The Vivaldi Cipher

by Gary McAvoy

  “This is a pleasant surprise,” Dominic said, setting down his fork and wiping his mouth with the napkin. “Are you joining us?”

  Marco and Karl took chairs from adjacent tables and pulled them up.

  Looking around the room before he spoke, Marco leaned in close. The others followed suit.

  “I’m afraid Father Rinaldo is dead. I watched as the police lifted his body out of the lagoon and placed it on the coroner’s launch.”

  Hana gasped, her hand rising to cover her mouth. Dominic stared directly into Marco’s face, his own eyes glistening as he took in the dreadful news.

  “Those bastards!” he scowled. Standing, he tossed his napkin on the chair as he walked to the railing, the sun warming his face as he looked up at the heavens. He lowered his head in a brief prayer, but couldn’t stop the tears that came as he prayed.

  Hana rose to join him, placing her hand on his shoulder.

  “Michael…” she offered, “I’m so sorry.”

  Dominic turned to face her, then pulled her in for a hug as he gently wept.

  “Carlo was one of my few close friends,” he managed. “He couldn’t have drowned, he was a skilled swimmer. We swam together on the varsity team.”

  Marco stepped forward. “I believe the Camorra sanctioned Rinaldo’s death, Michael. I just encountered one of their foot soldiers on Giudecca who was involved in his abduction. The question is, why?”

  Returning to the table, Dominic looked at his friends, determination now replacing grief.

  “It has to be related to that confession Carlo took from Don Gambarini. He gave him knowledge of something he shouldn’t have, and they wanted to silence him.

  “I am not a vengeful man,” Dominic said with a quiet fierceness. “But someone will pay for this.”

  After Mass, Lucas had escorted Livia back to her room to freshen up before lunch with the others. Thinking back on last night’s splendid evening, she realized she had forgotten about the Vivaldi manuscript until now, the one she found framed on the contessa’s staircase wall. She opened the Photos app on her phone, tapping on the image to better see it. Then she got to work.

  Texting Hana that she had some other things to do and would see them later, she ordered room service, then opened the music composition program on her laptop.

  She had transferred the image and used her software to decode the Solfa Cipher. Like the previous two, this one also had two four-line stanzas, signed by Vivaldi at the top. It was in beautiful condition, likely the reason the contessa had it conservation-framed for display.

  Now she simply had to parse the Italian fragments into English for the full transcription. What she found intrigued her:

  Almeno un cardinale ribelle

  e due cospiratori vaticani

  condurre l'operazione Scambio

  I dipinti selezionati sono preparati per il restauro

  poi spedito a Palazzo Feudatario a Venezia

  per la riproduzione per mano di grandi falsari

  Tutto questo è dettagliato nel Giornale di Coscia

  Dio perdona loro i modi corrotti, non posso

  At minimum one rogue cardinal

  and two Vatican conspirators

  conduct Operation Scambio

  Select paintings are prepared for restoration

  then shipped to Palazzo Feudatario in Venice

  for reproduction by the hand of great forgers

  All of this is detailed in the Coscia Journal

  God forgive them their corrupt ways, I cannot

  Fascinating, she pondered. This lays out the entire scheme; well, most of it anyway.

  Just then there was a knock at the door, and Livia heard a young man’s voice call out, “Room service.”

  She opened the door and a smiling waiter stood there behind a service cart.

  “Buona sera, signora. Your lunch?”

  “Buona sera, si, grazie,” Livia responded, as the young man wheeled in the white-clothed service cart. He moved it over to the window next to the desk, removed the silver cloche covering the plate, and slipped the dome onto a shelf beneath the cart.

  “My bag is in the other room, just give me a moment,” Livia said in Italian.

  As the young man watched her leave the room, he quickly inspected the work she had been doing on the desk, then reached into his pocket for his phone, slid the Mute button on to silence the sound, then took two photos of the computer screen and her notes on the desk. He dropped the phone back into his jacket pocket.

