Inside the Sistine Chapel the Camerlengo had announced the results of the third ballot.
‘Cardinal Rodriguez Medici, one vote.’
Giovanni had stuck to his man to the last.
‘Cardinal Lorenzo Petroni, twelve votes.’
‘Cardinal Giovanni Donelli, one hundred and two votes.’
Giovanni felt utterly bewildered. Cardinal Salvatore Bruno was beaming at him from the other side of the chapel. As the Dean of the College of Cardinals approached down the centre aisle in the chapel, the words of Giovanni’s old mentor flooded back to him: ‘If they offer you the Keys to St Peter, accept. It will be for a reason.’
‘Do you accept your canonical election as supreme Pontiff?’ Giovanni heard the words in the distance and his reply caught in his throat.
‘Yes, I do,’ he said.
‘And by what name do you wish to be known?’
Without hesitation Giovanni replied, ‘John XXIV.’
The Master of Ceremonies joyfully threw in no fewer than six candles with the ballots and Rome’s Il Capo di Fuoco Vigiliare could have been forgiven for thinking Michelangelo’s priceless fresco was under threat as more white smoke belched out over the Piazza San Pietro. As the Cardinal Deacon came out onto the main balcony of St Peter’s and intoned the words Habemus papam, the packed square of St Peter’s erupted again.
‘We have a Pope! Pope John XXIV!’ At the mention of a successor to the much loved John XXIII of ‘ sono fa brutto ’ fame, the roar of the crowd reached a crescendo. When Allegra saw Giovanni step onto the balcony of St Peter’s her eyes filled with tears. Giovanni’s secretary Vittorio also wiped away a tear. His beloved Church, he knew, was in good hands as the warmth of Giovanni’s smile seemed to fill the square.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Roma
T he next day Pope John XXIV knelt in prayer in his private chapel, asking for guidance and support. The task he had been given was awesome and Giovanni felt very alone.
The Spirit smiled.
Getting to his feet and crossing himself he walked back towards his study on the third floor of the Apostolic Palace to find Vittorio waiting for him. The two worked well together and despite opposition from Cardinal Petroni, immediately after his election, Giovanni had promoted Vittorio to Monsignor and asked him to stay on in Rome as his private secretary.
‘Have the Israeli delegation confirmed for lunch?’ Giovanni asked. The momentous events of the past few days had taken up most of his attention, and he had only been able to meet privately with Allegra, David, Patrick and Tom Schweiker for a few minutes. Apart from the joy of catching up, those few minutes had been vital. The contents of the Omega Scroll were never far from his thoughts.
‘The Israeli delegation are confirmed for 12.30, Holiness, and the Papal Physician, Professor Martines, will be here to give you a medical at 11.30.’
Giovanni rolled his eyes and grinned. ‘Medical check-ups come with the territory, I suppose. Any fitter and I’d be dangerous, but you can ask Professor Martines if he would like to join us for lunch and I’d like you to be there, too. The Omega Scroll will become public soon enough.’
‘Thank you, Holiness.’ It would be a hallmark of Giovanni’s Papacy to include those closest to him as if they were family.
‘When would you like to see Cardinal Petroni?’
‘Let’s get that out of the way first, Vittorio,’ Giovanni said, his eyes clouding. ‘Have you read my notes on the Vatican Bank?’
‘I wasn’t sure if I should, Holiness. They’re in the safe.’
Giovanni smiled at the memory of Albino Luciani, a man who had taught him so much. ‘Neither of us is used to Vatican politics, Vittorio, but we will need to apply the same rules here as we did in Venice. It is important that you be across everything in here, so when you have time, bring yourself up to speed,’ Giovanni said gently. Almost to a word, Giovanni’s advice had echoed that which he’d received from Pope John Paul I. ‘Before you summon Cardinal Petroni, have the Commander of the Swiss Guard come to see me, please.’
‘Of course, Holiness, and when you get a moment, the Curial Cardinals have prepared a speech for you, outlining the direction for your Papacy. It’s on your desk.’
Giovanni smiled grimly. ‘I’m going to have to get used to this I suppose, Vittorio.’
‘You may wish to change it,’ Vittorio said. Having read it, Vittorio knew that he would.
Giovanni sat at his desk and read through the address the Curial Cardinals had prepared for him. ‘Important to continue the work of John Paul II… The Holy Church must resist the secularism and liberalism of modern society… To stick to the one true path… A beacon of light in the darkness of the modern age…’
Vittorio was right. A mish-mash of Curial cliches designed to keep the status quo. Giovannni suddenly felt the loneliness of leadership. At least Patrick was hanging around for a few days. He was a sounding board, a man in touch with the people and reality. Then Giovanni smiled as he had a sudden thought. Perhaps there were some small compensations that came with being elected Pontiff. The skills of the Patrick O’Haras of this world were invaluable. The College of Cardinals could do with those who would continue to stay in close touch with the faithful and now he had the power to do something about that.
Giovanni got up, went to the window and stared out over the piazza. It was still crowded with people but if the Curial Cardinals had their way he would be a prisoner, forever shut up in his apartments, with the cardinals controlling his every move. They were about to hear some bad news. If it was good enough for John XXIII to go wandering around with his people unannounced, it would be good enough for John XXIV. His thoughts were interrupted by Vittorio’s knock on the door of his office.
‘Cardinal Petroni is here, Holiness.’
‘Ask him to come in, Vittorio,’ Giovanni said quietly.
‘ Certamente, Holiness.’ Vittorio could not remember when he had seen Giovanni so troubled.
‘Holiness, our most heartiest congratulations. We are all delighted.’ Petroni bowed, ever so slightly.
‘I will come straight to the point, Cardinal Petroni. Sit down, please,’ Giovanni said, indicating one of the armchairs around the low coffee table at one end of his office. Giovanni’s tone was icy but controlled.
Petroni sat down, barely concealing his anger at having been ordered to sit down by someone who, until yesterday, had been his subordinate.
‘When I had dinner with Pope John Paul I on his last night here he told me that he had sacked his Secretary of State and that you were going to be relieved of your duties the following morning. One of the reasons, as I’m sure you’re more aware than most, was that for a very long time the Vatican Bank has been involved in criminal activities.’
‘That’s preposterous, Holiness. An utter fabrication.’ There was a wariness in Petroni’s snake-like eyes, as if he had been confronted by a mongoose.
‘I don’t believe so, Cardinal Petroni. Last night, despite the difficulties of getting through to the more remote parts of the Amazon, my secretary tracked down Monsignor Pasquale Garibaldi. I have ordered him back to Rome on promotion to Bishop to commence a thorough investigation into the bank’s past activities. Depending on what his report has to say, I may have to refer the matter to the Italian authorities and La Guardia di Finanza.’
‘That’s entirely unnecessary, Holiness. I can carry out any investigation without the need for bringing Monsignor Garibaldi back from Peru.’ There was an edge of desperation in Petroni’s voice now.
‘Before you posted him to Peru,’ Giovanni continued meaningfully, ‘Monsignor Garibaldi discovered some irregularities in the accounts, including an expenditure of ten million dollars on what Pope John Paul I and I knew to be a copy of the Omega Scroll.’
‘That’s an outrageous allegation!’ Petroni hissed, the colour draining from his face. ‘The pressures of office are already too much for you.’
Giovanni maintained his icy demeanour, determined that this time Petroni would be forced to confront his
