She didn’t speak above a whisper, but her voice was pure acid. “Listen to me carefully, wizard or magician or whatever you are. If you disobey me once more, you will be on the next airplane out of Italy. I am not a witch, signore, but I am a bitch and if you cross me again, I will make you suffer as few have ever suffered.
“Enrico,” the inspector snapped, looking over her shoulder. “Am I not a bitch? Tell signore Blessing. I do not want him to be confused on this point.”
Her assistant drove, looked neither right nor left and said nothing. The inspector stared at Julian and waited a full minute before she said, “Enrico, you are a very wise man and Julian Blessing is a sciocco!”
Enrico Marino looked pained and began to shake his head slowly when he heard the fool, Julian Blessing, say, “What’s a sciocco?”
***
Marino drove up Via Nazionale and double parked in front of the Hotel Quirinale Roma to a symphony of car horns and shouted curses. The two police officers marched a handcuffed Julian Blessing through the lobby, removing his handcuffs only when they were in Julian’s room.
Inspector Saviano’s order left Julian no room to maneuver. “Remain in your room,” she said. “If you are hungry, call for room service. If you are bored, look out the window. If you are lonely, read a book. If you are horny, read a book. If you are tired, go to sleep, but do not go out of this room until we come to get you. Capisci? And none of your sorcery, signore stregone!”
“What’s a stregone?” Julian, the wizard, asked.
***
“Dominic, if it weren’t for people, the world would be a far better place, no?” Cardinal Luciano said to his assistant. The young priest suppressed a smile and answered, “Yes, Eminence.”
“I can hear the cogs in your head at work. You believe I am making a small joke. I assure you, Dominic, I most assuredly am not,” the cardinal said.
“Eminence, without people the world would be lonely for you. Without people, what would be the point of winning? There would be no need to struggle except to survive,” Fr. Dominic Giglio said.
The cardinal smiled. “A finance expert and a philosopher? How is it I am so blessed? You are right of course, but still, allow me to hope and dream of a world without people.”
***
As the inspector and her assistant walked down the thickly carpeted hallway toward the hotel elevator, Enrico asked, “Bella, what do you think?”
The inspector stitched her eyebrows together and considered for a moment before saying, “Enrico, I honestly don’t know. You know what they say, ‘When the game is over, the king and the pawn go into the same box,’ no? This Blessing is not the king, but he is not a pawn. And there are others. I can feel it. We have not yet identified all the pieces. Il amore mio, we must find out where he, and the rest, fit on the chessboard and do it well before the game is over.”
Enrico asked, “Do you think he is a stregone, a wizard or sorcerer or whatever?”
His inspector only shrugged. “He is something. We will discover what before we are done,” she said.
***
Unpleasant, unattractive, and unhappy, Bogdan Sokolov ruminated on things that made him even more unpleasant, unattractive and unhappy. In his office on Via del Pellegrino, in the Campo de' Fiori district of Rome, the focus of his displeasure was Julian Blessing.
Sokolov had been following the out-of-sight-out-of-mind policy regarding Julian. Now, he was in plain sight and so never far from Sokolov’s thoughts. Julian had cost Sokolov a lot of money in New York. Mobsters, Russian and otherwise, do not like this.
“Now, this Amerikanskaya is in Rome. Following me?” Sokolov thought. “Nobody could be that big a beelyat!” Bogdan Sokolov had not yet gauged Julian’s nearly unlimited ability to be an accidental idiot. The Russian would live to regret underestimating accidental idiots. They had a habit of being unpredictable and therefore dangerous.
***
Rome, at midday, was fully alive. Sounds, sights and smells mingled and merged into a chaotic orchestral arrangement.
A black car with heavily tinted windows sped through Rome’s hyperactive thoroughfares, turned up cobbled streets and down broad avenues. Once inside the gates of Vatican City, the vehicle negotiated the narrow streets and glided gently to a stop in front of a building whose only designation was I.O.R. above the unimpressive entrance. Istituto per le Opere di Religione.
