by Alex Thomas
"Milk, sugar?" she asked.
"Just milk please," Catherine took a look at the person next to her. "You run the Internet office?"
Sister Thea poured them both a cup of coffee and nodded. "The Curia has made progress, albeit somewhat hesitantly. Thirteen years ago I was called to Rome. Ever since then I have been responsible for spreading the word of the Catholic Church throughout the Web. I have run the Internet office for the past five years. By the way, I am not the only woman who has received professional recognition here at the heart of the Catholic faith in the past few years." She placed the coffee pot back on the tray and handed Catherine a cup. She then added outright: "I understand you are leaving the Franciscan order. Why?"
Catherine gave the older woman a look of surprise. Her decision couldn’t possibly have been leaked to the outside world yet. Only Mother Superior and a few close friends knew of it – and of course, the Pope, who had invited her for a personal chat upon her arrival to Rome. She lowered her cup. "I have my reasons," she simply said.
Sister Thea persisted. "I can imagine. But for which reasons?"
She inhaled deeply. "If the Congregation of the Doctrine of Faith abolish my work – and they will most likely do that – then I will be asked as a member of the order to remain silent at best. In which case, I will leave so as not to harm the order any further."
"Cardinal Bear in Chicago is on your side. Cardinal Weinstein in Vienna often stands between you and the Congregation of the Doctrine of Faith. Your Mother Superior supports you…"
"I know. That is one of the reasons why I must leave. By giving her oath, she has promised to honour the Church, but they are also my friends. I can just as easily remind the Church from the outside that reforms are necessary." Catherine placed down her cup. "May I ask who told you of my decision?"
Without hesitation Sister Thea said: "A friend. He said you needn’t worry. It won’t come to a canonical process. Not as long as Leo is the Pope."
Catherine contained her curiosity so as not to ask another question. Sister Thea had probably revealed more than she should have. "His Holiness is an extraordinary human being," she said. "It is as if all the positive characteristics of the last few Popes have been united in him."
Another smile ran across Sister Thea’s face. She stood up, went to her desk and turned the flat screen computer monitor toward Catherine. The coat of arms of the Holy See that served as a screen saver was replaced by the image of an article. "I don’t know the exact numbers, but thanks to the Pope the Church has won ground in Germany and the rest of Europe. The communities are no longer shrinking. The number of candidates for the priesthood is on the rise…Successes for which neither the traditionalists nor the conservatives can take credit."
Catherine arose and stood next to Sister Thea at the monitor. The article was from the German weekly paper Die Zeit and referred to an interview with Cardinal Herzog from Cologne, the successor of Eminence Eugenio Cardinal Tore, the current Pontifex maximus.
Sister Thea said: "His Holiness is a humanist first, Pope second. A lot of the social, ideological, political, ethnic and intellectual barriers of yesteryear no longer exist. It is for that reason that your vision of the future, a vision of a modern, adaptable church impressed him so much. Nonetheless, he is a part of the system."
She tapped a few keys and a flood of emails rushed across the screen. "These are all for you, Catherine. Thousands of emails – hundreds coming in anew each day. People are hoping and praying for you all over the world."
"I had no idea…" Sure, she had received emails here and there that supported her work or even criticised it…but never in such numbers – directly sent to the Holy See? Catherine was speechless.
Both affection and determination streamed across Sister Thea’s face. "No matter what happens, no matter how you decide, whether you stay or leave the order. You are not alone. I wanted you to know that."
Catherine took a seat next to the Franciscan nun at the little table, drank coffee and ate cookies while chatting with her as if it were the most natural thing in the world to discuss inner-Vatican politics, the future of the Church and as to whether Leo’s selection perhaps meant the dawning of a new era.
Finally, Sister Thea asked: "Do you have plans for tomorrow evening? Cardinal Benelli has invited a few of us to a little dinner. He would be thrilled to have you." She added with a conspiratorial wink: "You’d have the unique opportunity to observe several intrigue-loving Curia members live. In action, so to speak."
