'I'm a man of the world, Jordan, I understand the intricacies of diplomacy,' Cardinal Canesi said in his deep, stentorian tones. 'Though I despise being kept waiting, let us speak no more of the matter.'
Jordan absorbed this back-handed rebuke with his usual stoicism. 'I haven't heard from you in three days. How is his holiness's condition?'
'We come now to the purpose of this interview.' Whether it was because he had spent too many decades inside the cloistered walls of the Vatican or because he had a pompous streak, Cardinal Canesi's speech was unnaturally formal, as if he were channeling a religious lord of the nineteenth century. 'As you have been informed, his eminence has been in guarded status over the last ten days, but that is about to change.'
'Good news, I pray.'
'Hardly,' Cardinal Canesi said in funereal tones. 'His health has deteriorated alarmingly. Frankly-and I must stress that this information is between the two of us-the pontiff is dying. Neither prayer nor medical knowledge seems of any use.' With the canny stagecraft of a veteran actor, he paused, the better to give his next words added significance. 'Without the-'
'Please,' Jordan said sharply.
'Yes, yes, quite,' Cardinal Canesi said with a hint of huffiness. He did not care to be reminded of security considerations. 'In any event, without what you have promised us there is no hope for him. We simply must have it within the week.'
'Don't worry, Felix,' Jordan replied serenely. 'You'll have it; the pope will not die.'
'You have given your word, Jordan. This is a matter of the gravest import. Over the centuries, the Vatican has been anxious to have this most precious of artifacts returned to the bosom of the Church from whence it sprang. Over the centuries, many popes have made it their life's work to retrieve it from the apostate Gnostics who stole it, to no avail. And so it has passed from fact into legend. I must caution you that there are those on the pontiff's council who doubt the… the substance exists.'
'It exists, your excellency, of this you may have no fear.'
'It is not I who will experience fear should you fail us,' Cardinal Canesi said ominously. 'We are at a perilous crossroads, nothing could be more clear. This is why we have exercised all our might and influence to help you in your sacred mission. But hear me: we have put ourselves at risk for you.
'His eminence has never declared his wishes for his successor. The college of Cardinals is contentious, filled with over-eager and overambitious individuals, each with his own idea of which direction to lead the Church.
'Again I tell you this in the strictest confidence: either his holiness recovers, or the Church hierarchy will be plunged into an anarchy from which even I cannot say with any degree of certainty it will emerge unchanged.'
Jordan knew what that meant: the probability of no more Canesi, no more cabal, no more backing for him.
'Do not fail us, Jordan. Remember: a week, not one moment more.'
As he replaced the receiver, Jordan's mind was working furiously, parsing every word, every intonation he had used. He knew the cardinal better than Canesi suspected. His grace was the head of a clandestine cabal of high Vatican officials who attended the pope and depended on his favor in order to put through their policies. Canesi had as much to fear from this pope's passing as did Jordan, possibly more. The cabal needed this pope to continue to support them because over the decades they had gathered to them a veil of secret power the pope knew nothing about; backing Jordan had been only one of their activities. Jordan's plan, years in the making, had been triggered by Canesi's panic.
Jordan rubbed his chin, his face grave. He picked up his cell phone, dialed a number, spoke softly into it. 'His grace called. I'm afraid we've run out of time far sooner than we anticipated. A week, not a moment more, he told me. Luckily, Bravo holds the key, which is just how we planned it. But now we will be forced to take further risks.'
'Risk is part of the game, my love,' the voice said on the other end of the line.
'Risk is what Ivo and Donatella took,' he said gloomily, 'and look where they ended up.'
'But I have a plan. Herd Braverman Shaw and his Guardian angel like cattle, separate them, make them desperate.'
Jordan sat up straight, his throat tight. 'And then?'
'She is of no consequence,' the voice said, 'but when he has led us to the secret, he will die.'
Jordan faced the window, but his gaze had turned inward. 'Just as we planned,' he said, 'from the beginning.'
PART TWO
PRESENT DAY- PARIS, ST. MALO, VENICE, ROME
Chapter 10
Camille Muhlmann, as beautiful and intimidating as she had ever been in her life, was waiting for Bravo and Jenny at Charles de Gaulle Airport as they emerged from security. She was wearing one of her signature Lagerfeld suits, but in deference to the midsummer heat it was of a lightweight fabric, as was her blouse, through which the lace of her bra glimmered enticingly. She waved when she saw Bravo and embraced him, kissing him warmly on both cheeks.
'Mon Dieu, quel choc!' she said softly as she clung to him. 'My poor Bravo, to have your father taken from you so prematurely.'
Bravo kissed her tenderly, then pulled away, too slowly by Jenny's estimation. But before he could extricate himself entirely, she cradled his jaw in her hands.
'What happened to you? What terrible trouble did you run into?' The concern in her voice was palpable, grating on Jenny's nerves.
'Not here, not now,' Bravo said with an abruptness that appeared to disturb Camille.
Instead, he made the introductions. 'Jenny Logan, this is Camille Muhlmann, Jordan's mother.'
'So you're Bravo's new girlfriend,' Camille said.
Bravo frowned. 'Camille, I told Jordan-'
Camille held up a hand and as she studied Jenny's face. 'You're so lovely. We must find the ways to heal your wounds as quickly as possible, n'est-ce pas?' She squeezed Jenny's hand with an intimacy Jenny's found startling. Then she turned to Bravo. 'I quite approve of her, my dear.'
She laughed, linking her arm through Bravo's. 'I hope you don't think me too forward, Jenny, but when it comes to Bravo I'm inordinately protective. I can't help it, you see, he's my son's best friend and is dear to my heart. He is family, you understand.'
'Of course I understand, Madame Muhlmann.'
'On such a journey we must dispense with formalities, Jenny. Alors, you must call me Camille.'
Jenny smiled through clenched teeth. It appeared as if Camille had deliberately matched her stride to Bravo's, and with every step they took her hip brushed against his. What annoyed Jenny most of all, however, was how much Bravo seemed to enjoy being the center of Camille Muhlmann's attention.
'Luggage, non?' Camille ran the tip of her forefinger along Bravo's jaw. 'Ah, you left Washington in such a rush it's a wonder you had your passports.'
'Neither of us is ever without them,' Jenny said.
Camille swung around, smiling easily. 'Yes, and what is it you do, Jenny?'
'I'm a consultant to companies in developing nations,' Jenny said without missing a beat. 'I help them conform to the standards laid down by the World Bank and the World Trade Organization for international commerce.'
