The waiter brought the cabaret with the drinks and set it on the table.
‘Give both scotches to him,’ said de Ségur, pointing to Dulac. The waiter did as ordered and left. ‘Besides my men and my doctors, you’re the first to know about my condition.’
‘Surely you didn’t—’
‘Yes, you’re right, Dulac. I didn’t fly you all the way to Belize to discuss with you my declining health and premature death. What I want, Dulac, is to die in France, in my native village of Montferrier. To die honorably in the presence of my Cathar friends and their families, and especially my grandchildren. Is that not a fair request, Dulac?’
Dulac looked at de Ségur askance. ‘Fair? Fairness is something I have difficulty associating with you. Where was fairness when you had archbishops Conti and Salvador murdered for what they were about to reveal on Chimera? Where was fairness when you had Olga Fedova killed by your hit man, leaving her four children destitute orphans in Moscow?’ Dulac’s voice heated up. ‘Where was your fairness when Chimera, headed by you, planted false flags all over Europe and murdered innocents by the hundreds? Shall I go on? Where was fairness when you had Romer, Aguar and Ascari killed, to cover your tracks in the kidnapping of Pope Clement XXI? No, fairness is really not part of my vocabulary with you.’
De Ségur put down his cigar and slowly drank another glass of water.
‘Dulac, I’m probably wasting my breath, but when will you see the bigger picture? Can’t you, for a moment, stop thinking like a robot they’ve trained you to be, at the Army school at Lyon they call Interpol, and think for yourself? Did you think I enjoyed the inevitable collateral damage? Do you think British soldiers in Iraq enjoy killing innocent bystanders when fighting the insurgents? Did you ever think it was for the greater good? Did you ever for one moment think that a better world might emerge, if the archaic, stifling rules by which a billion Catholics live today, were chucked and replaced by a set of more credible beliefs?’ De Ségur took another sip of water and continued. ‘How many Africans die of AIDS every year because your Pope Clement XXI still prohibits the use of contraceptives? Look around you. How many of these socalled Catholics actually practice their faith? One in a thousand? How many continue to pretend they believe in something they know, in the bottom of their hearts, to be unbelievable, unreasonable and ridiculous?’
‘So your strange, self-glorified messianic view supposedly justifies the means?’ said Dulac, reaching for his pack of Gitanes.
‘Spare me your obsolete, watered down, oversimplified rules of ethics, will you. Besides, isn’t that what Catholics have done all along? Isn’t that what they did against the Cathars, the Saracens, the Muslims and any religion that dared oppose them? I’m playing by their rules, Dulac. They invented collateral damage, not me.’
‘Times were different then. In case you haven’t noticed, the world has changed since.’ Dulac lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.
‘Not enough. Not nearly enough.’ De Ségur signaled the waiter for more water.
‘I didn’t come here to discuss theology with a meandering megalomaniac. What…?’
‘You’re right. Enough waste of my breath.’ De Ségur coughed heavily. ‘Damn these drugs. They’ll kill me before the disease does.’
‘So why did you send for me?’
‘I want you to negotiate on my behalf. I want—’
‘Just a damn minute. Why in the hell should I help you get anything?’
‘Because Dulac, I have something you want. Something the Curia wants desperately.’
‘If it’s the diary….’
‘It’s not the diary.’
‘No? What then?’
‘First, let’s get back to what I want in this deal.’
‘I’m dying to hear it.’
‘Your sarcasm again, Dulac.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean—’
‘You get me a postponement of my trial for just six months, that’s all I ask. Look at it this way: it’ll be saving the French taxpayer time and money. I won’t live long enough to go to trial. That way, my name is less muddied. My three grandchildren, Dulac. They’re Cathars. That’s all that matters to me now.’
‘Speaking of which, I want the names of your collaborators.’
‘Forget it, Dulac. You’ll have to find them yourself.’
‘And what, pray tell, do I get in return? What’s the quid pro quo for my alleged support?’
‘This is your quid pro quo, Dulac.’ De Ségur put his cellphone on speaker and dialed. ‘Albert?’
‘Yes, Mr de Ségur.’
‘Go to the room. Put him facing the computer’s minicam web camera.’
‘Yes sir.’
Moments later, Albert called back. ‘He’s on now. Can you see him?’
‘Yes.’ De Ségur handed Dulac his cellphone.
‘Jesus. It’s the Pope.’
‘Yes, the real one this time.’
Dulac sat thunderstruck. ‘I thought you said he was lost in the Bay of Benghazi?’
‘Correction. I said he became lost in the Bay of Benghazi. The stress of the amputation plus his near drowning when the Bellerophon sank were too much for him. He’s suffering from, what do they call it? “Severe post-traumatic stress”. I think that’s the proper medical term. Pope Clement XXI is, to put it kindly, “lost”.’
Chapter 39
His calls from Dulac and to the French Minister of Justice concluded, Cardinal Legnano went to the Segnatura room and broke the news to the cardinals.
‘He’s alive?’ asked Sforza.
‘Alive, but apparently mentally ill,’ said Legnano. ‘From what Dulac tells us, His Holiness is suffering from extensive post-traumatic stress.’
Signorelli spoke. ‘I’ve had Haeflinger check the encrypted cellphone they found in Cardinal Gonzales’s room. During the past two weeks he’s been calling Belize almost daily, and there are a number of calls to the same number from various telephones in the Vatican.’
‘My God,’ said Sforza.
‘What de Ségur is offering in exchange for the postponement of his trial is that we get the real Pope back to the Vatican here quickly, before the impostor dies, and we substitute him,’ said Legnano. ‘I’ve spoken with the French Minister of Justice and he agrees in principle. They would hold de Ségur in what they call ‘garde à vue’. Basically hold him under heavy surveillance, without charging him formally. They are willing to do so for four months only.’