Catherine waved her off. "I’d better not. I am the enfant terrible of the ecclesiastical world. My presence could easily turn the His Eminence’s celebration into an apocalyptic fiasco."
"Or the chance to straighten things out once and for all. They’ve written so much about you in the papers, Catherine. So much talk too. But not many truly know you. We would be delighted if you should come."
"Thanks. But I…please understand that I must first think about it."
Thea nodded. "Of course. Pardon me. I didn’t want to coerce you. You’ve been through a lot in the past few days."
So true. The past few days hadn’t exactly been a bed of roses. But the audience with His Holiness, the personal conversation with Pope Leo, had brought her renewed hope for the future of the Church, along with her own. Leo hadn’t pressured her in the least. He hadn’t reprimanded her or in any way rebuked her. He had merely spoken to her about the concerns of humanity, about that which moved her, about what the men and women in the twenty-first century expect from their church and what the church instead provided them.
"The issue is really quite simple, Your Grace," Catherine had said with a touch of irony. "The Holy Father has the top authority. And the Holy Father is you."
Leo had looked at her and laughed. He then pointed to his heart and said: "The top authority resides with Him and He is in our hearts, Sister Catherine. I know He won’t let you fall."
His words had given her enormous strength during the darkest hours in the past few weeks. But even the fierce Joan of Arc had been burned at the stake.
"Come," said Sister Thea and gave Catherine’s arm a friendly pat. "Let me show you the Vatican’s gardens. A little fresh air and some greenery will do us a world of good. You’ll see. It works wonders."
The Vatican’s gardens were wonderful, a paradise with its numerous fountains, statues, buildings and grottos surrounded by unique vegetation. During their walk, they passed by Sister Thea’s favourite spot, the Grotta di Lourdes, a replication of the Lourdes grotto in the South of France where the Virgin Mary appeared to Saint Bernadette over fifty years ago.
After Catherine arrived at her room in the guesthouse Isa in the Vatican late that evening, she thought about Cardinal Benelli’s invitation. She didn’t know the man, but Sister Thea had assured her that he belonged to the most open-minded members of the Vatican and that he somehow managed to make friends with even the most bitter of opponents.
Catherine sat at the tiny hotel room desk, turned on her computer and called up her emails for the day. She was a foundered angel in God’s court and parts of the world just awaited her fall. Could she even afford to reject the invitation? Just as she was about to finish with her electronic correspondence, she came upon a message sent by Albert Cardinal Benelli late that afternoon. His friendly tone revealed nothing of his high clerical rank. Without being hurtful, yet full of compassion and with a touch of encouragement, he asked her how she liked the "global village" that is the Vatican after the strict guardians of the faith had administered to her needs. In the next breath he invited her to a little dinner party that he was arranging for the following evening. He forwent all Vatican subtleties, which Catherine found quite refreshing.
She sat there for a while, then thanked him for the invitation, which she gracefully accepted. Should the party tomorrow turn out to be a battlefield, she would do her best to stand above it all. But she would fight back in her way. Benelli must know that, even if he wouldn’t expect that from her.
Her mobile phone beeped once. A text message from Ben. He would return to Rome tonight.
12
Rome, The Vatican, Palace of the Holy Office
Ben had the feeling as if he had entered Cardinal Ciban’s office a thousand times already even though he had only done so perhaps three dozen times. Once again the astounding combination of past, present and high-tech equipment made an impression on him. It was as if a highly skilled interior designer had taken the best from antiquity, the Middle Ages, the Renaissance and the modern era and artfully arranged it in this room as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Ben sat in a comfortable Renaissance chair with high armrests and a dark leather seat cushion. To his left stood an old open bookshelf that looked as if it and the books inside had come from the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana. A flat screen monitor hung on the right wall while the remainder of the media station rested underneath the screen on an elegant iron and glass structure. Angelic figures armed with swords overlooked the room from ceiling level on another shelf.
