The Chimera Sanction

by André K. Baby

  ‘Sister, before we finish, could you please get me the bottle of aspirin?’

  ‘Of course,’ she snapped.

  As he waited for the nun to return, Dulac thought: maybe I should have held back and continued later. He knew that the trust he needed so badly was now, if not broken, at least seriously damaged. Suddenly, the nun rushed in.

  ‘I … I was sure I … I cannot find it anywhere. It’s gone.’

  Chapter 6

  While Dulac waited in the library for Dumont, the Swiss Guard, he went through the logic of the kidnappers’ plan. If drugs had been exchanged for the aspirins, how could they be sure the Pope would take them? The timing included the kidnappers’ infiltration onto the grounds and neutralizing the helicopter pilot and co-pilot. It also depended on the absolute certainty of the appearance of the Pope’s falling ill that night, between 10.30 p.m. and early morning, before the pilot and co-pilot would be missed. Only one thing was certain: the Pope drank water every night. Dulac couldn’t even be sure the pontiff had taken only the bottled water. Then there was the missing aspirin bottle. Had it been used to smuggle the drugs by someone having access to sister Vincenza’s room? Cardinal Signorelli…. Yet others could have had access to her unlocked room. But the kidnappers couldn’t know for sure that the Pope would take aspirin that night. Predictability was essential to their plan. Yet Cardinal Signorelli had ordered….

  Someone coughed. Dulac looked up to see the Swiss Guard, dressed in a blue uniform, standing in the doorway.

  ‘You must be Dumont,’ Dulac said.

  ‘Yes,’ said the blond, pale-complexioned young man.

  ‘Come in, come in. Please.’ Dulac offered him the chair in front of the desk. ‘Mr Dumont, I am Inspector Dulac of Interpol. Do you know why you’re here?’

  ‘Yes, Colonel Romer has briefed me. He mentioned that the Pope is resting in Gandolfo, but that an attempt may have been made on his life.’

  ‘Correct. Did you see anything unusual last night? Anything out of the ordinary?’

  ‘No,’ the guard said, as he squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.

  ‘Mr Dumont, how long have you been a Swiss Guard?’

  ‘Two years,’ said the young man, looking like an about-to-be-chastised schoolboy.

  ‘About the same time Cardinal Signorelli became secretary?’

  ‘He was already here when I joined.’

  ‘And what did you do before becoming a Swiss Guard?’

  ‘I worked on the family farm.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘In the Valais, near Sion.’

  ‘I see. Apart from last night, has anything unusual, out of pattern, happened in the past, say, two months?’

  ‘Not really, except we’ve been asked to extend our shifts by an hour.’ Dulac smiled at the guard’s perception of the unusual.

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘Colonel Romer.’

  ‘And why is that?’ Dulac said, elbows on the desk, hands clasped.

  ‘He says he has fewer men. We must make do. How is the Holy Father?’

  ‘He’s fine. That will be all, for now. Thank you for coming. If anything comes to mind, call me.’ Dulac handed him his card.

  The interview with Haeker, the other Swiss Guard on duty that fateful night, had proven just as inconclusive. Dulac now squarely faced the delicate prospect of questioning Cardinal Signorelli. He knew the reputation of the Vatican’s diplomats. Secrecy, evasiveness and ambiguity were their stock in trade. Inside the muted corridors of the Vatican, the saying went:

  If you can avoid it, don’t even think it.

  If you think it, don’t say it.

  If you say it, don’t write it.

  If you write it, well, don’t be sorry.

  ‘Good morning, your Eminence,’ said Dulac as he rose from behind the desk. He pointed to the chair. ‘Please.’

  The cardinal sat down slowly, his corpulence overflowing on either side of the small seat. The prelate was a tall man for an Italian. His chin, barely distinguishable under layers of fat, had a shallow dimple to remind one of its past location. The quiet brown eyes surmounted by overlapping, tightly drawn eyelids, his sensuous-lipped, enigmatic smile only heightened Signorelli’s resemblance to an overdressed Buddha. Dulac was about to discover, however, that behind the benign-looking façade resided a razor-sharp mind and a stratospheric IQ.

  ‘Have the staff been advised and sworn to secrecy?’ said Dulac.