  Livia returned to the room, a generous tip in her hand. Passing it to him, she thanked him and he left the suite.

  As she began enjoying her Salade Niçoise, Livia reviewed the materials again, making sure she had the proper transcription.

  Michael will certainly want to see this, she thought, pleased with her work.

  Chapter 20

  Situated in the Apostolic Palace adjacent to St. Peter’s Square, the Vatican Pinacoteca, or Art Gallery, includes many of the Church’s most beloved paintings and frescoes: Caravaggio’s Entombment, Perugino’s Madonna and Child with Saints, Leonardo da Vinci’s St. Jerome in the Wilderness, and Raphael’s Madonna of Foligno, among many others. The gallery had originally been housed in a suite of rooms known as the Borgia Apartments from the 15th century until 1932 when the more controllable venue provided better protection for the precious art.

  Security precautions here, as with the rest of the Vatican, were of the highest order. Guarded day and night by uniformed Vatican Carabinieri, the city’s internal police force, there was little to no chance of theft even being a possibility. All galleries of this nature worldwide have few such concerns, their only real apprehensions being a masterful plot by an insider, someone who knows the weaknesses or loopholes of an institution’s security systems—one reason most museum personnel are vetted with criminal background checks and, sometimes, extensive psychological profiles.

  But no red flags are raised when the natural order of things proceeds as expected, when scheduled processes go according to plan.

  Art restoration is one such area. Although the Vatican Museum has a full-time scientist and other staff devoted to developing custom conservation plans, for centuries Vatican specialists have outsourced restoration of painted works on canvas to the trusted experts at Feudatario Restorations in Venice. Long-established partnerships like this are highly prized in the art world, as with other commercial enterprises, where trust and faith have been mutually rewarded for years, or in this case, centuries.

  The experts at Feudatario excel at both restoration and conservation of valued artworks. Restoration involves the renovation or repair of works which have sustained damage or have simply decayed over time, with the goal of returning a work to its original, undamaged state. Conservation, on the other hand, deals with preservation efforts to safeguard against future damage or deterioration.

  One painting in particular—the prolific Raphael’s Madonna of Foligno—had been scheduled for restoration work for some time. First painted in 1512 on wood panel, it was one of the many works of art that were looted from the Vatican and taken to Paris during Napoleon’s siege of Rome in 1799, where, three years later, it was restored and transferred to canvas. After the Battle of Waterloo in 1815, the painting was returned to Rome and displayed in the Vatican Museum’s Pinacoteca gallery.

  On Monday morning two men, each wearing white lab coats and white cotton gloves, carefully removed the Raphael painting from its place on the gallery wall, stood it at an angle on a carpeted upright dolly and secured it for movement.

  Wheeling the dolly into the adjacent warehouse, they took their time as they made ready the painting’s shipment container, an archivally prepared wooden box with sufficient absorbent material to prevent external impacts.

  Finally, the box was sealed, addressed and bar-coded, then placed aboard an armored truck equipped with GPS and two armed security guards inside.

  The only ones who knew about the transfer outside the Vatican’s o
wn shipping paperwork were the receivers at Palazzo Feudatario, who were expecting delivery the following day.

  Chapter 21

  “Signore,” Aldo explained to Renzo Farelli, “all I saw were pages of music, and words mentioning a rogue cardinal, two Vatican conspirators, and something called Operation Scambio. Look. Here are the two photos I took of what she was working on.” He showed Farelli the images on his phone.

  The young Camorra cugine—whose primary means of employment was as a waiter at Ca’ Sagredo until he was ‘made’ and inducted into the clan and thus off probation—stood nervously in front of Farelli, relating his encounter with Livia Gallo.

  “Send these to me, Aldo. I must inspect them more closely.” The young man forwarded both images by email to Farelli.

  “As you can see, there is also a very old picture of music on the signora’s computer. And she had written the name Vivaldi on a notepad.” The boy beamed at his work.

  “Vivaldi?” Farelli repeated to himself. “What does Vivaldi have to do with anything?”

