by Alex Thomas
Bear turned toward the young Monsignor with eyes as big as saucers. "You don’t think it was a coincidence?"
Having heard from Sister Isabella’s fatal car accident in the Swiss Alps, Ben replied: "I’ll definitely keep an eye on the green Lancia."
Benelli cleared his throat, acting as if they were speaking of nothing other than Thea’s past as a rally driver or Bear’s gruelling transcontinental flight as he said: "Careful. Let us speak of this later. At the moment, the chairman of the College of the Cardinals and his entourage are heading right toward us."
His Eminence Steffano Cardinal Gasperetti! Catherine held her breath. The tiny elegant clergyman, with his weasel-like eyes who reminded her of a moustacheless novel-based version of Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot, came right up to her. Apart from Gasperetti’s high position, he was also considered one of the most conservative men in the Vatican. He had certainly not voted for Pope Leo during the last conclave; neither had Cardinal Monti in whose presence Gasperetti had often found himself. At the age of seventy-eight Gasperetti, like Monti himself, would most likely not participate in the next conclave.
All cardinals who had reached their eightieth birthday could no longer participate in the election of the new Pope. Officially, that is. Unofficially, it was an entirely different matter. Even if a cardinal could no longer vote for the Pope, there were plenty of ways to manipulate the election for the next pontiff if he were smart about it. Catherine wondered how well Leo, Monti and Gasperetti got along on the icy Vatican summit on which they all sat. It was no secret that Leo was tolerant. But Monti and Gasperetti? Not to mention Ciban.
They were given a formal welcome. When the cardinal shook the church critic’s hand, his gaze turned stoic. "So, and here we have the young lady who has challenged the Catholic Church."
"Just the conservative parts, Eminence," corrected Catherine politely. She wanted in no way to provoke the cardinal, but at the same time she wanted to remind him that she certainly had supporters among his circle of men.
Gasperetti suppressed a crooked smile. "It takes a lot of courage, Sister, and certainly deep faith. His Holiness holds you in high regard and I cannot imagine you would disappoint him."
"I vowed to dedicate my life to serve His Holiness and the Church. I would do the Church a disservice if I were to remain silent."
The cardinal nodded pensively. "I see. I mean no irreverence when I say that you should be careful."
Catherine couldn’t quite believe her ears. Nonetheless, she decided not to take his words as a threat, but as well-meaning advice. "I shall do what is in my power, Eminence."
Benelli said frankly: "If you are aware of something that Sister Catherine should know about, Steffano, then out with it."
"That is the problem, Alberto," replied Gasperetti as he shrugged his shoulders with regret. "I know nothing concrete. It’s never concrete. But we all know one thing: the price of freedom is being on alert at all times."
After he left, Thea said: "I never thought I would hear those words coming from Cardinal Gasperetti’s mouth. Perhaps the spirit of His Holiness is rubbing off on him."
Benelli shook his head. "I don’t think so. His words were both a warning and a threat. He is the kind of person who wants something without being willing to pay for it."
"That sounds very unchristian," said Catherine.
"I believe his Eminence Cardinal Gasperetti is certainly capable in certain borderline situations to allow certain things to take an unchristian turn if it serves the Church in the end. Don’t forget that although he is a conservative man, he is still running Lux even two years after Pope Innocence’s death."
Catherine was reminded of the Machiavellian phrase that her opponents ascribed to the Jesuits: "The end justifies the means." His Eminence Steffano Cardinal Gasperetti certainly wasn’t the first church dignitary to live and die by the phrase and he certainly wouldn’t be the last. What amazed her even more was the fact that Benelli spoke of it so openly even though Gasperetti belonged to the opposition.
"Please excuse me for a moment, Catherine," said Ben. "I don’t think we should just let his inference go. I’m going to ask around."
Catherine gave him a look of doubt. "Do you really think that is necessary?" She had received her share of warnings and threats in the last two years and had learned to live with them. Why should Gasperetti’s words be any different?