A young priest hurried down the front steps and opened the vehicle’s back door. Julian stepped out as the priest welcomed him to the Vatican Bank.
Once inside, Julian was ushered into a large, richly appointed office. The priest said, “Eminence, Mr. Blessing has arrived.”
A portly man in his late sixties with sharp features, green eyes and a head of slate gray hair turned from his office window, smiled, and with a slight gesture, dismissed Julian’s guide.
“Please come in, Mr. Blessing, and thank you for agreeing to meet with me today.” The Irish accent was not thick, but it was unmistakable. “I am sorry I was unable to provide you with more notice.
“I hope you’ve not eaten. I’ve arranged for lunch to be served in half an hour.” The cardinal smiled his welcome and his voice was jovial with just a touch of irony.
The cardinal extended his hand and said, “Terrance Cardinal Patrick Manning. When I say it like that it makes me sound grand – something a poor boy from county Mayo could never be.”
Julian knew it all for the lie is was and the cardinal knew he knew. The man’s accent was like Ailís’, clearly well educated Dublin, not Mayo. Julian had been in Ireland too long not to recognize that the man was from the upper reaches of Irish society. He felt the cardinal might have read about poverty, but that was as close as he got. He was not so much pretentious as powerful beyond words and Julian could sense it easily.
“Your Eminence, it is a pleasure to meet you. How can I be of assistance?”
The cardinal took Julian by the arm and led him to a seating area that overlooked the Papal gardens. “Son, it isn’t what you can do for me, but what I can do for you. Please, sit here. It’s a lovely view and one that few get to see from this angle.”
Julian had learned from the Irish. Cardinal Manning would get to the point of the interview in his own time and in his own way. The path would be littered with clues and hints. What was said, and what was subtly not said, and what was pointedly avoided would each have value. There was nothing for it but to listen with care and wait.
***
Cardinal Manning and Julian sat and admired the papal gardens. Both men chatted amiably about Ireland and Julian’s impressions of rural Irish life. They discussed the pros and cons of life in New York and New York’s similarities to Rome.
As the cardinal spoke, Julian pursued his own internal dialogue.
To Julian, the cardinal’s signature presented a pleasant, crafty, and unbelievably complex man whose agendas had agendas of their own. The man’s intellect and experience were the basis of his personal power and his sense of humor allowed him to appear charming without necessarily being so. Still, for Julian, there was something out of place. This cardinal had something askew, something off.
Julian felt he was talking with the cardinal, but there was an echo to the man’s personality. A fraction of a second after the cardinal spoke, Julian heard a resonance. Something shadowed Cardinal Manning and Julian didn’t know what. He told himself he would revisit that later. Now was the time to listen with great care.
A bell rang once somewhere in the cardinal’s suite of offices. The older man took a deep breath, savored the sight of the gardens before him, and sighed. He rose from his chair and led Julian into an adjacent dining room.
The dining room was small enough to be intimate and was tastefully understated to impress. The table was laid for what promised to be a lunch that would eliminate the need for dinner.
“Please, Mr. Blessing, sit and prepare to be amazed. My chef is a wizard.” The cardinal winked and smiled more broadly th
an was warranted. “Before our meal arrives though, let us take a private moment, shall we, to reflect and be grateful. Sure it is that you have many things for which to be grateful.” Again, the cardinal smiled and again, Julian heard the echo.
A full minute passed before the cardinal looked up, rang a small bell on the table, and a liveried steward arrived and served lunch.
“Mr. Blessing, do you mind if I call you Julian? It ‘tisn’t formalities we need to stand on, now is it?” the cardinal said. Julian enjoyed the Irish English sentence structure and the way the cardinal employed it not to charm but to disarm. Julian nodded knowing this relaxation of formalities was a one-way street.
“Julian, I told you when you arrived, it was my good self who meant to be of assistance to you,” the cardinal said. “Well, help you I shall. I’m afraid my authority is, however, strictly spiritual so the assistance I can offer is only my advice. I may be able to call in a small favor here and there to aid you though.
