The HolyPhone Confessional Crisis

by Charles Brett

  If Inma was not wholly surprised by Miriam, Miriam was astonished by Inma. This was not the ill-dressed mid-forty-year-old in thick glasses she had met yesterday, dressed in a sack with the probable shape of lumpen potatoes underneath. She still had the same long almost gloomy and sallow face that Miriam associated with some Spanish painters. The woman before her was in her physical prime with a full body shape that was nothing short of sensational, rich, almost heavy yet toned to perfection. How did she do it? Was it genetic? Additionally, Inma’s hair had come loose, hanging gloriously down her back, almost to her buttocks. Wet, her hair was glistening, almost shimmering in the sun, a mass of luxurious black. To Miriam this Inma bore no resemblance to the shabby middle-aged lady from Belvoir or the evening before. She was wearing a most respectable yet simultaneously revealing one-piece black swimsuit setting off that shape like a dream, though there was a strange discoloured band around her right thigh that looked bruised and almost bleeding.

  “Where did you find that swimsuit?” was all Miriam could think to say, feeling almost tongue-tied, which really was unusual.

  “In the hotel where Michele is staying. There’s an exorbitantly expensive shop in the lobby. I gave in on the day I arrived. Why? Do you think it was a stupid buy?”

  “No, not at all. That was a great choice, though I doubt it would look anywhere as good on me as it does on you. Black is not my colour. If it is the same store, I tried to go in today. It was shut and will not open before I leave, which is a pity, as I would have liked to find something as good as you found there.”

  “It would have cost you.”

  “To look as good as you it would have been worth it. Imagine what my fellow swimmers at the gym would think.”

  Miriam reflected that this was true. The men as usual would disregard the face or personality and go for the figure.

  Inma was secretly relieved and embarrassed. Personal compliments were rare for her. To her surprise Miriam’s words made her feel surprisingly good, even a little more relaxed about returning to the hotel together.

  “These are my things,” she said, pointing out and retrieving her pareo to re-establish some barrier.

  Miriam received her second shock. It had been Inma before. Her instinct had been right, even if she had not been able to place it.

  “My bag is over here.”

  They walked over Miriam put on an overlong T-shirt that made her almost decent. She added flip-flops and the two headed back to the hotel discussing gyms and workouts.

  Sunday, Monteverde

  José Antonio’s brief diversion had managed to distract them, putting everyone back in a decent humour. The lunch was good and, invited by Tono to liquori, José Antonio and Davide had again opted for grappa, while Caterina and Conor found to their mutual embarrassment that they both liked Sambuca. As neither was at all sweet this struck José Antonio as rather ironic. He had almost laughed at the absurdity but kept quiet.

  “To business,” said Davide. “How shall we proceed?”

  “You have the formal visit to the Confessional Call Centre tomorrow morning, as we arranged earlier, with Caterina and Conor attending. Should we not wait until after that before deciding what to do?”

  “I’m not sure, José Antonio. The more I think about this the more it may be better, at least to start with, that no connection is made between us and them.” Davide waved his hands airily at the two Interpol members. “The downside of them not participating directly is that we must find some way to exchange information, perhaps every evening. The upside is that we do not make it easy for others to put two and two together. What do you think, Conor?”

  Before Conor could open his mouth, Caterina jumped in: “I agree. I also think we need to clear some lines about who should be doing what. Of course this may need to change as we learn more but my impression is that you, Davide, should be looking at the big picture of how the systems supporting the Vatican Call Centre and money collection work, in effect being our eyes and ears and able to ask innocuously any questions Conor and I raise. The miserable old git here,” she said, smiling sweetly at Conor, “understands financial fraud better than anyone. He should start to look at how confession payments are processed through banks and credit cards and where the money goes. For me, I suggest looking deeper into the actual systems used, once Davide has found out more. My strengths lie at the software level, identifying what might not be working as it should. Together that should cover most bases, yes?”

  She looked round expectantly. If she was hoping for acclaim it was sadly lacking from Conor or Davide.

  Conor started: “Well, I guess that teaches me not to try being in charge. Are Davide and I to be your slaves?”

  Caterina reddened “No, no, that’s not what I meant at all. If I have jumped ahead too far, I am sorry. It just seems obvious to me.”

  Davide felt perplexed. Like Conor, he felt like a senior manager being told however politely what to do by a junior, and not particularly politely at that. Caterina reminded him of an old boss that he never liked working for. On the other hand, he reluctantly admitted to himself that her logic made sense even if he did not want it to. She was hard-nosed and had turned Conor upside down. This really could be a problem.

  To his mild astonishment he heard himself say: “Your thinking has merit, at least until we know more. Have you any other suggestions?”

  “Yes, though I have no idea if what I would like is possible. Do we have a good contact within the Vatican, other than the cardinal, whom we can trust?”

  “The only possibility is Father Federico, Nelson’s long-serving and suffering secretary. What do you think, José Antonio, and why? What are you after?”

