“Well, then, hearty congratulations are in order.” Tito raised his glass. “To the family man. We may need more alcohol.”
“We may.” Slash smiled as he touched his glass to Tito’s.
After a few minutes, Tito sat back in his chair and studied him. “So, what personal business could take you away from your beguiling fiancée?”
“The troublesome kind.”
Tito didn’t look surprised at that revelation. “Figured as much. Wherever there’s trouble, you can be found. How can I help?”
It meant a lot to him that Tito always had his back and could be counted on for help. There were just a handful of people in his life he could trust for that. “You could start by letting me know how things are going at the Vatican.”
“Well, it’s interesting that you ask, and even more intriguing that you show up at this exact moment.” Tito leaned forward, studying Slash and lowering his voice. “Things seem tense lately. There’s been an unusual amount of activity.”
“What kind of activity?”
“Nothing specific. A lot of cardinals coming and going. Secretive meetings at odd hours. Something is going on...and then you show up. I don’t see that as a coincidence.”
“It’s not. Do you know what’s going on?”
“No. But I suspect it’s something significant.”
A lot of cardinals coming and going could signal either the pope was orchestrating something secretly or someone was plotting against the pope. Either way, it was unsettling. He’d likely been summoned to help one side or the other, so the play was to determine which way it would go. He could be a threat to many because he knew things. But he could also be used to harm others. Dozens of possibilities. Until someone played the hand that involved him, he’d have to sit tight.
“It’s enough that you’ve confirmed this for me.” Slash lifted his wineglass. “By the way, do you happen to know where Rinaldo Pacini retired?”
Tito stared at him. “Pacini? You’re thinking about contacting him?”
Slash swirled the wine, then took a sip. Rinaldo Pacini had ruled the sodalitium pianum with an iron fist the entire time Slash had worked there, until the organization had been disbanded shortly after the Congo incident. “I’m thinking about it.”
Tito shook his head in disbelief. “Good luck with that. He changed his name, changed his life. You’ll have a hard time finding him.”
“I won’t.” It wasn’t bragging, it was the truth. The only question was how long would it take him, and whether Pacini knew, or would share, anything useful.
“You think what’s going on is connected?” Tito asked.
“It’s possible.”
“Rumor is he’s in Terni, but that could be old news or no news at all.”
“Terni is as good a place to start as any.” It sat about 104 kilometers northeast of Rome, nestled between two rivers. Once a bustling Roman city, it was now known for its innovative chemical and technological start-ups.
“To be honest, I’m not surprised you’ve shown up,” Tito continued. “When things start to get hot, you are always in the middle of it.”
“Apparently, that’s my fate in life.”
“Well, we all have our destiny.” Tito fiddled with his fork. “I’m here to help as needed.”
“Danke, my friend. I appreciate that, and it goes both ways. If you can’t find a job you like, let me know. I have some connections that could be useful.”
“Thanks, Nico. It’s good to know.”
They spent the rest of the meal chatting about friendly topics. Slash hadn’t spoken German for a while, and it felt good to use it talking with one of the few friends he had. Already a plan was forming in his head. He wanted to execute it and get home as quickly as possible.
He insisted on paying for the meal. When they stood, Tito thanked him and shook his hand one more time. “I’m relieved you’re here, Nico. I’ve got a bad feeling about what’s going on. Something feels off.”
“Agreed. Stand by, old friend. I’m going to get to the bottom of it.”
Tito nodded, but a shadow of concern crossed his face. “I’ve no doubt about that. You’re definitely the man for the job, whatever that job may be.”
Chapter Thirteen
Slash
The drive from Rome to Genoa was about four and a half hours in ideal conditions. He wanted to call Lexi, but what could he tell her? She’d want to know what was happening, and he had nothing substantial to report other than a confirmation from Tito that something mysterious was happening at the Vatican. He wondered what she would think of that.
How could he shield Lexi from his past without jeopardizing her trust? Gripping the steering wheel tightly, he considered the three principal issues.
Will she still love me the same way if she knows the things I’ve done?
Will I lose her respect if I continue to try to hide my past from her?
If I keep secrets, does that mean I am admitting I don’t trust her?
He rolled his neck. That last question was moot. He trusted Lexi implicitly. It was himself he didn’t trust.
Outside of Florence, traffic crawled past a serious accident. A small car lay partially crushed under a large truck that had spilled construction materials across several lanes of traffic. As he passed the scene, he noted them loading an injured woman on a wheeled stretcher into an ambulance.
So, instead of calling Lexi, he turned on the music and rolled down the window, enjoying the breeze and the last couple hours of the drive. The weather was hot, but it didn’t bother him as much as he expected. His body adapted quickly, familiar with the heat and the rhythms of his birth country. Regardless, as soon as he arrived at the church in Genoa, he was relieved to walk into the cool dimness of the administrative offices, located behind the church.
A young priest rose from behind a desk when he entered.
“Buon pomeriggio,” Slash said. “I’m here to see Father Emilio Armando.”
