The Debt

by Glenn Cooper

  When the waiter came, Cal grinned and said, ‘I’ll have what he’s having,’ sending the pope into titters of laughter.

  ‘Then I hope you like dry toast, a bit of fruit, and coffee,’ the pope said.

  ‘Maybe you could also bring me some butter and jam,’ Cal said hopefully.

  When they were alone, Celestine said in a low voice, ‘So, Moller says you have something to share with me. Did you find the annex?’

  ‘Unfortunately no, but I did find a letter from Jean Sassoon’s father laying out the terms of the loan. I have a photocopy. Do you read French?’

  ‘Passably.’

  The pope studied it and said, ‘When I was a schoolboy, mathematics was not my best subject. I would need someone to tell me what it would take to repay this loan today.’

  ‘It’s a big number,’ Cal said.

  ‘Is it? How big?’

  The toast and fruit arrived and Cal waited for the server to leave before answering.

  ‘About twenty-five billion euros, roughly twenty-seven billion dollars.’

  ‘Heavens!’ the pope said, slowly lowering his coffee cup to avoid spilling. ‘A great deal of money. And you’ve found nothing more to shed light on the ultimate fate of this debt?’

  ‘Nothing. I still can’t find a single mention of the loan in the historical record. Perhaps it was forgiven but what banker in his right mind would write off a loan of that size? From what I’ve read about the Sassoon Bank it wasn’t large enough to absorb this kind of loss voluntarily. Even the Rothschilds Bank, the largest of its day, would have been under pressure. When we met before, I believe I told you about the four-hundred-thousand-pound loan the Rothschilds made to Pope Gregory in 1831. They structured it to avoid running afoul of the usury laws but also to avoid taking a bath if the Vatican couldn’t repay it. The Vatican got three hundred thousand pounds from the bank and turned around and sold four hundred thousand pounds in bonds back to the bank. Then the Rothschilds sold off all the Vatican bonds to investors who liked the juicy interest they paid, pocketing one hundred thousand pounds for their trouble and locking in their profit.’

  The pope followed closely, nodding his understanding.

  ‘As you saw from the Sassoon letter, the Vatican didn’t allow the Sassoons to do a bond sale and didn’t give them any collateral on the loan.’

  ‘It’s quite shocking, Professor. Really shameful. This seems to be a case of kidnapping and extortion, something you’d see from a criminal organization, not the Holy Church. The elder Sassoon used the word barbaric. I would agree with him.’

  ‘It’s not an excuse but I imagine the Vatican was desperate,’ Cal said. ‘The Papal States were under attack by the revolutionaries, tax revenues were collapsing, the pope was in exile, trying to mount a defense with no money to pay for it. No one was going to make a conventional loan to a bankrupt Vatican so Cardinal Lambruschini or someone in the administration came up with a plan and the Sassoons were the victims.’

  ‘So you don’t think the loan was ever repaid?’ the pope asked.

  ‘I don’t believe they ever intended to repay it.’ Then Cal caught himself. ‘I’m sorry, that’s speculation. A good historian ought to rely on facts.’

  ‘But it’s not an unreasonable assumption,’ the pope said, munching his toast.

  ‘Well, that’s it, Your Holiness. I’m afraid that’s all I have to report.’

  The pope shook his head. ‘But what of the annex? Is there no way to see if a copy exists?’

  ‘I really don’t know where else to look,’ Cal said. ‘As far as I can tell, the Sassoon Bank only operated in Italy for about fifteen years. After 1858 they had no presence here. The State Archives of Rome seemed to have a collection of papers that spanned their entire Italian experience. Just to be complete I scanned the web portal for the State Archives of Venice and there wasn’t a single mention of Sassoon. You never know if some documents might be tucked away in a private collection or in a not-so-obvious library or archive but there’s no systemic way of dealing with that kind of historical problem. So, that’s the end of the line.’ Cal stopped abruptly, highjacked by a thought, and hesitated to utter the next word because he really needed to head back home. ‘Unless …’

  ‘Unless what?’ the pope asked.

