“Why would I be interested enough in your activities to follow you? Conceit is the original sin, Mr. Blessing.”
“I will bow to your superior knowledge of the Bible, Father and confess my sin.”
“Bible? Oh, no, I got that from a bit of Japanese anime I saw once,” the priest said and smiled. “Besides, I’m not as agile as I once was and I seem to lack the ability to be inconspicuous. This overcoat is not part of a clever disguise. I am susceptible to the cold and so wear this topcoat year round. So, following people is out of the realm of possibility for me.
“The Holy Father leaves Rome in July because it is too hot,” the priest said, “and here is Fr. Soski with his overcoat.” Again, the priest smiled. He chuckled, but that soon spiraled into a painful sounding cough. With difficulty, he cleared his throat. Speaking, Julian knew, was taking its toll.
“Father, why don’t you rest your voice. We might need it if we have to order in a restaurant later, no?” Julian said.
Soski acknowledged the kindness and accepted Julian’s invitation. “This is a church I visit with some regularity. It is intimate and usually empty as it is now.
“My eyesight isn’t what it was so I come here to sit up close to the altar and admire the talent of those who made something so plain, so beautiful.” Julian could feel each hushed word the priest thought.
“Now, Luciano, he was following you. His interest in you is unholy and unhealthy. Take care my friend,” Soski said. “My earlier question was a serious one. Did you enjoy the cardinal’s ‘Soldiers of Reason’ monologue? He has given it many times, although not in the way I originally wrote it. He relies on others for his originality. It doesn’t matter though.”
“Father, call me Julian if you wouldn’t mind,” Julian said and then continued. “I have a problem.”
“Dr. Dwyer - yes I know. Julian, I have given this a great deal of attention. It hasn’t done me any good, but you need to know neither you nor the doctor have been far from my thoughts. There are many of us who are trying to find her. There seems to be a screen around all of that which has not yet been penetrated,” Soski said.
“Father…”
The priest touched Julian’s sleeve and said, “Please, Marek is preferable to Father Soski.”
“Marek, anyone could have her, although the Russians and Luciano are first on the list of suspects. For all I know, Cardinal Manning could have her. I don’t know anything about Manning. Can he be trusted? Are the police doing all they can? Might the police be somehow complicit?” Julian asked.
“Cardinal Manning is a cardinal, and as such, he is a political animal. He can be trusted as much as one can trust any dangerous wild animal. However, I believe he is rather tame in comparison to many of his brother cardinals. I doubt he has the doctor. What advantage would he gain by taking her? He seems to want nothing from you, but time will enlighten us.”
Fr. Soski continued, “I have been on to the police. You may trust they are doing all they can. That is not nearly enough for you. I know this. As I’ve said, I admire the restraint you have continued to show thus far. I doubt I would have done so well in your place. Please, believe, if I could put your mind at rest, know I would.
“All of that is, however, an aside. You have a plan. You are a man who is never far from a plan. This one, I think, renders cardinals, gangsters and the police irrelevant. I could be mistaken, but I doubt it.”
“I’m going to see the Russian, Sokolov. I have sat around long enough,” Julian said. “I have no idea where he is but, I’m sure if I stand around, one of his men will find me.”
“Rather than that, let’s make an appointment with him, shall we? I want you to do something, not for me, but for you. Are you willing?” Soski said and Julian nodded.
“Sit back and look at the doorway to the right of the altar. Look at the door and then into it. Tell me when you can see the individual grains in the wood,” Soski whispered in the sepulchral silence of the church.
Julian’s eyes became heavy. Through half hooded slits, his vision began to narrow.
The door to the right of the altar and the sculptures above the door.
The door and frame.
The door.
It took some minutes, but Julian narrowed his focus further to the wood on the door and nothing else. He sent the thought – “Now.”
“Good. You are as fast a study as they said. Julian, on the other side of a door, not unlike that one, is your Russian. See him. Watch him. Feel him. It is necessary that you know this man well before you meet him.
