The HolyPhone Confessional Crisis

by Charles Brett

  “I may have uncovered something. Let me do some more work. Did you say he had a record in Interpol?”

  “Yes, he should have, but it will be long dead.”

  “Okay. Leave it with me. I will let you know if this leads anywhere.”

  Caterina put down her phone and connected to the Interpol systems. She did not have unrestricted access from Monteverde but she could authorise someone inside to do the search for her.

  Nearly half an hour later a secure email appeared with a negative for searches on Weissman, Weissmann and Witzmann but enclosing details for someone called Noach Weizmann, Israeli and once a resident of New York suspected of participation in the demise of an Arab bank there – but with no evidence to support or refute this.

  Caterina thought. This was suspicious. She picked up the phone and called Lyons again, explaining what she needed. The bad news was that it was already the weekend in Israel but Sunday was a working day. She would have to wait until then.

  Cursing with frustration she turned back to her data, feeling energised and impatient. She decided not to tell Conor yet, never mind Davide. It might prove to be nothing.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Monday, Monteverde

  Davide woke up. His mobile phone was ringing. Groggily he answered it.

  “Who is it? What time is it?”

  “Wake up, Davide. Be down in reception with a travel bag packed in thirty minutes. We are booked on a 7 a.m. flight from Fiumicino to Madrid and need to hurry. Bring enough to last for two to three days. We are not checking-out of here, though I will arrange some additional security for our common room. That is my next task. Caterina is the reason we are going to Madrid, so you can blame her, not me.”

  With much groaning Davide managed to get himself showered, dressed, packed and downstairs in just over thirty minutes. He found a twitchy Conor and Caterina pacing up and down.

  “The taxi is outside. Let’s go. I will fill you in, obscurely, if you do not mind, on the way to the airport.”

  Outside, Davide placed his only bag, with laptop, beside the other two’s. He was pleased that he looked in better shape than them, as they had caught no sleep and taken no shower either. Actually they looked as if they were in yesterday’s clothes, with Conor as rumpled as you would expect of an Irishman. Caterina appeared tired and excited at the same time. Her shirt was rumpled but those trousers fitted tightly without a crease able to show.

  In the taxi Conor started with, “Caterina found a connection on Friday. A guy called Weizmann worked on parts of the HolyPhone development, which were supposed to be separate. She spoke with colleagues in Lyons and established that this Weizmann may also be the guy who crashed the bank in New York. She asked Lyons to ask the Israelis if they could find him – she had a passport number that he gave as part of his clearances to work on the HolyPhone project.

  “The Israelis tracked him down to a small village in Northern Israel and were good enough to see if he was there in case we wanted to talk with him. They came back late yesterday afternoon saying that, according to a neighbour, he is in on holiday Spain with his wife and children, apparently visiting the Jewish Quarter in Toledo before going to meet his sister-in-law near the burial place of Charles V and is due to return next week. The location meant nothing to me. I thought we would just wait until he was back in Israel before visiting.

  “Caterina called me just before eleven last night. After looking at where Severino has been travelling, in case she could find a pattern, it transpires he was in Israel a few weeks back when he told Father Federico and his boss that he was in Eastern Europe. According to Caterina, who can certainly find out such things, Severino is now in Spain. Coincidence?

  “Then she called Father Federico, yes, at that ungodly time of night, asking if he knew why. The good Father replied that Severino had said he was going to visit an Opus Dei colleague to discuss how Santofonino income is invested in the reinsurance world. For some reason Severino mentioned that he was meeting this Opus Dei Numerary or ex-Numerary or something at a place called Yuste. This rang a bell with Father Federico, who must be a student of history or perhaps of weird facts. He remembered that he had asked Severino if he was planning to visit the monastery where Carlos I of Spain is buried, and continued by explaining that this is how the Spanish refer to him, but the rest of Europe thinks of him as Charles V and Holy Roman Emperor. Severino was clearly ignorant of any of this but did say he was staying at the country house of the Opus Dei member who is some form of lady noble. Being American he had no clue as to what sort or rank.