  ‘Yes. The official line is that the Pope is resting in Castel Gandolfo. It’s being told on a need-to-know basis.’ Signorelli crossed his hands over his prominent belly and gave Dulac a condescending sneer.

  ‘Any reaction?’

  ‘Mr Dulac, it’s not the first time the Pope has interrupted his schedule to rest at Castel Gandolfo.’

  ‘But the swearing to secrecy. Didn’t that arouse suspicion?’

  ‘Not really,’ Signorelli said, looking bored.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘We often require members of the staff to assure us, let us say, of a certain amount of discretion.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  Signorelli leaned forward slightly and took the loose end of his fascia, as if to check its state of wear. Without looking up he said, ‘You might be surprised to learn, Mr Dulac, that not everyone wishes it to be known that they visited the Pope.’

  ‘I see.’

  Signorelli dropped the end of the fascia and looked up at Dulac. ‘And vice versa.’

  ‘I was about to ask.’

  Signorelli’s air of condescension had been replaced by a cold, hard stare. ‘Mr Dulac, you didn’t request this discussion purely to find this out, surely?’

  ‘Not exactly. Would you go through again, the sequence of events—’

  ‘Mr Dulac,’ interrupted the cardinal, ‘am I a suspect in this matter?’

  Dulac waited an instant before answering, trying to regain the tempo of the questioning. It wasn’t the first time a VIP had tried to embarrass him by cutting to the chase. ‘Does it make any difference if I say no?’

  ‘I suppose not,’ said Signorelli, his air haughty again as he inserted both thumbs between the part of the fascia around his waist and his bulging black cassock.

  ‘Glad we understand each other, your Eminence. So when did you enter the Pope’s apartment?’

  ‘I think around quarter to three. Cardinal Legnano phoned me.’

  ‘Did you see anything unusual in or outside the apartments last night?’

  ‘Not really, no.’

  ‘And before?’

  ‘Mr Dulac, you don’t have to pry from me the slightest anomaly or unusual behavior of anything or anyone. I’m as deeply concerned about this as you are, and have been racking my brain to see what and how this happened. Unfortunately, I’ve come up as empty-handed as you seem to be.’

  Swallowing the insult, Dulac smiled, his eyes still locked onto the cardinal. Dulac leaned forward, shoulders hunched, hands clasped on the desk. ‘Your Eminence, we both realize how delicate this is, but I’ve learned in my job that the mind plays tricks on the best of us. Something I might ask or say might trigger some seemingly insignificant thought or comment, which I might find vital. I know this is embarrassing, but it is necessary.’

  The cardinal sat silent, arms crossed, giving Dulac that supercilious smile of his again. Dulac changed gears and went for the jugular. ‘Did you have access to the Pope’s drinking water last night?’

  The prelate looked away, paused then said, ‘I suppose I did.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Mr Dulac, if you are insinuating that I put the drugs in the glass, I would first have to know when the water would be poured in order to avoid detection, wouldn’t I?’

  ‘Which you didn’t?’

  ‘No. My access would be limited to the time when Sister Vincenza poured it, and the Pope drank it. I would have either had to go to Sister Vincenza’s room before she poured it, in which case she would’ve seen the drugs in the glass, or
between the time she delivered it and the Pope opened the doors to his apartment and took the trolley.’

  Dulac saw instantly where the Cardinal was leading him. ‘And the Swiss Guards would’ve seen you.’

  ‘Go to the head of the class, Mr Dulac.’

  ‘Unless they weren’t there. Did you order aspirin for His Holiness last night?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I did. He said he felt stressed, so I spoke to Sister Vincenza. But you already know that since you interviewed her.’

  ‘I’m told she rarely locks her room. So anyone on that floor could have had access and substituted the dobutamine and arbutamine for the aspirin.’

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘Including you?’

  ‘I find your question insulting, inspector. I won’t even consider answering it.’

  ‘You already have, your Eminence. Thank you.’

  Inside the lower echelons of the Vatican’s administration, a vague, strained unease could be felt, but not identified. Following the Curia members’ meeting with the policemen, Sforza had returned dejectedly to his office. Unable to resolve the battle within his conscience between the divulgation and the keeping secret of the kidnapping, he’d requested another meeting with the cardinals in Legnano’s office.

