his caked lips trembling. Fifty yards
away a group of Arabs were gathered
around the front of the helicopter,
all peering into the pilot's cabin.
In a trance of confusion, Devereaux
staggered toward the bewildering
sight. The Arabs squealed and grumbled
but let him through. He gripped the
ledge of the window and peered inside.
It was easy; the aircraft had sunk
into the dune upon landing.
It was not his eyes, however, that
were assaulted. It was his ears.
There was a continuous, deafening
crackle of static from the
helicopter's panel that filled the
small enclosure like jack hammers in
a wind tunnel. Madge was in the co-
pilot's seat, her blouse neckline
lowered another several buttons.
Then he heard the words riding
through the static and Sam froze his
hunger and exhaustion replaced momen-
tarilv by a kind of hypnotic terror.
"Midgey! Midgey, girl! You still
there?"
"Yes, Mac, still here. It's just
Sam. He's finished with
what's-his-name. '
"Goddamn! How is he?"
"Hungry. He's a very hungry boy,"
said Madge, expertly manipulating
switches and dials on the radio panel.
"There'll~be plenty of time for
rations later. An army travels on its
stomach, but first it's got to
evacuate the fire zone! Before it gets
its ass shot off! Does he have the
papers?"
"They're sticking out of his pocket "
"He's a fine young attorney, that boy!
He'll go far! Now, 183
get out of there, Midgey. Get him to
Dar el Beida and on that plane for
Zermatt. Confirm, and over and out!"
"Roger~onfirm, Mac. Out." Madge
whipped through several dozen switches
as though she were a computer
programmer. She turned her face to
Devereaux and beamed. "You're going to
have a nice rest, Sam. Mac says you
really deserve a vacation."
"Who? Where. . . ?"
"Zermatt, sweetie. It's in
Switzerland."
184
PART
- III
The smooth-running
corporation is largely
dependent on its executive
personnel, whose
backgrounds and
allegiances are compatible
with the overall
objectives of the
structure and whose
identities can be sub-
merged to the corporate
image.
Shepherd's lows of Economics:
`~ Book CXIV Chapter 92
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
,
Cardinal Ignatio
Quartze, his thin,
aristocratic features
bespeaking generations
of noblesse oblige,
stormed across the
rugs of his Vatican
office to the large
balconied window
overlooking St.
Peter's Square. He
spoke in fury, his
lips compressed in
anger, his nasal voice
searing like the
screech of a bullet.
"The Bombalini
peasant goes too far!
I tell you he is a
disgrace to the
college which God help
us al~elevated him!
The cardinal's
audience was a plump,
boyish-looking priest
who sat, as
languorously as his
habit allowed, in a
purple velvet chair in
the center of the
room. His pink cheeks
and pursed, thick lips
bespoke, perhaps, a
less aristocratic
background than his
superior but not less
a love of luxury. His
speech was more a purr
than a voice.
"He was and remains
only a compromise,
Cardinal. You were
assured his health
would not permit an
extended reign."
"Every day is an
extension beyond
endurance!"
"He has certain . . .
humilities that serve
us. He has quieted
much hostile press.
The people look upon
him warmly; our
worldwide
contributions are
nearly as high as they
were with Roncalli."
"Please! Not that
name! What good is a
treasury that expands
and contracts like a
thousand concertinas
because the Holy See
subsidizes everything
he can put his fat
peasant hands on! And
we don't need a
friendly press.
Division is far better
to solidify our own!
Nobody understands."
"Oh, but I do,
Cardinal. I really
do "
"Did you see him today?"
continued Quartze as
if the 187
.~
l
priest had not spoken. "He openly
humiliated me! In audience! He
questioned my African allocations."
"A patently obvious ploy to appease
that terrible black man. He's forever
complaining."
"And afterward he tells jokes jokes,
mind you to the Vatican guard! And
waddles into the museum crowds and
eats an ice eats an ice mind
you offered by some Sicilian brood
mare! Next he'll drop lira in the
men's room and all the toilet seats
will be stolen, Such indignities! What
he does to the bones of St. Peter!
