“You sound cynical,” said Bell in surprise.
“I? Never,” said Cardinal Cadini. “I am a trifle fatigued, that’s all. It is a privilege of old men to grumble from time to time.” He watched as a group of schoolchildren ran down the path pursued by a young, harried teacher. “Since we can’t do that, we grumble.”
“Of course,” said Bell, trying to think of a way to turn the conversation the way he needed it to go.
Cardinal Cadini saved him the trouble. “Actually, the one you should be speaking to is Cardinal Mendosa. He’s the one who’s had direct dealings with…I suppose we’ll have to call her Her Holiness. Madre Maria! there are some tongues that are going to trip over that phrase!” He slapped his hands together.
“Cardinal Mendosa is in China, isn’t he?” asked Bell.
“He leaves to go there in the morning. He will fly from Hong Kong to Chengdu—”
“And Willie Foot will be with him?” Bell interrupted sharply.
“Willie Foot speaks Chinese fluently. Cardinal Mendosa does not,” said Cardinal Cadini. “They travel together.”
“How fortunate for Willie Foot,” said Bell, startled to hear how jealous he sounded.
“It’s a sin, Martin,” said Cardinal Cadini in gentle reprimand. “Envy is. Try to avoid it, if you can.” He grinned. “Not that I don’t feel a touch of it from time to time. I can’t help wishing I, too, were going to be flying to Chengdu, and then driven to Hongya. But God selects His servants as He chooses, and even Cardinals must bow to His judgment.”
Martin stared at Cardinal Cadini. “You find this…funny, don’t you?” He could see the amusement increase in Cardinal Cadini’s bright little eyes.
Cardinal Cadini nodded several times as he walked, and finally answered his companion as if apologizing. “Well, you see, it’s just that I’ve never had so much enjoyment from a Papal election before.”
Chapter 14
The wind off the fields smelled green and the sky was paled by thin, high clouds when the four cars pulled up in front of Magistrate Zhuang’s house. The government escort attracted the attention of the people in the fields less than the rangy American and the tall, lean Brit.
“Don’t look now, Charles,” said Willie, “But we’re being goggled at.” He lifted one hand in what could have been a half-hearted wave: no one in the fields waved back. “I wonder how much they know about what’s going on?”
“My guess is they’re probably curious to know why their Magistrate has been given an exit visa. Maybe they’re hoping to find out who they’re going to get in her place. And don’t doubt they know she’s leaving and someone else will be Magistrate here.” He turned to their driver and thanked him in his rudimentary Chinese. As he looked up at the house, he felt intense awe, as if the force of Zhuang Renxin had increased during the time they had been gone. “Do you think she’s home?”
“If she’s not now, she will be in a few minutes,” said Willie, then answered an inquiry from the head of their escort. He explained their brief conversation to Mendosa. “One of the escort will remain with us at all times, and tape recordings are to be made of all talk between us, and with Magistrate Zhuang. They want a full record of what Magistrate Zhuang is told.”
“That smacks of blackmail,” said Mendosa lightly. “I suppose Premier Zuo has to cover his ass, like all politicians.”
“He has to have something concrete, in case his rivals question his wisdom in permitting Magistrate Zhuang to leave, and for so peculiar a reason. It could be used to raise doubts about his abilities to lead.” Willie added a few words to the Colonel with them, adding to Mendosa. “He doesn’t like it when we talk too much English.”
“Why? Has he said?” Mendosa asked, masking his irritation at this lack of respect with a business-like geniality.
“You’re doing better,” said Willie, approving Mendosa’s demeanor. “Chinese always understand business, no matter what wrapping they put in it. China, far more than France, is a nation of shopkeepers. That is France, isn’t it?”
“Stop blathering, Willie,” Mendosa recommended. “They’ll think you’re exceeding your authority.” He folded his arms out of nervousness. “It will distress them to learn—”
“Actually, I suspect that two of our escort are fluent in English, the way our pilot was on the flight to Chengdu,” said Willie. “I don’t know how they handle Italian, if at all, but I caught one of them smiling at breakfast when you compared your pressed pork to a squashed horny-toad. And one of the others nodded at your observation that the planting is coming along quickly.”