“You have come to my attention for several reasons. This is the Vatican and we all have our tasks to perform. In addition to overseeing the Vatican Bank, one of my duties is to watch over all things Irish. I am the resident Irishman and so the resident expert. At least my betters say that. I’ve always suspected I’m it because no one else would take the job of dealing with the Irish.” The cardinal’s smile was as practiced as his speech had been.
“Your friend, Dr. Dwyer, is missing.” The cardinal said it flatly, a statement of fact, but he looked grave. “This is a vital concern to me and to others.
“You are deeply tied to the Irish Republic, Julian. I understand you’ve applied for residency. Even without that, with your many ties to Ireland, you are now one of my flock. What concerns you, concerns me deeply.
“To that end, let me tell you this. Have a care, my son. You are swimming in a shark tank. I know many of the sharks personally and know how dangerous they can be. In my early days in Rome, I was bitten many times.”
Julian drifted into his own Irish accented English. “Ach, wouldn’t your Eminence be talkin’ about a time before he started biting back?” The cardinal eyed Julian carefully, smiled broadly and nodded his head.
“You have been to see Cardinal Luciano.” The cardinal held up a hand. “No need to say anything. Rome is still a very small town really and the Vatican is smaller still.
“Tread lightly around the Cardinal Archbishop. He is a man who is not only powerful, but he can be deadly. I know some who have suffered at his hands. I can say they are not the men they once were because of the exchange. I will not ask you about your conversation. I do not need to know the contents. Still, I can tell you that nothing said or done will be to your benefit.”
Julian nodded his understanding and asked, “Eminence, what would be the best way to protect myself?”
Cardinal Manning thought for a moment before saying, “Julian, my advice is to stay away from his Eminence, Cardinal Luciano. However, I know this is not advice you will follow – I’m not sure it is advice you will be allowed to follow. The cardinal has what is probably an unholy interest in you and he is unlikely to let you slip away so easily.
“I do have a resource you can use to help you with this, but we can speak of that later.”
Julian nodded.
“I know who you are, of course.” The cardinal smiled, toyed with his butter knife and let the sentence hang in the air, his green eyes alive with mischief.
After a mouthful of crab salad, Julian said, “Eminence, I can’t tell you how delighted I am to hear that. I frequently don’t know who I am, so it is good to find someone who does.”
“Yes, well perhaps I stated that incorrectly,” the cardinal chuckled. “Let us say, I know what you are – approximately. I know the life you live, although I’m ignorant of the how of it all. I’m familiar with your activities in Ireland, to a large extent, and your life in the United States before that. This is a subject upon which I have dedicated much study. It may seem odd to you, but I know many who are like you.
“You are acquainted with Mrs. Bridget Bragonier, of course,” the cardinal said. “She is probably the most intelligent, charming and terrifyingly formidable woman I have ever met. I knew her in her younger days. She was captivating then and has become more so with time, although it has been donkey years since I’ve seen her.” Julian said nothing and the cardinal continued.
“The Church has known of the group to which you, and she, and the others belong for a very long time. I will remind you, the Church calculates time in terms of centuries so very long is very long indeed.
“Careful study has been made of the works all of you do and those who came before you. I can tell you, scores of theologians and philosophers have debated, to exhaustion, the relative value most people like you have brought and continue to bring to the table. That value has been proven to be substantial.
“Holy Mother Church has dealt in the spheres of the corporeal and the incorporeal, the realms of the physical and the metaphysical, for millennia,” the cardinal smiled, “with successes and failures on both sides of that coin. The natural and the supernatural are well known to us and so you are perhaps better understood than you think.
“I am authorized to tell you, the abilities you and many of your associates wield, as well as your activities to date, present no obstacle to the Church.
“I cannot tell you that you have our support or blessing, but I can say we will not stop you or work against you. That, in itself, is an endorsement of sorts and one not without value.”