Ciban had just returned from a meeting with His Holiness when Ben entered his office’s antechamber. For a few days now rumours had been floating around that the Pope had suffered a stroke. The young investigator asked himself how much of it were true. Ciban hadn’t said a word about it. He now stood at the window, staring at the cloudless sky, and appeared to pay no attention at all to Ben’s report about Father Darius’ murder, the Rottach Abbey and the Munich rental car company. It was only after he ended his stocktaking with a slight cough that Ciban turned back toward him.
In the past few years, Ben had learned how to read the cardinal’s sparse gestures, but at this moment he couldn’t tell in what type of mood his superior was. It was moments like these in which Ben wished he had Catherine’s gift to see what she saw when she read a person’s aura. Had she risked taking a look at the prefect’s soul during her interrogation?
Ciban took a seat across from Ben at the large Renaissance desk and crossed his slender legs. Even though the cardinal was in his early fifties, the young Vatican agent knew Ciban could physically take him on at any time. The prefect was also known for his phenomenal memory. Quite a few of his Curia colleagues, including the old-school Cardinal Secretary of State His Eminence Sergio Cardinal Monti, had learned that painful lesson. A further consequence of his great memory was the well-organised desk of His Eminence. The sealed well-polished surface looked as if no one had worked there for even a single hour.
"Our German agent just called," explained Ciban. His melodious voice would have most likely shot up the number of Radio Vatican listeners by several percentage points. "The young man from the rental car company, Eric Zander, is dead. Apparently, he died of an overdose."
Ciban clicked on the flat screen monitor and Ben saw the bleak image of a drowned corpse. Ralf Porter from the German Federal Intelligence Service was right. Zander had seen someone who could have identified the stranger and that cost him his life.
"Where did they find the body, Eminence?"
"Zander’s body was pulled from the Isar near Baierbrunn last night. He was already dead before someone tossed him into the river. That was about three and a half days ago." Ciban switched off the monitor.
"Did the rental car company’s surveillance videos show anything?" asked Ben.
"They’re still at the lab. Porter will keep us posted."
"To be honest, I don’t understand it, Eminence. For heaven’s sake, who would have a reason to murder Father Darius? What’s the motive?"
The cardinal shook his head. "I’m sorry, Monsignor. I know Father Darius was your mentor and friend, but I am not authorised to speak about the details of this case with you."
"Does it have something to do with Lux?" Ben persisted.
The order investigated and managed all secret knowledge surrounding all extraordinary phenomena both inside and outside the Church. Darius had worked for decades for the institutes in Chicago and Rome. Ben and Catherine had both received lessons and instruction in one of them. But Ben had left Chicago shortly before Lux had taken over the direction of the Institute for the Psychically Gifted. Nonetheless, Lux was under the control of the Congregation of the Doctrine of Faith, the modern Roman Inquisition. If anyone could answer the question, it would be the cardinal.
Ciban gave Ben an indulgent glance, leaned back in his comfortable desk chair and tapped his fingers together lightly. "I think you’ve understood what I said. I cannot speak of it. With no one. Except with His Holiness."
What nonsense. Ben’s gaze fell upon Ciban’s left hand, the one with the tiny scar. This black-robed predator who had saved Innocence from an assassination like a bodyguard three years ago in Mexico was one of the most powerful men in the Vatican. No one could forbid him to speak about the case if he so desired. Not even His Holiness.
"How is the Holy Father?" asked Ben carefully to at least feel out the measure of this rumour.
"Considering the circumstance he is well. Why?"
"I heard a few things."
Ciban gave him an ominous, casual smile. "What would the Vatican be without rumours." After a brief pause, he added: "I must ask you to put your investigation on hold."
Put the investigation on hold? Ben stared at the prefect incredulously. He thought he may have heard incorrectly. To remain silent about a case was one thing. He wasn’t even able to tell Catherine about Darius’ murder. But to completely stop his investigation made no sense at all.
"Quite frankly, I am surprised, Eminence. I’ve only just gotten started."
