Killing Orders

by Sara Paretsky

  I wasn’t, not really. Somehow I couldn’t re-create the terror I’d felt earlier dealing with O’Faolin. All I could think of was Father Carroll’s probable reaction to my antics in his chapel.

  But at three-thirty I’d followed Uncle Stefan into the backseat of Murray’s Pontiac Fiero.

  We reached the chapel early and were able to get seats in the front row behind the wooden screen. I was assuming that Rosa, hard at work on priory finances, would attend the service, but I didn’t want to run the risk of her recognizing me, even in the gloomy half light, by turning around and peering.

  Around us people joined in the service, knowing which chants permitted group singing, which ones were solo performances. The four of us sat quietly.

  When the offertory announced the beginning of the mass, my heart started beating faster. Shame, fear, anticipation all crowded together. Next to me Uncle Stefan continued to breathe calmly while my palms turned wet and my breath came in short, gasping chunks.

  Through the rood screen I could see the priests forming a large semicircle around the altar. Pelly and O’Faolin stood side by side, Pelly small, intent, O’Faolin tall and self-assured, the chief executive officer at an office picnic. O’Faolin wore a black cassock instead of the white Dominican robe. He was not part of the order.

  We let the congregation file past us to receive communion. When Rosa’s ramrod back and cast-iron hair marched by, I gently nudged Uncle Stefan. We stood up together and joined the procession.

  Some half dozen priests were passing out wafers. At the altar the procession split as people quietly went to the man with the fewest communicants in front of him. Uncle Stefan and I moved behind Rosa to Archbishop O’Faolin.

  The archbishop wasn’t looking at people’s faces. He had performed this ritual so many times that his mind was far from the benevolent superiority of his face. Rosa turned to go back to her seat. She saw me blocking her path and gave an audible gasp. It brought O’Faolin abruptly to the present. His startled gaze went from me to Uncle Stefan. The engraver grabbed my sleeve and said loudly.

  “Victoria! This man helped to stab me.”

  The archbishop dropped the ciborium. “You!” he hissed. His eyes glittered. “You’re dead. So help me God, you’re dead.”

  A camera flashed. Cordelia Hull on the job. Murray, grinning, held up his microphone. “Any more comments for posterity, Archbishop?”

  By now the mass had come to a complete halt. One of the more level-headed young brothers had leaped to retrieve the spilled communion wafers from the floor before they were stepped on. The few remaining communicants stood gaping. Carroll was at my side.

  “What is the meaning of this, Miss Warshawski? This is a church, not a gladiator’s arena. Clear these newspaper people so we can finish the mass. Then I’d like to see you in my office.”

  “Certainly, Prior.” My face felt red but I spoke calmly. “I’d appreciate it if you’d bring Father Pelly along, too. And Rosa will be there.” My aunt, rooted at my side, now tried to make for the door. I held her thin wiry arm in a grasp tight enough to make her wince. “We’re going to talk, Rosa. So don’t try to leave.”

  O’Faolin started justifying himself to Carroll. “She’s mad, Prior. She’s dug up some old man to hurl accusations at me. She thinks I tried to kill her and she’s been persecuting me ever since I came out to the priory.”

  “That’s a lie,” Uncle Stefan piped up. “Whether this man is an archbishop I couldn’t say. But that he stole my stocks and watched a hoodlum try to kill me, that I know. Listen to him now!”

  The prior held up his arms. “Enough!” I hadn’t known the gentle voice could carry so much authority. “We’re here to worship the Lord. These accusations make a mockery of the Lord’s Supper. Archbishop, you will have your turn to speak. Later.”

  He called the congregation to order, and gave a pithy homily on how the devil could be at our side to tempt us even at the very gates of heaven, and had everyone join in a group confession. Still holding on to Rosa, I moved away from the center of the chapel to one side. As the congregation prayed, I watched O’Faolin head toward the exit behind the altar. Pelly, standing near him, looked wretched. If he left now with O’Faolin, he made a public statement of complicity. If he stayed behind, the archbishop would never forgive him. His choices flitted across his intense, mobile face with the clarity of a stock quotation on an electronic ticker. At length, his cheeks flushed with misery, he joined his brothers in the final prayers and filed silently with them from the chapel.

