by Glenn Cooper
‘I’ve discussed my proposed plan of action with Cassar and with Leoncino. I’m here to discuss it with you. If you concur, it’s time for an escalation.’
TWENTY-FIVE
On the day before he was scheduled to return to Rome with Julian, Cal was giving a graduate seminar on the origins of the First Crusade, aware that his mobile phone in his pocket was buzzing incessantly. He resisted the urge to see what was going on, and when the last student had filtered out of the seminar room, he had a look.
His notification screen was filled with different versions of the same news story along with several texts and missed calls.
‘Holy shit,’ he mumbled, trying to decide whom to call first.
Ludwig Moller hovered over the pope’s shoulder as the pontiff read the newspaper article on his iPad. Celestine couldn’t see that the priest was trembling and that he had to steady himself by gripping the chair back.
‘It is a betrayal,’ the pope finally said, sliding the tablet away. ‘The Vatican is a nest of vipers and I have been bitten.’
‘Is the story true?’ Moller asked.
Celestine swiveled the chair to face him. He seemed to be studying the priest’s face as a policeman might study a suspect before launching an interrogation.
‘What do you think, Ludwig? Do you think it’s true?’
‘I would have no way of knowing, Holy Father. The story about Lidia, the young woman from Naples, was a fabrication.’
‘Well, this story is different. It is accurate up to a point but quite inaccurate in one significant regard. The question is who leaked the story to the press?’
‘May I ask who knew about it?’
‘Professor Donovan knew but I trust him completely. Sister Elisabetta Celestino knew but I trust her completely. The C8 knew. I discussed the matter with them on the last teleconference. You set up that call, Ludwig. You didn’t listen in, did you?’
‘Holy Father! I would never do that.’
Celestine grunted. ‘I thought I could trust each and every member of the C8 but maybe I am mistaken. It could have been one of them.’
‘I believe these men are loyal to you, Holy Father.’
‘Perhaps seven are. One may not be.’
‘Have you considered parties outside the Vatican?’
‘I have complete trust in Professor Donovan. Could it be one of the Sassoons, particularly Marcus Sassoon? Yes, it’s a possibility. But now what am I to do? Conduct a witch-hunt? Let it lie? There is so much important work to do and now I must busy myself with fighting a rearguard action. It is a betrayal, Ludwig. A deliberate act of sabotage.’
‘What would you like me to do, Holy Father? The press office is overwhelmed with inquiries. The staff is frantic.’
‘Leave it to me. I will draft a statement. Set up an emergency call with the C8 for this evening.’
Moller hurried to his office and sat at his desk. His hands were shaking so badly he almost fumbled the handset of the ringing phone.
‘Moller here.’
‘Moller, it’s Cardinal Lauriat.’
The priest couldn’t speak.
‘Are you still there?’
‘Yes, I’m here.’
‘I want you to come to my office immediately.’
‘I’m sorry, Your Eminence, but I am extremely busy, as you can imagine.’
‘This isn’t a request, Ludwig. It is an order.’
When Moller appeared at Lauriat’s suite within the Apostolic Palace, Lauriat kept him standing.
‘How has he reacted?’
‘Perhaps you should ask him?’ Moller answered.
Lauriat’s voice thickened. ‘Don’t you dare take that tone with me.’
‘He is upset.’
‘Who does he believe leaked the story?’
‘He suspects someone on the C8.’
‘Good. And what does he intend to do about it?’
‘He is calling a telephonic meeting of the C8 for tonight.’
‘I want to listen in again. Bring the phone number and the code to me when you have it.’
Moller shook his head defiantly. ‘I’m sorry but I will not.’
Lauriat unfolded his arms and pointed at the priest. ‘Have you lost your mind? Do you want to see those photos again? Do you want to see how you’ll look in all the magazines and newspapers? You mother and father are still alive, aren’t they? How proud they’ll be of their son!’
‘Do what you must, cardinal secretary. I will no longer be your spy.’
‘Cal, I’ve been desperate to reach you. Have you seen the news?’
