He said nothing.
‘I didn’t have the right to ask you those questions,’ she continued. The white light in the cabin hid the blush on her face.
He remained silent. He should say something. He couldn’t stay so timid, as he had in Walker’s Wine and Ale Bar.
Talk! Say something, he urged himself.
The plane banked right for a final pass over the runway.
‘I’d like to congratulate you…’ he started to say.
Sarah was suddenly alert. Did he know about her condition?
‘Thank you,’ she hurried to reply.
‘He’s Italian, as far as I know,’ the priest added.
‘Yes. A journalist from Ascoli,’ she said with some relief.
‘It will all be for the better, certainly,’ Rafael affirmed, somewhat embarrassed.
She couldn’t help but feel angry with Rafael, Francesco, and her pregnancy. She tried to control herself. She didn’t want to insult him, grab him forcefully, and yell, I’m here, and I can give you things that your God never gave you. Absurd. Better to end it all now.
‘It will be. I’m pregnant,’ she heard herself say as the plane touched down on the runway. She closed her eyes. Saying it out loud made everything real, it meant accepting.
Nothing more was said.
The plane rolled up to its gate in the middle of Fiumicino Airport, officially named Leonardo da Vinci.
David Barry approached Rafael.
‘We’ve arrived in your city.’
‘What now? Do you want to certify that the delivery is made?’ the priest asked, getting up.
‘No. I’ve got some things to take care of with Cardinal William and then I’ll fly back to London.’
Rafael knew that Barry just wanted to make sure William wouldn’t forget him. That’s how the world of secrecy worked. A favor always had to be repaid.
A van with four passengers was waiting for them at the parking area. Rafael was the first to disembark, then Jacopo, clutching the leather case.
The noise of engines and vehicles everywhere was deafening.
Rafael let Sarah enter the van first, then followed her.
‘Good evening, Daniel,’ he said as soon as he sat down by Sarah in the backseat.
The commander’s gloomy face didn’t fool anyone.
‘What happened?’ Rafael suddenly asked. It wasn’t worth beating around the bush.
Daniel seemed shocked and disoriented.
‘Out with it, man!’ Rafael urged him.
Barry, Aris, and Jacopo also got in and could see a defeated man.
‘They’ve kidnapped the secretary and the prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith,’ Daniel stammered, his head down.
Everyone must have thought What? But no one said it out loud. No one had expected that, even Daniel.
‘How did that happen?’ Barry asked, intrigued.
‘That doesn’t matter now,’ Rafael interrupted. ‘They want the parchments, right?’
Daniel nodded.
‘How much time do we have?’
Daniel seemed hypnotized, reliving every step since leaving the Vatican, looking for a way around his incompetence and failure.
‘How much time?’ Rafael pressed.
‘By ten tonight we’re supposed to leave the parchments in the Curia Generalizia on Via dei Penitenzieri.’
‘Or what? Are they going to kill the secretary of state and the prefect?’ Jacopo protested. ‘Do you think they have the balls to do that?’
‘They’ll kill all three,’ Daniel replied in a weak voice.
‘Three? Who’s the third?’
‘The pope,’ Daniel said. ‘At the moment His Holiness is protected, but one of our agents was an infiltrator. I don’t know who’s clean and who’s not now.’
‘We’ll clean house later,’ Rafael said decisively. He looked at his watch. It was five minutes after eight. They had less than two hours. ‘One thing at a time.’
‘Shall we head for Via dei Penitenzieri?’ Daniel asked.
‘All this work to hand them over on a tray?’ Jacopo complained.
‘No. We’re not going to give them anything,’ Rafael said. He turned to look at Barry. ‘Can I count on the station in Rome?’
‘Those bastards kidnapped someone I need to talk to,’ Barry replied. ‘Let me make some phone calls.’
‘What’s our destination, then?’ Daniel asked. Rafael’s certainty was contagious.
The priest took out his Beretta and checked the chamber. ‘We’re going to find the secretary and prefect. I have an idea where they took them.’
66
Rafael didn’t reveal their final destination. In the present state of distrust it was better to rely on himself. He gave the driver directions as necessary: Turn left, right, straight ahead, enter here.
They entered Via della Gatta, and Rafael told him to park in the Piazza del Collegio Romano. Rafael, Daniel, and two of his men got out, along with Barry and Aris. Only Jacopo, Sarah, and the driver stayed back. Rafael instructed him to drive around the city, far from there, until he received further orders.
‘Can we trust him?’ Rafael asked Daniel about the driver.
The commander sighed. ‘He’s never failed me,’ he replied with frustration. ‘But Hugo never did, either.’
Rafael looked the driver in the eye. You can’t tell a person from his face. Every evaluation was subjective.
‘Get out of the van,’ he ordered.
‘What?’ the agent asked, puzzled.
‘Get out of the car,’ Rafael said, and looked at Jacopo. ‘Take Sarah for a ride.’
‘Are you kidding?’ Jacopo asked. He was clutching the leather case that held the most important documents in Christianity, and he was clearly upset.
‘Show her your skill as a driver.’ Rafael smiled.
Barry, who was on the telephone, clapped the priest on the shoulder. ‘Fifteen minutes.’
‘Okay,’ Rafael agreed. ‘Let’s hope they aren’t late.’
He checked his watch. It was nine fifteen.
‘Get out of here, Jacopo. Start driving,’ Rafael ordered, slammed the door, and gave it a slap with his hand. He gave Sarah a final look. He didn’t want her stuck in the middle of that craziness.
Jacopo left, complaining about priests who ordered everyone around. He was tired and hungry.
‘Give the orders,’ Barry said, impatient to get into action.
‘Follow me.’
They walked along the side of the enormous building that once was the Collegio Romano, administered by the Jesuits. It kept its educational mission, but belonged to the Italian government now. At the end of a narrow street they turned left and entered a small plaza, the Piazza di Sant’Ignazio.
Rafael thought about the information Gunter had given him before dying. At first he hadn’t considered it important. But after the conversation with Robin, he remembered it. Five narrow streets ended in this small plaza in the heart of Rome, and it was surrounded by small buildings on all sides, except one. On this one a monumental baroque church rose up toward the sky, the Church of Saint Ignatius of Loyola at Campus Martius.
It was an impressive structure, and one couldn’t take in the monumental facade all at once.