  “We decided the chance of coincidence was too great to miss. While I looked for flights and contacted Lyons, Caterina used the Internet to work out that Yuste is a small place and that there is indeed a local Condesa, a lady count apparently though you should know, whose family has owned land there for generations. Don’t ask me how she found all this in minutes. That confirmed it for me, so we are on our way to see who we can talk to.”

  By the time he finished recounting all this Caterina was asleep.

  He looked at her, saying, “I won’t admit this to her face but she has done really well these last ten days, especially now. This might be our lucky break after our recent frustrations. It was an amazing leap to think of calling Father Federico and putting the picture together so fast. She even discovered that this Condesa is a partner in a Spanish reinsurance firm. She’s as smart as she is pretty, though you must never think of telling her that I said so.”

  “I heard you, you miserable old git. And thank you. I think.”

  Conor and Davide looked at each other. The next they heard was gentle snoring.

  “I wonder if she will remember?”

  Davide looked at her again. Asleep, her hard-driving expression had disappeared. She looked almost normal with her face relaxed.

  “I certainly hope not,” responded Conor. “Why, what do you think I’ve done?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s too late now. Your goose is firmly cooked and there’s no going back. In any case, what happens when we arrive in Madrid?”

  “I’m not sure. Either we rent a car and drive to Yuste, or, if we are lucky, my colleagues will have arranged to have us picked up and someone will drive us there. One thing I forgot to say is that she” – pointing at Caterina – “also found out that Severino is due back tomorrow, which may mean he leaves today or on a flight tomorrow. That is another uncertainty among so many others.”

  Monday, El Roble, Yuste

  Inma woke with the sun pouring into her bedroom, just as she liked. It was in the corner of the old farmhouse with windows looking east and south. It was why she chose this room for her bedroom, which was almost large enough to be a suite. She loved the light, especially as it filtered through oaks and chestnuts. She also liked looking across the plain to the south, towards the Rio Tiétar valley (not that she could see it), and beyond to the Rio Tajo, as these drained the south-facing Gredos mountains. This was her real home, where she felt private and herself. She had made this finca from a ruin and loved it.

  Then it hit her. The last four days had been nothing like she expected. Everything had changed.

  The arrival of Miriam had not gone as Inma hoped. Miriam had accepted her invitation to come early and leaving a couple of days later than the others. This had suited Inma well and the prospect of convincing someone to become a part of Opus Dei had filled the time before Miriam’s arrival with warm feelings of anticipated satisfaction. She had thought that a day of softening up before Michele plus Noach and his wife and children arrived would allow them both to start down the road to Miriam adopting Opus Dei and vice versa after they left.

  That was not how it had turned out. Inma had picked up Miriam at Barajas on the Thursday morning. As in Israel, Miriam travelled well. She was dressed simply, this time in a slim-cut skirt with a colourful blouse that set off her looks well. She had brought good walking and running shoes plus outdoor clothes, especially as Inma had warned that the Gredos cou
ld be cool at night. They had arrived at the El Roble finca a little after midday to find her housekeeper had left out a light lunch. After that they changed and went walking up in the hills behind the finca, with Miriam asking Inma how she had obtained and restored it.

  Thinking she was being clever, she intentionally had made no real mention of Opus Dei, other than referring to its help during her career, which in turn had provided the discipline and then the means to do up El Roble. She told Miriam about the deaths of first her brothers and then parents and how she had been left obligation-rich and cash-poor with a meaningless title, two younger sisters to support and marry-off, plus a bunch of largely useless debt-encumbered properties that her father and grandfather previously had refused to sell. What had really saved them was the property boom on the Costas. Her maternal grandmother had been left, years back, a slice of barren and rocky coastline north of Barcelona that everyone regarded as worthless. The Germans, however, had descended on the Costa Brava and her father’s unwillingness to sell meant that by the time she needed to make money this was worth a small fortune. By splitting the property into three tranches she had tripled the value of the third and least good part over the first. Now that rocky coast line was covered with extravagant, ugly villas for northern Europeans to use occasionally, but it had saved her family financially.

