FIFTY-FOUR
MEDJUGORJE, BOSNIA-HERZEGOVINA
6:00 P.M.
Katerina’s stomach knotted as she spotted Father Ambrosi entering the hospital. She immediately noticed the addition of scarlet piping and a red sash to his black wool cassock, signifying an elevation to monsignor. Apparently Peter II wasted no time handing out the spoils.
Michener was resting in his room. All the tests run on him had come back negative, and the doctor predicted he should be fine by tomorrow. They planned to leave for Bucharest at lunchtime. The presence of Ambrosi, though, here in Bosnia, meant nothing but trouble.
Ambrosi spotted her and approached. “I’m told Father Michener had a close call with death.”
She resented his feigned concern, which was clearly for public consumption. “Screw you, Ambrosi.” She kept her voice low. “This fountain is dry.”
He shook his head in a gesture to convey mock disgust. “Love truly does conquer all. No matter. We require nothing further from you.”
But she did of him. “I don’t want Colin to learn anything about you and me.”
“I’m sure you don’t.”
“I’ll tell him myself. Understand?”
He did not answer.
The tenth secret, written by Jasna, was in her pocket. She almost yanked the slip of paper out and forced the words onto Ambrosi, but what heaven might want was surely of no interest to this arrogant ass. Whether the message was from the mother of God or the lamentations of a woman convinced she was divinely chosen, nobody would ever know. But she wondered how the Church and Alberto Valendrea would explain away the tenth secret, particularly after accepting the previous nine from Medjugorje.
“Where is Michener?” Ambrosi asked, the tone expressionless.
“What do you want with him?”
“I want nothing, but his pope is another matter.”
“Leave him alone.”
“Oh, my. The lioness bares her claws.”
“Get out of here, Ambrosi.”
“I’m afraid you don’t tell me what to do. The word of the papal secretary, I imagine, would carry much weight here. Surely more than that of an unemployed journalist.” He moved around her.
She quickly stepped in his way. “I mean it, Ambrosi. Back off. Tell Valendrea that Colin’s through with Rome.”
“He’s still a priest in the Roman Catholic Church, subject to the authority of the pope. He will do as told, or face the consequences.”
“What does Valendrea want?”
“Why don’t we go to Michener,” Ambrosi said, “and I’ll explain. I assure you, it’s worth listening to.”
She entered the room with Ambrosi following. Michener was sitting up in bed and his face constricted at the site of his visitor.
“I bring you greetings from Peter II,” Ambrosi said. “We learned about what happened—”
“And just had to fly over to let me know your deep concern.”
Ambrosi kept a stone face. Katerina wondered if he’d been born with the ability or mastered the technique through years of deceit.
“We’re aware of why you are in Bosnia,” Ambrosi said. “I’ve been sent to ascertain if you have learned anything from the seers?”
“Not a thing.”
She was impressed with Michener’s ability to lie, too.
“Must I go and find out if you’re being truthful?”
“Do whatever you want.”
“The information being circulated around town is that the tenth secret was revealed to the seer, Jasna, last night, and the visions are now over. The priests here are quite upset over that prospect.”
“No more tourists? The money flow ended?” She couldn’t resist.
Ambrosi faced her. “Perhaps you should wait outside. This is Church business.”
“She’s not going anywhere,” Michener said. “With all you and Valendrea have surely been doing the past two days, you’re worried about what’s happening here in Bosnia? Why?”
Ambrosi folded both hands behind his back. “I’m the one asking questions.”
“Then by all means fire away.”
“The Holy Father commands you back to Rome.”
“You know what you can tell the Holy Father.”
“Such disrespect. At least we openly did not scorn Clement XV.”
Michener’s face hardened. “That’s supposed to impress me? You just did everything possible to thwart what he was trying to do.”
“I was hoping you’d be difficult.”
The tone of Ambrosi’s comment worried her. He seemed immensely pleased.
“I’m to inform you that if you do not come voluntarily, a warrant for your arrest will be issued through the Italian government.”
“What are you babbling about?” Michener asked.
“The papal nuncio in Bucharest has informed His Holiness of your meeting with Father Tibor. He’s upset he was not part of whatever you and Clement were doing. The Romanian authorities are now interested in talking with you. They, as we, are curious as to what the late pope wanted with that aging priest.”
Katerina’s throat tightened. This was drifting into dangerous waters. Michener, though, seemed unfazed. “Who said Clement was interested in Father Tibor?”
Ambrosi shrugged. “You? Clement? Who cares? All that matters is you went to see him and the Romanian police want to talk with you. The Holy See can either block that effort, or aid it. Which would you prefer?”
“Don’t care.”
Ambrosi turned around and faced Katerina. “What about you? Do you care?”
She realized the asshole was playing his trump card. Get Michener back to Rome or he’d learn, right now, how she’d so easily found him in Bucharest and Rome.
“What’s she got to do with this?” Michener quickly asked.
Ambrosi hesitated for an agonizing pause. She wanted to slap his face, as she had in Rome, but she did nothing.
Ambrosi turned back to Michener. “I was only wondering what she might think. I understand she’s a Romanian by birth, familiar with her country’s police. I imagine their interrogation techniques are something one might want to avoid.”
“Care to tell me how you know so much about her?”
“Father Tibor spoke with the papal nuncio in Bucharest. He told him about Ms. Lew being present when you talked with him. I simply learned of her background.”
She was impressed with Ambrosi’s explanation. If not for knowing the truth, she would have believed it herself.
“Leave her out of this,” Michener said.
“Will you return to Rome?”
“I’ll go back.”
The response surprised her.
Ambrosi nodded approval. “I have a plane available in Split. When will you leave this hospital?”
“In the morning.”
“Be ready at seven A.M.” Ambrosi headed for the door. “And I’ll pray this evening—” He paused a moment.