  As soon as Carroll was out of sight, the congregation burst into loud commentary. Above the clatter I listened for a different sound. It didn’t come.

  Rosa started muttering invectives at me in a loud undertone.

  “Not here, Auntie dear. Save it for the prior’s study.” With Stefan and Murray on my heels, I guided my aunt firmly through the gaping, chattering crowd to the hallway door. Cordelia stayed behind to get a few group photos.

  Pelly was sitting with Carroll and Jablonski. Rosa started to say something when she saw him, but he shook his head and she shut up. Power in the word. If we were all still alive at the end of the session, I might try to hire him as her keeper.

  As soon as we were seated, Carroll demanded to know who Murray and Uncle Stefan were. He told Murray that he could stay only on condition that none of the conversation was either recorded or reported. Murray shrugged. “Then there isn’t much point in my staying.”

  Carroll was adamant. Murray acquiesced.

  “I tried to get Xavier to join us but he is getting ready to go to the airport and refuses to say anything. I want an orderly explanation from the rest of you. Starting with Miss Warshawski.”

  I took a deep breath. Rosa said, “Don’t listen to her, Father. She is nothing but a spite-filled-”

  “You will have your turn, Mrs. Vignelli.” Carroll spoke with such cold authority that Rosa surprised herself by shutting up.

  “This tale has its roots some thirty-five years ago in Panama,” I told Carroll. “At that time, Xavier O’Faolin was a priest working in the Barrio. He was a member of Corpus Christi and a man of deep ambition. Catherine Savage, a young idealistic woman with a vast fortune, joined Corpus Christi under his persuasion and turned most of her money into a trust for the use of Corpus Christi.

  “She met and married Thomas Paciorek, a young doctor in the service. She spent four more years in Panama and developed a lasting interest in a seminary where Dominicans could continue the work she and O’Faolin had undertaken among the poor.”

  As I got well into my story, I finally started relaxing. My voice came out without a tremor and my breathing returned to normal. I kept a wary eye on Rosa.

  “Toward the end of her stint in Panama, a young man came to the Priory of San Tomás who shared her passion and her idealism. Not to spin out the obvious, it was Augustine Pelly. He, too, joined Corpus Christi. He, too, fell under Xavier O’Faolin’s influence. When O’Faolin’s ambition and acuity got him a coveted promotion to Rome, Pelly followed and served as his secretary for several years-not a typical venue for a Dominican friar.

  “When he rejoined his brothers, this time in Chicago, he met Mrs. Vignelli, another ardent, if very angry, soul. She, too, joined Corpus Christi. It gave some meaning to an otherwise bitter life.”

  Rosa made an angry gesture. “And if it is bitter, whose fault is that?”

  “We’ll get to that in a moment,” I said coldly. “The next important incident in this tale took place about three years ago when Roberto Calvi, prompted by his own internal devils, set up some Panamanian subsidiaries for the Banco Ambrosiano, using over a billion dollars in bank assets. When he died, that money had completely disappeared. We probably will never know what he meant to use it for. But we do know where much of it is now.”

  As I sketched the transactions between Figueredo and O’Faolin and the effort to take over Ajax, I continued to strain for sounds in the background. I stole a look at my watch.
Six o’clock. Surely..

  “That brings me to the forgeries, Prior. That they played a role in the takeover, I feel certain. For it was to stop my investigation that O’Faolin dug up a petty hoodlum named

  Walter Novick. He got him to throw acid at me and to burn my apartment building down. Indeed, it was sheer luck that kept seven people from being murdered by his mania to stop my investigation into the forgeries.

  “What puzzles me is Rosa’s role and that played by her son, Albert. I can only think that Rosa didn’t know the forgeries had been put in the safe by Corpus Christi until after she called me in to investigate. Suddenly, and with uncharacteristic humility, she tried to get me out of the case. She wouldn’t discuss it. She mouthed pieties. Yet initially she was so fearful of an FBI frame-up that she forced me to listen to repeated insults in order to clear her blameless character.”