Ben’s response was both short and sobering. "Did you not originally want to go with Sister Thea to this reception?"
Just as Ben disappeared into the crowd, Benelli asked Thea and Bear to stay put whilst he took Catherine aside. "Come with me, Sister. The time is right. I have something urgent to tell you in private."
15
They left the noisy chatter-filled reception hall and the sound of lively Baroque music behind them. Catherine looked around the high, lengthy corridors and was once again impressed with the villa’s rich interior.
"I heard you bought the villa from Cardinal Ciban?"
Benelli smiled. "Well, that’s not exactly true. The Cibans would never fully part with this estate. Let’s just say it is on loan. Upon my death the estate will go back to the family and rented out by someone else. As beautiful as it is here, not even Cardinal Ciban would want to live here."
"I don’t really understand that," said Catherine "This place is paradise."
"Unfortunately, it is also a place of family tragedy," explained Benelli with great emotion. "Cardinal Ciban’s sister Sarah was found dead in the park at a young age. As far as I know the cause of her death is not known to this day. I imagine that is why he finally moved into the city to Rome."
Catherine was shocked. She hadn’t expected that.
The duo entered a small lively chapel with valuable stained glass windows, holy sculptures and an impressive altar. Benelli closed the door in front of which one of his employees was posted. He knew that to speak in private, one must be completely alone.
Catherine looked about. "This is all very mysterious, Eminence." Up to this point she had not asked a single question about their pending conversation. But at this moment any further restraint seemed inappropriate even though she still refused to take a look at Benelli’s aura. As a child she had read people’s thoughts and auras without thinking that her gift was unique and that she could invade someone else’s privacy by doing so. But now she controlled her gift like a well-practiced pianist did his instrument. Although to control it took much more out of her than allowing nature to take its course.
"It is going to seem even stranger to you now." Benelli pointed for her to take a seat next to him. They sat near the altar in the soft candlelight as he reached into his cassock’s interior pocket and pulled out a photograph. "I know about your gift, Catherine. Father Darius told me about it."
The young woman looked at him inquisitively. She then looked at the photo showing Darius and Benelli standing on St. Peter’s Square in mutual admiration. People were everywhere, including barriers. The picture must have been taken right before the last conclave. If Darius had confided in Benelli, they must both have a very trusting relationship. "Then you too are a member of Lux Domini?"
Benelli nodded and placed the photograph back in his pocket. "Let’s just say I am a silent member. I have never been an official one. Truth be told I don’t belong to any organisation or party within the church. You will discover the reason in just a moment." The cardinal paused for a second as if to search for the right words. He finally spoke with as much compassion as possible: "I’m afraid I have bad news for you, Catherine. Father Darius is…dead."
What did he just say? Catherine had heard the words, but she struggled with their meaning. The white-haired cardinal gave her a compassionate look and she suddenly had the feeling that the real revelation still stood before her.
Benelli continued: "They had been saying Darius had a fatal accident while hiking in the mountains, but we now know that is not true."
She stared at the cardinal, summ
oning all her strength to control her reaction. She was speechless.
"It was murder," explained Benelli. "And he is not the only victim we have to mourn."
Murder?
The thoughts swirled in Catherine’s mind.
Darius…
Hiking…
Accident…
Death…
Murder…
She had a vague feeling that she might faint. The priest had been like a father to her and Ben, a friend, a reference point, a safe haven without whom they might just have lost their minds. And now he had been murdered? What for?
As she tried to sort out her thoughts, Benelli told her of the other murder victims, of Sister Isabella and Father Sylvester. Both were also unofficial Lux members and members of a congregation that had a particular proximity with the Pope. The cardinal’s voice suddenly seemed distant as he said to Catherine: "Isabella’s, Sylvester’s and Darius’ murders are bad enough, but the actual attacks were meant for His Holiness."
