The HolyPhone Confessional Crisis

by Charles Brett

  Nelson pondered. It was a clever solution. He liked it and thought it might help settle that disagreeable curial feeling in his bones.

  “To carry on, my understanding from Conor is that the church will obtain much of what Severino took, which he also grew with shrewd investments. Conor says that the sale of the Chicago apartment should produce a profit. It seems Severino never spent anything on himself, just on providing for his retirement. Adding up all that he possessed, plus what Ms Smith and the Condesa returned, comes to about $12 million, perhaps more. This does, however, leave the amount that Weizmann took and gave to his Settlers. That’s gone. But the net cost to the church is probably not more than $10 million, minus the extra that the Condesa generated from her investing. I also have the personal suspicion that while Weizmann might’ve been greedy, he was too clever and possibly too afraid of discovery, to be too much greedier, if that adds up?”

  “It does and you’re right; it could’ve been much worse.” Nelson turned to Father Federico. “Do you agree?” Father Federico just nodded. It seemed enough for Nelson. “What now?”

  Davide looked to Conor. It was his turn.

  “Your Eminence, we think we’ve confirmed that your original instinct was right. We’ve identified the money leakage as well as how to stop this. That means Davide, Caterina and myself are pretty much finished. Another two to three days more is all we require, though there will be lots of follow-up work to make certain that the Santofonino is and stays clean. This isn’t really for us. It is more for whatever professional advisers you wish to appoint to complete what we started.

  “From what Paulino tells me there will be no criminal prosecutions. You are dealing with Severino within the church. The ladies are to go free given that they have surrendered their share of the monies and agreed to silence. What happens with Weizmann? Nobody really knows. As occurred after the Arab bank instance, he will probably disappear. I think we can be reasonably sure that the Israelis won’t wish publicly to be identified with such behaviour. That pretty much sums it up.”

  “Admirably concise. As you have explained, the monetary damage is relatively small and the risk of reputational damage now looks to be contained. You have put my mind at rest. I thank you on behalf of Our Church.

  “I must think how to discuss all that’s happened with authorities higher than myself. I will let you go. I hope you have a relaxed dinner; you deserve it. Come, Father Federico, let us disappear — you to your mother and me to go home. It’s been an evening to remember.”

  “Yrmnts, could I possibly have a brief word?” asked Davide.

  “Of course. Shall we talk as I leave?”

  They walked down the corridor to the security point. Davide explained to Nelson and Father Federico his concerns about what might happen if the success of the Santofonino continued and the consequent number of priests that could be needed.

  “This is very pertinent, Davide. I had been wondering but no one has brought it to me. Father Federico, we must consider the implications. Thank you, Davide. You’ve done more that you might imagine. Buona notte.”

  Davide headed back to the meeting room only to meet Caterina and Conor coming in the opposite direction.

  Saturday, Central Rome

  The hotel phone rang at a most inconvenient moment. Miriam was panting in excitement as Inma performed a new form of exploration she’d never before experienced. Inma was, for a novice, astonishingly creative.

  “Inma, answer the phone. No, stop! That is the first time our room phone has rung. It might be important.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Reluctantly Inma picked up the handset, hearing Connor at the other end.

  Miriam took the phone. She listened for what felt like a long time to Inma before placing the handset back on its rest.

  She looked expectantly at Inma. “You may continue.”

  “Don’t try that on me. What did he say?”

  “I think you need to continue before I tell you.”

  “No. I can wait – you can’t. Tell me or I will prolong your misery. Seriously, Miriam, stop teasing. This is too important.”

  “I’m sorry, honey. You’re right. Conor had some news. We have flights booked for Madrid early tomorrow afternoon. Our passports and everything else taken from us will be returned tomorrow morning. We will not be subject to prosecution providing we each agree to say nothing of what happened. We should expect an unofficial call sometime in the next two weeks to confirm it, which should, if we behave, be the last we hear about it. We will not receive anything written, so the possibility of prosecutions hangs over our heads. This is to encourage our silence, as Conor so delicately put it.

  “We are free, Inma! We can have our lives back. We can be in El Roble tomorrow night if you want?”

  “Cariño, cariño!”

  They fell into each other’s arms with relief and not a few tears. It didn’t take long before their earlier concerns reoccupied the forefront of their attention and Miriam once again found herself slowly ascending new heights of delight.

  Suddenly Inma stopped: “What about all those clothes we bought? We don’t have the luggage space to take them back. What will we do?”

  “Don’t worry about that. There’s a car coming to pick us up at noon. It’s their problem. The hotel will find a solution. I don’t know. But please solve my specific problem now, for it has become extremely pressing.”

  Inma bent to oblige.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Tuesday, Monteverde

  Nelson felt pleased with himself and relieved. His audience with the Holy Father had been uncomfortable in the extreme, albeit deserved. He had even dared to ask the Holy Father to hear his personal confession after explaining everything.