  “Here’s what I’d like. Whether this is feasible I’ve no idea. I’d like us to be able to see what payments were made to whom and for what in the commissioning of the Santofonino, from the devices through to the call centre technologies purchased and their implementation.

  “If we can see who was paid what we might obtain some pointers to any surreptitious activities, like those that the cardinal fears. That would be one starting point. A different one would be to see the agreements signed with banks and credit card companies. Here I guess we’ll not be able to ask to see everything because that would alert any potential crooks. But knowing what is normal might provide a basis for comparison later if we need to open up the whole caboodle.”

  “I think I see where you are going. I like it. Documentation opens paths to questions. Do you think the Vatican will have what you want?” reflected Davide.

  “I have an idea. José Antonio, are you able to call this Father Federico and find out if he knows what there is and how we might access it?”

  José Antonio didn’t look happy. Reluctantly he brought out his parish telefonino.

  “Father Federico, my friends have some questions for you about documentation. If I pass you onto Davide, can he explain? I’m not sure I have the right words or really understand. I warn you that you may not either.”

  He handed over his telefonino.

  “Father Federico, we’ve been thinking about how to start. One suggestion is to look at the paperwork. Is there anywhere that we might see what organisations the Vatican bought from and what was paid when the Santofonino and the Confessional Call Centre were set up and how they are now managed? Also, is there anywhere that a record is kept of the financial agreements with banks and credit card companies and the like? Or is this too much to expect?”

  Davide heard what sounded like a demented cackling at the other end. After a moment he deduced that it was Father Federico laughing, not something he had encountered before.

  “Why, may I ask, are you reacting like that?”

  “On the second of your suggestions, Monsignor Severino should have all the financial details and agreements. Do you want me to ask him? No. I understand. On the first you are in luck. When we started His Eminence insisted that all purchases and commitments being made were passed through the Vatican Purcha
sing Office. Yes, incredibly we do have such an office, though normally it deals with His Holiness’ travel, the Papal household, the maintenance of the Vatican City State, and so on. His Eminence insisted, however, that not only were all contracts to be issued and approved by the Purchasing Office, but that every authorisation for every payment request related to the Santofonino be sent to His Eminence with the supporting documentation before any payment be made. Thus there should be full details in the Purchasing Office. This continues to this day, though the authorisation requests tend to be regular monthly or quarterly ones now that the Confessional Call Centre is working.”

  “That is wonderful, Father Federico. How would we obtain access?”

  “Am I right, Signor Shape, that you would prefer access to be discreet, if possible unknown to anyone else other than His Eminence?”

  “In an ideal world, yes, but we understand that this is unlikely. What do you suggest?”

  “I may have at least a partial answer. His Eminence does not know this, and may not approve of what I have been doing. Ever since the Santofonino initiative started I have imaged all related documentation that came to His Eminence for authorisation and more. I have to tell you this is disorganised. I just put all the documents through our big scanner before sending authorisations, with their attached paperwork, back to the Purchasing Office. Thus everything is in daily folders created on my computer by the scanner and offloaded by me occasionally to CDs and now DVDs. I have a collection of about thirty to forty of these. Would this be of any use? Or have I misunderstood?”

  Davide was stunned. “Father Federico, might I discuss this with my colleagues and call you back?” He disconnected and giggled feebly. “Caterina, you may have won the lottery.”

  He outlined what Father Federico had described and then suggested asking if they could borrow the disks tomorrow after the visit to the Confessional Call Centre.

  “Bingo!” breathed Caterina. “This could save us a ton of work. But why wait until tomorrow? Call him back and ask if we can borrow the disks today and start later. I really want to see what’s been happening.”

  Conor nodded in agreement, though disappointed that he was not to have the same access to financial records as Caterina. But he understood that the financial dimension would be tricky. It was always this way at the start.

  “Father Federico, it is Davide again. Is there any chance of borrowing these disks and starting today and don’t worry about the latest ones? What?”

  “The thirty to forty disks include copies. You can have one of each and I still have my own copy. I will send them over now to Father José Antonio, wrapped as a present from Brazil.”

  “Thank you, thank you! Now I can understand why Nels … ugh, His Eminence, relies on you. Oh, one last question. Should we mention this to His Eminence or would your prefer us not to? You will tell him later or tomorrow. Fine. Thank you again.

  “Where shall we start work?”

  Sunday, Jaffa

  Michele, Miriam and Inma were sitting looking out over the sea in Jaffa, after almost an hour of pleasant walking from their hotel. Michele had asked some questions at the front desk and was told that if they walked past the Old Jaffa Port, which would be closed for Yom Kippur but was normally a hot spot for tourists and Israelis alike, and continued for another couple of kilometres they would find two or three Arab fish restaurants off Kedem Street. He had been given a map with the location marked on it.

  On arrival they had a short wait for a table outside one overlooking the sea. The place seemed more Russian than Arab. But the fact that it was open was what mattered.