Catherine attempted to make sense of what Benelli had just revealed to her. Darius had been murdered, then he spoke of a secret congregation inside Lux and now the Pope was at risk! She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and tried to find a single thought that made any sense at all from the insanity she had just heard. But she had only one thought: Darius was dead and his murderer was still out there.
"Do they have any leads?" she asked with a voice even she didn’t recognise.
"We have a vague lead. But given the circumstances it is no wonder. If we don’t catch the murderer soon, it could be too late. One or two more murders and the Church would lose its balance."
Balance? What does that mean? How could a church, an institution in existence for nearly two thousand years suddenly lose its balance? Then Catherine remembered what Benelli had said: "given the circumstances." What in heaven’s name could the circumstances be?
"I realise it is a lot to digest at once," said the cardinal quietly. "It must sound completely absurd to you, but I haven’t even scratched the surface of what you will need to know for your mission. I know Lux is history to you. You left active duty six years ago, but we need your help, Catherine."
"If you will excuse me," the young woman managed to say, "but I need to move around."
She stood up and paced back and forth in front of the altar like a caged animal. Benelli remained calm, waited patiently and seemed to be the embodiment of patience itself. She finally stood still before him, gave him a scrutinising look and said: "Forgive me, Eminence, but why should I trust you? Just because you showed me this photograph and claim to have been friends with Father Darius?"
Benelli sighed. "Unfortunately, time is running out for lengthy explanations and even if we did have enough time, you most likely wouldn’t believe me anyway, Catherine. We have to find another way. You will soon receive the necessary information you need." He got up, walked toward her and handed her the photograph once again. "Keep the photo. I don’t need it anymore. Regarding your trust in me…use your gift whenever you like. I’m not afraid of it." Catherine stared at the cardinal. He seemed to be sincere in his offer.
"But now, my dear, let us pray for Darius, Sylvester, Isabella and the Pope before we have to return to the fray upstairs."
The young woman moved her gaze from Benelli to the photograph in her hand. She couldn’t explain why she had even accepted the picture or why she stood next to the cardinal and prayed together with him for Darius, Sylvester, Isabella and Leo, as if their conversation had never taken place. Perhaps it had to do with the old man’s incredible calm and confidence that, with every passing minute of prayer, spilled over to Catherine. She had never felt such calm before. It felt as if their souls melted together during their prayer.
After they had finished praying, she felt both sad and relieved at the same time. Sad because the inner peace had disappeared slightly and relieved that she once again felt like herself.
With his winning smile Benelli accompanied her to the door. Oddly she felt no sense of distrust anymore toward the man, even though she had not used her gift. Everything seemed to be in alignment and harmonious even after their painful conversation with which the cardinal had so rigorously confronted her.
When the host opened the door, a figure dressed in a priest’s cassock stood with its back to them in a long corridor and appeared to admire the wall paintings. Apparently, Benelli’s employee had prevented the cleric from entering the chapel whilst they were there. As the stranger turned around, Catherine remembered having seen him in the reception hall in the group surrounding Cardinal Monti.
"Forgive me, Eminence. I did not wish to disturb you," said the priest. "I only wanted to look at the house chapel that everyone has praised so highly."
Benelli gave him a friendly nod. "Monsignor, allow me to introduce you to Sister Catherine Bell." Despite his friendliness Catherine could sense a certain level of discord in the cardinal’s voice, set off by the priest’s presence. "Catherine, this is Monsignor deRossi, one of the most promising employees of the bishops’ congregation."
So one of Cardinal Gasperetti’s people, Catherine immediately thought.
DeRossi offered her his hand and smiled, showing a row of perfect teeth. What fascinated Catherine far more was the visible scar above his eye. She wondered why the scar had healed so badly. Nevertheless, the Monsignor had a beautiful face. His black short haircut gave off an air of recklessness. But she could tell by his eyes that something wasn’t quite right with him. From Catherine’s perspective they seemed to lack all emotion, as if he had eyes like a shark.
