The HolyPhone Confessional Crisis

by Charles Brett

  Wednesday, Monteverde

  Caterina was unhappy. Specifically she was not happy with herself having failed to obtain anything from Ms Smith who clearly disliked her. She had offended the Condesa and, worse still, Davide had managed to extract far more by being polite and considerate. Afterwards she annoyed Davide by being snippy and unpleasant, which in turn irritated Conor who was, after all, her boss.

  Not a pretty total when she added it up. Perhaps Caterina really was as her ACC colleagues thought — a frozen fish with subnormal human characteristics. She knew that an additional reason why the ACC had sent her to Interpol was in the hope that her more abrasive edges might be filed off in the presence of the much smoother Europeans in Lyons. Then this chance of a lifetime had arisen, with the Santofonino, and she was wrecking her contribution.

  Caterina knew she was falling into a noxious combination of self-doubt and self-pity, a nasty mix which could debilitate her. It had not occurred for some years, not since being dumped by that New Zealand fool who could only see her as a ‘pretty little thing’ who looked good on his arm while having minimal interest in what she thought. That this was unsurprising had come as a shock when pointed out by Emilia. He was a rugby player and with the imagination of one. Caterina smiled to herself at the memory of Emilia verbally taking him apart in a bar a week after he had texted her stating they were over followed by announcing it publicly on Facebook. She had felt doubly humiliated but at least that bar, previously a favourite of his, was one he would likely never visit again.

  Caterina felt a little better hearing in her mind that caustic denigration from Emilia. It had not gone on for long as he stood increasingly sheepishly and unable to interrupt her catalogue of his failings, ending with acerbic aspersions about his manliness that would have turned the vainest stud into a simpering old woman. What words Emilia had deployed and her audience in the bar loved it.

  It was time to stop meandering down paths leading nowhere. It had happened before and no doubt would again. Caterina knew she was not good at choosing who to go out with, plus she could be clingy. Emilia, who was no great looker, could spot a pick-up 100 metres away and within a couple of hours sail off to enjoy whatever she fancied that night, with boy or girl. Then she would dump them just as ruthlessly.

  As she thought about it Caterina began to recognise a sort of unwelcome dissonance to her unhappiness today. This was that she liked Europe, despite all her protestations to Emilia that she could only detest the old country. France was a good start. Italy was like home, though that was probably because she could speak the language, which her parents had forced her to talk as a child. It was coming back more and more to her. She had also been struck by the peace and beauty of El Roble. There wasn’t anything like that back in Queensland.

  But, but, but … She must to find a way to redeem herself with Conor. About the Condesa and the Smith woman she did not care. If they were crooks they deserved to go to jail. Davide was professionally distant. She thought he had been warming a little to her, but clearly not after what she had said today. She would work with him as politely as possible. When this was over he would be irrelevant.

  Buoyed up a little, Caterina turned to the copies he had made. The Windows laptop was easy to analyse. The Android tablet would need more care but being Linux-based she had the tools. She started two tasks from her own laptop to look at their data images and see what they threw up. Besides the usual keywords she added Santofonino, Vatican, and the surnames of Weizmann, Severino, Smith, Condesa and Ávila, followed by their first names.

  Next she turned to the iPad. Apple machines were always more difficult to initially until one dropped below the interface level. The Mac operating system was essentially a pretty face painted onto the pig that is UNIX. The iOS on the iPhone and iPad was a derivative. She saw that Davide had had the sense to capture a photo of the Settings screen.

  She looked deeper. It was not a very interesting device, only Wi-Fi and 16GB of memory. Probably it was just a content consumption device for the Web, movies, books, music, etc. That was consistent with Smith wanting it for the plane.

  Caterina started the iOS simulator and began checking the screen. Not many applications appeared, mostly the standard Apple ones from what she could remember. Yes, there were books. Not very interesting ones, looking mostly like trashy novels. Smith’s taste in music was nothing like Caterina’s. There were only three movies, again common ones. She went into the photos. There was the original that Davide had made of the Settings and only one other. Clearly Smith did not use its camera, again consistent with the iPad being a content device.

