“So as not to lower himself with the formalities of receiving, of ‘cashing in’ that gold, Kappler did not even bother to show his face. He got a secretary to tell them in the waiting room that the ransom should have been paid at Via Tasso. This is perhaps the first time Via Tasso was mentioned in the dark, mysterious events of the German occupation. The convoy then left Villa Wolkonski, turned the corner and arrived at that infamous street.
At Via Tasso, the Jews found themselves in front of a Captain Schultz, certainly crueller than the Schultz from our old Latin grammar book. He was assisted by a German goldsmith and weigher. […]
But 8pm had passed some time ago, and neither the Presidents nor the goldsmiths had returned home. The ticking of the clocks in the silence of those houses was like the gnawing of anxiety, every passing minute marked a growing mass of ever-worsening hypotheses. A startling ring from the phone: but it wasn’t them, it was friends, those who had done their best to search for gold, and now they were on the phone with words that wanted to convey confidence but were instead already sorrowful.
Finally, the four men returned. They showed signs of that combination of relief and collapse, which every person feels at the end of an enormous task. Rather like the feeling of someone who goes home after having accompanied a loved one to the cemetery, gone for a long walk on an inclement day, when already exhausted by anguish and sleepless nights. Have something to eat, go to bed, try not to think about it anymore.”