Chapter Twenty-Eight
Rome, Italy
Max listened in disbelief as Kevin recounted the episode he’d just had with Sister Mary Catherine. Kevin sat in his easy chair, clinging to a wool blanket draping his body.
“Good God! She poisoned the pope?”
Kevin was still shaken. “She said she didn’t, that it wasn’t her doing, and I believe her. Another Opus Mundi operative was there. He did it. But apparently she didn’t have qualms about snuffing me, though. After I let her know I was on to her, she tried poisoning herself with the dose that was meant to kill me.”
“Oh, Kevin, I’m so sorry. Lucky you studied that list last night,” said Max.
“I know. If I hadn’t recognized her name, I’d now be in the morgue. Max, get in touch with the hospital.”
“You want to talk to her?”
“Yes, let’s see how she’s doing. I need to talk to her. She’s an important link to Opus Mundi. She’s our best hope to get wind of their plans with the secret of Fatima.”
Max nodded. “I’ll get right on it. It’s a mess out there, though. The cardinals are coming in from all over the world and the conclave begins in the morning. When they gather in the Sistine Chapel, they’ll be crawling all over the place with their extended entourage.”
“I know,” said Kevin. “It’s a complete mess. We have our work cut out for us.”
The papal conclaves were held in secret in the Sistine Chapel. Kevin was familiar enough with the chapel to know there were a series of small rooms accessed by a secret door to the left of the altar. While the conclave proceeded, they were there for the cardinals to relax during breaks.
Max made a couple of calls, name-dropping his VIP status, and managed to summon the doctor in charge of treating Sister Mary Catherine.
Hanging up, Max turned to Kevin, “She’ll live. They pumped her stomach before damage occurred. I told them she was to have no visitors unless I approved. This was from the highest authority. So far, you’re the only one approved to see her.”
“When can I visit?”
“The doctor says she should rest today, but she should be up to talking to you tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Max. It should be an interesting conversation.”
Kevin heard his phone buzzing across the room on the dining room table where he’d left it. He got there just in time to pick up Toby’s call.
“That guy and that company you asked me about?” Toby started. “Well, it gets interesting. This guy Maggio used to be known by another name, and he’s got an international rap sheet with Interpol. I’m trying to get more info, but there seems to be a Vatican connection here. All well-hidden.”
Kevin sighed. What had Katie gotten herself into?
Toby rattled on. “Meantime, buddy, I sure as hell wouldn’t let my girlfriend travel with him! I’ll call you when I get more.”
As soon as Toby rang off, Kevin dialed Katie. No answer. He left a terse message. Do not go anywhere with Maggio before speaking with me.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Vatican Hospital, Rome, Italy
A brisk walk on a hazy day brought Kevin to the Vatican Hospital shortly before nine a.m. The facility was small, containing fewer than forty beds, and was staffed by a dozen doctors and nurses. At the entrance, Kevin was stopped by an armed Vatican security officer. After the incident with Sister Mary Catherine, Max had ordered a security detail to stand guard. Seeing them there, Kevin was relieved.
The guard checked Kevin’s credentials and ticked his name off a list.
Inside, Kevin was directed to the second floor. A nurse station in an all-white corridor checked him in a second time while orderlies and nurses scurried about. Funny how hospitals look the same all around the world.
A doctor appeared to accompany Kevin to MC’s room. “I am Doctor Sergio. Please, Father Thrall, come this way,” said the doctor. He was obviously Italian by his thick accent.
The hospital tended to the health needs of Vatican employees, for whom the services were free, handling minor emergencies.
Dr. Sergio said, “Fortunately, one of the doctors attending to Sister Mary Catherine has experience in poison toxicology. Her recovery is proceeding nicely.”
“Thank you, Dr. Sergio,” said Kevin. “I won’t be long today.”