  Idly she opened the second photo and instantly turned pink. It was an intimate picture of the Condesa naked and looking very satisfied. She turned round to see if anyone could see her. She felt guilty at intruding on such intimacy. Was she wrong about the Condesa? Utterly. The picture showed a statuesque lady with a very full figure, rather heavy in the rear end and legs, but in perfect shape and with an amazing bosom for someone in their forties without a hint of sagging. That brown dress hid a lot.

  This was, however, irrelevant, as seemed this device. She would run some more scans later. She turned back to the other analyses. Interestingly, both the Condesa’s laptop and tablet had encrypted inner volumes that looked like files. Smiling to herself, Caterina started digging, wondering whether by cracking the encryption she could restore Conor’s good opinion of her.

  Wednesday, Central Rome

  Miriam and Inma heard Conor’s guarantees about the reassurances. Miriam didn’t believe him but felt that they were in too weak a position with few cards to play with. The previous night Miriam had told Inma that she had said nothing to the sour Australian lady in the car back to Madrid. To her surprise she found that Inma, whom she thought would not talk, especially not to a man, had been by comparison almost loquacious to Davide.

  This further weakened their position, though Inma argued the opposite.

  She had told Miriam: “Davide is smarter than he appears. I don’t think he is a policeman, but more of an adviser of some sort that I couldn’t work out. I suspect he’s more significant, though not more important in decision terms, than he may appear. He also listens and he hears what isn’t being said. Of course, speaking Spanish may have prejudiced me artificially in his favour. Watch and see.”

  Conor waited.

  Miriam came to a decision. It wasn’t hard really and was based on yesterday morning’s sharing with Inma before this nightmare began. She would try to seize some initiative, though even if obtained, this might be illusory. She looked at Inma, who dropped her eyelashes as if to indicate she should be the one to continue.

  “You are correct that the Santofonino has been slightly compromised on its financial side, though not by either of us. Also, you should know now, and you will be able to verify this independently for yourselves, that neither Inma nor I have obtained any personal financial benefit. Do you understand what I am saying?”

  “I understand that you are asserting this. You say that we can verify what you assert. Does that mean you will give us access to whatever information you have so we can establish whether what you say about personal benefit is true?”

  “For myself, yes. Inma?”

  “In my case it is more difficult, Conor. The difficulty is that I do not own any of the accounts where monies are. I can move them between designated destinations but I am one of three joint signatories to the accounts.”

  “I’m not sure I understand. You can move monies between accounts but you can’t take monies out of them?”

  “Exactly. I’ll show you what I’ve been doing but the monies are in accounts held in the name of Opus Dei for the benefit of the Catholic Church. They’re not for me. I have taken nothing.”

  “So are you saying that what you’ve been doing is for the sole benefit of the Catholic Church?” As he asked this, Conor pondered. It was an extraordinary concept. If true this might create a way to exonerate Inma. That wouldn’t
be up to him. “Miriam, can you explain your motivation and involvement?”

  “You mean … you don’t know?” It occurred to her that the Interpol picture was not as complete as she had feared. Maybe there’d be some room for bargaining. “I worked with Michele Severino in New York before he became a priest. He knew my father leads an obscure fundamentalist church in West Virginia that always needs money. My sister Judith some years ago married Noach Weizmann and left with him to live in Israel where she took the name Tamar. Many of us in the financial industry knew of Noach because he was somehow involved in the bankruptcy of an Arab bank. He has the reputation of being a wizard with financial computer systems.”

  “We know about Mr Weizmann’s reputation. What’s the connection between him and the rest of you?”