  An hour later, Sforza entered the ornately decorated room, only to find the cardinals already waiting, an air of impatience sketched on their faces.

  ‘Where is Cardinal Signorelli?’ asked Sforza.

  ‘With Inspector Dulac,’ answered Legnano from behind his desk. ‘He’ll join us shortly.’

  ‘I’ll get right to the point, your Eminences. I think we are making a mistake. I think we should announce the kidnapping,’ said Sforza.

  Legnano bolted up from his chair. ‘We agreed not to, cardinal.’

  ‘People are already questioning the Castel Gandolfo story,’ said Sforza. ‘There’s bound to be a leak, and we will be seen, once again, as hiding the truth.’

  ‘Cardinal, may I remind you of St. Thomas Aquinas’ wise words,’ said Legnano. ‘When two moral principles oppose each other, find in your heart the greater one and apply it. Our greater responsibility here is to protect the Pope by helping the police.’

  An uneasy silence permeated the room.

  Undeterred, Sforza continued, ‘What if the Holy Father dies and we haven’t told the world about his abduction?’

  ‘Please, Monsignor, let’s not panic,’ said Legnano. ‘If we can buy another day for the police, we increase our chances of finding him, hopefully alive.’

  At that moment, Cardinal Signorelli entered the room.

  ‘Ah, cardinal,’ said Legnano. ‘We are debating whether or not we should reconsider disclosure. What do you think?’

  ‘Absolutely not. We must give the police every opportunity to find His Holiness,’ said Signorelli.

  ‘Any other votes for disclosure? None? The matter is settled,’ said Legnano. ‘We will announce only the theft of the helicopter. Cardinal Signorelli, please prepare the press release accordingly. It’s 11.55 a.m. Let’s reconvene at 1 p.m. and review the draft.’

  The Cardinals were preparing to leave when Archbishop Ferris, Cardinal Signorelli’s assistant, suddenly burst into the room. ‘Monsignori, I have a reporter from Corriere Della Sera on the line. He says he’s received information from a credible source that the Pope has been kidnapped. He’s asking us to confirm or deny.’

  Chapter 7

  Sicily, 10.30 a.m.

  The morning’s rays were shining through the villa’s angled porch windows and reflecting off the wall mirror, illuminating the dining room with their harsh light and casting a reflection on the video monitor encased into one of the walls. Sitting at the head of the table, Vespoli ordered Paola to close the shutters. While they waited for the videoconference to begin, the men sitting around the table conversed in hushed tones, acutely aware of the importance of the impending moment. Suddenly the video screen came to life. A dark human outline appeared on the screen and an electronically-altered voice spoke. ‘Messieurs, bonjour. I’m pleased to announce that Alpha phase was successfully completed yesterday, without incident. Beta phase has begun, and our guest is well. I spoke with him after breakfast yesterday and he asked the anticipated questions.’

  ‘Does he suspect—’ asked Vespoli.

  ‘Do not interrupt,’ said the voice. ‘As I foresaw, the Vatican chose not to divulge, trying to buy time. This morning, we forced their hand. Gamma phase has started. It will run concurrently with Beta. Meanwhile I have news from Gstaad. All is on schedule and I will be leaving for Switzerland to see for myself. Any questions?’

  ‘What about the doctor? Shouldn’t we get rid of him?’ said Vespoli.

  ‘He stays healthy,’ said the voice.

  ‘But he can identify any one of us.’

  ‘We will deal with that later. In the meantime, Vespoli, take good care of our guests, à bientôt.’ The video screen went blank.

  Dulac was downing a quick lunch at the Hotel Dante when the news of the Pope’s kidnapping hit the streets. Legnano called and summoned him back to the Vatican immediately. As Dulac’s taxi driver punched incessantly at his horn, trying to weave through the traffic on Via Della Conziliatione leading to St.Peter’s Square, Dulac’s cell rang.

  ‘It’s me,’ said Karen. ‘I just heard the news on France 2 TV.’

  ‘I couldn’t phone you. All hell is about to break loose. Up till now, we were all on a mum’s-the-word, need-to-know only basis.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘They’re preparing a press conference and a public address by Cardinal Fouquet, the Camerlengo. I’ll call you later.’ He flipped his phone shut.