"I know. But I must ask you to let it rest for a while. Trust me." Ciban looked into his counterpart’s eyes in such a way that he had to ask himself if he shared Catherine’s gift to read his soul.
"What about the lead in Germany?"
"We will look into it, of course." Within seconds the prefect elegantly swung himself up and stood by the door. Ben was certainly not short, but his superior towered over him by at least ten centimetres. "I will get back to you immediately should anything come up."
Ben had to admit that their conversation was over. He grabbed his briefcase and stood up. But if Ciban expected him to return to the depths of the archives and act as if nothing had happened, the cardinal had another thing coming to him.
"Before you go, I have one more question," said Ciban, blocking his exit.
Ben had no choice but to stand there and wait to see what would happen next.
"When you went through Father Darius’ belongings, did you come across anything…out of the ordinary?"
"Anything out of the ordinary?" Ben thought for a moment. Was the cardinal thinking about the little oak chest with the letters and papers? They must have arrived to the secret service in a sealed container by now. Ben had not discovered anything unusual in the chest. Nothing in the least that seemed suspicious or could have had anything to do with Darius’ murder.
Regarding the old Bible with Darius’ own highlights, Ben’s only inheritance….he couldn’t see anything suspicious there either. Many believers highlight Bible passages that help them with their meditation practice and offer them strength. Why should it be any different with Darius? "Not that I know of. What could it be?"
"I am asking you, Monsignor." Ciban shrugged his shoulders casually, moved out of Ben’s way and handed him the folder he had placed on the desk after giving his report. "Perhaps you will give it some thought."
As Ben walked through the long antechamber toward the corridor, he could feel the cardinal’s gaze piercing his back. He felt a sense of unease. Never before had Ciban held him back during an investigation. Never before had Ben felt so uneasy in the presence of his superior.
Good Lord! What had Darius gotten himself into that he was now dead and Ciban had halted all further investigations? Ben was certain it had something to do with Lux Domini. Lux now possessed a great deal of power due to its research. Its structure reminded Ben of a secret order like that of Opus Dei. On top of that
, a great majority of the members were gifted mediums…
Suddenly, his mobile phone rang as he made his way back to the archives. It was Catherine.
At least there was one good thing about this day.
13
The master’s flat was located in the north-western part of Rome and offered a breath-taking view of the city. At sunset Monsignor Nicola deRossi enjoyed the grand view of the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica. The sparkling rooftops seemed to reach beyond eternity in the sunlight. The Roman emperors must have felt that way when they looked across the centre of their empire two thousand years ago. In a certain way the master seemed to deRossi to be a type of emperor, even if he remained uncrowned according to clerical standards. The master should have been the one on Petri’s throne instead of the sentimental weakling Leo. The Church could achieve so much more under his reign.
The sun disappeared and the veranda’s automatic lights switched on. DeRossi knew that the moment night fell, Rome would fill with a particular type of person: the night owl. He himself knew the nocturnal magic of Rome much better than its magic by day. He had promised some of those people heaven on Earth, then given them hell instead. The last nocturnal reveller he came across didn’t survive the magic. The peace and quiet of the catacombs was quite ecstasising. The blood of the lamb was so sweet.
"A glorious evening," said the master who sat next to deRossi on the veranda and followed his gaze. "I will never tire of this view, dear Nicola."
"I believe you, Eminence," agreed deRossi with a compassionate smile.
Just a few moments before they had enjoyed a delicious meal and an excellent wine over conversation about the mission, Rottach and Father Darius. DeRossi suppressed a pleasant shiver. It was so tempting to recall the incredulous look on the priest’s face and the ensuing silent fall into the depths of his demise. Rottach had been as successful as the two other missions in Switzerland and France. DeRossi could be pleased with himself and the world around him as he had done good work. Darius’ end meant another member of the foolish papal Lux congregation had left this world. Not a single trail could be made back to Rome, not to mention to himself or the master.