When the doctor left, Kevin approached MC’s bed. She lay quietly, attached to a heart machine and a drip. The room was a single, the walls white, adorned by a large crucifix over the bed. An electronic heart monitor stood at the side of the room, its green lines zigzagging across the screen. The machine emitted a steady beep; Kevin assumed it meant her pulse was normal.
MC’s face was pale but her eyes were open.
“Hello, Kevin,” she said softly.
“How are you feeling, MC?”
“Horrendous, thank you. You should’ve let me die.”
Kevin smiled. “I’m happy you made it. Feel like talking?”
“About what? As if I didn’t know.”
“MC, you’ve done some bad things, and I hope you’ve had time to reflect on them. It’s not too late to make things right. You’re not a bad person. I think you’ve just been running with the wrong pack. Besides, I need your help.”
“Kevin, you don’t know them. They’re monstrous.”
For the first time, Kevin detected fear in her eyes. “I won’t let them do anything to you, Mary Catherine.”
MC frowned and put her hand to her heart. “I’m sorry. I made an oath.”
“Look, MC. The authorities will get you to talk, one way or another. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
She nodded, turning away to face the window. “Opus Mundi does what’s right for the Church. I believe in them, Kevin. I … I don’t agree with their methods, perhaps. I’m so.… confused. I suppose that’s why I drank your coffee, I wanted to end it all …” She began to sob. Kevin stepped closer. He didn’t know how to comfort her. What could he say? She looked so young. So vulnerable.
The head nurse knocked gently on MC’s door, and entered the room.
“Excuse me, Father. It’s time for a medical evaluation.”
Kevin got up. “Sure, I’ll wait outside.”
Smiling faintly, MC held on to Kevin’s hand before releasing it. “Don’t go,” she whispered.
“I’ll just be outside the door,” he assured her.
In the waiting room, Kevin picked up a newspaper from a table and took a seat. Down the corridor, from a distance, he watched the doctor enter MC’s room.
Something about him bothered Kevin. He thought about it, went to the nurse’s stand, and asked the duty nurse the doctor’s name. She handed him a card.
Kevin took out his iPhone and Googled the name of the doctor. Nothing.
“Do you know this doctor, Signorina?” he asked the nurse.
“No, Father. I’ve never seen him before.”
A familiar chill ran down Kevin’s spine. He panicked. He might be wrong, but he sure as hell couldn’t risk it. He bolted down the corridor to MC’s room.
“Wait, Father. Please!” the nurse cried out, watching him fly down the hall.
Without knocking, Kevin barged into the room.
“Father, I am conducting an examination. Please leave us,” the doctor said in an authoritative, superior tone. He certainly looked the part as he stood at MC’s bedside. Her arm was exposed, the gown’s sleeve rolled up. In his hand, the doctor held a syringe with a long needle.
“May I ask which of the Sister’s doctors consulted you?” Kevin asked.
“Excuse me, Father. Not your concern. Now, leave this room before I call security.”
“What’s in your drip?” Kevin demanded. His voice was loud, challenging. He was getting angry.
“Get out! Security!” The doctor grabbed MC’s arm and held the needle in place to inject it into her vein.
MC’s face went pale. She screamed. “No!” She pulled her arm from the man. The doctor grabbed it back.
Kevin lunged at the doctor, who turned and pushed him aside with great force. Just as Kevin threw a left hook on his chin, the doctor was reaching into his pocket. Kevin slammed him back into the wall. The doctor stumbled, trying to hit Kevin back. Kevin punched him in the stomach. The doctor threw a punch, but Kevin rammed an uppercut to the man’s head. The doctor’s head jolted backward. A serrated knife slipped from his pocket to the floor.
Kevin grabbed the doctor by his white coat. The throwing knife looked familiar. Kevin’s mind raced back to day he was drugged and kidnapped. A vision of the room where he was held captive came in a flash. This was the same kind of knife that had been thrown at him. Kevin had barely missed it. Kevin recalled hurling the henchman directly in the path of the knife. In the end, instead of Kevin, the henchman had been killed.
