Their discussion was interrupted by a lone reporter attempting to jump over the fence and falling face first on to the concrete paving stones with an awful thump. The red-faced intruder was immediately dragged to his feet by a furious-looking Captain Anatoly, who heaved him head first back over the fence and into the crowd beyond. ‘That’s it, no interview for you, idiot,’ the seaman yelled, pausing to pose amid the flood of camera flashes that concentrated on him for one brilliantly lit moment before resuming his role as security guard, surveying the onlookers with an even more steely resolve.
Satisfied they could not be heard, the two men resumed their conversation. ‘So all the events involved in this whole conspiracy seem to revolve around one place: the Vatican’s Academy of Sciences – specifically its northern corridor. I need to get myself inside if we’re to have any hope of getting her back.’
This idea clearly didn’t appeal to Doggie, who was woefully shaking his head. ‘If you’re right about the Magi and other powerful elements of the Church being involved, then how the hell do you expect to gain entry? You’d be arrested on the spot, and I don’t have to remind you, Alex, that the Vatican City is considered to be a sovereign country under international law.’ He threw his hands up into the air passionately. ‘Not to mention the fact that they’re hosting a summit of world leaders there tonight.’
It was the first time Harker had heard of this event, but, having been so busy with the Dead Sea Scrolls exhibition, he’d totally lost track of general news over recent weeks. ‘Summit? What summit?’
‘A summit of world leaders will take place in St Peter’s Basilica at midnight tonight, hosted by the new Pope himself. Even the American President is due to be there. Not sure what it’s about, though. The news reports have been pretty sketchy about it. It’s been labelled as some kind of official meet-and-greet for the new pontiff. Whatever the purpose, you’d never get past security in the first place.’ He paused anxiously. ‘You don’t think this has anything to do with that, like a bomb or something?’
Harker shook his head. ‘No, I can’t believe they would blow up St Peter’s. The Magi want to control the church, not destroy it.’ But Doggie was right about one thing: with world leaders now congregating at St Peter’s Basilica, security would be higher than anywhere else on earth. Still, there was one important thing his friend knew nothing about – one thing that might just enable Harker to gain admission. Time to play my last card, he thought.
‘What if I could get an audience with Pope Adrian?’
A disbelieving smile fell across Dean Lercher’s face. ‘You’d never get to see him. Not tonight. Not with this summit going on.’
Harker persisted. ‘Yes, I know, but what if I could? If the Pope knew elements in the Vatican were involved in kidnapping and murder, he’d have to take me seriously, wouldn’t he?’ He could see a glint in Doggie’s eyes as his old friend began to weigh up the possibilities.
‘OK. That could work if, indeed, Claire is actually being held in Vatican City. But we’re still stuck with the same problem: how do you get an audience with the Pope?’
Harker leant in closer to the dean, preparing to speak of a secret he had sworn never to reveal to another living soul. ‘I never told you why I left the church, did I, Doggie? I’ve never told anyone, not even Archie Dwyer, and he never forgave me for it.’
The noise of the chattering crowd on the other side of the fence seemed to suddenly fade away.
‘My last clerical posting was just outside Norwich.’
‘East Harling, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, but what you don’t know is that, a few months after taking over the parish, it came to my attention that one of the young altar boys had been sexually abused by the former priest. I was horrified, disgusted, and immediately contacted the Vatican, who, in turn, sent someone to investigate the allegations I had made.’ Harker sucked in a deep breath, rubbing at his chest, as if the words themselves were painful to expel. ‘After two months of investigation, it was agreed that the matter be laid to rest without any publicity and the priest be quietly moved to another parish under the watchful eyes of the Church.’
Doggie’s jaw almost hit the floor at the news. ‘What did the boy’s parents say?’
Harker gritted his teeth as these painful memories he had forcibly buried were allowed to surface. ‘The boy only had a mother, and she, being a devout Catholic, agreed it would be best for all concerned to forget that it ever happened.’