  As Inma had continued to describe, the practical impact was enormous. She had been able to pay off the immediate family debts. That bought her time to dispose of the other family liabilities, usually just about breaking even or making a small gain. She had seen both sisters through their education and later paid for their weddings. And, amongst the various family holdings, she had found two decrepit apartments in Madrid as well as this, at that time a rundown finca with no roof and possibilities a kilometre high. She did not think anybody in generations had visited. Why would they? When she first saw El Roble it was overgrown with none of the garden or terraces or sightlines it possessed today. Over four years she had slowly redone it, adding guest accommodation to the rear as well as making it summer proof when the thick stone walls kept it cool, and winter proof with large wood burning stoves and a clever solar system that kept the temperature constantly around fifteen degrees centigrade, with no daily electricity or gas cost.

  Miriam seemed impressed. Not only had they walked up behind the house but they also headed round the gardens, inspected the small swimming pool discreetly installed behind medium-sized hedges, before going inside. Miriam proved a good listener as well as an intelligent questioner. Inma had not felt so well-treated in a long time as Miriam had drawn her out about what she had done in the past. There was no talk of the future or anything of personal beliefs, or much about Miriam herself, never mind Michele.

  Inma had felt sure she was making a good impression and that later she would be able to start some discussion that underlined why Opus was so important and how it would help Miriam and her soul.

  Inma had, therefore, been disappointed when in the late afternoon Miriam asked to rest. Inma had forgotten that Miriam had flown overnight and felt foolish. It was her own selfish fault. She took Miriam upstairs where there were three bedrooms, each with its own bathroom, though the other two were nowhere near as grand as her own. Inma explained that one of her sisters had used the room Miriam would stay in when younger but when she came now she stayed in the guest houses with her husband and children.

  What Inma had not told Miriam was that normally she kept this floor private. She had also chosen not to show Miriam the discreet chapel she had had built off the landing behind a locked door. That could wait until after making further progress. Or so she had anticipated.

  During a light and swift dinner the conversation had focused on Miriam’s father, on what Opus Dei was doing with its money, and the anticipated arrival of the others. Miriam had some ideas but declined to discuss them. She thanked Inma profusely for inviting Judith and the boys as well as Noach before returning to bed.

  The following morning there was some modest progress regarding Opus. Miriam asked questions and Inma felt able to open up. But, just as she thought she was making headway on her unofficial agenda, Judith arrived with Noach and the boys. They had left Toledo early because the children were no longer interested in seeing more Jewish remains, however much they fascinated Noach, and Judith to a lesser degree. After the five were installed in the larger guest house, Miriam’s attention switched to her sister and nephews. She had volunteered to take them to the pool, even if it was really an over-large bath in Miriam’s eyes. Fortunately the same solar system that kept the house warm in winter was used in late spring and early autumn to keep the pool heated.

  Instead Inma had been left with a grumpy Noach until Michele arrived, this time on schedule. This at least spared her having to be with Noach alone, something she did not feel comfortable with. She had shown Michele to the smaller guest house before going with him to meet Miriam by the pool. When he saw Miriam in her bikini she noticed how his eyes lit up, as should not happen with a good Catholic priest. Inma thought she saw some form of reciprocation, yet Miriam had been formal and proper, covering herself in a towel to preserve her sensibilities. Well done, Miriam, she had thought to herself at the time. You have the right attitude to be part of Opus.

  The rest of the weekend had proved badly disappointing. No progress had been made on coming up with a solution to calm da Ferraz’s fears. No leak had been found. By Saturday evening it was agreed that there was no point in continuing this weekend.