  “Michele approached me to ask to connect with Judith so that he could contact Noach. Michele said if I did this he would place a small amount of money into a foreign bank account, which I could pass onto my father’s church. Michele knew from the past that my father always looked to me when his congregation fell short in their contributions, which was often, and that I was fed up with this. I agreed and connected them. Nothing happened for several months until a small but growing amount began to appear monthly in the account Michele set up in my name. I periodically transferred amounts to my father’s church account. If my father didn’t pester me I was relieved.

  “For the record, Inma and I didn’t meet until about three weeks ago when Michele summoned a meeting that was arranged to be in northern Israel. The second time we met was last weekend. We’ve had no prior dealings between each other on any of this.”

  “Did you know the source of the monies being placed into your account?”

  “It wasn’t my account. Well, I suppose it was because it was in my name. I didn’t regard it as mine or use any of the money — as I’ve already told you. Did I know the source? Yes, it was Michele.”

  “Let me rephrase my question. Did you know where Michele obtained the money from and if not, didn’t you ever ask?”

  “No and no — and I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to know.”

  “And you, Inma?”

  “Yes, I knew, because Mariano — my mentor in Opus Dei and in reinsurance — told me. After Mariano died I inherited direct dealings on investing and distributing the monies with Michele Severino, whom I met for the first time three weeks ago.”

  “Where did the money come from?”

  “Michele Severino told Mariano, who brought Opus Dei into this and thereby me, that it came from some minor redirection of confession payments made via the Santofonino. Mariano never expected the sums to be great, perhaps some tens of thousands of euros a year, which could then be reinvested to grow to protect the Catholic Church. Mariano died before the HolyPhone gained its popularity with penitents. It was after that when we started to receive larger sums each month.”

  “How did this money reach you?”

  “Opus Dei uses a range of banks in Spain. Mariano was able to open special investment accounts in the name of Opus Dei, with minimal questions asked. Money would arrive in these from overseas and from Spanish banks. I imagine that the records of the deposits will be available to you, including the source of each payment. First Mariano and then I were responsible for putting this money to work for the Catholic Church. How the monies reached the Opus Dei accounts I did not know, other than they were a diversion from the Santofonino payment process.”

  “You are asking me to believe that you, Miriam, didn’t know and didn’t ask where the payments came from? In your case, Inma, you are asking me to believe that you knew the basic source but not the details? Forgive me, but that seems rather far-fetched.”

  “But that is how it was!” exclaimed both women together.

  Conor looked highly sceptical: “Who originated this whole scam? Where and how do Severino and Weizmann fit in?”

  Miriam started but Inma overrode her with: “My understanding from Mariano, though he never explicitly said this, is that Michele Severino had the original idea. He was the person responsible for setting up the financial arrangements for the Santofonino, brought in from the United States by a Cardinal da Ferraz. Mariano hinted that Michele Severino needed someone with computer and financial transaction processing expertise to execute an imperceptible diversion of a tiny proportion of the HolyPhone revenues. Remember that at the start no one, not even the Vatican, thought that the HolyPhone would be the success it is today. Miriam would have known none of this, unless her sister told her, and you will probably find that Tamar knows nothing. Weizmann is secretive as we could tell you if …”

  Inma left expectation dripping in her voice.

  “That leaves all of us in an interesting position. Let’s stop now and meet later or possibly tomorrow.”

  Wednesday, Parioli, Rome

  Michele was increasingly uncomfortable. He’d flown back on Alitalia using his flexible ticket the previous day, accompanied by a Spanish policeman who cheerfully handed him over to two Carabinieri waiting for him at Fiumicino and who presumably took the next flight back to Madrid. The Carabinieri drove him home after removing his smart phone and tablet.

  In Parioli he was forced to hand over his laptop and accept his phone had been disconnected. He tried it, but there was no ringtone. He was effectively a house prisoner. He didn’t understand what was happening.

  After a poor night’s sleep he awoke to find that he was a free agent within his apartment but could not go outside. He waited for his cook-cum-butler to arrive. He would then borrow his telefonino to call the Vatican to ask what was going on.