‘And the poor boy?’ Doggie said looking outraged, his cheeks flushing slightly.
‘The boy and mother were given a financial settlement by the Church, which they accepted, so I found myself fighting a battle that quiet literally no one wanted to fight. I was so disgusted and incensed that I saw no other option but to resign, which is exactly what I did. I couldn’t continue serving a church that would seek to bury such a hideous crime for no other reason than PR.’
‘My God, Alex, is that why you never told Archie?’
Harker nodded solemnly. ‘I knew it would shake his entire faith, and I couldn’t do that to him. So I didn’t tell him.’
Doggie moved back a step, his eyes wide open. ‘So what has this got to do with the current Pope?’
Harker cleared his throat as if subconsciously a part of him was trying to restrain himself from saying anything further. ‘The man selected to investigate the affair was none other than Archbishop John Wilcox, who only two weeks ago was inaugurated as the new bishop of Rome and head of the Catholic Church. Pope Adrian VII himself.’
This latest revelation sent Doggie reeling back even further, and Harker had to grab his friend’s arm to steady him.
‘And that’s not all. You’ve often asked me how I managed to acquire the Dead Sea Scrolls from the Shrine of the Book in Jerusalem.’
Judging by the vein now bulging in his forehead, Doggie already had an idea of where this conversation was heading.
‘Well, Wilcox happened to have a huge amount of sway amongst certain officials in the Israel Antiquities Authority, and he helped me secure a loan of the collection and bring it to Cambridge for the exhibition.’
Dark shadows were now appearing underneath Doggie’s eyes as his brain processed the inescapable conclusion. ‘Fuck me, you blackmailed the Pope?’
Harker shook his head fervently. ‘No, he wasn’t Pope then, and it wasn’t like that at all.’
The dean rolled his eyes in shock. ‘Holy fucking shit, you blackmailed the Pope, didn’t you?’
‘No, I didn’t. I had already spent three months negotiating the deal with the Israeli government when one of their officials, for no reason, rescinded his vote. I was completely at a loss and didn’t know what to do. That’s when I got a call from Wilcox, who offered me help in securing the deal if I promised never to mention his involvement in that molestation case.’ Harker rubbed at the wrinkles now appearing on his forehead, blood rushing to his cheeks in shame. ‘After a lot of thought, I decided to take him up on his offer of help. I’d already quit the Church by then with a clear conscience, and I never intended to mention it anyway, so I finally thought why not. The problem is that now I really do need to blackmail him into doing the right thing and allowing a thorough search of Vatican City for Claire.’ He could tell by the despondent look in Tom Lercher’s eyes that these revelations were tearing at his friend’s ethical compass.
The dean had never been a particularly religious man, but, even so, he had always taken pride in his high moral standards and, on the surface, Harker was now coming off looking pretty bad.
‘Look, Doggie, you’ve known me for what … over ten years. In all that time, have you ever known me to be deceitful or sly in any way?’
Doggie shook his head without any hesitation.
‘Then I need you to trust me now when I say it was never blackmail.’
The lack of direct eye contact told Harker he was losing the argument, and he reached over and firmly grasped his old friend’s forearm, more determined th
an ever to make him see the truth. ‘Look, you may believe me right now or you may not, but if we don’t find Claire Dwyer in a little under four hours’ time, then she’s dead. Can you really have that on your conscience for the rest of your life, knowing that you could have done something but failed to act?’
Dean Lercher rubbed his palms together and clicked his teeth nervously as he deliberated the question. ‘Honestly, Alex, do you really think these people – these Magi or whatever – would kill her?’
Harker stared out beyond the crowd of bustling people still gathered nearby and towards the ring of boats circling the downed aircraft. ‘Doggie, they crashed a plane and murdered the pilot, John Caster, and nearly us as well simply to tie up loose ends. So do you really think they’ll even give a second thought about doing away with a woman who no one, except ourselves, even knows is missing?’