  Michele decided to leave on Sunday morning as he had other business to attend to whilst available in Madrid on Monday, also meaning he could still be back in Rome by that evening as planned. Steadily he had become increasingly uncomfortable around Miriam. One moment he seemed intent on finding time to be with her privately – Inma had heard him inviting her to talk with him in his guest house – while the next he almost seemed to be avoiding her. For her part, Miriam seemed stressed in his company in ways that Inma had not seen in Israel. Had they been in touch? Had they done more than that? She realised that she had invited Miriam into the main house deliberately, to keep her away from any further temptation that might spoil her for Opus Dei,

  At the same time the boys had been becoming ever more restless. Noach and Judith decided to take them to an adventure park outside Madrid before their scheduled Monday flight back to Tel Aviv.

  In one sense Inma had been relieved to see all but Miriam go yesterday morning. She originally feared that Miriam would want to go with her sister but two days with her nephews in a strange place removed that distraction. She next worried that Miriam might depart with Michele, yet there had been no real evidence to support her fear of this. The good news was that before lunch on Sunday Inma knew she would have the rest of the day, plus Monday and some of Tuesday, to convince Miriam.

  That had been her plan. And now it and much more was totally irrelevant. Whatever was she going to do?

  Monday, El Roble, Yuste

  Miriam had not enjoyed the weekend. She had been pleased to see her sister and the boys. She was even surer now that Judith was seriously thinking about leaving Noach and Israel for the US. There had been a vague sounding-out by Judith about where they might live for a period if they were in the US. Then Noach came by the pool and the opportunity to find out more vanished.

  Miriam noticed Michele’s eyes wandering over her when she climbed out of the pool to greet him. Hastily wrapping a towel round her had restored decency. It also convinced her that he still felt the same way about her. In truth it re-awakened Miriam’s own desires, which she had been reasonably successfully in repressing for the past weeks by trying to work on their Santofonino problem.

  Inma was nicer in her finca than expected. She was clearly trying to soft sell her beloved Opus Dei but had not pushed it too far – yet. She had been a generous, relaxed hostess. Her finca was lovely, combining mountains and greenery with an extraordinary wide-open view towards the south. She loved the mix of scenery
and the peace was a wonderful contrast to the energy and urban sprawl of New Jersey.

  The results, or lack of them, over the weekend had disappointed Miriam. She had expected more from Inma and especially Michele and Noach, who were the architects of everything whereas she was essentially a loyal hanger-on. When Michele and Noach decided to leave early Miriam had been deeply tempted to make her excuses in order to leave with Michele, knowing they would find a discreet hotel somewhere on the road to Madrid and indulge themselves wildly. Who knew what would follow? The itch to have a man again, especially one as inventive as Michele, was becoming acute. But Michele had not created any opportunity or invitation whilst she felt unable to ask. Yesterday, after the others had departed, Miriam was even more uncertain about staying, especially as she knew it meant more and more Opus propaganda.

  That did not describe exactly what actually happened.

  She stretched out on her bed going over the previous day. Inma had described a particular walk she liked, towards the Monasterio at Yuste where Carlos I was buried. It sounded interesting, though the threat implied by a monastery was unappealing.

  Nevertheless they both found they walked fast. With both having lots of energy it was over quicker than Inma had said she had ever done with anybody else. On returning they agreed that a swim before a late lunch would be refreshing.

  Miriam had already been in the pool when Inma arrived in that same pareo as in Tel Aviv. Undoing it she had worn the same deeply-cut black swimsuit that looked just as good as before, showing that her figure was no accident. Miriam had found out how, though not why, Inma looked so good. She had seen the small but well-equipped gym that clearly got plenty of use.

  Inma had lowered herself into the pool rather tentatively and started swimming just as Miriam climbed out to try the diving board. From school age she had been a decent diver and still could do the odd specialty dive. She did one, to Inma’s astonishment, who commented that she would not dare thinking of trying that. Encouraged, Miriam attempted another. This did not work out right. By accident she came up by Inma, too close to be polite.