“You said, ’Most people like me,’ Eminence, but not all?” Julian said. “You mean we are not universally prized?” He smiled.
The cardinal smiled back and looked thoughtful. “I like you Julian. You are an honorable man, from what I can tell, and you try to do good work.
“For this reason and for your protection, I will tell you, there are those who share your gifts, but whose intentions are not your intentions.” The smile left the cardinal’s face and he looked stern and unyielding.
“Their motivation is purely one of self-interest. The results of their actions are often reflected in the haunted eyes of those they have harmed.
“Trust that men without honor, such as these, are well known to us and their activities are closely monitored. Still, they are dangerous,” the cardinal said.
Julian said, “Our earlier discussion about one of your brother cardinals and the discussion we are having now is, of course, related. Am I right, Eminence?”
Cardinal Manning smiled broadly and with his Irish accented English fully engaged again said, “Ach, sure it is, Mr. Julian; it stands like this wi’ me. Although your honor is free to say such a thing with confidence, a humble Irishman and a poor priest besides, would never dare to speculate.”
Julian and the cardinal shared a chuckle and the remainder of their meal was passed in pleasant conversation. Still the myriad of threats facing Julian were serious and, if possible, he wouldn’t leave without addressing them.
After lunch, Cardinal Manning walked with Julian to the front door of the Vatican Bank – a rare honor and not one lost on Julian. The cardinal became serious as they approached the security checkpoint.
“Julian, I mentioned I would suggest a way you might protect yourself.”
“I thought to remind you,” Julian said, “but knew you would circle back to it in your own time. I have, your Eminence, been among the Irish too long to think it would be otherwise.”
The cardinal smiled, reached into the wide scarlet sash of his cassock and handed Julian a piece of paper. “This is the name and address of,” Cardinal Manning hesitated searching for the right nuanced expression, “a friend. He is someone who will understand you, someone who is like you. In a way, he knows you better than you may know yourself and perhaps better than you wish he did.
“This man is knowledgeable in the ways of Rome, the workings of the Vatican and the mind of someone from whom you need to protect yourself.
&n
bsp; “My son, make seeing this man your first order of business. He can help you in ways and in areas where no one else can. You can trust him with your life. One day, you may have to.”
“I understand completely, your Eminence. Thank you for taking time from your busy schedule to talk with me today. Still, there is something that is troubling me,” Julian said and the cardinal nodded and looked suitably concerned.
“Dr. Dwyer,” Julian said.
“Yes,” the cardinal said and his eyebrows moved closer together. “As I said, the doctor has been on my mind since I heard of it. I realize she is incredibly important to you and I understand the full impact of how important.
“I have contacted the authorities, of course, and have used my influence as best I can. Do not think they are handling this as anything but a case with the highest priority. As yet, I know nothing. I will continue to make inquiries of my own and to lean on the various police agencies. Please, know both you and the doctor shall be in my prayers. Go with God, Julian.”
***
Needing time to think, Julian declined the offer of a ride back to his hotel. He walked into the sunshine of a perfect Roman afternoon. He was deep in thought, considering the things the cardinal said and the things left unsaid. He was not so distracted that he did not sense the presence of someone who was a jumble of overheated emotions. He stopped before reaching the bottom step. Julian closed his eyes, hung his head and held out both wrists in front of him.
“Stregone – in the car now!” Inspector Belladonna Saviano barked.
The inspector and Julian were rocketed into the back seat as Enrico Marino, sped away from the curb. The car careened down narrow streets, disappeared into even narrower alleys, only to reappear on a broad thoroughfare. The vehicle shot through the gates of the Vatican and vanished into the heart of Rome.
“We have a problem,” the inspector said to Julian. “A very large problem and this time it isn’t you.”
Chapter Five
Bogdan Sokolov didn’t so much shout into the telephone, he breathed fire. “You asshole! I give a fool like you a simple problem to solve. You were to bring me that dick, Blessing.
Echoes Through the Vatican: A Paranormal Mystery (The Echoes Quartet Book 2) Page 5