  ‘Unless the Sassoon Bank has a private archive. The Rothschilds Bank maintains its own archive based in London. I’ve gotten permission in the past to use it. Do you mind if I quickly Google it to see if they have one?’ Cal asked removing his phone from his sport coat.

  ‘I have no objection,’ the pope said. ‘Look around. Half the diners are staring into their little screens.’

  Before Cal could do his search, his phone rang. Gil Daniels was finally returning the call.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Cal said, quickly silencing the ringer. ‘It’s my department chairman.’

  ‘You must take his call,’ the pope said, smiling. ‘Go ahead, Professor. I’ll finish my fruit.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  He laughed. ‘You have my blessing.’

  ‘Hi, Gil,’ Cal said, answering the call. ‘Thanks for getting back to me. It’s one a.m. in Cambridge!’

  ‘I’m working late. Christ, Cal, you left messages on every phone I’ve got.’

  ‘Like I said I wanted to talk about Joe Murphy but I’m going to have to call you back. I’m kind of occupied.’

  ‘You wanted me and here I am,’ Daniels said testily.

  ‘I’m having breakfast with Pope Celestine, if you must know.’

  ‘Don’t bullshit me, Cal.’

  ‘I’m serious, Gil. He’s right here.’

  The pope was merrily rolling his eyes at Cal’s side of the exchange.

  ‘Give me the phone,’ he insisted.

  Cal gulped and handed it over. This was going to be one of those anecdotes he’d be telling for the rest of his life.

  The pontiff pressed the phone to his ear and said in English in his instantly recognizable voice, ‘Professor Donovan was speaking the truth. This is Pope Celestine. You are the professor’s chairman at Harvard?’

  After an uncomfortably long pause during which Daniels was probably trying to figure out if he was being pranked, he answered. ‘My God, it’s an honor to meet you, Your Holiness.’

  ‘The same, I’m sure. You are fortunate to have a man like Calvin Donovan in your department. I am returning the phone to him now. Good day.’

  ‘Hi Gil,’ Cal said. ‘So is it OK if I call you back?’

  A rather smaller voice answered. ‘Any time.’

  ‘Now, back to the annex,’ the pope said when Cal rang off.

  Cal did a quick, fruitless Google search looking for anything relating to a Sassoon Bank archive and told Celestine that he’d have to call the bank directly.

  ‘I hesitate to impose on you further.’

  Cal assured him it was no trouble.

  ‘And professor, unless it becomes necessary for someone to know the general nature of your inquiries, I would ask that you keep the existence of this loan to yourself. Consider it our secret. And keep me informed. Monsignor Moller knows that he is to put you through immediately, provided I am not at prayer. God comes first. You come second.’

  TWELVE

  ‘Would you mind telling me why I had to drop everything? What’s so urgent?’ Malucchi asked.

  ‘My flight to Malta is in three hours,’ Cassar complained. ‘I don’t want to miss it, Pascal.’

  ‘Perhaps we should let our friend get a word in edgewise,’ Leoncino said, raising his hands in the air.

  Cardinal Lauriat took a seat behind his desk, thanked his three colleagues for coming at short notice, and assured them he had a good reason for the hasty summons.

  ‘In five minutes, the pope will hold a conference call with the members of the original C8,’ Lauriat said.

  ‘How do you know?’ Cassar asked.

  ‘I just do.’

  ‘The C10 only just met,’ Malucchi said. ‘Was the
re a discussion of convening a smaller group?’

  ‘None whatsoever,’ Leoncino said.

  ‘Why would the pope deliberately exclude you and Pascal?’ Malucchi asked.

  ‘It’s obvious,’ Leoncino said. ‘He doesn’t trust us.’

  ‘What do you think he’s up to?’ Cassar asked.

  Lauriat checked his Rolex. ‘I believe we’ll find out in three minutes.’

  Cal had been kept waiting on hold for a long time. The only consolation was that he didn’t have to endure canned music; the line was mercifully silent. He was in his hotel room, his feet on an ottoman, his computer on his lap, the phone cradled on his shoulder. He was scrolling through the biographies of key employees on the Sassoon Bank website when a voice came on asking him to hold for Mr Sassoon.