  “I am sorry, signore,” Aldo said. “This I do not know.”

  The capo’s jaw worked as he mulled this worrisome situation. A rogue cardinal? Vatican conspirators? He fumed at the jeopardy their operation faced. How could these people know anything about Operation Scambio?!

  “I need you to get me that computer, Aldo,” Farelli stressed. “And as soon as possible.”

  “Si, signore. I will try to get it as you wish.”

  At a stern look from Farelli, the young man fumbled, “I mean, yes, I will get it. Today.”

  Carlo Rinaldo’s death had cast a pall on everyone as they gathered in Livia’s suite that early evening. Dominic especially was disturbed, pacing the room as he turned over the events in his mind.

  “Why did they have to kill him, forgodsake?!” he asked no one in particular. “These guys are ruthless bastards without conscience, which means we could all end up the same way.”

  The priest sat down, dispirited. “We should just give up on this insane quest of mine. I don’t want to put any of you in danger any longer. Let them have their spoils.”

  Marco, ever the combatant, pushed back. “Michael, Carlo’s loss is regrettable, but if we stop now, wouldn’t he have died in vain? Surely he would have wanted you to see this through. Isn’t that why he shared the Don’s confession with you? I certainly want to see it to the end now! You have a great team here who cares about you and this mission—and it’s our mission, not just yours. We’ve all come too far to back out now. Screw these guys. I say bring it on.”

  “Marco’s right, Michael,” Karl said with conviction. “We’ve never backed away from high stakes before, and if you recall, the odds have been far worse in past situations. Count me in.” He looked around the room.

  “Me, too,” Lukas and Hana said at the same time.

  Dominic looked up, emotion clouding his face. He stood up, reaching out his hand to Marco.

  “Thanks.” He gripped Marco’s outstretched hand, shaking it firmly.

  “Thanks to all of you. I couldn’t have a better team. Things just got too heavy there, but I agree—Carlo’s death would have been pointless if I stopped now. So, where to from here?”

  Livia figured this was the right time to bring up her discovery.

  “Well, this may help. Hana, remember that framed Vivaldi piece on the contessa’s staircase wall that I took a photo of? Turns out to be yet another Solfa Cipher!”

  “There’s another?” Dominic asked, surprised. He looked at Hana. “You didn’t mention this before?”

  “I’d forgotten about it, what with some hideous geezer wearing an ugly bird’s beak mask staring at my breasts at the time.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Livia said. “‘Don Angelo Gallucci,’ he said his name was.”

  “Gallucci?” Marco and Dominic blurted out at the same time. Marco spoke first.

  “He’s head of the local Camorra. And apparently also a friend of the contessa.” He looked seriously at Dominic. “We need to be vigilant here. These people are not to be taken lightly. And they hide in plain sight. Anyone could be on the Camorra’s payroll.”

  “Carlo mentioned Gallucci by name at the party,” Dominic added, “telling me much the same thing. He said he feared repercussions over Gambarini’s confession if the Camorra ever found out. Obviously they have.”

  Marco glanced around the room. “Well, that pretty much answers the question then. From now on, each of us must be very careful who we speak with, and never travel alone. If they can daringly take down a man as well-known here as Father Rinaldo, well, I don’t need to elaborate.”

  “If I may,” Livia continued after a pause, “getting back to the Vivaldi manuscript. This message could be of great importance; it mentions intriguing specifics that may be helpful. I’ve already transcribed it.” She read the verses aloud:

  At minimum one rogue cardinal

  and two Vatican conspirators

  conduct Operation Scambio

  Select paintings are prepared for restoration

  then shipped to Palazzo Feudatario in Venice

  for reproduction by the hand of great forgers

  All of this is detailed in the Coscia Journal

  God forgive them their corrupt ways, I cannot

  “My God!” Dominic said. “This is a goldmine of compromising information. So the operation has had a name, Scambio—the Italian word for ‘switch’ or ‘exchange.’ And they sent paintings out for restoration from Rome to some palazzo here in Venice called Feudatario, which were then reproduced as forgeries? And the ‘Coscia Journal’ was obviously kept by Cardinal Niccolò Coscia. I wonder if it still exists today? Such a diabolical scheme! And yet somehow brilliant.”