She did sound desperate but also a little angry, as if she expected Cal to be instantly available to her.
‘I was teaching, Gail, but yes, I’ve seen it. It’s lit up the Internet like a Christmas tree. You’re the first person I called.’
‘What are we supposed to do?’
‘I wouldn’t think you’d be obligated to do anything at this point.’
‘But we’ve got to correct the record. The account in the press was dangerously wrong.’
‘I know that, but you can’t pick and choose what parts to refute.’
‘Reporters are already making inquiries to the bank.’
‘I think you need to let the Vatican take the lead on this. A no comment from your end ought to suffice if someone corners you or an employee.’
‘This is going to explode, Cal. It’s not going to be a tempest in a teapot. It’s not going away.’
‘I’m sure you’re right, but again, the Vatican’s got to run point on it. If you like I can place a call or two to see which way the wind’s blowing over there. If I don’t get a quick response then Julian and I can talk to Celestine in person.’
‘I think you should postpone. I’m concerned for Julian’s safety. He’s going to be in the eye of the storm. You were right about the Vatican being leaky as a sieve. Someone tried to kill you, remember?’
‘That was before. Now that the loan contract’s in hand, the game has changed. It’s all about political pressure now. Look, I’ll call to confirm that the meeting is still on but assuming it is, I suggest we move forward and get this done so it becomes a fait accompli.’
‘Then I’m going to arrange for a personal security detail. The bank has used a private company before. They’ll be able to provide armed guards in Rome.’
‘If that makes you feel safer, then go ahead. But I suggest you let Julian know in advance.’
‘Why?’
‘Because in case you haven’t realized it, Julian’s a grown man.’
Gil Daniels was not giving Cal an easy time. Cal was loath to hand him the ammunition to be a jerk, but it was proper protocol to talk to your department chairman when teaching slots were going to be missed. So, hat in hand, he humbly presented himself to Daniels’ office.
‘It’s the first week of a new semester and you’re leaving town? It’s really not good form, Cal, is it?’
He hated it when Daniels went into his starchy full-on Brit mode, saying things like good form and sticky wicket.
‘Believe me, it’s not my choice, Gil. The trip just came up and it’s mandatory.’
‘Where to?’
‘Back to Rome.’
‘Again?’
‘Afraid so.’
‘It’s nothing to do with the story I read in The Globe about the pope’s alleged plan to give away billions of dollars, does it?’
‘Actually, Gil, it does.’
Daniels arched an eyebrow theatrically. He reminded Cal of a character in a period British parlor-room drama whose monocle had just popped out.
‘I think you owe me a full account,’ Daniels said.
‘I will if you let me sit down rather than standing in front of your desk like a naughty schoolboy.’
‘Yes, sit, sit. The article in the paper suggests that evidence of a previously unknown nineteenth-century loan between the Vatican and the Sassoon Bank was recently discovered in the Vatican Secret Archives. Was
that your doing?’
‘It wasn’t what I was originally looking for but I stumbled across a letter and kept following my nose. The actual loan contracts were in archives elsewhere in Rome and in New York.’
‘And the loan is valued at twenty-five billion euros? Did the article get that right?’
‘With interest that’s what it’s worth today.’
‘And is it true the pope intends to repay the debt to the bank?’
‘That part isn’t technically correct, Gil, but I’m not at liberty to go into details.’
‘Not technically correct? But essentially correct? It’s inconceivable that the Vatican would willingly bankrupt itself or sell cultural assets to pay off an ancient debt. And to a Jewish bank? I’m not Catholic but it even sets me off.’
‘Again, Gil, I can’t say anymore. I’m sure the full story will come out sooner rather than later. That’s why I’ve got to get over to the Vatican and work through some of the issues.’
‘But you’re an academic, not an international financier! What role could you possibly play at this juncture?’
‘Again, I can’t go into it. Sorry.’
‘Well, what about your classes? What are we going to do about them?’
