by Alex Thomas
Cardinal Benelli appeared from nowhere and greeted Ciban by saying he was glad the prefect had found his way here. Light conversation followed, allowing for those present to relax in a more pleasant atmosphere. A certain tension remained, however, like the calm before the storm that would rise again in the form of Nature’s thunder. It was inevitable when two such diametrically opposite weather fronts such as Ciban and Bell directly clashed.
But the storm remained at bay, at least for the moment, although some of the guests would have loved to have experienced the spectacular thunderous rainstorm. For what other reason could have Benelli invited both of these opponents to his villa? So they could reconcile their differences? Ridiculous! So they would wait as the night was still young. Someone would certainly know how to ignite the flame of indignation. Once the first shot was fired, the evening would become a historic event not only for the journalists present, but a free-for-all for everyone.
Undeterred, Benelli said to Catherine and Ciban: "As far as I can tell, some of my guests are a bit disappointed about your mutual meeting. The lion lies next to the lamb, making no motion to eat it."
Catherine, whose heart was nearly at a standstill, managed to say between clenched teeth: "If you think I’m the lamb, you are quite wrong, Eminence. What kind of game are you playing? Isn’t it a bit too late to tell us the rules now?" Benelli’s side glance to Ciban told her that if it weren’t for Benelli’s guests, the prefect of the Congregation of the Doctrine of Faith would have torn him to pieces by now. Their host had a lot of explaining to do.
Benelli made a placating gesture. "Oh it is an old game. One of the oldest of all. It’s called ‘good versus evil’. Only the good is not always the lamb and the evil not always the lion."
"What remains is the snake," said Ciban, looking at his counterpart as if he were the embodiment of evil itself.
But Benelli only laughed. "A poet would say this reception is a meeting between the representatives of light and darkness. And you know what else? Most people here don’t even know it."
Ben said dryly: "The final question would be then who belongs to the darkness and who to the light. How is it with you, Eminence? Are you the good cloaked in evil or the evil cloaked in good?"
"Let’s just say I am on your side, Ben. But I am also on the side of His Holiness and that of Sister Catherine. Just as I am on the side of His Eminence Cardinal Ciban."
"Then it must be pretty damn hard for you to find anyone like you," shot Ciban back.
Benelli’s gaze went from Catherine to the cardinal as if he wished to create an invisible connection between the two of them. "After all, it isn’t the mind, but rather the heart that connects equals, right?"
For a moment the tiny group looked at the white-haired cardinal as if he were mentally challenged. Then Ciban spoke with a surprising softness in his voice: "That is all well and good, Eminence. But what is the real reason behind your provocation, your performance?"
Catherine could sense that the prefect was referring to more than the tactlessness of having been brought together with her this evening.
"I won’t survive the night, Marc," said Benelli, shrugging his shoulders. As if the provocation of the evening had not yet reached its height, the cardinal took off his ring and placed it on the buffet table. "We will have an end to the powerlessness this evening, even if it means the end of my own earthly existence." He turned to Catherine: "Remember the diabolical fire in your nunnery?"
The nun nodded. Of course she remembered. How could she ever forget. Fire broke out about three years ago one night in one of the cells in the diocese. It took two of the nuns’ lives and injured three others. "The fire was meant for you, my child. But luckily your cell was empty."
"I…" Catherine faltered as the reality of his words sunk in. Someone hated her so much for her stirring up trouble in the Church that he was willing to kill her and would take into account taking the lives of others in the process.
"You received an anonymous phone call and were pulled away. That’s the reason you survived."
Catherine stood there paralysed.
The white-haired cardinal turned to Ciban. "I don’t know who Father Darius’ murderer is, but one thing I do know. He is here in this room. I want him to break out in a cold sweat and go through all levels of martyrdom. You’ve interpreted the hint correctly, Marc."
Ciban stared at him. "So the anonymous hint, sanctioned by Brother Vasiariah, came from you?"
Benelli nodded. "Vasiariah, the helping angel of justice."