They will turn to dust!"
"It cannot be very long, my dear
Cardinal."
"Long enough! He'll deplete the
treasury and fill the Curia with
wild-eyed radicals!>'
"You are the next pontiff. The
negative reactions of the broad middle
hierarchy support you. They are
silent, but resentments run deep.'
The cardinal paused, his mouth
curved slightly downward as he stared
out into the square, his jaw jutted
forward below the dark hollows of his
deep-set eyes. "I do believe we have
the delegates. Ronaldo, get me the
plans for my villa at San Vincente. It
calms my nerves to study them."
"Of course," said the priest, rising
from the purple chair. "You must
remain calm. And when summer comes you
will be rid of the Bombalini peasant.
He will stay at Castel Gandolfo for at
least six weeks."
"The plans, Ronaldo! I'm very upset.
Yet in the midst of chaos, I remain
the most controlled man in the
Vatican The plans, you transvestite!"
screamed the cardinal.
The moment the papal aide with the
ever present clipboard left the room,
Pope Francesco I got out of the
elevated, high-backe
d, white velvet
chair (a repository that would have
frightened Saint Sebastian) and sat
next to the lady from Viva Gourmet on
the couch. He was struck immediately
by the beauty of her voice, it was
warm and lilting. Very lovely. It
befitted such a healthy looking woman.
The aide had suggested that the
interview be limited to twenty
minutes. The pontiff had suggested
that it should 188
end when concluded. The lady
journalist had reddened slightly with
embarrassment, so Giovanni put her at
ease by switching to English and
asking her if she thought there was a
market for clipboards with crucifixes
painted on the undersides. She had
laughed while the aide, who did not
understand English, stood by the door,
the clipboard clutched to his breast
like a plastic stigmata.
The aide would have to be replaced,
thought the pope. He was another young
prelate seduced by the pretensions of
Ignatio Quartze.The cardinal was too
obvious; he was moving his charges
into the papal apartments before the
papal funeral was arranged. But
Francesco had made up his mind. The
Church was not going to be left in the
pontifical hands of Ignatio Quartze.
To begin with, they held the chalice
at Mass as though wringing the neck of
a chicken.
The interview with Viva Gour7net's
Lillian von Schnabe was productive and
pleasant. Giovanni expounded on two of
his favorite subjects: that good,
substantial meals could be created
from inexpensive stock and flavored
with simple, spiced sauces; and that
in these difficult days of high prices
it w,as a mark of distinction to say
nothing of Christian brotherhood to
share one's table with one's neighbor.
Mrs. van Schnabe saw immediately
what he was trying to communicate. "Is
this a form of 'the loaves and the
fishes,' Your Holiness?"
"Let us say He was not preaching to
the wealthier sections of Nazareth. A
number of His miracles were based in
sound psychological principles, my
dear. I open my basket of fruit, you
open your basket of pasta; we have
fruit and pasta. The simple addition
alone gives variety. Variety we
rightfully equate with more rather
than less."
"And the diet's improved," agreed
Lilhan, nodding.
"Perfetto. You see? Two principios:
reduce the cost and share the supply."
"That sounds almost socialistic,
though, doesn't it?"
"When stomachs are empty and prices
are high, labels are foolish. In the
Borsa Valo~the stock exchange, you
call it they are not prone to open
baskets; they sell them. It is fitting
that they do so, considering the
nature of their 189
labors. But I do not address such
people. They eat at the Grand Hotel,
on each other's expense accounts. I
believe that, too, is a derivative of
the 'loaves and fishes' principle."
They discussed numerous recipes
based on the village dishes from the
pope's past. Giovanni could see that
the nice lady with the lovely voice
was impressed. He had done his
nutritional homework; carbohydrates,
proteins starch, calories, iron, and
all kinds of vitamins were to be found
in his recipes.
