“Then do it.” He looked at Pearse. “When you’re done, you’ll call Blaney. By then, I’ll know where I want you to make the exchange. Acceptable, Father?”
Pearse simply nodded.
The Villa Borghese at dusk has an almost ethereal quality to it, especially in the Pincio Gardens, the area just above Piazza del Popolo, where the long promenades-most named for saints and Popes-lie under vaulted rows of pine and oak, each dotted with benches and lampposts. The sounds of Rome disappear, replaced by the occasional footstep on gravel, fewer and fewer of them as the sun dips down and the glow of lamplight begins to make itself known.
Pearse listened to his own footfall as he made his way along one of the wider walkways, Viale Leone IX his destination. As ever, Angeli had been spot-on-two and a half hours to alter the scroll, the offending passages removed with expert precision. It was only when it had come to disposing of the unwanted pieces that her hand had hesitated. Both of them had looked at the strands lying in the small bowl on the table. It was Pearse who had produced the box of matches.
The conversation with Peretti had been short. The location and time. The call to Blaney hadn’t been as easy, although it was clear he’d been expecting it. Pearse would be coming alone? Yes. Who had helped him? All he wanted was the boy and the woman. Blaney had to trust him on that. An hour.
He had then spoken with Petra and Ivo. She had promised she was up to it. Ivo had just liked the idea of another adventure.
He saw Blaney seated on a bench halfway down the path as he turned onto Leone IX. Another fifteen yards on stood Mendravic, Ivo by his side, Petra in a wheelchair. No one else. Pearse continued to approach. Five yards from Blaney, he stopped.
“Can she walk?” he asked.
“Yes,” answered Blaney.
“Then tell them to come over to me.”
“Let me see the ‘Hodoporia.’”
Pearse opened the box in his hands. He tilted it toward Blaney so he could see the scroll inside.
“How do I know it’s the ‘Hodoporia’?”
“Send them over.”
Blaney waited. “Hand me the box.”
Pearse remained where he was, box in hand. “You know, von Neurath’s dead.”
Blaney showed no reaction. “Yes. And no, it wasn’t me, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Send them over,” said Pearse.
Blaney waited, then looked at Mendravic. He nodded. At once, the Croat moved out to help Petra from her chair. She refused. Very slowly, she stood. She took Ivo’s hand.
“All right,” said Blaney. “Now give me the box.”
“We’ll wait until they’re past me.” Blaney looked as if he might say something. Instead, he took in a deep breath, then nodded again to Mendravic. Petra and Ivo slowly started out. Both men watched as the pair drew nearer.
“Am I right in thinking it was Daly who was trying to help you?” asked Blaney. “Kukes, this afternoon?”
“Peretti,” answered Pearse. “Cesare sends his regards.”
Again, no reaction. “A little more obvious, but it had to be one or the other. One of them will no doubt be the next Pope.” Pearse had never heard Blaney’s smug side. “I assume he has men scattered about the park.”
“I said I’d come alone.”
“Somehow, I doubt that.”
Pearse remained silent.
Petra and Ivo moved past Blaney and drew up to Pearse. She grabbed ahold of his arm. He immediately held her at his side. Ivo gave him a quick wave.
“Hi, Ian.”
“Hey, Ivi.”
Under his breath, Pearse said to Petra, “I need you to keep going. The bench across from us. Can you make that?”
She nodded once and took Ivo’s hand.
When they were far enough off, Pearse turned back to Blaney. Without any prompting, he moved to the bench and sat. “There’s no one else here, John. I took you at your word.”
“Then you’re more naive than I thought.”
“Maybe,” said Pearse. “Maybe not.” He handed him the box.
“You should go,” said Blaney, his fingers busy with the straps. “You have the woman and the boy.”
“Still protecting me?”
“More than you realize.”
“And how’s that, John?”
Old fingers were having trouble with the knot. “Several of von Neurath’s men are here,” he said. “Not my choice. They’ve been at a loss for what to do for the last few hours. They weren’t that keen on this exchange.”
Pearse let his eyes wander casually to the surrounding trees, seemingly unaffected by the news. “So why the charade?” he asked. “Why didn’t they just take it from me when I got here?”
“Because I’m sure several of Peretti’s men are also here. No reason for anyone to do something foolish. I’m not sure, however, how long they’ll wait. I don’t have quite the same sway over them as Erich did. You should go. Now.”
“No,” said Pearse, eyes still on the trees, “I think I’d like to see you read through some of it.”
“And why is that?”
“It might not be everything you thought it was.”
“I see.” Blaney nodded. He was finally making progress with the knot. “Then you obviously didn’t know how to read it.”
For the briefest of moments, Pearse thought that perhaps he’d let himself forget the fundamental rule with the Manichaeans. Hidden knowledge. Had he missed something in the verses, something even more profound than the Resurrection segments? Was there a final word game that he had somehow overlooked? He quickly remembered that there couldn’t be. Q had been written by Menippus, a first-century Greek Cynic, two hundred years before Mani’s birth. Even the Manichaeans didn’t reach that far back.
“There are breaks in the text,” said Pearse. “I can tell you what’s no longer there.”
Blaney was starting to roll back the parchment. He stopped and looked over at Pearse. “What?”
“The missing text. The stuff to threaten the church. It isn’t there anymore.”
Blaney started to answer, then stopped. He went back to the scroll. “You wouldn’t have done that. I know you, Ian.” Blaney had reached the first gap in the text.
“That doesn’t look like natural decay, does it, John?”
Blaney scanned the sheet of parchment, his expression more and more uncertain.
“Don’t worry,” added Pearse. “Angeli tells me she’ll have it looking authentic enough by the time Peretti presents it to the Biblical Commission.”
Blaney rolled deeper into the scroll. He found another gap. Again, he stared down at it. Almost in a whisper, he said. “Why?” His face was etched with confusion. “Why would you do this?” He slowly turned to Pearse. “You always believed in the sanctity of the Word. I
Pearse continued to gaze out. “If you had time to read the entire scroll, you’d see it’s not a threat at all. In fact, it’s-what did Dante call it? — a rebirth. It’s all in there. Except it’s the Catholic church that will be using it now. Peretti wanted me to pass on his thanks.”
Blaney stared at Pearse a moment longer, then looked back at the scroll. His fingers began to trace over the gaps. It was as if he were caressing a wound. “It’s the Word of Christ. Who are you to say what can be taken out? I chose you because of your faith in the Word. In the
“It’s the denial of the bodily Resurrection,” Pearse said offhandedly. “That’s what’s missing.” He turned to Blaney. “Dangerous stuff.” He watched as Blaney stared at the scroll, only a slight shaking of his head. The rest of
