to Rafael, who was surprised but didn’t want to show it. ‘Look who’s here.’ He approached Rafael.
‘You’re here?’ Rafael welcomed him. He had no idea what was going on but didn’t want the American to know. ‘I thought we were going to have dinner tonight. Couldn’t you wait? You missed me so much?’
Barry gave him a victory smile. ‘That trick with the taxi was very good.’ He shook his hand in greeting.
‘It was one of my best moments,’ Rafael returned. ‘I see you’re in JC’s service also.’
‘Always in the service of the American people,’ Barry corrected him. ‘JC left us out of this, but he offered us this small participation as a reward for being so diligent in pursuing the truth.’
‘He has a special knack for getting people to do things for him without having to ask.’
‘I thought to myself, why not give him a little hand? What could it be that the church wants back so badly that they have to ask a living legend like JC to do it?’
‘I understand you,’ Rafael said ironically. ‘They have to be pretty desperate to ask the pope’s assassin to do something like this.’
‘The alleged assassin,’ Barry corrected.
‘The assassin of who?’ Aris asked curiously, joining the group.
‘I’d like to introduce my operative, Aris,’ Barry said. ‘This is the famous Jack Payne.’ He looked at Gavache. ‘And you are?’
‘The no-less-famous Inspector Gavache of the French police.’
‘Pleased to meet you.’ Barry offered his hand.
Aris greeted the two men also, looking at Rafael more closely than good manners might dictate. ‘The assassin of who?’ he asked again.
‘Rafael was talking about JC, the alleged assassin of Pope John Paul the First.’
‘This is getting more interesting by the moment,’ Aris said.
‘So you decided to give us a ride,’ Rafael concluded.
‘Exactly. For old times’ sake.’
For a moment there was a feeling of tension in the air. When Rafael was a double agent under the name Jack Payne, he collaborated with the CIA as part of P2, a Masonic lodge controlled by JC. In truth it was a triple situation, since Rafael didn’t loyally serve the CIA or JC, but the Holy Church. He was still not looked at kindly by the Agency, but he had earned the respect of the old man. Very few managed to deceive JC and survive.
‘I imagine he’s somewhere in Jerusalem,’ Rafael suggested to break the ice.
‘You know how he is. Here today, there tomorrow. I didn’t want such important documents on a commercial flight. The Holy See is grateful.’
I imagine so, Rafael thought to himself. He knew that nothing Barry said was entirely true. Barry wanted to be in JC’s good graces, a powerful ally it was convenient to cultivate. Then the Holy See would owe him a favor, whether they liked it or not. But above all, Barry wanted what all secret agencies want — information. Whoever has it comes out on top.
The flight attendant interrupted this pleasant conversation. ‘Excuse me. We’re taking off now, and I have to ask you to take a seat.’
‘Certainly,’ Barry obeyed. ‘Later, Payne.’
Rafael looked at Gavache with an unfriendly expression.
‘I understand your irritation, Father,’ Gavache offered. ‘You’ve got to understand that sometimes to get the ship to a good port, you need to navigate in the fog.’
‘I don’t understand why I had to come to this plane to meet that bastard,’ he said, pointing at Jacopo, ‘and Sarah…’ Then he stopped, as if he couldn’t say more. Of course. It could only be so. He began to shake his head. He couldn’t believe it. He was a naive fool. He’d let himself be used like a puppet. He was losing his touch.
‘Don’t blame yourself, Father,’ Gavache said, grabbing some crackers the flight attendant was offering on a tray. ‘You couldn’t have known. When we don’t want someone to focus on something specifically, we simply — ’
‘I know how you work,’ Rafael interrupted. This made him even more annoyed. ‘You never needed me for anything, right? Jacopo was the bait, and I fell for it like a beginner on his first mission.’
‘What do you think, Jean-Paul? I never needed the reverend father?’ He asked toward the backseat.
‘Father Rafael was the one who discovered the Jesuit involvement, Inspector,’ Jean-Paul replied behind.
Gavache looked at the priest with an expression as if to say, You see how important you were?
‘But you were working with JC,’ Rafael argued.
‘The only thing I did for JC was guarantee that Sarah would leave Ben Isaac’s house with the documents.’
‘Why did you call me to Paris to stage that scene with me over why I was there or not,’ Rafael pressured him.
‘Why did I call the reverend father to Paris, Jean-Paul?’
‘Technically, it was also JC who asked, Inspector.’
‘Okay, so I did two favors for JC,’ he responded, without a trace of shame. ‘That means he holds you in high regard.’ He took a deep breath. ‘The truth is, I have two related crimes on my hands and your contribution to solving them was decisive. I know you’d like a more elaborate explanation, but I’m not the one to give it to you, Father,’ Gavache concluded.
Rafael blamed himself. How could he have been such an idiot? JC again pulling all the strings in the plot, but this time it was different. JC was involved with the Vatican. He looked at Jacopo angrily. He wanted to strangle him.
‘Don’t stare at me,’ Jacopo said uncomfortably. ‘I didn’t know any more than the inspector,’ he said in his defense.
The engines of the plane started and emitted a rising roar. They were moving to the runway and finally taking off.
Rafael continued to reflect. He was going to have to do something very difficult: talk to Sarah. He looked at her seat, but she still hadn’t returned. He began to hear an irritating noise at his side. Gavache was leaning against the window, making more noise than the engines.
While Rafael endured Gavache’s snoring, Sarah waited in the bathroom for the result of the test. The instructions said ten minutes for the blue strip to change to red in case of a positive result. No change had taken place yet. She placed the test on the washbasin and avoided looking at it. Each minute seemed like five, a torture. She closed her eyes. Then she turned her gaze away, in case the test gave her a result ahead of time. She found herself hoping the strip would stay blue. Maybe she was selfish, but she didn’t want to be a mother, not at this unpredictable stage of her life, when she didn’t know where she’d be the following day or where she’d sleep that night. Perhaps in Francesco’s cozy arms in their suite at the Grand Hotel Palatino… but was that what she wanted? Damn, Rafael made her doubt everything. He had so much influence over her without even lifting a finger, simply by being out there in one of the seats. She was tired, fed up, hungry, unhappy. She needed a hug. She thought about her mother and father and the estate in Beja, Portugal. She’d give anything to be there right now. She needed her father’s embrace. The plane shook as if it were rolling down a street full of potholes. Soon they would leave the runway, and the engines accelerated to their maximum power to lift off.
Ten minutes had passed, and she didn’t dare look at the verdict. She couldn’t do it. She didn’t want to face the hard reality. She feared the red strip, the positive result, the divine blessing of procreation. She didn’t want to be ungrateful, but… two light knocks on the door.
‘Miss Sarah, we’re in line to take off. We’re fifth.’ It was the attendant’s voice. ‘In five minutes we’ll take off.’
‘I’m coming. Thanks.’
Reality was pressuring her. She got up and opened the door. ‘Excuse me,’ she called.
The attendant came to the door. ‘Can I help you?’
She gestured for her to come in. The attendant was surprised but did what she asked. On these flights one didn’t question the passengers. For the fortune they paid, wishes were orders.
‘Can you see that on the washbasin?’ Sarah asked, her voice choking.
‘Yes.’
‘Tell me what you see, please.’
‘What?’
