he washed, he continued to feel dirty, a filth that stuck to him even when he dried off. He was still devastated. He wanted to know about Sarah. His heart beat fast with anxiety and exasperation. He lacked the one feeling that gave a person well-being: control. Without it, he was totally lost, more than just geographically.
The man in the Armani suit returned to the room while Francesco was tying his shoelaces. He looked at the journalist disdainfully and opened the door.
‘Let’s go.’ It was an order, not a request.
Francesco went out hesitantly, unsure which way to turn.
‘Straight ahead,’ the other said.
‘Are you going to tell me where we are?’ Francesco asked.
‘This is not the time to ask me questions,’ the other warned. ‘Left.’
Francesco went left. There was a long corridor with innumerable doors, but they didn’t enter any of them. He came to a hall with elevators.
‘Push the button,’ said the man in the Armani suit.
Francesco obeyed. An elderly couple came out of a room and waited with them. The woman greeted them in English.
‘Hello.’
‘Hello,’ they both replied.
Francesco was apprehensive.
‘Don’t take the next elevator,’ the unknown man whispered.
A bell announced the arrival of the elevator. The two men let the elderly couple take it and waited for the next one. Francesco went in first. The man in the Armani suit pressed a button that Francesco couldn’t see. The doors closed and the elevator began to rise.
It was only a few moments, but to Francesco it seemed an eternity. He felt more anxious and alarmed as they ascended. The thought struck him that the unknown man would tie him up on the top floor, and he imagined falling down the stories, desperate, helpless, until he struck the floor below. On the other hand, it was hardly credible that whoever was behind this would plot such a complicated scheme for so simple an ending. They could have killed him more easily anytime.
Stop thinking about it, he ordered himself. Whatever will be will be.
The doors opened onto another corridor full of rooms. Francesco went out first, completely ignoring the luxurious decor.
‘Left,’ said the other one following him. ‘Keep straight ahead.’
Francesco complied, with careful steps, neither too fast nor too slow, expecting the worst.
‘Here,’ the other said, moving ahead to a door and lightly knocking twice.
From inside came a ‘Come in.’
The man in the Armani suit, always with an unfriendly expression, opened the door and let Francesco enter. Then he shut it, leaving him alone with whoever was inside the room.
Francesco found himself in an enormous suite. He couldn’t see who had told him to come in.
‘Buon giorno,’ he heard a man say. ‘Come closer.’
The voice came from a room on the right. Francesco found a very old man, seated in a chair, looking out a large window. He was dressed in white. He spoke perfect Italian without an accent.
‘Closer, Francesco,’ the old man insisted.
Francesco approached cautiously, never taking his eyes off the man. Who was he?
‘Who are you, sir?’ he finally worked up enough courage to ask.
‘Who I am is not important,’ the old man replied.
He got up painfully with the help of a cane with the gold head of a lion on the top, and approached the window. Francesco stood by him and looked out at the city spread before them. This time Francesco recognized it. He’d never visited it. He recognized the gold dome from news broadcasts. In front of them lay the holy city of Jerusalem.
‘Where’s Sarah?’ was a more important question.
‘In the service of God.’
What a ridiculous answer. What did he mean by that?
‘You in the service of God, too?’ he asked somewhat recklessly.
‘I?’ he smiled. ‘I have no master. Call me JC.’
‘JC? What do you mean by that?’
‘JC,’ the old man repeated.
Francesco pointed toward the city.
‘What are we doing here?’ He couldn’t hide his irritation.
JC didn’t answer right away. He looked at the city for a few moments and then sighed deeply, before he finally spoke, as coldly as an iceberg. ‘Jerusalem. It was here everything began… It’ll be here that everything ends.’
33
The Bible.
The most prodigious book ever written. The majority of its words were inspired by God, and those that were not were written by His own hand.
He always carried it with him in a paperback edition worn out from so much reading. He gave special attention to the synoptic gospels, especially John, as well as the Acts, but what really satisfied his soul was the Apocalypse. He chose specifically for today Jesus said to him: I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father but through Me, from the Gospel of John. He read it and re-read it until he didn’t need to read it again, it was so deeply fixed in his memory. He looked at another paper with the names of those whom God was calling to Himself and he had the pleasure of dispatching. Three names, three people who would come before the God of judgment. God would deal with them as He knew best.
He had no great admiration for the Old Testament, though he’d read it several times with the greatest respect. Certain passages struck a deep chord with him, especially the story of Abraham, who in certain respects resembled him, since he obeyed the will of God without question. He had no doubt that he would kill his father, mother, and children, if he had any, if it were asked of him. The Exodus from Egypt was one of his favorites, and he found great wisdom in the Book of Proverbs, written by the great Solomon, the son of the no lesser David. The Book of Job, the prophecies of Jeremiah and Ezekiel, Jonah in the belly of the whale, Noah, Absalom, Jacob, Joseph, and many others, the history of the Chosen People, who deserved all the suffering they endured. Caiaphas was guilty of sending the Son of God to His death. He considered himself an avenger, or rather, an avenging angel, a savior, freeing His world from evil. Thanks to Him, he did it extremely well.
He frequently used a personal ritual with Him. He shut the holy book and thought about some extremely important event in his life, then immediately opened it at random and placed his finger on a verse. God would tell him what to do through those prophetic words, sanctioning what would occur; He never failed, since He was omnipotent.
He did the same when he looked at the first name on the list of three below the words Deus vocat. He shut the Bible and opened it at random. Put his finger on a verse and read it. He smiled. I know well what you can do, and none of your desires will be denied, from the Book of Job.
God had made His judgment.
He hit the brakes as he reached his destination. He looked at his watch and unbuckled the seat belt. Right on schedule.
34