  Dulac’s taxi approached the Vatican’s Sant’Anna entrance, and Dulac saw the thousands of faithful already milling about the Square in anxious expectation. At the far end, atop the steps leading to the Basilica, Swiss Guards had formed a line to prevent access.

  Dulac showed his pass to the guard at the entrance, and made his way to Legnano’s office.

  ‘Buongiorno, Mr Dulac,’ said Legnano as Dulac entered and nodded to the assembled prelates, Colonel Romer and Inspector Guadagni.

  ‘Any news from the armed forces?’ Dulac asked Guadagni.

  ‘Nothing, except a suspicious radio transcript overheard by a Rome weather station. We’re trying to trace it,’ said Guadagni.

  ‘What did it say?’ asked Dulac.

  ‘The voice said: “Tout va bien, Alpha phase now complete.”’

  ‘Monsignori, gentlemen, may I have your attention,’ said Legnano, a deep furrow on his brow and lines of stress along his cheeks and mouth. ‘Since we’ve been forced to go public, we have convened the press conference for 2 p.m. at the Old Study Room. Cardinal Sforza and his people are working on the press release now.’ He turned to the two inspectors. ‘Gentlemen, I ask that you join us for the conference.’

  ‘Of course, your Eminence,’ said Dulac. Guadagni nodded.

  ‘Fine,’ continued Legnano. ‘I will chair the meeting and direct questions, as appropriate. I need not remind you that we must be truthful, but reserved. If you don’t know the answer, don’t speculate. I will read the opening statement. Are there any questions? None. We’ll convene at the Old Study Room, at 1.50 p.m.’

  As the prelates started to disperse, Romer took Dulac aside and handed him an envelope. ‘It’s the people stream report on the Vatican’s personnel in the Pope’s immediate entourage, during the twenty-four hours preceding the abduction.’

  ‘Has Guadagni seen it?’ said Dulac, opening the envelope and taking out the thick report.

  ‘Yes,’ Romer said dryly.

  ‘Colonel, why don’t you save me wading through all this and give me a quick summary,’ said Dulac, pushing the report back into the envelope.

  ‘Very well. As far as we can find out, only four persons had access to the water supply between the time the bottle was opened and poured into the glass: the two Swiss Guards, Cardinal
Signorelli, and sister Vincenza.’

  ‘That doesn’t get us very far.’

  ‘Except for one thing.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘There is a permanent video camera taping the Swiss Guards during their rotation on guard. There is no sign of them, or anyone else for that matter, coming close to the tray at any time.’

  ‘Which suggests, if it’s the bottled water that was tampered with, it was done before that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And of course you don’t have a report on the tap water.’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘By the way, Colonel, where were you during that period?’

  ‘I knew you would ask. It’s in the report, page thirteen.’ Romer turned briskly and walked away.

  Not since Pope Pius VII in 1809, had a Pope been abducted. The world’s police forces were now reacting, inundating the Vatican’s security services with offers to access their data banks, alert functions, search and rescue teams, crisis management teams, forensics labs, and research centers. The overwhelmed Secretariat of the Vatican had urgently requested the help of Rome’s main police station, the Questura Centrale di Roma, to help sort out, prioritize, and redirect the huge volume of incoming calls. An otherwise divided world seemed to be galvanizing its efforts in a desperate search to find Pope Clement XXI, preferably alive.

  From his previous visit to the Vatican, Dulac remembered that the Old Study Room stood out as somewhat of an anomaly amidst the customary opulence of the Vatican’s richly decorated halls and rooms. Its bare columns supporting undecorated vaulted ceilings gave the place an impression of almost monkish, cloister-like austerity. Underneath, rows of wooden desks normally hosted scholars of the Vatican’s so-called Secret Archives, no longer very secret.

  Dulac followed Legnano, Sforza and the others as they entered and walked towards the table and chairs that had been set up temporarily at one extremity of the room. They were soon engulfed in chaos. Some reporters, seated at the rows of desks, were shouting like schoolboys while others, not content with the view, were standing on the desks, to the outraged but largely ineffective yelling of ‘sit down’ by their colleagues. To the sides, TV crews were busy setting up their cameras and microphone booms. The mob’s cacophony resonated loudly within the room’s arched colonnades and reverberated off its high-domed ceiling.