The prefect appeared oddly moved. "You know that your words can lead me to only one conclusion, Eminence. For heaven’s sake, tell me the names."
"You know I cannot. The covenant doesn’t work that way."
Ciban’s eyes were suddenly filled with a strange glow. Catherine couldn’t tell whether it was displeasure, desperation or some form of realisation. The situation was turning more and more into an impenetrable riddle.
"Forgive me," she said nearly inaudibly, "But what exactly are you talking about?" Then, she turned to Benelli: "And why exactly are you telling us about it?"
"Because the murderer knows you all are children of Lux. Each of them sympathises with the order one way or another. Some of them are still members even today."
"And that’s all?" asked Ben.
"Oh no. You also sympathise with the archenemy of the murderer. With His Holiness."
Ciban and Catherine both stared at Benelli for a few seconds as if they hadn’t heard correctly. Catherine doubted that Ciban sympathised with Leo. Cardinals Monti and Gasperetti were more along his lines.
"You said you wouldn’t survive the night?" repeated Catherine. "Why do you say that?"
"Because there is only one way to challenge our opponent to make a mistake. I think we will soon give these devils in priests’ robes a rather large surprise."
"By not surviving the night?" said Ben dryly. "By serving us all up on a silver platter?"
Benelli, who suddenly appeared oddly pale, pointed discreetly to the far-flung end of the reception hall to where Cardinal Monti’s circle stood. At the moment, it consisted of the Chicago Cardinal Bear, Massini, the Pope’s private secretary, Cardinal Orlando and Cardinal Gasperetti. "Take good note of the Christians on the other silver tablet, my friends."
"Are you feeling ill?" Catherine grabbed Benelli by the arm and took an unexpected look at his aura. For a moment she felt paralysed.
The cardinal grabbed his chest and gasped for air. "The high dosage," he squawked. "Oh Lord, it is working faster…than I thought. Marc…" Ciban jumped up to support Benelli, but the man fell to his knees. "Marc…look after Catherine…and speak…speak to…"
No more than three seconds later Alberto Cardinal Benelli was dead.
17
Catherine witnessed Benelli’s body disappear into the ambulance. She couldn’t stop thinking about his final words to Ciban, directing him to take good care of her. And with whom should Ciban speak? With the Pope, perhaps?
The emergency room doctor could only determine the cause of death, most likely heart failure. Catherine learned that Benelli had had a weak cardiovascular system for years and had been forced to go for regular visits to the Gemelli hospital in Rome. To be exact, his death was simply a matter of time because the cardinal refused a transplant. Catherine sighed. She would never know what Benelli had hoped to achieve with his premature death. She also doubted that there would be an official autopsy. Suicide was considered a mortal sin in the Catholic Church. A cardinal who committed suicide for whatever reason was an utter scandal.
The young woman could already read the headlines in tomorrow’s paper: "Cardinal suffers cardiac death at reception" or "Did Cardinal Benelli party too much?"
Affected or in shock, most of the guests had already left the villa. Cardinal Monti and Father deRossi were among the last to leave. Perhaps the old cardinal wanted to be assured that Benelli wouldn’t rise from the dead. Then again Catherine had seen concern
and astonishment on Monti’s face. Monti had even tried as best he could to help end the party while Ciban attempted to resuscitate Benelli with Ben’s support until the ambulance arrived. Not a single doctor was present at the reception. Benelli had thought of everything.
Gasperetti, the chairman of the College of the Cardinals, hadn’t left the party. Neither had Monsignor Massini, the private secretary to His Holiness whose utter horror was written all over his face. Along with Ben, Sister Thea and Cardinal Bear, they too had assisted in quietly ending the festivities. Massini now stood next to Gasperetti like a little boy who had just witnessed a bloody assassination.
As the rear doors of the ambulance fell shut and the vehicle pulled away, followed by Monti’s limousine, Ben spoke softly: "Through his death Cardinal Benelli has officially declared war on the dark side. His gesture with the ring was crystal clear."