“How did you translate horny-toad?” Mendosa asked, feeling now so on edge that his skin seemed to have shrunk two sizes.
“As literally as possible.” He answered an inquiry from one of their escort, then nudged Mendosa’s arm. “Ready?”
“Long since,” he answered, utterly sincere. He had been preparing for this since he had his first vision, since that long-ago Lenten season when he had seen the face of a Chinese person in full Papal regalia. At the time he had thought it was an odd nightmare, but over the decades, he had come to recognize it for what it was, to accept his vision, as he had learned who the Catholic President was who died in Dallas, as he had seen it in dreams three years before it happened. For the last week, his visions had been so constant that he was badly in need of sleep. He smoothed the front of his suit. “After you, my boy.”
Willie chucked and offered a single modification. “After the good Colonel”—he indicated the leader of their escort—“and his two officers, Charles.”
They were something of a parade going up the steep steps to the house. Once again the darkness of the porch surprised Mendosa, and he waited while the Colonel rang the small bell that hung near the door with its clapper chain.
The Colonel brought his two men to attention.
Magistrate Zhuang opened the door almost at once, bowing to her guests as the door swung back. She spoke the proper phrases of welcome to her guests, then added, “I was pleased to learn that you were returning, Mendosa.”
He wanted to kneel and kiss her ring—the ring she did not yet wear—but he knew it would serve only to embarrass the others. So he bowed as the valet had trained him to do. “Thank you,” said Mendosa in Chinese. It was inexpert but it earned him a glimmer of approval as Magistrate Zhuang stood aside to permit the five men to enter.
Once he was over the threshold, the Colonel spoke urgently and rapidly to the Magistrate, saying, as Willie informed Mendosa, that if the Worthy Magistrate should decide that she did not wish to leave China to take over so corrupt an institution as the Catholic Church, she had only to inform him and the process of securing her visa would stop at once and she could remain where she was, doing her work as Magistrate.
“You are very kind, Colonel,” said Magistrate Zhuang. “But I have made up my mind, and I don’t think anything Mendosa tells me now will alter my decision. I have accepted my election, no matter how unexplainable it is.” She indicated the same room where she had sat with Mendosa and Willie and Nigel No when they had come the first time. “If you will sit down, I have much to learn about my responsibilities and duties.”
“Very to-the-point,” added Willie when he had translated her remarks. “She is very close to being rude to the Colonel.”
“I don’t want her to do that,” said Mendosa, who feared more delays. “She doesn’t have to do that on our account.”
“She isn’t too critical, Charles,” said Willie. “As a Magistrate, she has certain lee-way in how she addresses officials.” He led the way into the study. “Since we have been asked to sit here,” he told their escort, “I am eager to comply with the Magistrate’s wishes.”
“Of course,” said the Colonel, signaling the other two men to enter. He took the chair nearest the Magistrate’s; his expression was one of immense satisfaction. “The corrupter of the innocent will have to find a less worthy place,” he remarked.
“I gather we’re not bei
ng flattered,” said Mendosa as he sank into one of the other chairs.
Willie nodded. “You’re right.”
“Tell the Colonel for me that in my Church we praise modesty and humility. I take this lesser seat gladly.” Mendosa did not look at the Colonel as he waited for Magistrate Zhuang to join them.
After Willie passed on Mendosa’s remarks—somewhat edited so that they would not give too much offence—he said, “Do you think we should offer to help the Magistrate? It doesn’t seem quite fitting for her to be playing at parlor maid. She’s gone to fetch tea for all of us.”
“You’re the expert on China,” said Mendosa. “If you think it’s wise, I’ll do it. If you think it would make an awkward situation worse, then we will remain where we are.” He favored the Colonel with a small, tight smile. “I wish I could get that smarmy look off his face. He’s as bad as a politician saying he wants to be Vice-President. He’s making this as hard as he can, isn’t he?”