“I’m sorry. Do you have an appointment?”
“I do not. I’m hoping the cardinal will be able to fit me in.”
“The cardinal is currently unavailable. He’s a busy man.”
“I’m sure he is. I’m only requesting that you let him know I’m here. He will either see me or not.”
The priest looked doubtful, but asked for Slash’s name and then disappeared down a corridor. Slash removed his sunglasses and hooked them on the front of his shirt as he sat in one of the chairs. About two minutes later the priest came back.
He looked at Slash with undisguised curiosity. “His Eminence will see you at once. Please follow me.”
“Thank you, Father.”
As they headed toward Father Armando’s office, an older woman, dressed in a crisp suit of navy blue, her brown hair pulled back in a tight bun, exited his office. She kissed the priest on each cheek and then left, making brief eye contact with Slash as he passed. Slash dipped his head at her, noting her eyes were puffy and red. She’d been crying.
Damn, he’d interrupted something.
Father Armando already stood in the hallway, dressed in an ordinary black cassock and collar. He waved Slash in. His black hair held more gray than last time, but his eyes were filled with happiness and obvious affection.
I wonder what changes he sees in me.
Before Slash could say a word of greeting, the father embraced him with open arms. The young priest who accompanied him quietly closed the door behind them when they stepped into the father’s office.
“Nicolo, what a surprise to see you.” Father Armando framed Slash’s face between his hands and studied him for a long moment, and then gave a satisfied nod before kissing him on both cheeks. “You look well. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“I’m sorry. I’ve interrupted something.”
“It’s oka
y. We were wrapping things up. Please, sit down. To what do I owe this honor? Did you just get in?”
Slash sat as requested and Father Armando took the chair across from him. “I did. I’m sorry I didn’t give you advance notice of my arrival. This trip was rather unexpected.”
“I see. Is this about Giorgio?”
“Yes...and no.”
Seemingly intrigued by that comment, the priest leaned forward. “Well, I’ve been digging to see if I can figure out what is behind the denial of his marriage request, but found nothing yet. It’s highly unusual. I still have more threads to pull, so I will get answers for you.”
“I understand, and appreciate your effort. I actually wondered if you wouldn’t mind taking a stroll in the church garden. I’d appreciate the opportunity to see how it’s grown since the last time I was here.”
Father Armando looked at Slash for a long, puzzled moment and then rose. “Of course, I’d be delighted to show you the garden. I’ve nurtured the most splendid purple wisteria. You will be amazed at the vividness of the color. Come, my son, let us walk.”
Father Armando grabbed a Nationals baseball cap from the bookshelf—one Slash had given him—then swept out his hand to indicate Slash should go first. The father closed the door behind them and they walked down the cool, dark corridor until they came to a door. They stepped into the bright sunlight, blinking rapidly. He slipped on his sunglasses while Father Armando jammed the cap on his head to shade his head and face.
“This way,” he said.
Slash followed without comment. When they reached the purple wisteria, he lifted a bloom to his nose and noted the sweet fragrance.
“Impressive,” he said, releasing the flower. “You’ve developed quite the green thumb.”
“Thank you. I believe that nurturing the environment is a noble endeavor. If you’d like, we can sit on the bench and enjoy the view while you tell me why you really came. I trust there’s a reason we cannot speak candidly in my office.”
“Si. I’m afraid someone may be listening in on your conversations, Father.”
Father Armando stumbled, nearly falling onto the bench before Slash caught him by the arm.
“What? My office is bugged? Someone is listening to my private conversations?”
“I think it’s a possibility. I prefer to err on the side of caution.”
Shaken, the father settled onto the bench. “That’s a grave accusation on many different levels. Who exactly would be listening?”
“I’m not sure, but I urge you to be circumspect in what you say from this point on.” Slash joined him on the bench. “I’m concerned there’s something going on at the Vatican. Something’s not right.”
“Why would you say that?”
“It’s complicated. Suffice it to say, I’ve been summoned to Rome, and not in a good way.” He briefly brought the father up to speed on recent events. Father Armando listened quietly without interruption. When he finished, the priest leaned back on the bench, a contemplative expression on his face.
“The nkondi statue means it has to be someone who knows what happened in the Congo,” Father Armando said.
“Si.” Slash spread his hands. “But who? There are only a handful of us who know. What would be the purpose of revealing such things now?”
“Well, whoever sent the statue is playing dangerously.” Father Armando reached up to tap the gold crucifix around his neck. “It’s most certainly about power and control. What happened in the Congo... You know your actions were justified as those necessary to the church. You did what you were told. No one could have foreseen what would happen.”
The words didn’t help. They never did. He looked at the wisteria, its blossoms stretching toward the heat of the sun, yearning to grow. “Intellectually I understand, but my soul remains troubled by the actions and the outcome.”
“I know.” The priest put a gentle hand on his arm. “Nicolo, your heart is not yet healed, and you continue to seek peace for your past actions. As we have spoken before, what happened there is not on you.”
