That done, she went outside to find Michele waiting in his rental car. The drive to the airport was fast with minimal conversation. Grunts from them both would have been more accurate. He dropped her at the terminal before returning the rental car. They had agreed to meet for coffee in whatever lounge her frequent flier card gave her access to or, failing that, at a café in the departures rotunda.
After finally checking-in Inma proceeded – this time permitted to take her bag as hand luggage – through to the first security barrier where a guard read her boarding card. Moving to the luggage scanners, she placed her bag and handbag onto the belt to go through the hand luggage inspection machine. Then she stepped through the people scanner … at which point everything went crazy and she found herself being led away like a criminal.
The reason, to her shame, was horribly simple. Inma had totally forgotten to remove her metal cilice from her thigh and substitute it with the plastic one. She’d had to undress and explain to two sour-faced though not impolite Israeli security ladies. They clearly did not understand. Only when she showed them the plastic one and offered to wear that had they relented and passed her. Though they had thought she had not seen it, the look exchanged between the security personnel revealed a confluence of contempt and disbelief that anybody would wear a self-harming bracelet around their leg.
Inma met up with Michele in what they called a Dan Lounge. At least it had decent coffee with tolerable food and water. She needed the water and to recite her devotions. That part of her day had been missing and this always made her feel on edge. She would try to do these on the plane. At least her tablet was fully charged.
Michele and she sat together, talking little. She had the feeling that he wanted to say something but was held back. She feared it might be about Miriam. Inma avoided giving him any opening for confidences. In any case they had agreed to meet in fewer than three weeks’ time. If Miriam was bothering him they could sort that out themselves beforehand or in Yuste.
Inma recalled her impulsive invitation to Miriam. She would have to consider how best to bring her into the Opus Dei fold. Miriam had energy and was alert, but looked to be going nowhere. Could Inma give her a new spiritual direction that would provide fulfilment? She hoped so. It would be a challenge, but one she felt worthy of trying. Of course, Miriam would have to accept the invitation before, or after, if she was to have a chance of converting her.
As it happened, Michele’s flight had been delayed slightly and both the Madrid and Rome flights had been called close together. Their boarding gates had been in the same wing of the terminal and they had said goodbye at his, with formal handshakes rather than the polite kisses on each cheek she was used to at home.
She remained puzzled by Michele. There was something about him that did not quite add up, though his description of his motivation and reasons rang reasonably true. In his position Inma knew she would not have done the same but she could understand why he did it. Still, he felt odd in some way she was yet to process. She hoped she was not being uncharitable.
The flight to Madrid had been long. It had seemed much more so than the one out. There had been only one unexpected moment of delight. In a window seat she had, by chance, looked out to see Mount Etna and the whole of Sicily laid out before her in the early morning sunshine. If anything was a manifestation of what the Good Lord could create, this must be it. She had watched entranced as the Sicilian coast passed by. Having visited there some years before, she could clearly see Cefalù, Palermo and finally, in the far distance, what must be Trapani — all places where she had enjoyed spending time.
Arriving in Madrid Iberia had performed as usual. The plane parked at what appeared to be the furthest gate from the centre of the satellite terminal where one caught the train to the main terminal, despite there being lots of other gates with no aircraft. With Iberia this was a constant irritation. It meant a long walk to passport control before taking the train and emerging to catch a taxi to her apartment.
After a quick shower, cilice and clothes change, Inma was ready to be in her office by half past eleven, which was normal for her on Mondays after the post-weekend morning rush hour back into Madrid from Yuste being consistently a traffic nightmare. Suddenly she remembered that she was not expected today. Good; that would enable her to start digging for what she had agreed with Michele and Miriam, not least to start looking at Noach’s activities. It was going to be a problem achieving much before they met again. And Inma needed to go to Mass and confession, especially to admit the purchase and her delight in that luxuriously expensive and complementary black swimsuit and other purchases from the same shop. She was pleased and appalled in about equal measure that Miriam saw her wearing the swimsuit. Yet the compliments had made her feel appreciated.
Monday, Rome
Michele arrived back in his Parioli apartment feeling dirty and tired. Travel did that to him. Before cleaning up and showering he opened his laptop to see if anything urgent was in store. He expected nothing, having checked via his iPad earlier that morning in the business lounge at Ben Gurion when with Inma. Nothing major had surfaced over the weekend.
Now he needed to plan the additional work agreed with the others but he still lacked anything concrete to offer or suggest to da Ferraz. Thankfully today it was already too late to attend Ferraz’s morning prayers, but he would have to go tomorrow, plus make an appointment to see the cardinal for later in the week. Part of this he could devote to discussing that meeting with the bankers he had mentioned to da Ferraz but he must not avoid Ferraz’s core concern, tempting as this was. He needed to find something to say, if only to give more time for investigation.