"Your reputation precedes you, Sister Catherine," said deRossi. "I hope you will enjoy the evening here nonetheless." His voice sounded sincere even though his eyes revealed something different entirely.
"Thank you, Father." Catherine managed to return his smile with as much sincerity as deRossi had shown. "You won’t regret having seen the chapel. It is truly impressive."
The Monsignor stared at both of them with equal measure before saying: "Of that I am certain."
"If you would excuse us," said Benelli with a relaxed smile.
Carefully but with determination he directed Catherine past deRossi. The young woman felt a certain tingling sensation that she normally only felt before important exams or appearances. For a second she felt as if she were walking through an invisible barrier, like a door from whence there was no turning back. She could feel how deRossi stared at the both of them as they turned the corner.
When they reached the lift, Catherine couldn’t help but saying: "You didn’t like the fact that Monsignor deRossi showed up down there, did you?"
"Everything is going according to plan," the white-haired man said with amusement. He suddenly turned serious. "A few odd things are about to happen, Catherine. These things will seem even more absurd than our conversation. But no matter what happens next, have trust. Trust your gift in particular."
16
The next two hours were almost peaceful for Catherine. The heads of the conservative Catholic stage had slowly but surely paid a courtesy visit to the revolutionary nun who in turn had parried with them. The conservative mob had exhibited restraint with the exception of a few smaller skirmishes here and there.
The young author even got to know a few of her email contacts personally at the reception. Martin Kreuz, a Jesuit priest and rector for the Roman college of priests Germanicum et Hungaricum and general secretary of the Jesuit order with whom she had enjoyed a very critical, yet constructive exchange turned out to be an extremely humorous man. He had not only locked both Sister Thea and Catherine into his enormous heart, but he had also shown an equally large appetite at the buffet which side he rarely left. No, he would only stop eating when the Church did exactly as Jesus had instructed.
They finally returned to the small group of clergy, which included Cardinal Bear, Sister Thea, Ben and now a certain Father Luigi Thomas. The latter worked for the archives as Ben did. He had clearly had a bit too much to
drink.
"I heard that the investigation has been stopped."
"I don’t know anything about it," said Ben, who was clearly uncomfortable with Catherine’s witnessing Father Thomas’ blunder. "I suppose it is more a police matter than anything else."
The priest laughed as if he were suddenly very amused.
Ben remained calm. "You have had too much to drink, Luigi. Come with me. I’ll get you a taxi to take you home."
Father Thomas awkwardly freed himself of Ben’s well-meaning grasp and whispered: "We both know you conducted investigations in Rottach. What did you find out that led to its abrupt ending?" He then turned to Catherine. "Perhaps you can write about it in your next book!"
A firm voice behind the priest said warningly: "Sister Catherine will certainly take your suggestion into consideration, Luigi. A taxi is waiting outside to take you home. You have had a few tough weeks. Get some rest."
The priest froze as if someone had stabbed him from behind.
Catherine too almost lost control. She was all too familiar with that cool, sonorous voice from the meetings with the Congregation of the Doctrine of Faith that she had suffered through. Marc Abott Cardinal Ciban greeted the group with a bow and cast a sounding glance across them. His eyes rested a second longer on her. A young priest by the name of Rinaldo immediately ushered Father Thomas out of the reception hall.
The baroque music seemed to stop at once. In fact, it seemed as though the entire reception was frozen in time for a short moment, as if an icy veil lay in the air, signalling a pending catastrophe. Cardinal Ciban and Sister Catherine! Two arch enemies within the Catholic Church at a private reception with just one and a half metres between them!
Taking a deliberately formal tone so that only the small group surrounding the critical author could hear him, the cardinal said: "This room is filled with snakes waiting for us to reach for each other’s throats, but we won’t do them the favour, will we, Sister?"
Catherine nodded in agreement. "No, we will not, Eminence."