“It will always be on me.”
The father shook his head sadly. “You have confessed and asked for forgiveness. That forgiveness has been granted to you by those who are closest to God. God forgives those who are repentant for their sins. You know this. This is not your burden to carry alone.”
He remained silent.
Father Armando exhaled, lifting his cap and rubbing his right temple with his hand. “I believe this may be the time to bring you in. Come let us sit a moment.”
Puzzled, he followed the priest to a shaded bench and sat next to him. Father Armando put the cap in his lap and folded his hands on top of it. “Nicolo, what I’m about to say must stay confidential.”
Now he was more concerned than puzzled. But he kept his voice neutral when he answered. “I understand.”
The priest hesitated for a moment, then spoke. “The pope is ill.”
Dismay and shock shot through him. Whatever he’d been expecting Father Armando to say, that hadn’t been it. He took a moment to work through all the emotions before he managed to ask, “How badly?”
“I’m not sure. His Holiness confided in me a few months ago.”
The fact that the confidence had taken place did not surprise him. The pope and Father Armando had been close friends for decades, both serving in various, and often overlapping, positions in the Vatican. One of the pope’s first official actions had been to elevate Father Armando, the Archbishop of Genoa, to a cardinal.
“I believe His Eminence told me this for a reason,” the priest continued. “I also think you being here is not a coincidence.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because when His Holiness told me about his illness, he provided no other detail other than to say I was forbidden to tell anyone of his condition, except for you...and only if the time was right.”
“Me?” The Holy Father had permitted Father Armando to confide in him? That was nothing short of unprecedented and a little unsettling. He didn’t understand why he would be brought into a matter at the very pinnacle of Vatican power, even when there was a great deal of personal respect and affection between himself and the Holy Father.
“He permitted you to tell me? Why?”
Father Armando shifted on the bench and put a reassuring hand on his back. “At the time, I did not understand why. I know he is quite fond of you, but I thought perhaps the illness had made him confused. It was a lot for me to accept, as it was. However, now you are here and we’re speaking of this, I don’t believe his comment to me was as offhand as I suspected. The Holy Father is a wise and prudent man. So, I believe he had good reason for this. You need to know, Nicolo. But why, and what it means in the bigger picture of what’s going on, I have no idea.”
It was a staggering development, and he wondered why the time had to be “right,” and how that coincided with what was happening. “Why didn’t you summon me at once? You knew I would have come.”
“Si, I knew. But you, better than anyone, understand the supreme confidentiality of what I’ve revealed. It is not a simple confidence. If the Holy Father had not specifically said I could share this with you, I would not have. I’m as mystified by all of this as you are. That being said, I think your presence here is expected. By good or bad forces, I do not know. For whatever reason, you’ve become a player in what’s happening.”
“What is happening?” Many possibilities, mostly bad, raced through his head, culminating with Tito’s warning that something big was going down at the Vatican.
“I don’t know, but I’m worried.”
The deeply concerned expression on Father Armando’s face unsettled him. He needed to focus, get his thoughts in order, to figure out how to form a plan of action. “No worries. We can handle this. One place to start is to find out who interfered with Gio’s w
edding. That might lead me to the person who has brought me here.”
“Perhaps, but as I suspect you know, this is not about Giorgio. This is about you. They are using him to get to you.”
“Or using me to get to you,” Slash added.
Father Armando considered. “Perhaps. But for what purpose?”
“I don’t know, but the nkondi statue was not sent by benevolent forces.”
“I agree. So, what next?”
Slash rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the muscles knotted tightly. “I’ve already touched base with Tito and I’m thinking a talk with Pacini might be useful.”
Surprise crossed the priest’s face. “Pacini? He no longer lives in Rome. Shortly after the organization was dissolved, he cut ties with the Vatican and essentially disappeared, which is understandable given the circumstances.”
It was totally understandable. All those involved in the mission had been reassigned or moved. Pacini, as head of the sodalitium pianum, had a lot more to lose than the rest of them.
“Do you know anyone who might still have contact with him? Tito said he heard rumors that Pacini went to Terni.”
“It’s possible.” The father looked off into the distance, thinking. “He was close to Father Nucci and he’s not in Lazo’s pocket. I could see what I could find out.”
“I’d appreciate it. I also intend to make my presence known at the Vatican and see what plays out. In the meantime, I’ll continue my search to see if I can find who’s blocking Gio’s wedding.”
“I’ll work on that issue, as well.” They both rose from the bench. “Should I alert security to the potential bug in my office?”
“I would urge you to wait, if you feel comfortable doing so. If your office is indeed bugged, then we would tip our hand if we reveal we’ve found it. We may yet be able to use the bug to our advantage. If there is no bug, we may paint ourselves as paranoid.”
“Understood. Then I will say nothing for the time being. But please, Nicolo, be careful.”
He smiled. “You sound like a certain someone I know.”
No Stone Unturned: A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, Book Eleven Page 6