  Rosa could contain herself no longer. “Insults! Why should I ask you for help? What have I not suffered at the hands of that whore who called herself your mother!”

  “Rosa.” This was Pelly. “Rosa. Calm yourself. You do the Church no favor with these accusations.”

  Rosa was beyond his influence. The demon that had rocked her sanity two weeks ago was too close to her now. “I took her in. Oh, how I was betrayed. Sweet Gabriella. Beautiful Gabriella. Talented Gabriella.” Her face contorted in an angry mimicry. “Oh, yes. The darling of the family. Do you know what your precious Gabriella did? Did she ever have the courage to tell you? Not she, filthy whore.

  “She came to me. I took her in from the goodness of my heart. I was forty and my belly was swollen with child. What did I want with a baby? I hated men. Hated their foul hands touching me in the night. I, who kept myself pure and childless, destroyed by the lusts of your uncle. Carrying my shame for all the world to see.

  “Did she pity me? Not she! While I worked my fingers to the bone for her, she seduced my husband. If I would divorce him, he would take my child. He would support me. Only let him live with his sweet, talented Gabriella.”

  Spit was flecking her lips. We all sat, unable to think of anything that might stop the flow.

  “So I threw her into the street. Who would not have? I made her promise to disappear and leave no word. Yes, she had that much shame. And what did Carl do? He shot himself.

  Shot himself because of a whore from the streets. Left me alone with Albert. That whore, that shameless one!”

  She was screaming louder and louder, repeating herself now. I stumbled into the hallway to find a washroom. As I staggered along, catching the bile in my hands, I felt Carroll’s arm around me, guiding me to a tiny dark room with a sink. I couldn’t talk, couldn’t think. Heaving, gasping for air, choking up images of Gabriella. Her beautiful, haunted face. How could she think my father and I would not forgive her?

  Carroll wiped my face with cold towels. Gradually the terrible shuddering stopped. Leading me to a small room, he sat me on a sofa. He disappeared for a few minutes, then returned with a cup of green tea. I gulped it gratefully.

  “I need to finish this conversation,” he said. “I need to find out why Augustine did what he did. For it must have been he who put the forged certificates in the safe. Your aunt is fundamentally a pitiable creature. Can you be strong enough to keep that in mind and help me end this story as fast as possible?”

  “Oh, yes.” My voice was hoarse from gagging. “Yes.” My weariness amazed me. If I could forget this day… And the sooner it ended the sooner it would go away. I dragged myself up again, shook off Carroll’s supportive arm. Followed him back into the study.

  Pelly, Murray, and Stefan were still there. From the prior’s closed inner office Rosa’s screams came in a mind-shattering stream.

  Uncle Stefan, pale and shaking, rushed to my side and began murmuring various soothing things at me in German I thought I heard the word chocolate and smiled in spite of myself.

  Murray said to Carroll, “Jablonski is in there with her. He’s called for an ambulance.”

  “Just as well.” Carroll moved the rest of us back to the small room where he’d given me tea. Pelly could scarcely walk. His normally sunburned face was pale and his lips kept moving meaninglessly. Rosa’s demented outburst had shaken the remains of his self-confidence. The story he told Carroll confirmed my analysis.

  They needed money to acquire Ajax. Mrs. Paciorek was supplying as much as she could, but it wasn’t enough. Besides, they didn’t want to get the SEC involved too early by having all the purchases come from one source.

  Pelly knew about the five million in blue chip shares in the priory safe. He wrote to O’Faolin, saying he would be glad to use them, but didn’t want to arouse suspicions by their disappearing. Several months later, the forgeries arrived in the mail. Who created them he didn’t know, but presumably it was done under O’Faolin’s direction. Pelly substituted them for the real ones in the safe. After all, the shares hadn’t been used in a decade or more. The chances were good that the Ajax purchase would long since have become history when the deception was discovered.

  Unfortunately, he was out of town when the chapter voted to sell the shares so they could build a new roof. When he returned from his annual retreat in Panama, it was to find the priory in an uproar and Rosa fired from her position as treasurer. He called Rosa and told her to dismiss me, that Corpus Christi knew all about the forgeries and would protect her.