“I know you think this is impossible. How could you locate one man out of so many? Remember, we shine a light into the darkness. This man is using that darkness to his advantage, but his dark little corner festers and reeks from his crimes and his sins. Use the light to your advantage and know we make the impossible happen.”
A minute, then two passed. Soski watched Julian. “The building he is in, I can see it. I see the office, his men. Got it - I see him,” Julian thought.
“Julian, watch him for a bit and then let Sokolov know that you want him to make himself available for you tomorrow. Take your time. When you are sure you have his attention, give him your message. Watch him and make sure he understands.”
Julian sat in transfixed silence. The old church gave voice to its age as its timbers creaked and a whispered breeze moved the flowers on the altar. Julian closed his eyes and smiled. Soski knew it was done.
“And?”
“It was difficult to get his attention. He is a man not easily distracted. I believe my message came through with some clarity though. I just hope I got the right guy.”
“You will not have long to wait,” Soski said. He will react while you continue to act. You are now ahead in this game.
“Keep something in mind, Julian. You are juggling many balls and all of them are important, but not equally so. You must assign them their priorities, and you must not lose your focus. You must never underestimate either the cardinal or the Russian. You must learn to master yourself and your gifts quickly, but well. You must find the doctor and neutralize the many threats that surround you and her,” Fr. Soski said.
Julian looked to the high altar. “Can I do it, Marek?”
Fr. Marek Soski followed Julian’s gaze. What the priest saw caused him to close his eyes, sigh deeply and rest his chin on his chest. What he saw, just for a moment, was the future.
***
In an office on Via del Pellegrino, in the Campo de' Fiori, a man dabbed gingerly at the scalding coffee that had spilled into his lap.
Bogdan Sokolov was really looking forward to that cup of coffee. Instead, what he got was a message, a niggling thought, a recent recollection, a dull tingling inside his head. It made his skin crawl. “Soon, Sokolov, very soon. Tomorrow in fact.” He had no way of knowing the message’s origin, but he knew on some primal level all the same.
Sokolov waved one of his men into his office and said, “Blessing. Find him now and bring him to me.”
***
In a church on the other side of Rome, Fr. Soski smiled and nodded once to his companion. “He got the message,” the priest said.
Chapter Ten
“Eminence, we noticed an irregularity during an audit today,” a small officious looking man with thick glasses said.
Cardinal Manning looked up from the paperwork neatly arranged on his desk. He nodded and the small man continued.
“A transaction took place - that did not. As a result, the Vatican Bank has endured a loss that is not insignificant. That is cryptic I know, so allow me to explain,” the small man said and continued to detail a fraudulent transaction of mind-bending complexity.
Wire transfers, missing account information and bogus remittances followed exploited security weaknesses, simultaneous debits and credits and cascading deposits made to multiple nonexistent accounts at foreign banks. Cardinal Manning sat in emotionless silence absorbing a litany of tortuously circuitous deceits.
/> “The amount involved?” the cardinal asked
“Seven hundred fifty-three thousand euros, Eminence.”
The little man said nothing further. Cardinal Manning walked to his window overlooking the Papal gardens. “Signore,” Cardinal Manning continued, “seven hundred fifty-three thousand euros has gone astray. I should think it would be missed. Please, tell me when we are going to recover the misplaced funds.”
“Eminence, after an extensive search, we have no idea where they went.”
The cardinal asked, “You have your suspicions, do you not?”
“My suspicions are not evidence, Eminence. The audit of our funds transfer system was decided at the last moment. No one, aside from the auditors, knew an audit would take place.
“I can say with certainty, had an audit not been in progress, this fraud would have gone unnoticed anywhere from days to upwards of a week. Had that happened, we would, I feel sure, have sustained further losses.” The little man stood in respectful silence.
“And, signore? Give me the rest, please,” the cardinal said.