“I’m afraid so,” said Willie, seeing again the slight flicker of understanding in one of the escort’s eyes. “It would be prudent to watch what you say, Charles.”
“Why?” Mendosa asked. “They’re assuming the worst about me already, so why not give them some reason for their opinion?”
Willie turned his eyes toward the ceiling, knowing this was going to be a very long stay.
Magistrate Zhuang came into the study with a tray in her hands. “I have brought tea,” she announced, and was startled when Mendosa rose. “What is the meaning of this?”
“As long as you are standing, Worthy Magistrate, I will stand, if you please.” Mendosa had no idea how Willie might explain this, so he added, “It is a sign of respect, Worthy Magistrate.”
“It is a very strange custom, if that is the case,” said Magistrate Zhuang, doing her best not to sound condemning.
“There are many strange customs you may have to learn to accommodate,” said Mendosa. “Having others stand in your presence is only one of them. I thought it might be easier for you if you had an opportunity to get used to a few of them before we leave for Rome.”
Willie handled all his translation with deliberation and care, knowing the Colonel could intervene at any moment. “He is telling you the truth, Worthy Magistrate. Whatever you may think of the Cardinal, he is not deceiving you.”
“I am aware of that,” she said. “But I am perplexed by much of what he says and does.”
“Then his advice is wise,” said Willie at once. “And he is right—there are many things you will have to learn before you go to Rome. This is a painless way to begin, isn’t it?”
“I hope you’re being as eloquent as you sound, Willie,” warned Mendosa. “I don’t want her getting the wrong impression at this stage of the game.”
She heard them out and gave the issue her consideration. “I will permit it so long as it is not done foolishly.”
“Whatever that means,” said Mendosa when Willie had relayed her answer.
“I suspect it means that she doesn’t want you or her to be criticized by the Colonel for inappropriate behavior.” Willie hesitated. “I could rise, too, if that would help.”
“Ask the Worthy Magistrate,” Mendosa recommended.
“Later,” said Willie. “When we’re all a little more comfortable.”
“Oh, let’s not wait that long,” said Mendosa dryly, sitting again now that Magistrate Zhuang had taken her place. “I’ve got a hunch that’s never going to happen.”
* * *
“I’m afraid International Vision, Ltd. is not prepared to pay for any more trips to Rome, Mister McEllton,” said Mister Greene as they sat on their usual meeting bench. The park was busy this warm afternoon and a number of families could be seen out on the long slope of lawn leading down to the ornamental pond. “We had hopes that you would be able to learn for us from your uncle, but apparently that isn’t possible. You have realized a very handsome profit from your efforts and I hope that the amount is sufficient to purchase your silence as part of your services?”
“That’s always part of the bargain,” said Clancy McEllton, annoyed that the man could suggest he would behave so unprofessionally after his many years as an operative.
“It is reassuring to hear it from you,” said Greene, staring at the small boy who was trying to sneak up on a large white duck.
“He’s never going to catch it,” said Clancy, following Greene’s line of vision. “The ducks here have too much experience to get caught.”
“It’s only a duck, Mister McEllton,” said Greene reprovingly.
“Never underestimate ducks, Mister Greene,” said Clancy. “There are parts of the world where ducks are preferred to dogs as guards.” He recalled, as he said it, that it was geese, not ducks. Well, it was close enough for him to make his point. He decided to offer one last morsel. “I don’t know what this means, if it means anything, but the last time I went to see Uncle Neddy, I learned that Cardinal Hetre, of Canada, has been visiting him, too. Apparently he hasn’t said anything to Cardinal Hetre, either.”
“Why was he there?” asked Greene, not quite concealing his interest.
“I don’t know. But he has come five times in the last month, and that seems significant to me.” He placed his loosely folded hands in his lap. “None of the other Cardinals have been to see Uncle Neddy, or none that I know of.”
“Cardinal Hetre,” said Greene meditatively. “That’s certainly odd.”
“I think so,” said Clancy, and waited for Greene to speak again.
After the greater part of a minute, Greene asked, “Visiting Father McEllton? What would be his reason?”
