and progression theorems with ease. He blinked at Kaufmann’s conclusion. The codes that were in the Dead Sea Scrolls all pointed to the message being found in a particular scroll, the Omega Scroll. The words ‘revelation’ and ‘end of mankind’ kept coming up.
Overtired, Giovanni couldn’t sleep so he flicked the bedside lamp back on and reached for Teilhard de Chardin’s banned Comment Je Crois . Chardin had a gift for writing and the French came easily, and when Giovanni next checked his watch it was two in the morning. Reluctantly he closed the book and turned out the light. No wonder the Vatican had banned Teilhard de Chardin. The great French theologian and scientist had dared to suggest that God was not some all-powerful and vengeful Being, but a spiritual force within creation itself; in the rivers, mountains, mists, elephants, microbes and within every human being. For Chardin, God was not the God of Wrath of the Church but rather the ‘spirit within’, and he was daring to challenge the Cardinals’ powerful claim that God could only be reached through the priests of the Church.
Giovanni finally fell into an uneasy sleep. Chardin had left an indelible mark on Giovanni, colouring his approach to his faith and helping him in his never-ending search for true meaning.
The Spirit smiled as revelation dawned.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Milano
T he trip took less than five minutes and the door to Cardinal Petroni’s apartments was promptly opened by a petite, attractive Sister on the Cardinal’s personal staff.
‘You may hang your coat on that hook, Sister Bassetti,’ Sister Carmela said icily.
‘ Grazie. E molto gentile,’ Allegra responded with a gracious smile. Perhaps the dark-haired nun had had a bad day, she thought.
‘His Eminence is waiting for you in the drawing room, Sister Bassetti, if you will follow me.’
Allegra trailed behind as Sister Carmela set a brisk pace down the sumptuously carpeted hallway, where priceless artworks on loan from the Vatican hung from high picture railings on either side. The heavy gold frames were beautifully set against the deep blue wallpaper. There were paintings by Margaritone d’Arezzo and Vitale da Bologna, Lorenzo Monaco and Guido Reni, and at the entrance to the drawing room, a fresco by none other than Raphael, the master himself.
‘Sister Bassetti, Eminence.’ Sister Carmela announced Allegra and then withdrew.
‘Sister Bassetti. How good of you to come.’
The first thing Allegra noticed was the voice, perfectly modulated with a cultured resonance that reinforced the charm of the Cardinal.
She took his outstretched hand and felt him almost caress her palm. ‘It’s a pleasure to be here, Eminence,’ she replied diplomatically.
‘Quite the contrary, the pleasure is all mine,’ he said, directing her to a lounge chair with a sweep of his hand. ‘It is not often that we cardinals get the opportunity to dine with the people who really matter. Usually it’s politicians and industrialists. Very boring.’ He smiled urbanely. ‘I have taken the liberty of opening a bottle of Krug.’ Petroni did not have to ask whether or not his guest drank wine; he already had a report on Allegra and Giovanni’s Friday night activities from his secretary. ‘Nineteen sixty-four, I think you will find it was a very good year.’
Allegra would have given anything to trade the fine crystal flute for the heavy glasses and carafe of equally rough wine La Pizzeria Milano reserved for impoverished students, and she wished Giovanni were here. He would have handled these irritating formalities with ease.
‘Salute!’
‘ Salute, Eminence,’ Allegra responded.
‘Have you been given your results yet?’
‘Not yet, Eminence. I expect we will know in the next day or so.’
‘Well, I’m probably not supposed to tell you, but I have an advance copy. You have done very well, Allegra.’ He used her first name easily, as if they had known each other for a very long time. ‘But I will keep you in suspense until after dinner.’
Allegra followed him into the sumptuous dining room. The wallpaper here was crimson. A large gold and crystal chandelier hung from a ceiling covered in frescos of various scenes of the historic centre of Milano. Just two places were set on either side of the huge mahogany dining table. The other chairs that Allegra assumed often seated politicians and captains of industry lined the walls, all of them richly embroidered in gold and red with the Cardinal’s coat of arms. Petroni graciously held her chair out so she could sit.
Petroni’s chef, who appeared to Allegra to be rather more agreeable than the nun who had greeted her, appeared with the entree. Baccala con i ceci – salt cod with chickpeas.
‘I hope you don’t mind but I’ve kept the meal simple. Sister Maria is preparing one of her oldest recipes. Cotolette alla Pontremolese – veal cutlets with garlic and capers.’
Allegra found herself wondering what the Cardinal might eat when the menu wasn’t simple.
‘And to go with it, a 1966 Chateau Margaux. I think one of the more elegant of the Appellation Medoc,’ he said, pouring from the crystal decanter in which the rare vintage had been allowed to breathe.
‘I’m not used to such fine wine, Eminence. We students in Milano tend to appreciate the cheap and cheerful,’ Allegra said, her remarks designed to needle Petroni’s arrogance, although she knew she would have to be careful. He was a dangerous man.
‘Consolations of office, and please, it’s Lorenzo. When we are alone there is no need for titles.’ Giovanni had said a similar thing but Petroni’s nuance was very different. He was smiling but his eyes remained cold, dark and expressionless. Allegra felt chilled, as if she was looking into the eyes of a snake. Even the warming alcohol could not help her shake the ice in the pit of her stomach. Allegra’s senses were in overdrive, warning her to stay on guard.
Petroni continued smiling and his tongue briefly licked his lips.
‘ Salute,’ he offered again and moved to clink glasses with her. ‘Have you enjoyed your time at university?’
‘Very much,’ Allegra said, determined to match Petroni in the conversation. She knew her remark would put Petroni off balance. Something was instinctively telling her that he wouldn’t be prepared for honesty.
Apart from the almost imperceptible narrowing of his eyes, Petroni gave nothing away.
‘Of course. So what aspects of your degree have you found most rewarding?’ His anger at this nun’s defiance and lack of subservience was rising, as was his excitement for the game ahead. He probed for the slightest weakness in Allegra’s armour. He was strangely aggravated by both her beauty and her intellect. He knew now that he wanted to crush her, totally.
‘That’s a difficult question,’ Allegra replied with a disarming smile. ‘I suppose my time in the laboratory and the promise that the study of archaeological DNA holds for the future would be one of the highlights.’ Allegra sensed the mention of DNA had found its target.
‘Are there any aspects that you have found disturbing?’ Petroni asked, his frustration rising.
‘Not so much disturbing, more profoundly interesting,’ Allegra replied, almost insolently. Petroni remained expressionless but Allegra sensed his discomfort and was determined to enjoy it. ‘Professor Rosselli has a theory about the origin of DNA, that it might be too intricate – exquisite is the word he uses – too complex in its design to have evolved in the relatively short time between our planet becoming habitable and life appearing. He is convinced that DNA arrived from a higher civilisation, and I think he has a point. Given that scientists have confirmed there are billions of galaxies like our own, it seems virtually impossible that some of them would not contain life, and that at least one or two of those civilisations might be considerably more advanced than our own.’ Allegra paused, raising her eyebrows ever so slightly.
‘Please. Go on. This is very interesting,’ Petroni prompted, suppressing an inner fury.
‘His theory seems to be somewhat at odds with the Vatican’s teaching but it seems that Francis Crick, who discovered DNA’s structure, held a similar view.’
‘That old nonsense again.’ Petroni’s laugh was strangely hollow. ‘Don’t even worry about it, Allegra. That’s the trouble with some of these old professors in secular universities. They have no training in the Canon but keep