  “You think this is all still going on?” Hana asked.

  “If Carlo’s death is any sign,” Marco affirmed, “I’d say yes.”

  “Livia,” Dominic said, “if you hadn’t had the foresight to take a photo of this at the party, we would never have had this kind of knowledge. We are all indebted to you.”

  Livia smiled humbly and blushed. “But what to do with it now?” she asked.

  “First,” Marco said, “we need to find this Palazzo Feudatario, to see if it’s still in business. Second, Michael, you should inform Cardinal Petrini of what we’ve discovered here. He needs to institute measures at his end to ensure that the Vatican’s restoration outsourcing procedures and personnel are trustworthy and reliable. Having ‘rogue’ cardinals makes it all the more disturbing.”

  “And lastly,” Marco finished, “I’ll check with the Carabinieri tomorrow to see if they have any leads on Carlo’s death. Karl, you should stay here with Michael and Hana so we’re all covered.”

  “Sure, Marco. And Lukas can keep Livia company.”

  “And while Marco is doing that,” Dominic proposed, “Hana, Karl and I can look for this Palazzo Feudatario.

  “But for now, let’s get some dinner. Who’s hungry?”

  All agreed in unison as they made for the door, heading downstairs to L’Alcova Ristorante.

  At the same time, Aldo from Room Service had been waiting against the wall just outside the door, appearing to be leaving another guest’s room on the third floor, the room adjacent to Livia’s.

  As he feigned holding back his service cart while the group filed out the door, he bid them all good evening as they passed him. Before the door closed shut, however, he slipped his foot inside the door jamb preventing it from closing. Nobody noticed as they walked away, chatting.

  He allowed the group time to get into the elevator, and after the doors closed, he knocked on the door to Livia’s suite.

  “Room Service,” he called out. He knocked once more. Then, certain no one was inside, pushed his cart into the room.

  Looking around, he noticed the laptop computer was still on the desk. He closed the cover, unplugged the computer from the wall socket, wrapped the cord around the unit, then slipped it onto the shelf
beneath the cart and left the room.

  After dinner, everyone returned to their rooms except for Hana, who joined Livia for a nightcap in her suite.

  Livia found two small bottles of Martini & Rossi Bitter Amaro in the minibar and poured them into two glasses. They each took a seat, letting their meals settle as they savored the aperitif.

  “So,” Hana began, a glimmer in her eyes. “What do you think of Marco?”

  Livia grinned. “I knew I wasn’t just seeing things during dinner. You couldn’t keep your eyes off him, could you?”

  “Well, he is quite the charmer, isn’t he?”

  “Ah, if only I was thirty years younger, I’d give you a run for your money. Yes, he is quite the catch. Are you going to play this out?”

  “I do think there’s something there. If he doesn’t make a move soon, I will.” As she said this, she thought wistfully of Michael, and what could never be.

  “Where did you just go?” Livia asked, eyeing her friend’s far off look. “To Michael, by any chance?”

  “Well, aren’t you the mind reader,” Hana said, blushing. “Obviously that could never work. But yes, if things were different…” She let it end there.

  Livia smiled at having guessed Hana’s dilemma. “I’d say you stand a strong chance with Marco, so—”

  As she was speaking, Livia happened to glance at her desk.

  “Hana! My computer’s gone,” she cried out, standing to look for it elsewhere in the room.

  “Where could it be?! It was here before we left for dinner!”

  Hana got up and helped her look around the suite, with no success.

  “Call the front desk and report it’s been stolen,” Hana said. “And ask them to check their keycard access files.”

  Calling the front desk, Livia did as Hana suggested. There were no other keycards used except hers for that entire day, she was told, but they would send up the hotel’s security manager right away.