“I don’t know. But I think it has to be important, don’t you?” He did his best to appear apologetic. “I can’t shake the feeling that Cardinal Hetre has decided to talk to Uncle Neddy for some of the same reasons I’ve been trying to. It has something to do with this new Pope. Uncle Neddy knows something, and Cardinal Hetre wants to know what it is as much as we do.”
“An interesting supposition, if true,” said Greene, his expression belying his attempt at the laconic.
Clancy nearly lost his temper. “You know, after our last meeting, I did a little checking up. Call it a reflex, or a habit; I wanted to know what this International Vision, Ltd. of yours is all about.”
“We’re a private philanthropic foundation,” said Greene.
“You’ve got that part down pat, haven’t you?” Clancy challenged; he continued relentlessly, beginning to enjoy himself. “I found out that International Vision, Ltd. is hidden in a maze of holding companies and international corporations. But what it comes down to, if you dig deep enough and long enough, is an arm of Reverend Williamson’s organization. You are funded by Revelation, Inc., a charitable research corporation that is styled the R and D branch of the Salvation Syndicate, Reverend Williamson’s church corporation. I’ve also taken the time to listen to some of Reverend Williamson’s remarks about the Catholic Church and the new Pope. I’d guess that part of your purpose is to find some evidence of manipulation or tampering with this Papal election, in order to discredit it, or cause so much scandal that the new Pope will not be able to function because of public pressure; that way the whole authority of the Church can be undermined. How close have I come, Mister Greene?”
“You’ve done a very good job,” said Greene, his face hard with anger. “And it was extremely foolish of you.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” said Clancy. “I really do doubt that, Mister Greene.” He leaned back on the bench, enjoying himself hugely. “The riots in New York and Philadelphia were organized by people working for the Salvation Syndicate. It took me a long time on the computer and a dozen stolen access codes, but I have enough material to convince the Church hierarchy that you are contributing to the upheaval in the laity.”
“That’s ridiculous,” said Greene but without conviction.
“No, it’s not,” said Clancy. “Or you wouldn’t be sitting here listening to me. I c
an prove some of the rioters aren’t Catholic at all, but volunteers from the Williamson organization, specifically instructed to cause trouble. I can also prove that several of these so-called spontaneous riots were carefully timed to make the most of the international news programs. Your motives are questionable at best. I’m sure you don’t want the Church to find out all the things I have.”
“It wouldn’t be possible,” Greene said.
Clancy clicked his tongue in disapproval. “My uncle might not speak to me, but there is nothing stopping me from putting my files in his hands. He will know what to do after that. And he will be believed, Mister Greene. I know the Curia and the College of Cardinals both have high regard for him.” He gave Greene a little time to absorb all this. “I don’t want to throw a spanner into the works if I don’t have to. I know the riots in LA were Cardinal Walgren’s doing; he’s spiteful about this Chinese woman. You don’t need to account for them.”
“Good of you,” said Greene sourly, who had reached the same conclusions about the riots in Los Angeles.
“I think,” Clancy went on, “that you might want to have a few words with Dominique, Cardinal Hetre. Cardinal Walgren is a trifle too obvious and his…connections are unpleasant.” He did his best to make his smile reassuring. “What can it hurt you? You won’t get contaminated by Catholicism—it doesn’t rub off, you know.”
“I don’t find your witticisms very amusing, Mister McEllton. Perhaps you could spare me.” Greene stared hard at Clancy, his eyes flat. “Why should I bother to speak to Cardinal Hetre? He and your uncle served the Vatican together. There is no reason for Cardinal Hetre not to visit your uncle.”
“Possibly. But I think you might find him interesting. What’s the worst thing that can happen if you do this? You can find out that Cardinal Hetre supports the new Pope. You’re no more badly off than before if that is confirmed. You could discover, however, that Cardinal Hetre shares your worries, in which case you might make common cause with him, and have help from someone inside the Church.” He cleared his throat. “It would require someone to be a messenger between you, and if that is the case, what would be more natural than the Cardinal and I meet during our visits to Uncle Neddy at the monastery?”
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