If all this was not bad enough he needed some spiritual work on his emotions, though this described rather baser thoughts. Being with Miriam had disturbed him more than expected. Michele remembered well what they had had shared together. It made him warm with an embarrassment and shame that he still felt the same. For him she had a physical presence that only the utmost discipline, helped by Inma’s austere presence, had constrained over the weekend. Thank the Good Lord she had been in a different hotel. The longer Michele was near Miriam the more he had had to take hold of himself. Though she had not seen him, he had seen her on the beach in her bikini. She had looked even better than he remembered. No, he must repress his carnal urges as the Seminary had taught.
He had another reason for shame mixed with not a little pride when he bothered to admit it to himself. He had not expected the question about his motivations and involvement. His story about the pension was correct, although not altogether accurate. His so-called pension was much more generous than he had let on. It was sufficient to retire on today and live better than most people could with a good income after a lifetime of working. But there was more. Michele had bought via an anonymous trust a large apartment near Lincoln Park in Chicago that was now rented out, generating a respectable income. He intended this to be his preferred long-term home. That was why he paid so much for it. The pension plus the two investment funds, completely fictitious though these two might be, had created an understandable false trail for Miriam. It might, however, be a good idea to set these up. Altogether they seemed to have convinced Miriam and Inma. Michele hoped so. He did not want either of them digging around.
But, and this was the continual but … He could only retire and leave the priesthood once this scheme for abstracting money from confessions was long closed, preferably for two or three years, maybe longer. While Inma might be disappointed for Opus Dei if he was to suggest shutting their rake-off, his analysis of their conversations made him believe she would agree — perhaps after a year of gradual winding down the operation. Miriam, he was sure, would agree; she had never benefited personally other than managing to keep her miserable father off her back.
Noach was going to be the problem. Michele knew it intuitively, sensing greed there. He was unsure if it was for Noach himself, though Michele suspected he was politically motivated by his desire to suppo
rt the Settlers who were increasingly being targeted with economic sanctions by the European Union. Whichever it was, Noach was not going to end everything without very good reasons. Finding those justifications might be something else he should think of developing.
All in all, he reflected, he had more than a plateful of concerns over and beyond his official day-to-day ones. The next couple of weeks were going to be busy. He checked his diary. Fortunately his entertaining schedule was light this month. What already existed could be postponed if necessary. He needed to be working all hours to stay on top of all his commitments, official and unofficial.
His mind wandered back to the beach. It would not let go of the image of Miriam leaving the sea in that bikini. No matter how hard Michele tried repressing it, it returned, occasionally mixed up with and transplanted to a bedroom. This was driving him to distraction.
He picked up a book of devotions and applied himself diligently. It seemed to work, at least temporarily. This was a sin that could not be confessed, not even anonymously over the Santofonino. Clergy, of any rank, were not authorised to use the Santofonino; their confessions had to be direct, to other clerics.
Monday, the Vatican Call Centre
Davide and José Antonio left the Vatican Call Centre following a long day with no time for lunch. It was now nearly six in the evening and Davide felt stretched thin with so much information being dumped on him. There was a lot to absorb and organise before he would be able to communicate the important parts to Conor and his hanger-on. He reflected that although Caterina was undoubtedly pretty, she was not simpatica. He did not envy Conor having her as an attachment to mentor all the time.
“Davide, will you excuse me? I’ve spent a lot of time away from my parishioners over the past few days. I should return to them and support my colleagues in Santa Maria.”
“Of course I won’t object. You’ve been very patient, especially when much what of what we discussed today must have been technological gobbledygook. Come, let’s find a taxi to take you back as quickly as possible to Santa Maria and then it can take me to the Residence Monteverde. In truth my brains are bouncing around. I must have time to digest what I heard.”
They stopped a cab and gave the appropriate instructions.
“I do have one question for you. Did you know that the Santofonino converted everything it received into the Vatican scudo? I thought I remembered the Vatican using the Lira before the Euro and the Euro after 2000.”
“You are right. Today the Euro is the Vatican currency. I think there was some special arrangement negotiated with the European Union, not that I know any details. As for the scudo, this was news to me. No, thinking back I believe Nelson mentioned it once but not in a context that meant anything to me. So when they were explaining it I was lost. Can you make me understand in words with fewer than three syllables?”
“‘Syllable’ has three syllables. So in words with fewer than three is unfair. I will allow myself some longer words if needed.
“My impression is that this Monsignor Severino dreamt up reusing the scudo — I had not known until they told us that it was the old currency of the Vatican until the 1880s — in order to safeguard the value of all Santofonino receipts. The intent is to avoid currency losses if, say, the US dollar fell against the Euro or the British pound. Others have tried this. You could even argue that Bitcoin is a variation.”
“Davide, you have already lost me. Currency gains and losses I can just about understand, like when I went from Spain’s Peseta and converted to Italian Lira, but Bitcoin? I don’t have a clue what you are talking about.”
“I apologise, José Antonio. It’s my fault. My head spins as it tries to digest. I’m not being clear. Mea culpa. I promise to do better another time but not now. Here is Santa Maria.”