The ring! Catherine noticed that the word made Ben flinch too. She was just about to turn around and run up the open staircase of the reception hall to look for the jewellery on the buffet table when Ciban gestured for her to stop. "It’s safe." The cardinal discreetly patted his chest to indicate it was in his cassock’s upper interior pocket.
Cardinal Gasperetti along with Father deRossi approached them from the open staircase. "Not a pretty ending. For none of us," he said as he peered down the villa’s driveway as if he could still see the ambulance’s tail lights through the thicket of trees. "Monsignor Benelli was the last living member of his family." The old cardinal bade farewell and walked slowly with deRossi to his car. After a few metres, he turned around again. "Pardon me for my impoliteness. Can I give any of you a lift?"
"Thank you, Eminence," said Ciban. His gratitude couldn’t have sounded more sincere, but Catherine could still sense the discord lying beneath his words. "We all have cars."
Gasperetti shrugged, smiling. "I should think so. Oh…I almost forgot." He approached Catherine like an old wolf giving false assurance to his prey that he really means no harm. "You forgot something, Sister. It was lying on the buffet table."
Before Catherine could respond, she held a small photograph in her hand. Cardinal Gasperetti was already on his way back to his car. She needed only a second to look at the photo to know what it was: the picture of Benelli and Darius standing on St. Peter’s Square.
18
"What does all of this mean?" asked Catherine as she showed Ben the photograph.
He had suggested they drive the three cars back to Rome convoy-style. Cardinal Ciban was first, then Ben and Catherine and Cardinal Bear with Sister Thea in the rear. The green Lancia that Sister Thea had identified didn’t show up again in the black of night.
Ben leaned forward in order to see the road better. It had started raining shortly after they began driving. Thick, heavy drops splashed weightily against the windscreen like juicy insects, making it hard to see. On top of that, the road was poorly marked. "I think Cardinal Ciban is asking himself the same question more than anyone else right now," he said, checking the limousine’s air conditioner again — a completely unnecessary check in such a modern car as this one.
"I think you know more than you are saying. And I think you owe me an explanation. What is going on?"
"Believe me, Catherine. The less involved you are, the better. For your own sake."
Catherine pocketed the photo once again. "Listen. From what I could tell from this evening, someone has tried to kill me twice already. I was then graced with Cardinal Benelli’s invitation. He spoke in riddles, then casually ended his own life while bringing me together with the last man I would ever want to meet privately given my current situation. To top it all off, Cardinal Gasperetti handed me this photograph. Whether I like it or not, I’m right in the middle of it all."
"Ciban is not your enemy," said Ben.
Catherine gave him a look as if he were crazy. Of course the cardinal was one of the main representatives of the Catholic camp that falsified Jesus’ teachings and made certain that only one single opinion and interpretation existed. He stands for dogma, the enemy of all freethinking individuals! No matter where she looked, the Congregation of the Doctrine of Faith had blocked any and every attempt to modernise the Church. During the entire interrogation process, Catherine had just waited for Ciban to pose the question: "Are you even Catholic anymore, Sister Catherine?" She had seen the question lurking in his eyes. Of that she was certain. God only knows why the cardinal did not openly ask her the question.
"You know what happens to the people who seek an open dialogue in the Church. No authority, not even the Congregation of the Doctrine of Faith, can make claim on the absolute truth," she said to Ben.
"I know," he said sheepishly. He himself had had to remove two entire chapters of his dissertation because they had contradicted the Church’s teachings. The Church’s teachings and traditions had moved well beyond the New Testament in the Bible.
"And you are content with that?" asked Catherine.
Ben shrugged his shoulders and sighed. "Not everyone can be like you and put up a fight against the dogma’s superpower."
"Against Ciban?"
"If you like."
"So he is my enemy," she noted.
Her companion shook his head. "Not in this war. Believe me."
Catherine stared at him as if he had just told her he had turned into a Catholic fundamentalist. "Which war?"
"You heard Cardinal Benelli. The war between good and evil. The eternal war between the powers of light and those of darkness. It’s not only being waged in the outside world, but in the Vatican as well."
