‘On occasions we have had to deal with leading bankers and industrialists who have misbehaved, but we try to avoid it. Assassinating powerful people can make life very uncomfortable and assassinating a cardinal would be no exception. The heat would be intense.’
In the silence that followed Felici wrongly concluded that Petroni’s concern was a simple case of him making certain of the Keys to Peter. Elimination of rivals was something the little Sicilian was well practised in, as the members of the Bontate and Buscetta families had found to their cost in Palermo. Felici now perceived a vulnerability in Petroni on the other side of the confessional, and his green eyes glinted in the half light. With a touch of condescension he said, ‘Should you lose the conclave, you will still be very useful to us as a cardinal.’
Petroni smiled thinly. Giorgio Felici was a piece of work, a particularly nasty one at that, but Petroni was ready for him.
‘Be that as it may, Giorgio, it is not only a matter of what happens in the conclave – your own survival is at stake here.’
‘For you to lose an election, even to someone like Cardinal Donelli, might be awkward but I doubt it will affect me.’
‘But the Vatican Bank does affect you and the reason for this contract is that Cardinal Donelli has commenced an investigation into your acquisition of the Banco del Sacerdozio. If he is elected Pope that investigation will certainly probe into the depths of the Vatican Bank itself.’
Giorgio Felici felt as if he’d been hit by a combination left and right from Mike Tyson at his peak. He shifted uncomfortably on his knees, detesting the subservience of the confessional.
‘That must never be allowed to happen,’ he hissed.
‘The takeover of the Priests’ Bank in the Veneto may have made you a lot of money, my friend, but your cancellation of the low interest loans is coming home to roost.’ Cardinal Petroni would normally not have given a second thought to the Patriarch of Venice’s constituents, but now it had become necessary to grind the little Sicilian’s face in his own greed. Petroni knew that the contract on Giovanni Donelli might be difficult to enforce unless Felici was in a corner, and Petroni wanted that corner to be as tight as he could make it.
‘Cardinal Donelli must be the victim of an unfortunate accident,’ Petroni said calmly, as if he was making the decision to put a dog out of its misery.
‘The journalist is difficult enough but assassinate a cardinal? Are you out of your mind?’ Giorgio was angry now, and wary, like a rat that had been cornered, looking for a way out. ‘Have you any idea how much that will cost? You’re looking at a price tag in the millions.’
‘Cost is not an issue, my friend,’ Petroni replied. ‘The Vatican Bank will pay, but if it ever gets to the stage where independent authorities open up the bank’s books, you will be looking at spending the rest of your life in a cell.’
Giorgio Felici was silent for the count of quite a few heartbeats. ‘Let me get back to you,’ he said finally. ‘This is going to be extremely difficult.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Jerusalem
‘ W elcome to the Rockefeller Museum. Or should I say welcome back.’ Derek Lonergan had a habit of smiling without exposing his teeth.
‘We’ve been a little bemused by all the fuss in the media but that’s politics, I suppose,’ he said over his shoulder as David and Allegra followed ‘the waddling cassock’ down the corridor to his office.
‘Don’t,’ Allegra mouthed at David, who wore a look of innocence. She instinctively knew he was going to come up with another of his ‘nice arse’ comments that would bring her undone.
‘As I understand it you will be working with us for the next six months or so.’
‘It’s a four-year research project,’ David said.
‘Is it really? That’s even better, I hadn’t realised you would be here that long,’ Lonergan lied. ‘We’re still finalising your tasking so we can take that into account.’
‘What scrolls do we have access to?’ David asked abruptly, determined to nail Lonergan to something concrete.
‘As it happens, I’m due to leave this week for a five-month lecture tour of Europe,’ Lonergan replied evasively. ‘Blasted nuisance but as I’m the acknowledged expert on these things it’s only natural that the great universities of this world are going to want a fair slice of my time. That should provide plenty of opportunity for you to settle in and start reading up and we can discuss the details of your task on my return.’ Lonergan looked at his watch. It was twenty to five. ‘If you’ll excuse me I have another appointment. I’ll get someone to show you to your office space.’
Derek Lonergan had the trip to the nearby Cellar Bar down to a fine art. Within fifteen minutes of leaving the Rockefeller he had launched himself into the vaults of the American Colony Hotel.
‘Another whiskey, Dr Lonergan?’ Abdullah asked politely as Derek Lonergan threw the first one down.
‘Certainly, Abdullah. I thought you’d never ask.’ Derek Lonergan was in high spirits. The great academic halls of Europe were awaiting his presence.
‘A fresh glass,’ Abdullah said, replacing the empty one and pouring a generous shot of Tullamore Dew.
In the room behind the bar Abdullah carefully put Lonergan’s first glass on a shelf out of reach. He had no idea why the American journalist wanted a glass used by Lonergan but he had long ago learned not to ask questions and had simply pocketed the 200 shekels with a polite smile.
A week later, after Lonergan had left for Europe, David decided to try to find out what Lonergan might be hiding in the vaults of the Rockefeller. It was high risk, and would mean his career if he was caught, but he had faced higher risks in the past and he had a strong feeling that whatever Lonergan had, it was important.
David greeted the security guard with a smile as he headed out to join Allegra in the museum’s courtyard for lunch.
‘Morning, Hafiz!’
‘Morning, Dr Kaufmann.’
‘How are the children?’ David asked.
Hafiz had been working at the museum for twenty years and David had a genuine affection for the old Palestinian. Hafiz had four children and for all of those years he had pulled double shifts to get the money together for their education. From eight until three he did duty at the front desk, and on top of that, three nights a week he drove a security car on mobile patrol, a routine he still followed. Hafiz considered himself to be one of the lucky ones, as not many Palestinians in Israel had jobs.
‘Fine thanks, Dr Kaufmann. Abdul has been accepted for university,’ he said with a proud smile.
Allegra watched as David chatted amiably with the old guard, oblivious to the tourists streaming in and out of the museum’s exhibitions. She had a sneaking suspicion that she was falling in love with David. They had become so close in such a short amount of time, it seemed that they often knew exactly what the other was thinking.
‘I’m very fond of Hafiz and you can sometimes find out a great deal from security guards,’ he said, answering her question before she could even ask what he was up to. He leaned over, making a show of nuzzling her neck while he outlined the plan he had in mind.
‘David,’ Allegra replied in a soft whisper. ‘Do you think we can pull it off?’
‘I’m not going to put you to that sort of risk,’ David said, ‘but I’ve got to get to the truth here.’
‘Point one,’ Allegra said. ‘We do this together, so start talking in terms of “we”. Point two. How do we avoid all the security cameras?’
‘We work back and do it after the security desk is closed for the night and the external patrols take over. There’s only one camera down there and that can be disabled. Talking with security guards is not all idle chat you know.’
Allegra’s dark eyes flashed with excitement. ‘Do you really think we can crack the vault?’
‘If Private Silberman were around that wouldn’t be an issue, but like all good students I’ve been practising.’
The red movement sensor high on the far wall clicked on as David checked the lobby to see that Hafiz had