  Fortunately, the Holy Father had a practical side. He knew how important the Santofonino was to the church’s long-term health, though he had been severely displeased to hear of the involvement of Opus Dei (which he distrusted, like many of his predecessors) to start with. He was appalled at the existence of the so-called Lord’s Church of the Second Coming with Our Redemption, the sort of fundamentalist competitor that only gave religion a bad name. The only good thing about introducing the deeply unfortunate fact that Santofonino funds had supported Israeli Settlers was that it reduced the Holy Father to a wholly apoplectic silence.

  Nelson had carried on while he could, speeding through the general facts before making suggestions regarding what the Holy Father should instruct his obedient servant to do. He really had grovelled, and deservedly so. This was understood by both. But, and this was the important part, the Holy Father had agreed with most of what he had recommended, with some acute changes. Finally, he had agreed to hear Nelson’s confession.

  Nelson hummed to himself while passing through the doors of the ristorante where all this had started and where he hoped all might finish. As before, he was met by Giovanna who, again, was all over him.

  It was on the early side to eat by Roman standards and the ristorante had few customers. He was also early arriving, so he asked for a bottle of her best Prosecco and the wine list. He chose and sat down to wait. He didn’t have long before he saw José Antonio and Davide walking along the street together chatting closely. They really did seem to get on. Curious, but good.

  Before they joined him, Nelson looked up, observing someone vaguely familiar approaching. He recognised the Spanish Ambassador with a lady. He stood as the ambassador greeted him.

  “Your Eminence. Good evening. I saw you alone as we arrived. Might I present my wife, Concha?”

  Seeing it was expected, Nelson offered his hand. Concha knelt to kiss his ring and he made the sign of the cross over her.

  At this point José Antonio and Davide appeared, in the nick of time in Nelson’s view. The ambassador behaved with perfect decorum. He excused himself and his wife courteously: “I see your dinner companions have arrived. We’ll leave you in peace. Come Concha, let’s find our table. Good eveni
ng, Your Eminence. Buon appetito.”

  Nelson faced José Antonio and Davide, though not without hearing the ambassador speaking to his wife to complain about her forcing him to make the introduction. He liked this ambassador. Nelson reflected on something he had heard a colleague say, “that far too many diplomats were surprisingly incompetent, hiding behind a bluster of self-importance while treating non-diplomats like dirt.” This ambassador did not seem like that; nor was he one of the pious and ingratiating sorts that too many countries sent as their representative to the Holy See.

  “Welcome, my friends. We have much to celebrate. Let’s have a good evening in good company together. No, José Antonio, forget the ceremony. Just sit and enjoy yourself. Let me pour some of Giovanna’s best Prosecco, after which, to her obvious delight, I have asked for two bottles of her most expensive Montalcino. Decide on what to eat and then relax.”

  Giovanna arrived with the Montalcino and took their orders.

  “I am sorry, Davide, I do need to finish some business with you first. José Antonio knows something of what I propose. We talked earlier.

  “Our Church has much to thank you for, not only the original Santofonino concept and its benefits, but for rescuing it over the past weeks. That, by the way, was the Spanish Ambassador. He’s been most helpful and you will be overjoyed to hear that Mr Weizmann remains the ongoing subject of a tug of war between Israel and Spain. At the Holy See’s request to Spain we have asked that Mr Weizmann not be allowed to travel until after he visits us here when we will make it clear that he must return the abstracted funds to the church.

  “Meanwhile, he embarrasses El Al and its Mossad and Shin Bet friends, to the evident delight of the Spanish authorities. In their words, this could not happen to a more appropriate person in a more appropriate way.

  “If he does make it back to Israel, we have requested that the authorities there make him available. We doubt anything will happen, other than he will likely be hidden away, which is almost as good from our view point, now that you are understanding how he managed what he did.

  “But I digress. Thank you, Davide, for all you have done.”

  Davide looked embarrassed. He was about to say something, probably inappropriate. José Antonio, spotting this, kicked him as a reminder to behave.

  “It appears that due to your efforts, along with those of José Antonio, Father Federico, Mr Laoghaire and his assistant of course, that the Santofonino will not now cause the church external discomfort and it will continue its important role. The Holy Father is especially pleased at the way it has altered the financial balance in favour of both the top and bottom, the Vatican and parishes. That the bishops squeal does not seem to bother him, though that is not for attribution.

  “You see, the Santofonino has become more significant than even I imagined. Losing it to a scandal would have been both a financial and an organisational disaster, thankfully averted with the silence of Severino and the ladies assured and Weizmann rendered ineffective.

  “Now, let me change to more worldly matters. You, Davide, have worked for us continuously for what is almost a month, and a long month at that. You have asked for nothing save your living expenses, so Father Federico tells me. What does a month of your time cost if you charge a business?”

  Davide writhed in more embarrassment.

  “Please don’t worry, Nelson. I said I was due a break and this has been one, though I admit not quite as expected.”

  He shook his hands in attempted dismissal of the question.

  “Both Father Federico and José Antonio predicted your reaction. Therefore I asked Father Federico to do some digging here and there. He says that your business normally charges at a rate of some $5,000 a day. Is that true? Do people like you earn that much per day?”

  Davide looked sheepish and, if possible, still more embarrassed.