‘Mio Dio, it’s beautiful. That way, the world will never know,’ said Sforza, the illuminated expression on his face bordering on the beatific.
‘Beautiful no, but ironic, definitely,’ said Fouquet smiling.
‘Ironic?’ queried Legnano.
‘Don’t you find it ironic that the real pope has a fake heart attack and survives, and the false pope has a real stroke and will most probably die?’
The prelates sat in silence. All understood the implications of de Ségur’s offer, and a sense of profound relief and satisfaction permeated the room. Words were superfluous.
Finally, Sforza broke the silence. ‘Tell Dulac to inform de Ségur that we agree.’
‘I already have, your Eminence,’ said Legnano. ‘De Ségur is waiting for a fax letter from the French Minister of Justice, whom I’ve called an hour ago. Minister George Berilet has scheduled an emergency meeting of the French Cabinet, and in principle has agreed to postpone de Ségur’s trial. They fully realize the urgency of the situation. As part of the agreement, de Ségur will hire a private jet to fly Dulac and His Holiness directly to the Guidonia Air base. The plane will arrive here late tomorrow morning. Haeflinger and his men will be there to receive His Holiness, and bring him to the Clinic. If all goes well, His Holiness will arrive before, well … before anything happens at the clinic.’
‘What about the diary? De Ségur has our money,’ said Sforza.
‘Dulac tried to get hold of it. Apparently de Ségur wouldn’t back down,’ said Legnano. ‘De Ségur insists h
e needs it as an insurance policy against the French government changing its mind and prosecuting early. He’s left a special provision in his will: the diary is to be auctioned off shortly after his death.’
After a long moment, Signorelli, Fouquet, Sforza, and Legnano got up one by one and left the Segnatura room. Led by Legnano, they walked, not hurriedly, in the direction of the Basilica. A general feeling of well-being permeated their beings. They had hoped and prayed for a miracle and it had happened. The papacy had come to a hair’s breadth of collapsing, but in the end, stronger than the will of mere mortals, fate (some will say God) had intervened and decided for them. In a most strange way order, if not truth, had triumphed. At least for the moment.
The cardinals entered the Basilica, made their way to the gigantic, black marble Bernini altar and one by one, knelt down before it. For once in a very, very long time, they prayed together and gave thanks to the Lord.
Epilogue
On June 29, a Bombardier jet coming from Belize landed at Guidonia Air Force Base briefly, before resuming its flight to Paris. During the brief interval, a man with a heavily bandaged face was taken off the plane in a wheelchair, into a van carrying him to the Agostino Gemelli Clinic. He was admitted there under the name of David Silverman, an Israeli whose occupation was listed as actor, suffering from a stroke. Three days after being admitted, the hospital records show that said David Silverman died of a second stroke. No relatives could be found to claim the body, so according to Jewish law, it was cremated two days after his death.
The Vatican, ‘L’Osservatore Romano,’ July 2
Page 1
‘After a fight for his life, the Pope was taken out of his coma, and underwent surgery to relieve pressure on his brain. The doctors classified his recovery as ‘miraculous’, under the circumstances. They have prescribed an undetermined period of rest for the pontiff: it appears that the stress of the operation on his brain has caused the pontiff to suffer from disorientation and cognitive difficulties. Cardinal Fouquet announced today that the ecumenical council, summoned by Pope Clement the 21st shortly before his stroke, has been postponed indefinitely. As Camerlengo, Cardinal Fouquet has taken over the pontiff’s duties until His Holiness is able to return to office.’
Page 2
‘Cardinal Estevan Gonzales, recently nominated head of the Congregation for the Promulgation of the Faith, has resigned yesterday for health reasons. His predecessor Cardinal Eugenio Brentano has temporarily taken over his previous functions, while awaiting a decision from the Pope.
Paris, Sotheby’s, October 27
At a recent auction for certain items belonging to the estate of the late Hugues de Ségur, a book entitled ‘My Diary,’ written by Hans-Georg Weber, ex-Nazi SS officer stationed in Naples during WWII, fetched 75,000 Euros, thereby setting a new record for a war officer’s diary. Sotheby’s representative indicated that the buyer wished to remain anonymous.
Lyon, Le Progrès, December 18, page 4
‘During the annual General Assembly meeting of Interpol held today at Interpol’s headquarters, General Secretary Richard Harris’s four year mandate was not renewed. Instead, Jean Martignet, a twenty year veteran of the French Sureté, was elected in his place. Among staff members interviewed about the nomination, there was a general feeling of acceptance, as Martignet has promised to modernize the organization and lead it into the 21st century. One of his first projects will be to incorporate anew the function of Director of Crimes against Persons, previously abolished by his predecessor. According to well-informed sources, recently reinstated Interpol agent Thierry Dulac is the front-runner candidate for the post.’
Sarah Lawrence College, Bronxville, New York, December 20 ‘The Hard Way’ college newspaper, page 4
‘Dean Joanna Tooms of the Anthropology and Mythology Faculty is pleased to announce the return of Doctor Karen Dawson to the faculty. After spending four years teaching at La Sorbonne, Professor Dawson has accepted a post teaching at the pre-doctoral level, in replacement of Professor Li Yung Sun who has returned to Seoul.’
Copyright
© Andre K. Baby
First published in Great Britain 2014
ISBN 978 0 7198 1503 4 (epub)
ISBN 978 0 7198 1504 1 (mobi)
ISBN 978 0 7198 1505 8 (pdf)
ISBN 978 0 7198 1304 7 (print)
Robert Hale Limited
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The right of Andre K. Baby to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
The Chimera Sanction Page 29