  He had asked to speak to the chairman of the bank, Henry Sassoon, but the man who finally picked up identified himself as Marcus Sassoon. Thanks to the biographies, Cal knew he was the vice-chairman.

  The voice was impatient, as if he had been the one kept waiting. ‘What is this in regard to, Mr Donovan?’

  Cal explained that he was a historian doing research on the nineteenth-century Sassoon Bank in Italy and wondered whether the bank kept an archive of its historical documents.

  ‘We have an archive in New York but it’s private.’

  ‘Do you ever admit outside researchers?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And is it possible you might make an exception?’

  Again, no.

  Cal decided to play the pope card.

  ‘Actually, Mr Sassoon, Pope Celestine is personally interested in this line of research. If it would be persuasive, I can arrange for him to send you a personal request.’

  Sassoon’s comeback was icy. ‘If the bank were owned by Catholics, that might have some sway, but it isn’t.’

  There was nothing to lose at this point. ‘I see,’ Cal said, ‘Is it possible that your chairman might have a different view?’

  ‘You’ve got some nerve, Mr Donovan. Where did you say you were from?’

  ‘Harvard.’

  ‘Oh yeah? Which department?’

  ‘Joint appointments at the Divinity School and the Department of Anthropology.’

  ‘You sound young. What are you, an assistant professor?’

  ‘Full professor. Named chair.’

  The tone changed. ‘I went to Brandeis. Wasn’t the world’s greatest student. My son is applying to Harvard. My cousin’s kid is at Harvard Business School.’

  ‘That’s great,’ Cal said, sensing an opening.

  ‘If I let you into the archive would you write a letter for my kid?’

  ‘I’d be happy to sit down and talk to him about his interests. We could take it from there.’

  ‘Let me pass you back to my assistant and she can set something up.’

  Lauriat removed a slip of paper from his desk with a telephone number and an access code. He explained that he would be muting the line and even if someone asked who was joining, they would remain on mute. Cassar asked how he had obtained the call-in numbers but all he would say was that it was his job to know certain things.

  ‘How else can I protect the integrity of the Vatican?’ he asked. ‘In times past, I imagine cardinals put cups against the walls to listen to a scheming pope. Now we do this.’

  ‘Won’t there be a log of those who dialed into the conference?’ Malucchi asked.

  ‘Apparently so,’ Lauriat said, ‘but it is never checked. It’s worth the small risk. In any event, it would indicate my line. You would be quite anonymous. If any of you are squeamish about my tactics, I urge you to leave now.’

  All of them remained.

  Lauriat waited until the top of the hour to punch in the numbers and the swarm of blips on the line indicated that multiple participants were connecting simultaneously. Their blip was lost in the mix. Monsignor Moller took a roll call and cardinals announced their presence from Europe, the United States, South America, Africa, and Asia. When everyone was on the line, Moller waited for the pope to join the call before signing off himself.

  A sonorous Celestine came on, thanking the group for making the time. ‘I do realize we met only last week but I would like you, my friends, to provide me with some advice concerning the matter of the loan we recently discussed.’

  The archbishop of Lima asked why two members of the C10, Cardinals Lauriat and Leoncino, were absent.

  ‘Let us just say that I desire feedback from those nearest to my heart,’ the pope said.

  Cardinal Da Silva spoke up from Boston, where he had just returned. ‘Then by all means, Holy Father, we are at your disposal.’

  The pope continued, ‘Professor Donovan has made some additional discoveries about this loan. He has found a letter that laid out the terms.’

  ‘A letter from whom?’ the archbishop of Abidjan in Côte d’Ivoire asked.

  ‘The owner of the bank, a gentleman named Claude Sassoon, written to his son, Jean, the man who was held against his will by the Vatican.’

  ‘And what are the terms of this loan?’ the archbishop of Manila asked.

  ‘It was meant to have a duration of ten years,’ the pope said. ‘However, if it was not repaid at that time there was a provision that would perpetually extend the repayment provided that the interest on the loan continued to be applied. I believe the technical term is compounded.’

  ‘This loan is about one hundred-seventy years old,’ the bishop of Mainz, Germany said. ‘What is its value today?’

