Robert Ludlum - Road To Gandolfo.txt

by The Road To Gandolfo [lit]

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