Lillian filled half a notebook,
writing as rapidly as the pope spoke,
stopping him occasionally to clarify
a word or a phrase. After nearly an
hour had passed, she paused and asked
a question Giovanni did not
understand.
"What about your own personal
requirements, Your Holiness? Are there
any restrictions or specific
necessities called for in the meals
brought to you?"
"she causal What do you mean?':
"We are what we eat, you know."
"I sincerely hope not. I am in my
seventh decade, my dear. An excess of
onion or olive or pimento.... But such
information is not needed for your
article. People my age quite naturally
gravitate to and regulate their
personal needs in this area."
Lillian put her pencil down. "I
didn't mean to pry, but you're so
fascinating a man and I am considered
one of the best nutritional experts in
America. I suppose I just wanted to
approve of the way your kitchen treats
you."
Ahh, thought Giovanni Bombalini, how
many years it has been since a lovely
person of the opposite gender has been
concerned about him! He could not
remember, it was so long ago/
Pinched-faced nuns and officious
nurses, yes. But so attractive a lady,
with such a lovely voice....
"Well, my dear, these outrageous
doctors do insist on certain
foods.-..."
Lillian picked up her pencil.
And they talked for another fifteen
minutes.
At the end of which time there was a
knock on the door of the papal
apartment. Francesco rose from the
couch and returned to the elevated,
high-backed, white velvet chair
190
i
that belonged in one of those
Cinecitta biblical spectaculars.
An agitated Cardinal Ignatio Quartze
stood in the doorway, a handkerchief
dabbing his aquiline nose, noises
emerging from his throat. "I am sorry
to interrupt, Holy Father," he said in
both Italian and high dudgeon, giving
the word "holy" a rather profane but
eminently courteous connotation, "but
I've just been informed that Your
Holi-ness has seen fit to disagree
with my instructions regarding the
convocation of the Bankers for
Christ."
"'Disagree' is too strong a term. I
merely suggested that the convocation
committee reconsider. To occupy the
Sistine Chapel for two days at the
height of the spring tourist season
seems unwarranted."
"If you will forgive my contrary
observation, the Sistine is the most
favored and frequented site we
possess. All convocations of merit
convene there."
"Thus denying thousands every year of
its beauty. I'm not sure there's merit
in that."
'We are not an amusement park, Pope
Francesco." Strange noises continued
to come from the area of the
cardinal's throat; he blew his nose
with aristocratic vigor.
"I sometimes wonder," replied
Giovanni. "We sell such a diversity of
baubles everywhere. Did you
know
there's a stand featuring rhinestone
rosary beads?"
"Please, Your Holiness. The Bankers
for Christ. They expect the Sistine.
We are finalizing extremely important
matters.
"Yes, my dear Cardinal, I received
the memorandum. 'Accruals for Jesus'
is somewhat labored, I think, but I
suppose these are certain tax
advantages." Giovanni's attention was
suddenly drawn to Lillian. She had
closed her notebook politely but
firmly; she was anxious co leave. Ahh,
it had been such a pleasant interlude!
Airy Quartze was not going to spoil
it; he could wait. He addressed the
attractive lady with the lovely voice.
In English, of course; a language only
barely understood by Quartze. "How
rude we are. Do forgive us. The
agitated cardinal with the propellers
in his nasal passages has once again
found my judgments lacking."
19
"Then I would have to say his
Judgment left much to be desired,"
said Lillian, rising from the couch
and placing her notebook in her purse.
She looked into Giovanni's eyes and
spoke softly with feeling. "I suppose
this isn't a proper thing to say but
since I'm not Catholic, I'll say it
anyway. You're one of the most
attractive men I've ever met. I hope
you re not offended."
Giovanni Bombalini, Pope Francesco,
Vicar of Christ felt the stirrings of
memories of fifty years ago. And they
were good. In- a profoundly sacred
sense for which he was grateful. "And
you, my dear, possess an honesty
-however erroneous your present
opinion that walks in the warm light
of God."
"If I do, it's because I was taught
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