  ‘This is the astonishing news,’ the pope said. ‘The figure is twenty-five billion euros.’

  No one spoke for several seconds. It was the cardinal of Mexico City who broke the silence by asking whether the Sassoon Bank was still in business and if so, whether they were aware of the existence of such an ancient and valuable loan.

  ‘They are a modern, thriving bank, I am told,’ Celestine said. ‘The professor doubts they know of the loan but this has not been established. Now, the situation is not quite as clear as I may have led you to believe. The loan has two parts. The Secret Archives had a signed copy of the first part but we do not have a copy of the second part, the annex containing the various loan terms. We merely know these terms from the letter. That is why I have asked Professor Donovan to try to locate the missing annex.’

  To what end? the German cardinal asked. Another added, whether it might not be better to sweep this kind of information under the rug, as Cardinal Lauriat had suggested at the C10. A third reminded the others what the pope had said about getting their legal ducks in order, rather than have an unfriendly third party find the document in the future.

  ‘This is why I wanted to hear your opinions,’ Celestine said. ‘We cannot know at present whether a full and valid set of documents exists but if they do, it seems to me we may have a God-sent opportunity.’

  ‘Opportunity?’ the archbishop of Toledo, Spain said. ‘I see only a monumental liability that could destroy us.’

  ‘I have a confession to make,’ the pope said. ‘When Professor Donovan first told me about the existence of the loan my first thought was about a dream of mine. I thought about our potential to do good.’

  The bishop of Mainz interrupted, ‘But Holy Father, the other day you spoke of the need to get our lawyers to thwart a claim.’

  ‘That is true, Hans. There were other ears in the room. I did not wish to speak of my dream in front of them. Not even Moller. This dream – it feels to me like a delicate flower that might be crushed under an unfriendly boot. That is why I wanted to speak only to you, my closest confidants. You all know my frustration at the corruption, the laxity, the incompetence that seem to define our financial situation. Spending as much time as I do working on our tortured finances, I have become increasingly despondent about how far we seem to have strayed from Christ’s simple teachings of charity and humility passed down to us in the Gospels. The business of the Church is not business. It is helping our flock, particularl
y those who do not have the ability to help themselves. Can you imagine how much good we could do with twenty-five billion euros? We could provide not only food and shelter but a pathway to dignity in the spirit of Christ’s noblest teachings.’

  The Nigerian was the first to respond, asking the question that all of them had to be thinking. ‘But, Holy Father, you are speaking of monies we may owe, not monies we may receive.’

  ‘Yes, of course, you are right, Henry, but what I am proposing – again, in the event the loan is valid – is to approach the Sassoon family, for this remains a family-owned bank, and make an arrangement with them. We will pay this loan, not to the bank, but to a foundation to support grand, humanitarian causes.’

  Da Silva chimed in. ‘Holy Father, why would they agree to this? Surely a bank would take the position that they were entitled to these billions. Why would they be dictated to on the use of the proceeds?’

  The pope replied, ‘I have had a confidential conversation with one of our top outside legal advisors in Rome about this hypothetical situation. He assured me, without reviewing specific documents, that the Vatican would, at a minimum, have the ability to tie up any repayment obligation in courts for years, perhaps decades. And a more likely scenario is that a defect in such ancient loan agreements would be discovered and that the courts would dismiss the obligation. Therefore, we can say to these people, look, let’s join forces for the common good. We will volunteer to forego legal challenges but only if the money goes to charity.’

  The archbishop of Manila said, ‘I follow your logic, Holy Father, and admire your charitable inclinations, but isn’t this a moot point? I know nothing about the liquid assets of the Vatican but I am sure that they are a far cry from twenty-five billion euros. There is simply no way to pay money we do not possess.’

  ‘Leave it to me, my friend. I have some ideas.’

  Cardinal Lauriat hung up simultaneously with the other participants. None of the four cardinals had uttered a word among themselves during the lengthy telecon. Their offense was too great, their distrust of the simple technology of the mute button too palpable, their fear of the consequences of being unmasked too monumental. Even with the phone line dead they kept their mouths shut for a while longer in a stunned silence.