They think he will give up the names of his fellow partisans,’ Koch went on, ‘if I can use my…’ he paused and flicked a look in her direction, ‘… my methods on him.’
The prospect of Vicenzo being tortured was so appalling that Isabella forgot Salvato’s advice. She could not abandon Vicenzo. ‘Please do not hurt him. He is not strong,’ she pleaded.
‘What is that to me?’ Koch said, his gloved hands gripping the steering wheel.
‘I ask nothing for myself, just for him,’ she continued. ‘You have already been kind to me and I’m so grateful.’ She paused, hoping his attitude would soften.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘it is not you we are interested in.’ He glanced at her. ‘I have admired you very much in the past. At least, I’ve admired your films.’ He blushed slightly, she noticed.
‘Really?’ If he could believe she liked him a little, perhaps she could persuade him to release Vicenzo. ‘Tell me,’ she added sweetly, ‘which ones did you like?’
‘The one where you played a blind orphan girl.’ His red-rimmed eyes, she noticed, had taken on a misty look.
‘Oh yes,’ she said encouragingly, ‘I loved that part. She was so noble and kind to those around her.’
‘Was it autobiographical?’ he asked. It was such a naïve question, he sounded like a shy fan, rather than a sadistic policeman.
‘Not really,’ she replied smiling. ‘I’m not blind, after all, but I hope I always treat people with respect; and I believe that we get what we deserve in life. If you are kind, you should get kindness back, no?’
He frowned. Perhaps she had gone too far. She tried to bring the conversation back to Vicenzo. ‘Will you promise me something?’ she asked.
He turned to look at her.
‘Don’t let the Germans take Vicenzo,’ she pleaded. ‘He will not survive.’
‘It’s nothing to do with you,’ Koch replied curtly. ‘You should stay out of it. He doesn’t deserve your loyalty.’
Suddenly, the mood had changed. He was no longer the shy fan, but a harsh policeman. They drove around in silence for half an hour, before finally arriving back at her road.
‘Well,’ Koch said, ‘it’s time for my lunch.’ He looked straight ahead,