"Is that why Benelli…"
"…killed himself?" Ben slowed down. It had started to rain even harder, more aggressively and the wind had picked up. "I’m afraid the answer is ‘yes’. Even though I have no idea what he wished to prove. But I know one thing for certain: he was a man of integrity. One of the few genuine souls."
"I saw his aura, Ben," said Catherine with a clipped tone.
"When?"
"A minute before his death. I have only ever seen such an aura once before. With Darius."
Ben dared to quickly look over at her despite his hindered view of the road. "Then it must have been a damn good aura."
"That too. But there was more to it…the auras were like – twins."
"Twins?"
"Yes, somehow. It is hard to explain. Of course both Darius and Benelli are two completely different human beings, but still…I have never seen such a match before." After a brief pause, she added in a puzzled tone: "Do you think Lux has something to do with his suicide?"
"Lux? Probably not. But if that were the case, we would at least know what we’re up against."
"If not Lux, who could it be then?" Catherine stuck to her guns. "Opus?"
"I have no idea."
She looked at Ben sceptically. "You must have at least the tiniest of suspicions, given how you behaved at the reception."
"I am an archivist, not a secret service agent, Catherine."
She pushed herself back in her seat to give her legs more room. "The thing with Cardinal Bear and Sister Thea really affected you. Besides, the job as an archivist is the perfect cover if you work for the Vatican’s secret service."
Ben sighed. "You know as well as I that there is no secret service at the Vatican."
"Not officially, yes. What case are you currently working on? As it appears, you knew about Darius’ death!"
The pelting rain beat against the limousine with such force that the windshield wipers threatened to fly from their sockets. Ben drove even more slowly as he could barely see the road.
"Sorry, Catherine. You’re asking the wrong man."
As if on cue, they rounded the bend to find a hazard sign and seconds later the taillights of Ciban’s heavy Mercedes that stood at a strange angle off the road. The headlights of Ben’s car were as light as day, illuminating a massive oak that lay across the road and whose branches were like sharpened arrows pointing straight at them. Cib
an’s Mercedes Benz stood just metres from the tree. It was a miracle that the cardinal hadn’t driven right into it given the poor visibility conditions.
Ben brought the car to a halt while Ciban hurried across the headlight’s illumination like an eerie shadow coming toward them. As Ben rolled down the window, the rain whipped his face like a torrent. Catherine could feel Ciban looking at her. He turned his gaze away from her and said to Ben: "I need your hazard triangle." They could barely make out the cardinal’s voice. The young cleric made moves to get out of the car. "No. Leave well enough alone. Open the trunk. It’s enough if one of us gets wet. You should rather call the fire department and the tow company."
Ciban disappeared behind the car, came back with the bag in his hand and sunk into the darkness like an apparition to set up the hazard triangle for oncoming traffic. Just as he hurried back, taking a seat in the back of Ben’s car, Bear and Thea came up upon them with their vehicle. Ciban must be wet to the bone. Catherine handed him a package of tissues so he could at least dry off his face and hair, which the cardinal gratefully accepted.
Ben’s mobile phone rang. "Yes?" It was Bear. "No, no worries. Nothing’s happened. The fire department and tow company have been notified. We will take a different route."
Thea’s car turned and both cars bade farewell with a honk before heading back toward Benelli’s villa.
Ciban said: "Bring Sister Catherine back home, Ben. I will wait for the tow truck to arrive."
The man resisted. "With all due respect, Eminence, I won’t leave you here all by yourself. Not after what has happened. You bring Sister Catherine back. I’ll wait here."
"That wasn’t a request, Ben."
"Heavens," said Catherine. "Do you gentlemen wish to argue as to who brings me home?" She took a deep breath. "To be clear. If it weren’t for the heavy rainfall, it’s the gospel truth that you would have run right into this tree after the bend, Eminence."
In the rear view mirror, Ben could see Ciban’s eyes sparkling. Without flinching the cardinal said: "There isn’t a crime lurking behind every fallen tree, Sister."