“The methods employed in this attack, Eminence, lead us to two disturbing facts. Seven hundred and fifty-three thousand euros is not insignificant to be sure. However, an attack of this complexity could have easily netted the thieves seven and a half million. This, Eminence, was a test. There will be more attacks and I fear they will be costlier.”
“Signore, you said there were two facts. Why are you keeping the second one from me?”
The small man removed his spectacles, cleaned the lenses with a handkerchief and never lost eye contact with the cardinal. “Eminence, someone within the Vatican Bank has betrayed us.”
***
“Marek,” Julian said, “there is something that puzzles me. There are actually many things, but for now, let’s consider just one.”
The two men walked down a narrow cobbled street away from Sant' Agostino. The air was cool for a summer day in Rome and graced the Roman evening with an easy breeze and nostalgic feeling of calm.
Julian’s companion smiled.
“When you approached the cardinal and me this afternoon, I saw you coming. I didn’t know who you were – I’ve actually only seen you in the shadows of your office, but I couldn’t really sense you. You had only a slight signature. How is that possible?”
“Through hard work, I assure you,” the priest thought. “You will see a brief mention of it in the book, but I researched the subject and talked with people who had the ability. It was a talent I thought would prove to be useful and it has, as you saw today. The cardinal never felt me either. Surprising him is something I enjoy – perhaps too much, but there you have it. Simple pleasures for a simple man.”
“Something else,” Julian said. “There is a man, a policeman. I know he isn’t one of us, but he doesn’t have the slightest bit of signature. I’ve had him follow me, stand right behind me in fact and I never felt a thing. The question is the same, how?”
“I, too, have run into this phenomenon on two occasions. I was so intrigued that I spent a year doing research on the subject. I pestered everyone I knew. All of them had run into occurrences of this, but not one had an explanation. In the end I was left to draw my own conclusions,” the priest looked thoughtful.
“You are one for the dramatic pause. I’ll bite, what did you conclude, Marek?” Julian teased and prompted.
“Again, simple things. There are people, how many I don’t know. A percentage of the population perhaps.” The priest drew a deep breath and began a painful cough. “Pardon me, my lungs were burned in my accident and it bothers me sometimes even when I’m not talking. Anyway, what you are describing is what I’ve come to call spiritual transmogrification.”
“Marek, please don’t take this the wrong way, but you do know that is a word only a Jesuit would choose,” Julian said and Fr. Marek began to laugh which devolved into a racking cough, causing Julian to wince.
“Well, I stand guilty. It is a rather grand word to be sure, but it is really the best word for the job and you may trust, I tried many others. I didn’t want anyone accusing me of being a Jesuit.” The priest smiled.
“I believe it happens when an individual becomes so fixated he gives himself over to something. He does it so completely he transforms into something between himself and the object of his obsession.
“That might be a cult, a political movement, a philosophy, a leader, country, or cause, or anything really that has the power to captivate the person so utterly that the individual lives for the object of his particular mania.” Fr. Marek concluded, “Does that fit?”
“I’m sure it does, I just don’t know where. The man I’m thinking of is a good policeman I think, dedicated and seemingly honest, but I don’t know if his commitment rises to the level of mania,” Julian said and wondered. “Perhaps though.”
***
Signorina Joselina Conaletti stood at the front door with her daughters backing her up. It was after closing and even if it wasn’t, the two very large, very ugly, very dangerous men at the door would not be coming in.
“Perhaps you are deaf as well as stupid looking. What am I to do with you my little Russian friends? I will only say it once more. Go. Away,” Signorina Joselina said and smiled an evil smile as she looked up into the faces of the men towering over her as she closed the door.
The larger of the two Russians put out his hand and stopped the heavy wooden door from closing. “We leave when we have Blessing.”
“Well, if that’s all it takes, you have my blessing to leave.” The madam attempted to close the door again and this time, in a murderous rage, the Russian pushed it open throwing the woman back into her employees.
“We search, we find Blessing, we go. Now get out of our way, whore.”