Kevin swung and punched the doctor in the nose. Blood spurted everywhere. The doctor scurried to the doorway. A small group of nurses and doctors piled into the room. Frantically pushing them aside to escape, MC’s attacker fled from the room.
MC sat up in bed, her eyes wide with fear.
Kevin held up his hands and addressed the crowd. “You know who I am. It’s under control,” he said. He pointed at one of the doctors. “You, please call the Vatican police.”
After a few minutes of murmuring among the hospital staff, the head doctor told them to get back to work. Kevin asked to be left alone with Sister Mary Catherine.
Closing the door to the room, Kevin sat on the bed beside her. “Those wonderful folks at Opus Mundi just tried to kill you, MC,” he said. “I think it’s time to rethink your loyalties.”
MC nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“It’s time to talk to me,” Kevin added.
MC reached for his arm and held it. “Will you give me absolution?”
Kevin thought for a moment. As long as she didn’t confess to murder, he could absolve her. He wanted to. And that she’d tried to seduce him.… well, he’d just forget about that. “Yes, I will.”
MC exhaled deeply and blessed herself, visibly relieved. “Then tell me what you want to know.”
“Let’s start with why you joined Opus Mundi,” Kevin said. He was making an effort to keep his tone judicious, nonjudgmental.
Waving her hands as she spoke, MC began. “I was young and impressionable,” she said. “You have to understand my upbringing. We were strict, old-fashioned Catholics and the Church’s teachings made an impression on me. The new liberalization of the Church infuriated me, and I railed against it. Opus Mundi got wind of me. They sought me out.”
“And you just signed up?”
MC shook her head. “It’s more complicated than that. They send new potential recruits to a secret facility near Naples for testing. They want to make sure your convictions are real. Oh, I passed with flying colors.” MC looked like she was about to start crying again.
“Take it easy, MC. We’ve got time.”
“They tried to kill me just now!” she sobbed.
Kevin put an arm around her, and she snuggled closer. After a moment, he withdrew and moved to the foot of the bed. “When did you begin to have doubts?” he asked.
“At some point, it started to get weird,” she said. “They did things I found strange.”
“Like what?”
MC thought for a moment. “Well, it had something to do with Israel bombing Iran. I don’t know how they did it, exactly, but they engineered it.”
“Do you know why?”
“They don’t let me in on all the high-level stuff, Kevin, but I think they were starting a major war in the Middle East. It would have served as their platform to take over the Church leadership. Once the pope was killed, they’d work to get their inside man in the job. The new pope would arrange some kind of peace in the Holy Land, and Opus Mundi would be in charge to pursue their secret agenda. I know they’re afraid of something, but I’m not sure what it is.”
“Who’s in charge of Opus Mundi?”
“I don’t know. We meet with him, but he’s always covered, heavily clothed, his face totally masked.”
“But he must be a cardinal if Opus Mundi expects him to be running the Church?”
MC shook her head. “I really don’t know,” she said. “I was told that anyone can be elected pope, not just cardinals.”
“Listen carefully, MC, this is important. Have you heard anyone talk about the secret of Fatima?”
“Oh, yes. To them it’s a big deal. I’ve heard talk that there is a prediction—a prophecy—in it that they don’t want anyone to know about. It’s a threat to them.”
“Do you know what it is?”
“No. They don’t let me in on it. I’m not important enough.”
“Well, then, do you know where the secret is located?”
MC shook her head. “Kevin, I’m tired …”
Kevin touched her hand. “You’ve been through a lot.”
“Can I tell you something?” she continued. “I always felt that I had a special role in the Church. That I was called to it for a reason, even if I don’t know what the reason is.”
Kevin nodded. “I understand.”
“But what I feel around you is something similar.”
“What do you mean?”
“I feel you have that same calling. Right in here.” She pointed to her heart. “It’s a special mission we’re both destined to accomplish. But we don’t know what it is. Maybe that’s why I tried … to … a … you know …”
“Seduce me?”
“Yeah … that.”
“Let’s forget about that, OK?”
