death, right before they took his life.
Cardinal Polletto finally took a long sip of wine, then another. He closed his eyes and let the alcohol coarse through his veins, soothing and comforting. His hands steadied with his resolve. When his eyes opened he felt stronger, self-assured.
Bishop Giordano entered, sweating profusely, wringing his hands.
“Cardinal, he’s here,” he said.
Cardinal Polletto stood. “Good, I’ll be right down.” Bishop Giordano shifted uncomfortably, shivering as though he’d just stepped out of the ice-cold lake. “I’m sorry, Cardinal, but he said for you to wait here. He’ll be up just as soon as finishes a few phone calls from the car.”
The cardinal resumed his seat. “Fine, bring up a bottle of Bordeaux, the Chateau Petrus.”
The bishop left and returned in record time. He waited nervously while Cardinal Polletto opened the bottle to aerate the wine. “You may be excused,” he finally told the bishop, after letting him stew.
Bishop Giordano bowed multiple times as he backed out of the room, effusive and obviously relieved. Cardinal Polletto sat for forty-five minutes before hearing someone slowly ascend the stairs. He stood behind the desk, hands behind his back.
From around the corner, an old man with deep set black eyes, silvery gray hair, a soothing, kind countenance, and grandfatherly smile, floated inside the room, two large, wide shouldered aides in tow. Cardinal Polletto quickly moved around the desk, fell to one knee, and kissed the large gold and black onyx ring on the Black Pope’s left ring finger.
“Welcome, Your Eminence. It’s an unexpected, but gracious privilege to have you honor us with your presence.” Cardinal Polletto stayed on one knee until the Black Pope gave him permission to stand.
“Thank you, my son,” said the Black Pope, stroking the cardinal’s head as though he were a child. “Please, let a tired old man sit.”
“Of course, my lord,” the cardinal gushed, leading the old man to the seat behind the desk. “We’re surprised to see you today,” he said, pouring two glasses of wine. “If we’d known you were coming, we could have prepared a meal.”
The Black Pope, draped in a fine black vestment, held the glass in the air, examined it closely, tested the wine’s nose, then took a small sip.
“Wonderful choice,” he said, in a whispery tone. “I’ve heard tell that wine is a specialty of yours.”
Cardinal Polletto gave his thanks and sat down in front of the desk.
The Black Pope waved his aides out of the room. He took another sip of wine, this time a longer drink.
“I know this is a bit of a surprise,” said the old man. “But I wanted to make sure everything is going smooth.” He stared into Cardinal Polletto’s eyes. “I hope this isn’t an inconvenience.”
“Not at all,” answered the cardinal. “Everything is going as planned, and will be ready as scheduled.”
The Black Pope took another drink, staring intently at Cardinal Polletto, as though reading his thoughts. “I trust precautions have been taken to ensure that young Samuel Napier will not escape again,” he finally said.
The cardinal swallowed hard. “Yes, Your Eminence,” he stuttered.
“It was an unfortunate incident. It won’t happen again.” Cardinal Polletto told the old man where Samuel was hidden, and explained the precautions taken to make sure the boy was secure, not mentioning that Samuel’s location had been discovered. The longer he explained, the cardinal got the feeling the old man already knew more than he’d let on.
“I see,” the Black Pope said, resting back in the velvet of the high-back chair. “I’d like to meet with Father Tolbert before I leave. Is he available?”
Cardinal Polletto cleared his throat. A direct lie could end his life immediately. He forced a smile. “I’m afraid he’s not available at the moment, Your Excellency. Maybe sometime later?” The Black Pope placed both palms on the table and leaned forward.
“Perhaps.” He bored a hole right through the cardinal. The grandfatherly countenance was replaced with something sinister, something wicked.
Then just as quickly, the kind face reemerged. “I understand the ritual area is almost complete.”
Cardinal Polletto, relieved that the questioning ended quickly, stood.
“Yes, it’s almost completed. Shall I show it to you?” The old man slowly rose, finished his glass of wine, then crept around the desk, hands behind his back, and headed for the door in silence. Cardinal Polletto finished his glass, wanting another, but followed the Black Pope outside. The old man’s two heavyweight aides trailed them both.
Cardinal Polletto proudly showed the ritual stadium to the old man, proudly commenting on how fast his men had brought it together in a short amount of time. The Black Pope simply nodded here and there, but didn’t utter a sound. When they reached the last platform, where the children would be herded and dumped into the lake, the old man faced Cardinal Polletto, and asked his men to leave them alone.
He stared at the cardinal for awhile, sizing him up. “You’ve come a long way, Cardinal Polletto, and many inside The Order are extremely proud of what you’ve accomplished.”
“Thank you, Your Eminence.”
The Black Pope moved closer. “This event is more important than anything, anyone, inside The Order will ever take up.”
“I understand.”
“To bring into the world the one foretold in scriptures is a monumental task that will change the world. A task you cannot fail.” Cardinal Polletto felt a swell of energy and strength. “I shall not fail, Your Eminence.”
The Black Pope leaned in close and slapped the cardinal hard across the face. “How can you be so sure?”
Cardinal Polletto rocked backwards, dizzy. The old man’s hand felt like granite.
The Black Pope raised his hand again. The cardinal winced, but this time the old man gently stroked the cardinal’s face. “This man, Robert Veil, and his partner, Nikki Thorne, are a problem, no?”
“A problem, yes, but one we can deal with. They won’t interrupt our plans.”
The old man smiled and backed away. “Good, good. And what are your plans for Alison Napier?”
The cardinal was not surprised to hear the question. The old man had ears everywhere. “Whatever do you mean, Your Eminence?”
“After the ritual, she’ll no longer be necessary.”
“But she could be of use while we raise the boy,” said the cardinal.
“We should give it time. We can always get rid of her later.”
“I see,” sneered the old man. “You’ve become attached to the woman.”
“Not at all, I just think we’d be hasty to eliminate her too soon.” Cardinal Polletto felt exposed. He had grown attached to Alison, and wasn’t ready to kill her just yet.
“Nevertheless, you will dispose of her directly when the ritual is over. The longer she lives, the longer law enforcement agencies in the States will keep looking for Samuel. Close the loop, and finish her.
That’s an order.”
The cardinal bowed his head, veins bulging in his neck, his face twisted. “As you wish,” he said.
The Black Pope put a gentle hand on the cardinal’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, my son, when this is over, you’ll head the Vatican, and be in complete charge of raising the boy. Removing the present Pope is no small reward for your success.”
Cardinal Polletto knew the old man spoke the truth. He was going to become the Holy Father, a prize he’d coveted since joining The Order.
He fell to his knees and kissed the old man’s ring again.
“Forgive my hesitation. I was only thinking of myself,” said Cardinal Polletto.
The old man bid him to rise. “I understand. We all have much to learn.” They walked back to the castle and stood next to the old man’s car. “On the night of the ritual, I’ll be in the crowd,” the Black Pope told him.
“Yes, Your Excellency, we’ve prepared a place for you on stage.”
“Do nothing of the sort,” snapped the Black Pope. “My presence will be known only to a few.”
The cardinal bowed his head. “Will there be anything else, Your Eminence?”
The Black Pope leaned forward and whispered into Cardinal Polletto’s ear, then slid inside the shiny, black limousine and sped away.