“Provaci ancora!” said a handsome, fiercely muscular, singularly lethal Italian man with a bald head and a huge semiautomatic pistol. He had the muzzle of his weapon wedged firmly in the ear of an unhappy Russian. He seemed to be sighting directly through this Russian’s head and into that of the other Russian.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” signorina Joselina said righting herself and straightening her housecoat. “You have not been formally introduced. My little Russian friends, this is signore Giuseppe Sarro. He is our night watchman, our protector and our friend.” Behind their employer, the girls nodded and smiled enthusiastically.
“In case you need a translation, he says ‘Try again.’ I believe he is inviting you to give him a reason to put a bullet in each of your heads. It looks like he has decided one bullet will do. Bullets are expensive, no?” Joselina said.
“It is like this my friends. Giuseppe is a man of few words, but I can tell you, the dome of St. Peter’s could be filled with all the shits he doesn’t give for whether he kills you or not.”
Magician like, signorina Joselina produced an even larger handgun trained on the face of the second Russian just before he started to move. “We’ve had a good month,” she said. “A few extra bullets won’t matter.” At Casa Felicità, the Russians were finding no joy whatsoever.
Signorina Joselina looked beyond the Russians, her eyes narrowed and she shook her head imperceptibly.
Julian stood on the curb at the rear bumper of the Russian’s car, nodded his head and smiled broadly. The thought he transmitted struck Joselina Conaletti and Giuseppe Sarro simultaneously. “Please, lower your weapons. There is going to be a very loud explosion soon and I don’t want any guns going off by mistake. Fingers off those triggers, boys and girls.”
Sarro, shrewd and mistrustful, shifted his gaze to his employer and she nodded and lowered her weapon. Her enforcer did the same and the Russians looked confused. Momentarily.
“Gentlemen,” Julian announced as he climbed the stairs toward the front door of the whorehouse. The Russians turned to find their prey standing five steps below them, hands in pockets looking at them with a smile. He stood absolutely still and looked into the two men in front and above him.
/>
“Now, I realize your Mr. Sokolov is impatient to meet me,” Julian began. “However, you must make your boss understand something. I have granted him an appointment, but it is not until tomorrow and he will have to content himself with that.”
The large men stood bunching their fists, impatient to beat Julian senseless and then beat him some more.
Julian said, “Now off you go and tell Mr. Sokolov, he needn’t send people to find me. I know right where to find him. The Russians shifted uneasily and Sarro caressed the trigger guard, anxious to put his pistol to work.
The big men descended toward the still stationary Julian Blessing. Their plan was simple and painfully evident.
When they were three steps above him, the smile on his face turned to a cruel line, “Gentlemen, do not be stupid. Tell Mr. Sokolov I will be at his office at eleven and that it will go badly for him if he keeps me waiting.”
The rear curbside tire of the Russian’s car exploded. Every car alarm within three blocks went off simultaneously. Every dog not sensible enough to take cover was barking. People looked out windows, shouted curses and enthusiastically made rude gestures.
The ground was littered with Russians and prostitutes. Three people remained standing - Joselina Conaletti, Giuseppe Sarro and Julian Blessing.
Julian said, “You two.” The Russians looked up at him with murder in their eyes. Those looks evaporated when they felt the words. “Don’t call on me unless you are invited and never bother my friends again.” With that, the front curbside tire blew and the neighborhood again erupted in shouts, curses and spirited gesticulating.
Julian stepped around the Russians and entered the whorehouse saying to the proprietress, “That is just so cool. I’ll never get tired of that.” He began to chuckle and Joselina Conaletti made the sign of the horns after she was sure Julian wasn’t looking.
***
Bogdan Sokolov sat at his desk looking through the windows of his office at his collection of blunt-instrument goons. He cracked his knuckles and thought of murder.
Echoes Through the Vatican: A Paranormal Mystery (The Echoes Quartet Book 2) Page 11