‘I’ve got it covered. Pete Manning’s agreed to fill in for my undergrad course, Spiritualism in the Middle Ages. He’s got a light load this semester. And Joe Murphy’s going to take my grad seminar on the Crusades. He was my TA on it last year.’
‘Murphy,’ Daniels sniffed. ‘I’m getting a little sick of him, you know.’
Celestine concluded his telecon with the C8 and rang Moller’s office to ask the priest to come see him.
‘During my call, I thought I heard some shouts coming from the piazza. What’s going on?’
‘There was a small protest,’ Moller said. ‘Some people came with a bullhorn and some signs. The gendarmes moved them along. As a precaution your security detail inside and around the guesthouse has been increased.’
‘What were they saying, these protesters?’
‘They were praying to God, rather loudly, asking Him to prevent the Vatican from destroying the Church.’
‘The Vatican or me?’
‘In truth, you, Holy Father.’
‘I see.’
‘Could I ask if you have drafted a statement?’ the priest asked. ‘The press office remains on standby.’
‘I have a draft. I’ll make a few changes based on the suggestions of the C8. You look tired, Ludwig. You should go home. I will ring the press office to collect the statement when it is ready.’
‘Thank you, Holy Father,’ he said, about to leave. But he hesitated and added, ‘I wanted to say that I am sorry.’
‘Sorry for what?’
‘I – I am sorry you have had such a difficult day.’
Gail Sassoon’s housekeeper found her in her bedroom to tell her that Marcus Sassoon was on the phone.
‘Do you know what just happened to me, Gail?’ Marcus said.
‘No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me,’ she answered acidly.
‘I was leaving work tonight and someone swore at me for what I was doing to the Catholics. The jerk called me a kike. Then he spit on me.’
She briefly closed her eyes. ‘Actually, I’m quite sorry to hear that. Did you call the police?’
‘Didn’t have to. We’ve had media outside all day and the police were there keeping the traffic moving. They nabbed the son-of-a-bitch. I’m pressing charges. Who knows if the filthy bastard’s carrying a disease?’
‘You should press charges.’
Gail waited for it and it came.
‘I told you so, didn’t I?’
‘Told me what, Marcus?’
‘That this Vatican business would unleash a shitstorm of anti-Semitism.’
‘All the articles got it wrong. The money isn’t going to the bank. There was no mention of a foundation. When the record gets corrected people will come around.’
‘Well, who’s correcting it?’
‘Hopefully the Vatican and hopefully soon.’
‘I’m telling you again, Gail, this is going to end badly. You’re going to wind up destroying the bank.’
He made sure he had the last word by hanging up on her.
Cal was at his home packing for the early-morning flight when his phone rang. He wasn’t surprised by who was calling. Cardinal Da Silva was his usual apologetic self for imposing on Cal so late in the evening.
‘I carry a message from the pope,’ he said. ‘He hopes you will still be coming tomorrow.’
‘I’ll be there with Julian Sassoon.’
‘Good. He also wants you to hear the statement he has written for the media and to pass it along, if you could, to the Sassoon family. Would you care to take it down? It’s fairly short.’
Cal got a pen and wrote as Da Silva read it.
‘The Vatican takes note of the article published earlier today in the Italian press. While the Holy See does not typically comment on rumor and speculation, in this instance it is deemed necessary to clarify the record. It is true that there has been a recent discovery of a previously unknown financial debt between the Vatican and a certain banking institution. However, experts have not yet determined the validity of the debt and there has been no decision with respect to Vatican repayment of the debt. There will be no further statements until the matter is resolved.’
Cal arrived at the private aviation terminal at Logan Airport and was informed that the Sassoon jet had arrived from Teterboro. Julian Sassoon had already boarded.
Julian rose from a forward seat to greet Cal. ‘I’ve got a little surprise for you,’ he said.
The rear lavatory door opened and the surprise emerged. Gail Sassoon gave Cal a smile and a wave.
‘Mommie Dearest decided to come along,’ Julian said. ‘She either wants to spend more time with me, the pope or with you. My money’s on you.’