  The cook-cum-butler arrived but without the phone. It had been removed from him before he was instructed to go buy some fresh fruit, vegetables and meat to bring into the apartment. He was to leave these with Michele and depart until further notice. He put away the food, half in the freezer, half in the fridge, before leaving. He looked distraught but said nothing.

  Unable to do anything, Michele could only think about what had happened since meeting with the others at Inma’s farm house. He couldn’t understand why he had been stopped at Madrid’s airport. Clearly there was some aspect he was missing. Had Noach been stopped? What about Inma and Miriam?

  Yes, what about Miriam? Reflecting, Michele reckoned he’d made a big mistake. That look on her face when he left El Roble surely meant she wanted to go with him.

  He wished he’d asked. Perhaps they might have enjoyed some moments together, even if that was not what a good Catholic priest, or even a bad one, should do. Parts of him endlessly ached to be with her, especially after seeing her by the pool as well as the beach in Tel Aviv.

  Now Michele had to wait, but for what? How long would this continue? In one sense it was only a couple of days so far, but it already seemed like an eternity.

  He comforted himself with food, good wine and some peace. It was a time to relax. He knew he would not, at least until understanding came as to why he was incarcerated in his own home. Michele began to sympathise with Silvio Berlusconi, which was a first.

  Wednesday, the Vatican

  Davide and José Antonio arrived at the Vatican as expected. José Antonio led the way to Nelson’s apartment complex.

  He commented to Davide: “I’ve not been here often. Normally Nelson likes to get out, though usually to places of his choosing rather than mine. Do you know what’s going on?”

  Davide was not quite sure how to answer. He prevaricated.

  “I think this evening could be a turning point. But it will depend on Nelson.”

  José Antonio rang the bell at Nelson’s apartment door. To his astonishment, Nelson himself opened the door and welcomed them formally, with José Antonio bowing to kiss Nelson’s ring of office. To Davide Nelson gave a robust hand shake.

  “Come in, come in. I’d hoped Father Federico would join us, but his mother is poorly so I let him return to look after her.”

  He led the way into his study. As before, a tabl
e was laid for three with a selection of simple foods that did not need warming: salads, antipasti and some cold pasta among others. He offered wine. José Antonio chose the white, a Spanish Rueda. Davide decided on the same. Nelson followed suit.

  “Let’s sit and perhaps Davide might bring me up to speed.” He smiled at his use of such a worldly metaphor. “José Antonio, I don’t know how much you’re aware of what’s been happening but I suspect you are in for more shocks. May I ask you to listen carefully because I need another trusted opinion from you, especially with no Father Federico here to hold my hand?”

  “You flatter me, Nelson. I’ll do my best but I don’t always understand what Davide discusses.”

  “I think you will. Anyway, over to you Davide.”

  “Thank you, I think. The long and short of it is that your intuition that something was wrong with the Santofonino seems to be correct. I’m sorry to be the bearer of the bad tidings.”

  “From the fuss that Conor and you have created in the past few days I’d already arrived at that conclusion. Tell me the worst.”

  “It’s complicated with many angles. I’ll start with the people involved and what we think we know. As far as we can tell there are four main participants. These are Michele Severino, Noach Weizmann, an Opus Dei Associate Numerary — who is a Spanish Countess but I will call her Inma for short — and an American lady called Miriam Smith.”

  “It sounds like a complex combination.”

  “It is. I’ll go into more detail later but our current understanding up to late this afternoon — that is of Conor, Caterina and myself — is that Severino saw an opportunity to divert a small part of the Santofonino revenues. But to do this he needed a financial computer expert, namely Weizmann. To bring in Weizmann he approached an old work colleague, Miriam Smith who is Weizmann’s sister-in-law. Why Inma comes into the picture is less clear at this moment, but more on that later.”