  They had ordered and were now confronted with the table full of twelve different small dishes of mezze as starters accompanied by some rich-smelling bread. There was hommous, falafel, labneh, tabbouleh, fattoush, olives, yoghurt and more. The names of these had been recited at great speed, conveying no meaning. Nevertheless, all looked delicious and the Israeli white wine, if a little sweet, was not bad either.

  Many minutes later they had finished most of what was on offer from the mezze. They were full, especially with all the bread. They looked at each other wondering if they would have room for their main course.

  They waited. Nothing happened.

  They waited longer. Still nothing happened.

  They tried attracting the attention of their waitress, but she was too busy to take notice.

  “Perhaps,” offered Michele, “we have to wait so we can digest that mountain we have already eaten. At least we have time. While we are waiting might I suggest we continue what we were talking about on the walk? Miriam, where do you think we stand?”

  “As Inma said earlier, I am not sure. Remember I’m a small cog in the wheel. What matters is what you, Inma and Noach are doing. My role was only to make the reintroduction to Noach.

  “That said, I also have uneasy feelings. When we went into this I wasn’t really expecting it to deliver much. If my father’s ever more ridiculous church, and I’m sorry to say that’s how increasingly I see it, received some extra money that was fine with me, especially if it kept him off my back. What I did not expect was the amounts that Noach has been talking of. In truth I have not given as much attention to what was going on as I ought to. I just looked at the account every so often and wrote cheques payable to the church as a registered charitable organisation that can avoid tax on its income.

  “Now I’m beginning, like Inma said, to feel uncomfortable, especially about Noach. What I am uncertain of, however, is whether my discomfort is due to how he’s treating my sister, which I dislike, or whether it’s some financial sixth sense kicking in. Possibly it’s a combination of both.

  “What I am sure of is that I don’t want the IRS on my back. I think that your arrangements, Michele, pretty much protect me given that the account from which I transfer to the church is overseas and I have taken nothing for myself. At least I hope so.

  “So what’s your take, Michele? You have remained pretty silent so far and made Inma and I do the work.”

  Their main courses arrived, featuring a rather miserable-looking fish called Denise, which came recommended. These were placed in front of the three even before the waitress began removing the debris from the mezze. She asked if they wanted another bottle of white. Michele nodded.

  “I find myself puzzled. When Noach took us through how the abstraction process works he explained that our share comes from a range of small charges, minute foreign exchange percentage differences, temporarily failed credit card transactions, and sin analysis sales agency fees. This was pretty much as I expected and had planned. Similarly his description of how the monies are collected and then moved around the financial system conformed to what I originally envisaged, possibly with some extra levels of safety for us that I had not thought of. I saw and heard nothing that made me suspicious. All seemed to be as expected with the only real surprise, as you both have said, being how successful we have been.”

  “And?” said Miriam.

  Inma was content to let her lead for now, partly because she was wrestling with fish bones in her mouth but also because she saw that Miriam might get more out of Michele than she. In any case it was often better to watch and listen.

  “I feel happy about what we’ve seen and discussed. I see no obvious mistake or weak point. I’ve also wondered over the past two days whether I’m guilty of feeling guilty, that I called this gathering because of this rather than because of any actual problem. To me the past three days, including our discussions last night and today, are invaluable. They seem to confirm everything is working as intended. In any case it has been good finally to meet you, Inma, and of course to see you again, Miriam, even if our circumstances have radically changed.”

  At the latter, Inma thought, he looked regretful and not a little wistful.

  “What we have not solved, however, is how to make da Ferraz comfortable enough to stop asking questions. I also sense another problem, where I think you both have a similar discomfor
t: Noach.

  “I’m not sure what makes me feel like this. Maybe it was something at Noach’s house or in the conversation with Miriam in the car back to Tel Aviv yesterday.”

  He turned to Inma, describing how much of that journey was spent discussing Miriam’s sister and her relationship with her husband and mother-in-law.

  “I guess, and it’s probably not more than this, that I don’t fully understand the Settler connection. Yes, I know what they are trying to achieve, and I don’t personally agree with their shabby treatment of the Palestinians. I wish His Holiness would outright condemn what’s happening in a louder voice, but that’s not the issue for us. I wonder if the Settlers have something on Noach that is in some way causing him problems, and in so doing is causing us worry.”

  “If what you suggest is correct, then we have a huge problem,” interrupted Inma, speaking for the first time since finishing the mezze and now fish. “To me Noach is one part of a two-piece hub, with you Michele being the other. He abstracts, to use your word, the monies and arranges for the laundering through your financial set up. Without him your set up has no meaning, and we have no monies or income. Is that fair?”

  “Yes, it is,” responded Michele reluctantly.

  “Michele, I have a different question to ask you. Shall we ask for the bill and then wander back? I have had enough wine to drink and we could walk through the back parts of Jaffa on the way. What do you think, Inma?”