TWENTY-SIX
At Fiumicino Airport the Sassoon Gulfstream was met by a group of Italian security guards who’d been hired by the bank. They were an elite crew, ex-special forces, all of them from the 9th Parachute Assault Regiment. The squad leader, an intimidating fellow with a shaved head and a neck tattoo that crept just above his dress shirt, boarded the plane. He identified himself and asked to speak with the woman who had hired them, Gail Sassoon.
Julian and Cal exchanged glances and Cal let Julian do the talking.
‘I’m Julian Sassoon,’ he said. ‘Mr Scotto, I believe your first assignment is helping Mrs Sassoon off the plane.’
Gail wasn’t exactly passed out. Cal figured she was equal parts asleep and drunk. She had started drinking during the New York to Boston leg and had continued at a steady clip. Somewhere mid-Atlantic she had said something to Cal resembling a pass, prompting Julian to change seats to get as far away from her as he could. The first time Julian used the lavatory, Cal had urgently engaged her.
‘Look, Gail. Like I told you the morning after our thing in Rome, it was a mistake on my part. You got drunk, I got drunk, but it’s never, ever going to happen again. It can’t. Especially now I’ve met Julian. Understand?’
She had slurred her words, ‘Of course I understand, Cal. Never, ever.’
The three passengers had spent the rest of the journey spaced evenly throughout the cabin.
Scotto bundled Gail into a black people-mover and the three protectees and their security detail were driven to the Excelsior Hotel where the Sassoons were checked in under assumed names. Scotto was insistent – Gail and Julian were told to stay in and order room service. Cal was cut loose. His threat level was low according to the Italian, which suited him just fine. He happily went for a walk in the wintry chill.
Cal had observed the phenomenon before: by the following morning, Gail was bright as a new penny. Scotto had protected his share of sloshed celebrities. In the lobby he discreetly reintroduced himself and escorted her to the van where Julian and Cal were waiting.
/> Julian scowled at her and when she asked him why he was being so moody, he said sarcastically, ‘I don’t know, no reason in particular.’
‘And you, Cal? You’re awfully quiet. Are you also in a funk?’
‘Me? Couldn’t be better,’ he said, slipping on sunglasses. ‘The sun is shining and we’re off to see the pope.’
The people-mover stopped at the entrance to St Peter’s Square. Scotto explained that they were not permitted to bring weapons into Vatican City. He and two of his men left their pistols in a lock box and after doing a threat assessment outside the van, he led the three of them surrounded by a phalanx into the square.
‘This is so lame,’ Julian said to Cal. ‘No one knows who the hell we are.’
Gail overheard and said something to the effect of better to be safe than sorry.
If anything, having bodyguards with earpieces attracted more attention than if they’d blended in, unprotected, among the tourists.
As they waited in the lobby of the Sanctae Marthae guesthouse, the guards stationed outside, Cal marveled at Julian’s demeanor. The kid was a cool customer, seemingly unfazed at the prospect of meeting a pope. Gail, on the other hand, kept checking her face with her compact, nervously touching up her makeup.
The monsignor who came for them was someone Cal had never met. When the priest introduced himself Cal asked after Moller and he was informed that the monsignor was off duty today.
The pope greeted them with a frowning expression.
‘Mrs Sassoon, Mr Sassoon, I was so very sorry to hear of the loss of your husband and your father. As you know, I never met him but from the way, Mrs Sassoon, you spoke about his spirit and his vision, I nevertheless felt a certain closeness to him. I have prayed for you and I have prayed for him.’
Something about the greeting seemed to get to Julian and Cal saw one of his knees buckle. Maybe the kid wasn’t so cool after all.
Perhaps Celestine noticed too because he took Julian’s hands and said, ‘I have seen photos of your father and you look so like him. He lives on through his son. Such are the blessings of the family.’
He asked everyone to sit and turned his attention to Cal.
‘And Professor Donovan. What else can I say about your friendship? This is your third trip to visit us within a short period. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.’