“Thank you. I’m not sure I want this next time. You will scramble my brains again I fear. Anyhow, enjoy the rest of the day. Shall we talk in the morning? Give me a call.”
“I will.” They shook hands and José Antonio climbed out and waddled – this being the most accurate description – up the steps into his beloved Santa Maria. The taxi driver went down the hill until it paused outside a supermarket that Davide had previously walked past. “Drop me here. I need to buy some things. Grazie.”
Davide paid and went inside. He needed fruit and perhaps something else. He wondered what the pecorino would be like. It was a cheese he loved when it was good. But you never knew until you tried it whether it would satisfy or disappoint. He supposed that was part of its charm.
Fifteen minutes later he was walking downhill remembering, with some amusement, certain Santofonino alternatives he had been told about. These would entertain Conor who by now must be preparing for his formal dinner. He decided there was time to make a quick call.
“Conor? It’s Davide. I’ve finished at the Call Centre. It took pretty much all day. I am now going back to the Monteverde Residence for an evening of thinking through what I learnt. Some of it is puzzling; some is improbably funny, and some just weird, though as a good lapsed Catholic you may be able to explain it to me. When and where shall we meet tomorrow?”
“What about at the Residence? We have obtained the boss’s blessing to skip tomorrow’s conference sessions and Caterina has ordered loads of computer stuff to arrive at the Monteverde Residence tomorrow morning. She’s itching to get going for real. Say about nine thirty. By the way, we’ll be checking-out here and in there: I booked a couple more rooms, besides the one you reserved which we will use as our office.”
Davide ended the call and went into the Residence. It was going to be good to sit down and just pause for an evening. He realised he had been on the run since leaving for San Francisco Airport, which seemed like an eon ago but was in reality only four days earlier.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tuesday, Monteverde
Davide was setting out the room where they would be working. The more he considered it the better he liked the arrangements, with one common room at the top of the Residence, but with each of them having the option to retreat to their own bedrooms on the floor below.
He saw that Caterina had been proficient in her ordering, not only a powerful laptop but also a small server machine with a huge screen plus a Wi-Fi web camera. That was probably for security, something that had bothered him when this place was not really a secure location, though it did have the advantage of having a small, known staff around all the time. Being in an anonymous place was an extra advantage. Installing the web camera would enable them to keep a record of who entered the room, which only had one door and whose windows were too high up to be readily accessible.
Davide carried on unpacking and installing all the devices. The Residence staff had been kind enough to remove the beds and bring up four decent tables. He arranged two of these in a square in the middle of the room, with a chair on each side. He positioned the others along one wall, where he installed the printers, the server, the big screen, the router and everything else.
By the time Davide heard Conor’s voice outside all seemed to be functioning. There was now a small network established for only their use. The web camera was placed in a position with a complete view of the door and windows and the two printers were now connected. Why Caterina had bought two was not clear to him. One was a small black and white one while the other was a bit of monster, though with fax and scanning capabilities. His last task, as he heard them coming up the stairs, was to start encrypting the server and the attached external disks.
“You’ve been busy. Nothing better to do?” enquired Conor as he entered the room. “But it looks good. I guess that laptop is for me.” He helped himself. “We must remember to take the invoices to Father Federico to arrange for reimbursement.” Addressing Caterina: “Did you buy all this on your personal credit card?”
She nodded, saying, “I thought it better not to use an official card to minimise traceability. As for repayment, there is no great hurry; we have at last three weeks before my n
ext credit card bill is due and hopefully we will be done and dusted by then.
“Yes, you have done a good job, Davide. And you have installed the web camera too. Is it connected to our router or to the hotel’s one?”
“The latter, though it calls itself a Residence. I considered linking to our router but thought that having it communicating to the Residence one might add an extra layer of protection. We can look at what is happening in the room when we are out. I tried it from my smartphone and it worked a dream. I suggest, however, that we only turn it on when the room is going to be unoccupied, not when we are here. We don’t want anybody hacking in and watching us.
“By the way, your passwords for the network and the machines are written here. I’m encrypting the server’s disks and the external ones with this password.” He showed them what he had used. “What now?”
Conor responded that he cared less about the systems and more about what Davide had learnt, plus what Caterina discovered when analysing Father Federico’s CDs and DVDs.
Before he was able to persuade Davide to start on what interested him, Caterina insisted on beginning the process of transferring all the Santofonino data she had been analysing on her own laptop to the server. This was going to take time, so the sooner she started the sooner they could be looking at her findings. Davide and Conor sat down to wait until she finished. Clearly nothing was going to occur beforehand. She was in control, at least for the moment.
It did not take long before Caterina looked up from her computer.
“Did I forget anything?”
“I assume you did not think of paper charts or a chart stand and something to hang sheets of paper on the wall?” complained Conor. “I always prefer to draw things when I have complexity confronting me.”
The HolyPhone Confessional Crisis Page 21