She nodded with an abashed smile.
Her comment about his mission was the very question he frequently asked himself. He knew he shouldn’t make too much of it. But the question remained: Who was this young woman? How did she fit in his life?
“May I confess to you now, Father Thrall?”
“Of course.” Kevin began his blessing. “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit …”
Chapter Thirty
The Conclave
In a time-honored ritual, the princes of the Church and their entourages began arriving by air and train, joining the throngs of tourists and pilgrims flocking to Rome for the papal election. The cardinals who made their way to Rome for the conclave, all 112 of them, stayed in Domus Sanctae Marthae, the Vatican guesthouse designed and built precisely for this occasion.
At St. Marta’s, the princes of the Church would be billeted in simple accommodations, with a bed in a small room, a kneeler for prayer, and a small bathroom. The cardinals were forbidden to talk to anyone outside the conclave, and especially not to the press. They dined together in their refectory on good Italian food and vintage Italian wine.
While a student in Rome years earlier, Kevin had studied the papal election rules. Following the death of the incumbent, under the rules for electing a new pope, the cardinals were summoned to the Vatican for the conclave to elect the deceased pope’s successor.
According to the protocol, the candidate must receive a two-thirds majority to be elected. Most conclaves reached a decision in a matter of days, but just in case, a rule change made by John Paul II in 1996, Universi Dominici Gregis, stipulated that should the conclave remain deadlocked for over twelve days, the cardinals can change the rules, to elect by a simple majority. Thus far, Kevin was aware that the new rule had never been invoked. In theory, any baptized male was eligible to become pope, although in the unlikely event a layman were chosen, he’d have to be ordained as a priest, then as a bishop before assuming the mantle of Bishop of Rome, the official title of the pope.
No doubt, the most familiar part of the papal election process was the announcement of the results of the cardinals’ ballots. If they didn’t reach a two-thirds consensus on a candidate after a vote, straw was to be burned in a stove, producing black smoke wafting through pipes over the Sistine Chapel, indicating no new pope. This was a Catholic Church tradition known to all.
When consensus was reached, a chemical was added to the fire to make the smoke white, signaling to the world that a new pope had been chosen.
Kevin peered out his window at the procession of church elders in full regalia. The cardinals wore black cassocks with scarlet red sashes around their waists. They were capped by the skullcaps only cardinals could wear.
Today was the opening day of the conclave. This morning, the cardinals would gather for a solemn Mass of the Holy Spirit at the magnificent Pauline Chapel, whose walls were adorned by two of Michelangelo’s masterpieces, The Conversion of Saul and The Crucifixion of St. Peter. After Mass, they’d form a procession, proceeding to the Sistine Chapel for their deliberations.
Kevin opened his apartment door for Max Drotti. Max carried two brown bags and rushed inside to put them on the table. The beer and sodas would go into the fridge.
“I got lots of stuff for our little party,” he said. He was emptying the bags. “We’ve got three different kinds of cheese, potato chips, Chianti, beer, some sausages. Let’s see … what else?”
Despite their elevated clerical status and a few important Vatican connections, the two had decided to observe the proceedings the way a billion other people would, by watching it on TV.
“Thanks, Max. We’ve got our own little feast here.”
Max smiled, pleased with himself.
Kevin brought some plates and glasses from the kitchenette and the two men settled on the sofa and started eating.
The screen image showed the procession leaving the Pauline Chapel and heading into the Sala Regia, the great audience hall directly connected to the Sistine Chapel. The cardinals were dressed in their formal attire—a long, front-buttoned scarlet red cassock, and over it, a rochet, a white-laced robe. Topping it all, they wore a long bright red cape and the biretta, a scarlet headpiece.
Arriving at the Sala Regia, the Camerlengo, the chamberlain who served as acting pope, lectured the assembled cardinals as to how the new pope had already been chosen by God; and how their job was to pray and receive the grace to learn who, among them, He’d chosen.
The Secret of Fatima Page 17
