done it for years and come to an interesting conclusion.’ He stopped speaking for several moments to increase the suspense. ‘There was a bishop in the Vatican, who’s been mentioned, who was not what he seemed.’
‘No one is what he seems in any way. Especially in the Vatican,’ Rafael declared.
‘This bishop got around quite smoothly. He used bankers, cardinals, priors, politicians, economists. He could do anything. Except pray. He was rarely seen at prayer, unless he had to say Mass. He gained the confidence of people. He was good friends with Paul the Sixth.
‘The interesting fact we’ve discovered is that, in addition to being a member of a Masonic lodge, he was also a member of Opus Dei. We’ve uncovered this through facts found among his belongings. Opus Dei would never permit such a thing to be known. We also discovered an immense scheme of illegal financial manipulations done for this gentleman and his partners with the knowledge of certain members of the Vatican Curia, the Masonic lodge, and Opus Dei, although none of them knew that the others also knew about this. It was a deception carried out well by the bishop. His name was-’
‘Paul Casimir Marcinkus,’ Rafael completed his words.
‘Correct.’
Him again, Sarah murmured to herself. Always him.
‘Marcinkus,’ Phelps said with hate in his voice. ‘He never had any respect for the Church. An arrogant egomaniac.’
‘You knew him?’ the Russian asked.
‘I knew him. I was insulted and humiliated by that man.’
‘When was that?’ Rafael wanted to know.
‘When?’ he responded with a question. He was nervous. ‘When? When they discovered all his dirty dealings.’
‘Do you mean you had knowledge of what we just said?’
‘A little,’ he replied nervously.
‘You’re the first person I know who knew Marcinkus was Opus Dei.’
‘Well…’ He hesitated. ‘I didn’t…’
Suddenly Phelps raised his hand to his chest and looked like he was in pain.
‘Are you all right?’ Sarah asked, worried.
Phelps said nothing. He grabbed his chest with his hand and fell from his seat, striking his head on the floor.
‘Vladimir,’ Ivanovsky shouted.
The Englishman twisted in pain.
Rafael placed his hand on his chest. ‘Do you need air?’
Phelps confirmed with a gesture. He was in agony.
‘Vladimir,’ Ivanovsky shouted again. ‘Let’s sit him up,’ the barber suggested.
‘No. Let him be,’ Rafael ordered. ‘We shouldn’t force him.’
A tear rolled down Sarah’s face. ‘What’s wrong with him?’
No one answered. The wrinkled one came into the room.
‘What’s happening?’
‘Get the car and call Mikhail. We have to take him to the hospital.’
Vladimir left the room running.
A last grimace of pain, and Phelps lost consciousness. In spite of everything, calm descended on the room instantly.
Sarah looked at him collapsed, white, and turned her glance to Rafael.
‘A heart attack,’ he said.
‘That’s right,’ the Russian agreed.
‘Oh my God,’ Sarah exclaimed.
‘We have to get him to a hospital as soon as possible,’ Rafael advised.
‘We’re already taking care of that,’ Ivanovsky said. ‘Let’s go to the veterans’ hospital.’
Speaking Russian, he and Rafael separated a little from Sarah.
‘He knows something we need to know,’ he whispered.
‘It seems to me there is someone above all of us who knows much more,’ Rafael reflected.
‘Who?’
‘Your friend someone. I think I know who he is.’
The other looked at him, frightened.
‘Pray to God this one survives,’ Rafael said, turning around next to Sarah, who was on her knees over Phelps, pressing his inert hand.
60
The man sweated profusely. Perspiration stuck to his nude body. Pleasure required effort; with every lunge there was an answering moan. Sex is the mixing of bodies, in general two — but there is no limit to the human imagination — the exchange of fluids and sweat, saliva and one’s desires. During the coupling almost nothing exists but the one and the other; the fire has to be put out.
‘I really needed that,’ said the man.
‘Me too. We’ve got to do it more often,’ the other suggested, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from on top of the table.
‘It’s dangerous,’ the first one cautioned. ‘Our uniforms could give us away.’
‘Don’t be so hardheaded, Paul. I don’t play when I’m on duty.’
‘We can’t afford the luxury of being careless,’ Paul reaffirmed. He got up and sat on the edge of the bed. ‘Give me one.’
His companion handed him the cigarette he’d already lit for himself and took another. He leaned against the bed board, almost sitting.
‘They’re not going to give up,’ Paul commented, exhaling smoke.
‘Are you sure?’
‘They already would have.’
‘That’s not the impression I got when I contacted them,’ the other said.
The cigarette smoke created a haze in the poorly ventilated room, forming a shadowy atmosphere around the two men.
‘It wasn’t a good idea to call yourself “The American”,’ Paul grumbled.
‘It’s what popped into my head.’
‘You have to be careful. They might get suspicious.’
‘Let me worry about those things,’ the other said complacently. ‘After all, why do you want the Turk out? He’s only going to create problems.’
‘This doesn’t smell right to me. I heard the Pole was thinking about going to see him,’ he answered circumspectly.
‘And what could happen? He doesn’t know who he is,’ the other reiterated.
‘The two of them together in the same room. It’s not good.’
‘In the same cell, you mean,’ the other joked, getting a smile from Paul.
‘I’d like to see the Pole in a cell. I have to find out his intentions. I think he’s suspicious.’
‘It’s just in your mind. He has no reason to distrust you,’ the other asserted.
‘It must have been JC who carried out the plan. Hell. The Turk drew me in.’
‘JC has other plans.’
‘He only does what Licio tells him.’
‘Licio doesn’t give any orders now.’
They were silent for a few moments. The sweat had dried. They’d recovered their energy.
‘Did you get rid of the car?’ Paul asked.