  “Xavier came to Chicago a few days later,” he muttered miserably, unable to look at either me or Carroll. “He-he took over things at once. He was most annoyed with me for letting so much publicity escape over the forgeries, especially because he said the amount was trivial compared to what we needed. He was annoyed, too, that-that Warshawski here was still poking around in the situation. He told me he’d take over, that he would see-see that she stopped. I just assumed she was a Catholic-Warshawski, you know-that she would be persuaded by an archbishop. I didn’t know about the acid. Or the arson. Not until much later, anyway.”

  “The FBI investigation,” I croaked hoarsely. “How did O’Faolin put the brakes on that?”

  Pelly smiled wretchedly. “He and Jerome Farber were good friends. And Mrs. Paciorek, of course. Among them, they have a lot of influence in Chicago.”

  No one spoke. Beyond the heavy silence, we could hear the sirens of Rosa’s ambulance.

  Carroll’s face, strained and grief-stricken, rebuked any comment. “Augustine. We’ll talk later. Go to your room now and meditate. You will have to talk to the FBI. After that, I don’t know.”

  As Pelly wrapped himself in what dignity he could, I heard the sound I had been waiting for. A dull roar, an explosion muffled by distance and stone walls.

  Murray looked at me sharply. “What was that?”

  He and Carroll got to their feet and looked uncertainly at the door. I stayed where I was. A few minutes later, a young brother, red-haired and panting, hurled himself into the room. The front of his white habit was streaked with ash.

  “Prior!” he gasped. “Prior! I’m sorry to interrupt. But you’d better come. Down at the gates. Quickly!”

  Murray followed the prior from the room. A story he could use. I didn’t know what had happened to Cordelia Hull and her camera, but no doubt she was close at hand.

  Uncle Stefan looked at me doubtfully. “Should we go, Victoria?”

  I shook my head. “Not unless you have a taste for bomb sites. Someone just set off a radio bomb in O’Faolin’s car.” I hoped to God he was on his own, that no brother was with him. Yes, Archbishop. No one is lucky forever.

  XXVIII

  The Myth of Iphigenia

  FERRANT LEFT FOR England the day of the first real thaw. He had stayed long enough to install a proper vice-president of special risks at Ajax. Long enough to help me furnish my new apartment.

  His check for stopping the takeover was the largest fee I’d ever collected. It easily paid for a Steinway grand to replace Gabriella’s old upright. It didn’t cover the cost of a co-op. But a
few days after O’Faolin’s death, an envelope containing twenty-five crisp thousand-dollar bills arrived in my office mail. No note, no return address. It seemed churlish to try to trace it. Anyway, I’d always wanted to own my own home. Roger helped me find a co-op on Racine near Lincoln, in a clean, quiet little building with four other units and a well-cared-for lobby.

  For nearly a week after the bombing I spent most of my time in the Federal Building. Talking to the FBI, talking to the SEC. When I wasn’t there, I was with Mallory. His pride was badly wounded. He wanted to assuage it by getting my license revoked, but my lawyer easily put a stop to that. What hurt Bobby the most was a letter he got from Dr. Paciorek. A suicide note, really, pouring out guilt and grief over the doctor’s wife and daughter. They found Catherine’s body in front of the family room fire. His was in the study. Murray told me more about it than I wanted to know.

  After that, I didn’t have anything to do except sleep and eat and furnish the new place. I didn’t like to think too much. About Rosa, or my mother, or the ugliness I’d found in myself that night with Walter Novick in the snow. Roger helped keep the thoughts at bay. At least during the day. He couldn’t do much about my dreams.

  After dropping him at the airport, I felt empty and lonely. And scared. Roger had kept some demons away. Now I’d have to deal with them. Maybe I’d do it some place else, though. Take Uncle Stefan up on his offer to go to the Bahamas for a week. Or fly to Arizona and watch the Cubs go through spring training.

  I sat in front of the apartment for a while, playing with the keys in the ignition. Across the street the door of a dark green Datsun opened. The car seemed familiar, with its creased fender and scratched paint. Lotty crossed the street and stood in front of the Omega, looking unlike herself, looking for once as small as a five-foot-tall person should. I climbed out of the Omega and locked the door.