Chapter Fourteen
"'Let them have a chance' was a typical attitude. Hitler took the chance and made the most of it." — George L. Mosse, Nazi Culture: Intellectual, Cultural and Social Life in the Third Reich
Heinkel had hoped the Holy Father would be too busy tending to his weakened church to bother with eradicating a single ex-Iscariot agent—even one so prestigious as herself—but it seemed she'd underestimated the pope's desire for revenge. Clearly, keeping a low profile was no longer an option (if it ever had been). What a fool she'd been! Heinkel knew better than anyone that there was little room for optimism in her line of work; and yet she'd assured Integra that she would return with the file in three days: a task far easier said than done, with half the city out for her head. Heinkel would be lucky to make it out in one piece, let alone with the documents.
It wasn't the prospect of injury or even death that worried her, but the possibility of failure. For one thing, Heinkel was used to being 'interrogated' and could endure the pain; and besides, her honor as a warrior demanded she fulfill her promise, however idiotic it might be. Heinkel Wolfe was many things, but a liar wasn't one of them. Therefore, returning to Hellsing empty-handed wasn't an option.
But while keeping her word would be more difficult than she'd hoped, her opponents didn't know anything about her if they thought she'd give in at the first sign of danger. 'Surrender or die'? Don't make me laugh.
Heinkel had been so focused on distancing herself from the airstrip that she hardly noticed where she was going, letting her feet carry her in the direction of the hostel she'd selected—no point in wasting money on accommodations; and anyway, the worse the neighborhood, the less likely the residents were to ask questions—but now she stopped dead in the middle of the street. She couldn't go there; it was too dangerous. After all, if the pope's lackeys knew which flight she'd be on, it wouldn't have been difficult for them to discover where Heinkel was staying. She would have to find another place to sleep—but where? Since the Vatican was hosting a conference and the city was holding a music festival, all the hotels were full; and anyway, most were mom and pop establishments who wouldn't look kindly on a young woman attempting to book a room in the middle of the night (especially one with half her face missing).
Maybe she should forget about the hotel and infiltrate the Archives right away. After all, the sooner she left the city, the better. But Heinkel was tired; and her head spun with unanswered questions. She needed time to rest and plan her strategy. Still, she was acutely aware that, with every passing moment, time slipped away from her. What should I do?
Behind her, a door opened; Heinkel darted around the corner just in time, one hand reaching for her gun as she flattened herself against the wall, craning her neck to make out the figure in the doorway. She didn't unholster her weapon just yet, though, since she was in a residential area and didn't want to risk frightening a civilian. Unfortunately, the light framing the woman's silhouette also obscured her face.
"Sister?" The voice made Heinkel flinch; body buzzing with adrenaline, all her senses were on high alert. She sent up a prayer of thanks for the years she'd spent under Maxwell's command; thanks to the archbishop's propensity for reverting to his native language in times of stress, Heinkel was fluent in Italian. "Is something wrong?"
The woman turned, one hand still holding the door open; yellow light spilled into the alley. Although Heinkel still couldn't see her face, something about her seemed familiar. "I thought I heard a noise, but it must have been my imagination." There was a pause, and then she added, "I'll finish cleaning up. It's been a long day, and I'm sure you must be tired."
"Thank you, Sister." The girl replied, her voice considerably more cheerful. "Good night."
"Good night, Luisa."
Heinkel stood frozen, unable to believe what she'd just heard. It can't be…And yet, she'd recognize that voice anywhere. But what was Ana doing in Rome? The last time they'd spoken, the older woman had indicated that she was continuing her work in Berlin. Then again, it had been a while; Heinkel had been so busy with her Iscariot duties that she'd had little time to spare for her foster mother. She felt a twinge of guilt at the realization but didn't allow herself to dwell on it for long. It was clear God had given her this opportunity; and she would be a fool to waste it. She stepped into the light, praying Ana wouldn't scream at the sight of her.
To her credit, the older woman didn't cry out, though her face paled at the sight of Heinkel's ruined features, one hand covering her mouth. Heinkel waited for her to recover, keeping her eyes on the ground to avoid seeing the disgust she was sure must be written in Ana's eyes. Finally, the nun breathed, "Heinkel?"
Heinkel waited for her to back away, slam the door in her face like any sensible person would, but instead Ana pulled her into a hug. Her skin was soft, and she smelled like Heinkel's childhood: peppermint and freshly baked bread. Overwhelmed by a sudden barrage of memories, Heinkel swallowed around the lump in her throat, forcing herself to disengage from the older woman's arms (though gently).
"Ciao." She tried to keep her tone casual but failed miserably.
Hands on her hips, her foster mother gave her a stern look. "I assume you aren't here to visit me."
Feeling like a child again, Heinkel hung her head. "I'm sorry. I wanted to see you, but…" What could she possibly say? I was too busy eradicating heretics? She settled on, "I've been busy."
Heinkel braced herself for a barrage of questions, but Ana only smiled. "It doesn't matter; I'm just glad you're here. But what are you doing out at this hour? It's not safe."
"There was…a problem with my hotel." Heinkel hated lying to her, but technically this wasn't a falsehood—just very selective truth-telling.
If Ana noticed her hesitation, she didn't remark on it. "Then you can stay with us. The children will be thrilled—we rarely have guests. And in return…"
Heinkel stiffened, her earlier wariness returning. "What do you want?" She'd known Ana long enough to understand that the glint in her eye meant trouble.
The older woman winked. "Don't worry; it isn't anything you can't handle."