This last point hit its mark, for the dean immediately sucked in a lungful of air, and, with it, the confidence and determination he had shown earlier returned to him. ‘As usual, you’re absolutely bloody right.’ He slapped his hand on Harker’s shoulder with a wet squelch. ‘OK, I believe you. And if that’s what you say happened, then that’s what happened. OK, fuck it! Let’s go and blackmail the Pope!’
Harker pulled open his blanket and peered down at his soaking-wet shirt and trousers. ‘First, I need some dry clothes and then a way out of here and to the Vatican before the police arrive.’
Doggie nervously scanned the surrounding area for any law officials but found none. ‘OK, what do you need from me?’
‘I need you to stay here, Doggie. If we both leave simultaneously, those reporters won’t take long to realise we’ve made a break for it.’
‘Right, I stay here and work the crowd, giving you as much time to get away as possible. I can do that whilst …’ He struggled to articulate the words. ‘Whilst you go and blackmail the Pope.’
Harker almost laughed out loud but, instead, exhaled a deep sigh, simply relieved that his friend was up to the task. ‘Ok, by road, we’re only about fifty minutes from the Vatican. All I need now is a ride.’ Harker eyed the road running parallel to the shoreline. All the vehicles he could see were parked alongside the beach – except for one. It was a rusty grey minivan with the faded black logo NANDOS TAXIS stencilled across the passenger door. Inside it sat a man wearing a tasty Hawaiian-style red shirt with short sleeves, and protruding from his mouth was a smouldering cigar nestled comfortably under a bushy grey moustache. The driver was touting a man and woman for business, but for the time being, they seemed far more interested in getting on to the beach rather than heading away from it.
His perusal of the van caught Doggie’s attention, and the dean nodded understandingly. ‘OK, my boy, now all you need is a fresh change of clothes.’
Chapter 38
The high-pitched screech of an amplifier echoed through the immense domed interior of St Peter’s Basilica as a young priest fretfully tapped at the pulpit microphone. Standing below, Cardinal Vincenzo clasped both hands around his ears and was mouthing urgently, ‘Turn it down!’
The young priest peered down at him and shrugged, unable to hear anything over the speaker’s reverberation.
‘I said turn the volume …’ Vincenzo was halfway through his sentence when the deafening noise suddenly cut out, and the cathedral was once again filled with the clatter of workmen rearranging chairs for the world summit taking place that morning. ‘Down!’ The cardinal cleared his throat sheepishly. ‘Well done, Alberto. Now adjust the pitch and that should do it.’
The priest made his way down the pulpit’s solid stone steps and, offering a pleasant smile, headed towards the main PA system, eager to rectify the problem.
Vincenzo glanced down at his watch: 6.20 a.m. already. This was going to be tight.
Arrangements for the event had been completed days earlier, and everything had seemed ready to go until, twenty minutes ago, when his Holiness had decided to modify the seating arrangements.
Not very helpful, thought the cardinal. He took a moment to survey the majestic interior of the cathedral. Even after all these years, he still struggled with the emotions that surfaced when he was in the presence of such overwhelming beauty. It was the first time since World War II that a Pope had invited so many world leaders to the Vatican at one time, and it signalled a change in the way the Church would operate in the future.
This event had originally been conceived as a way for the new Pope to meet with world leaders but had evolved into representing a new era in relations between the Catholic Church and every other culture and religion in the world. With the number of church-goers dwindling across the globe, the new pontiff believed that a fundamental change was essential within the Church’s way of thinking if it were to continue as a progressive force for good in people’s lives. Vincenzo agreed with this viewpoint wholeheartedly, for, Pope Adrian VII himself had proclaimed, ‘How can we spread the word of God if no one is listening?’
Though Vincenzo had never thought of himself as a liberal, there was no doubt in his mind that the Church needed a degree of change in its dialogue with the people, and this summit would provide a good start. Unfortunately, much of the media had portrayed the forthcoming event in a rather negative light with ill-thought-out headlines such as: ‘Adrian’s twenty-first century crusade’, and harping on about his wish to ‘create a new empire amongst Christian nations’.