  “He did also say this was for the occasional day and he explained to me that if you worked three or four days a month then this was often sufficient.”

  Davide nodded.

  “I calculate thirty days at $5,000 a day as being $150,000, and you worked weekends and evenings. Plus we have to consider two other factors, namely the original Santofonino idea was yours and that by your efforts, along with your friends at Interpol, the church has recovered multiple millions of dollars that to all intents and purposes it had already lost.

  “Do you think this would be sufficient recompense?” He dug into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. Nelson passed it to Davide, who opened it and found a cheque payable to his business for … a little under half a million dollars. Davide gasped in astonishment. He showed it to José Antonio, who was as taken aback.

  All Davide could say was: “I can’t.”

  “Of course you can, and you will. Remember just how much you’ve saved us. What Ms Smith alone returned pays all that and still leaves the Church better off. The apartment that Severino did not initially tell us about will, when sold, produce more than cover that. Reflect that these monies alone would otherwise have gone to that dreadful Lord’s Church of the Second Coming with Our Redemption or a corrupt and embittered banker turned priest.”

  He laughed at Davide’s expression.

  “There is more. The church would like to retain your company’s services, specifically including you, for six months to vet fully the Santofonino for the future plus to address that other issue you raised with me. It’s a pity that the Australian lady will not be available. But I’m sure you’ll find suitable additional people to support you. You look surprised.

  “When I was talking with Paulino earlier he told me that she’s decided to leave Interpol and return home. He is disappointed, for he thought her an improving asset with special skills relevant for Interpol, as she has proved working with you and Mr Laoghaire.”

  Davide, frantically trying to change the subject while getting his head around the possibility of being paid to stay in Rome, said, “José Antonio, do you think we might borrow Father Giorgio? He may have some relevant skills.”

  “Nelson, Father Giorgio is my young assistant who goes around on skates. You may remember that I have told you of his computer skills as well as social media skills. Davide uncovered that he even used them in the Call Centre, to unusual effect.”

  “I do remember. May I ask, to what effect?”

  José Antonio and Davide looked at each other before Davide recounted what had happened with the betting and the Sin-Stakes, though he was not sure how Nelson would react. It was with relief that he heard him chuckling.

  “I like it, I like it! He sounds most appropriate. What do you think, José Antonio?”

  “Frankly, I do not want to lose him. His energy is infectious and he’s good for the parish. Even if his ideas are strange they seem to work. Might it be part-time over the six months?”

  “I don’t see why not. Anyway, José Antonio, have you told Davide of your own good news? No? I expected as much. Will you tell him or shall I?”

  Now it was José Antonio who looked uncomfortable.

  “If you won’t, I will. Just as the church is grateful to you, Davide, it has good reason to be to José Antonio, not that he’ll admit it any more than you. Offering him a cheque would be pointless because he would just put it in the Sunday collection and keep none for himself. I’m right, aren’t I, my friend?”

  José Antonio could only nod in bewilderment at the accuracy of Nelson’s observation.

  “I do know that José Antonio is nearing retirement, which will be well earned. He’ll receive a modest pension from his diocese but that’s all. He’ll have no home once he leaves Santa Maria.

  “I thought I would try being a little clever, though it was Father Federico who found the solution. The church owns an apartment nearby. It is, I am told, light with views over Rome from a generous terrace. It’s normally made available to senior clergy who are to spend an extended period here and is currently vacant. As of yesterday it is occupied in name by José Antonio for the rest of
his life.

  “Why do I say ‘in name’? I have a specific reason. He can live there or he can rent it out and retain the proceeds if he prefers to live elsewhere. In this way I hope, José Antonio, you will accept what the church owes in recognition of your many contributions.”

  This latter was said sternly. José Antonio remained tongue-tied.

  Davide stepped in: “That is wonderful news, José Antonio! You must be over the moon. Even if not, and you don’t yet look it, I am delighted. Thank you, Nelson. I know how much it will eventually mean to him, especially as he has little to go back to in Denia or Spain.”

  “There is one other aspect, if I may be so bold. It occurred to me that either you could move in with José Antonio and assist him to adjust, assuming your negotiations for the next six months with Father Federico are successful — and they’d better be. Or he could rent it to you.”

  Nelson rubbed his hands as if to show all was now sorted.

  With perfect timing Giovanna arrived with her risotto al fegato, which both Nelson and Davide had selected to find out why José Antonio thought it so good.

  “That is my business over. Now we must relax. Let’s start with Davide explaining ‘Yrmnts’ to me. No, I hadn’t forgotten.”

  Tuesday/Wednesday, Monteverde Residence

  After the dinner Davide had walked with José Antonio back to Santa Maria, mostly in silence. José Antonio hesitantly asked, “If you accept Nelson’s offer, might you be interested in what he suggested?”

  For Davide this was not difficult.

  “Either option would be good, though I prefer the idea of house-training you to be able to live alone. It would be the better one for us both, although you can pretend it is the other way round if you wish.”

  “You know me too well. You’ve realised that what bothers me is what my parishioners will think. I know Nelson will do his best and that my good fortune will soon be forgotten as everyone gets on with their lives. But …”