something she was going to have to get used to.
“I am sorry. I mean, I didn’t wish to imply for a moment …”
“I know. But there it is. So if there is anything to say, you’ll have to tell me, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, dear. I don’t wish to seem doubtful. It’s not about you, but simply because I don’t know you, you see.”
Flavia gave him an exasperated look. So much dithering. It was obvious he’d disgorge eventually. Why couldn’t he just get on with it?
“I’m afraid that in the last day or so I have discovered certain things which I find deeply distressing.”
“And which you don’t want anyone else to know about?”’
He nodded sadly.
“I’m quite able to forget something if it is not directly relevant,” she said. “My job is to find a thief and a murderer. Not to spread other people’s dirty laundry around the world.”
He grunted, took a deep breath, then began. Or almost began. A few circumlocutions to warm up first.
“You’ve gathered, perhaps, that Father Xavier and I did not always see eye to eye on many matters?”’
She nodded. “Something like that.”
“Not very long ago, I was effectively the second in command here to the superior general, Father Charles. He was probably the best leader this order ever had. That’s not just loyalty on my part; he kept us going through the rough times of Vatican Two and its aftermath, and had a way of quelling arguments and gently persuading people. It is a rare skill. I’d known him all my life, virtually. He was a few years older than me, and I loved him like a brother. A real brother, you understand.”
She nodded.
“And he got ill. He was old, had a good life and got ill and could no longer discharge his duties. We elected Father Xavier to replace him. You may think it unfair of me, but I think he is a weak man; he has little certainty in his soul, so borrows the appearance of it, if you see what I mean.”
He glanced at her, and she shook her head. Not a clue.
“When he decides to do something he doesn’t feel he is right, in the way that Charles did. He persuades himself, and because he is so doubtful, he presents his ideas with much more dogmatism and fervour than if he was really convinced. When he has an idea, he is determined to stick to it, for fear of revealing his own weakness to himself. He confronts rather than persuades, and angers rather than conciliates.
“He wishes to rebuild the order from top to bottom. He is probably right; we can’t go on like this. Something has to change. But, you see, I hated him, and even though I knew it was wicked of me, I could do nothing about it. He is an easy person to dislike. He was not Father Charles, and his urgency was an implicit criticism of what Charles did. He had replaced the irreplaceable. He was not as wise, or as kind or as saintly.
“So every time he has proposed something, I have found myself opposing it. He wanted to raise money, to build up our teaching in the Third World, and I voted against simply because it was not his place to propose changes to what Father Charles had done. And when he proposed selling some of our possessions, I was the one who led the opposition again, and had the sale voted down. Do you understand what I am saying?”’
Flavia nodded.
“You may think it is simply the silly games of a group of old men, but it is more than this. We have the opportunity of doing good work, and I stopped it. And it ended in disaster.”
“Well, hardly …”
“I see. But I don’t understand …”
“As I’ve been running this place for the past few days, I have had occasion to go through the files. And what I have found shocks me. And concerns me deeply. A moment.”
He got up and walked over to the desk, where he fumbled with a key ring and opened a drawer. “Here,” he said, handing Flavia a thin manila file. “The first letter arrived yesterday morning.”
Flavia opened it and looked at the letter. It was from a firm of stockbrokers in Milan. She frowned as she read. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense to her.
“I phoned them, of course, to ask exactly what it meant.”
“So why not tell me?”’
“Xavier always had this notion of being modern; using the techniques and opportunities of the real world—he always called it that—to help us in our work. I fear he was terribly naive about it, and convinced himself that making money was easy. So he used these people—without ever mentioning it to anyone—and, as far as I can see, gambled with what money we had. That’s not the phrase these people use. Exploiting investment opportunities, I believe is how they phrased it.”
“And?”’
“And like an innocent lamb to the slaughter, he has lost us a fortune. I don’t understand the process at all, but I do understand the result. Instead of having a reasonable sum in assets, we now owe these people a quarter of a million dollars. Xavier has gambled the rest away.”
“Which presumably is why he wanted to get on with selling things.”
“I imagine. And I suspect we will have to do so now, barring a miracle. We will have to pay his debts. Our debts. It came as a great shock.”
“I can believe it. How long has this been going on?”’
He shrugged. “More or less from the moment he took over from Charles, I believe. I don’t know. I do very much wish it hadn’t fallen to me to discover this.”
“Why?”’
“Because it confirms my worst fears about him. And I find myself deriving too much satisfaction from being correct. I should now institute proceedings against him as our rule provides, but I doubt my motives too much. And because it is partly my fault. Had I not opposed him so much and so unreasonably, he might not have felt obliged to resort to such measures. I led the opposition. Why? Because I think bringing health care and education to the Third World is a bad idea? Not at all; I am a fervent admirer of Father Paul, and that is his whole existence, and why he is pining away here in Rome when he should be back in his own country doing what he does best. No; it was because Father Xavier was in favour. That was all. You see what I mean? My foolishness made a bad situation worse, until it ended in disaster. I thank the Lord that Xavier was not killed, although I grieve for Signor Burckhardt.”
She nodded. “I see. So what do you do now?”’
He shook his head. “I don’t know. Where do you get money from in a hurry? That is not an area where I have a great deal of experience.”
Flavia stood up and smiled faintly. “Nor me.”
He nodded as she got up to go, and rose to open the door for her.
“Good day so far?”’
Which just showed how sensitive he could be on occasions.
“Hardly.”
Flavia had arrived at Jonathan’s little cubbyhole, taken a chocolate biscuit from the secret hoard, specially imported from England, he kept behind the reference books and then decided she didn’t feel all that hungry.
“Just asking. Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong? You’ve been looking as cheerful as a funeral ever since you got here.”
“Rough day.”
“Go on. Tell me.”
“Later,” she said brusquely, impatient at his cheerful unconcern for once.
“Please yourself. What are you here for, if not to unburden the troubles of the world?”’
“Why should I be here for anything?”’
“You don’t often turn up for no reason.”
True enough. What was she here for? Reluctantly, she made herself concentrate on the practicalities of the case, and forced its complications into the background.
“You said you might be able to find out something about the icon. Have you?”’
“Not yet. It’s been a busy day.”
“Listen, Jonathan. I don’t have time for your busy days. This is important.”
He frowned. “And it’s police business, not mine. I’ve been working since I got here. You never said it was so very urgent.”