Vincenzo shuddered at the thought, for Christianity was a force for good throughout the world and not just for Catholics, and tonight’s summit would begin to endorse that fact. After his inauguration, the Pope had immediately invited the leaders of the Muslim, Jewish Orthodox, Protestant religions, and all in between. It was a show of faith to everyone that in a modern world, the Catholic Church was more concerned with humanity’s progress as a whole rather than just on its own patch. The message was of right over wrong, good overcoming evil, and decency triumphing over the debasement common to all cultures, regardless of their beliefs. The ideology that the new Pope was preaching was, in Vincenzo’s mind, estimable, but he still felt a pang of doubt because the road to change was always painful, regardless of the final outcome.
It was the young priest Alberto who disturbed him from such thoughts. ‘Sorry about that, Cardinal, but I think it’s now set at the right pitch.’
Currently a student at one of the local churches in the Rieti district of Lazio, a mainly farming community, Alberto was a good-hearted young man, though occasionally a bit slow.
‘Which is it, Alberto? Do you think so, or are you sure?’
The priest glanced at him thoughtfully before replying with a swift nod of his head. ‘I’m sure, Cardinal.’
Vincenzo shot him a confident glance. ‘Good, then so am I. Now find out what that man is doing, and why?’ He pointed to a greasy, leathery-skinned builder who was about to drill a hole in one of the glossy marble pillars soaring up to the ceiling. ‘And hurry, please, before he does any damage.’
Alberto set off towards the workman, waving his hands in protest, leaving Vincenzo to survey the hive of activity around him. It was bad enough that the PA system should break down just hours before the summit was due to begin, but even worse that he himself had been tasked with rescuing the situation. Most of the evening’s VIPs were already meeting with Pope Adrian at his private quarters, another informal touch that the new pontiff had prearranged for his guests, so time was now of the essence.
As Vincenzo attempted to foresee any more problems likely to raise their heads, he found himself consumed with only two concerns. Firstly, what was Cardinal Rocca up to? At least he would have a chance to catch up with the man later, as they were both selected to attend the summit. But, secondly, where was Father Reed – and what had he learnt at the academy? Vincenzo had not spoken to him since yesterday’s discussion at the Governorate, and he was eager to get, as one of his young priests had put it, ‘the low-down’.
Chapter 39
Officer Rico L
ombardi slapped his report on to Superintendent Perone’s desk with a thud and headed back to the police station’s reception desk. He was still furious at having been charged with processing the day’s paperwork whilst the rest of the team tracked down the mobile signal they had got from Lupis’s SIM card. He let out an irritated sigh. ‘Fuck!’
His frustration caught the attention of a passing lieutenant, who raised his eyebrows disdainfully before heading off to wherever he was going.
‘What a shit end to a great day!’
Lombardi had never seen so much action since finishing his training over a year ago, and not being allowed to see it through to the end was truly painful.
He arrived in the main lobby to find the duty manager, Sergeant Anonzo, contently filling in forms.
‘How you feeling, kid?’
‘How would you feel getting left out at the last minute?’
The response drew a smile from the veteran officer, who replaced his pen in its holder and adjusted his thick, black-rimmed bifocal glasses. ‘Don’t let it get you down. You’ve done a good job today.’
‘Yeah, then why leave me behind here? To fill out the reports?’
Anonzo gave him a friendly slap on the back. ‘Because the superintendent trusts you to get the job done.’ He made a clicking sound from one corner of his mouth. ‘Plus you’re the youngest on the team, and they always get the shit jobs.’
Lombardi nodded unhappily because that was the truth right there. If he had been a year or so older, then you could bet he would be heading towards the Vatican right now, and some other shrub would be filling out that bullshit report. He took in a deep breath and expelled it through his nose, trying to release his frustration.
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