The Devil Will Come

him.

‘And what part of it don’t you respect?’ she asked, her voice tremulous.

He seemed delighted to have her come alive. ‘Well, the belief in God, of course, is a fundamental weakness. A crutch as ancient as man himself. I believe the more you rely on a god to govern your life, the less you govern it yourself. But besides that, the Catholic Church has always been the most smug, most repugnant, most hypocritical of all the religions. A billion people slavishly following some old man tarted up in robes and a hat! We’ve been fighting it since its earliest days.’

‘You say you believe that men should rely on themselves, not on God. What else do you believe in?’ Elisabetta asked.

‘Me? I very much believe in myself. I believe in the heavens, too. The stars and planets clearly influence human events. That much is factual but I confess I haven’t a clue how it works. So that, I suppose, is my suspension of rationality in favor of a belief system.’

‘You believe in astrology,’ she said, bemused.

‘Our kind have respected astrology for many centuries,’ Krek sniffed.

‘I found astrological symbols at St Callixtus.’

‘Yes, I know. If there had been a way to quickly remove the wall intact I would have been very happy to have the fresco in my home. My men said they tried, but it crumbled. They were hardly conservationists and they had a more important task.’

‘The skeletons.’

‘Yes. Again, a crude job – but speed was necessary.’

‘What will you do with them?’

‘I intend to give them the respect they deserve. The bones are in a jumble. I need them to be properly assembled, every man, woman and child. Somewhere within that confusion is our greatest astrologer – Balbilus, and I would like his remains to be identified and given pride of place in my family crypt. He was Emperor Nero’s personal astrologer, imagine that! Nero was one of us, you know. Tradition tells us that the burial chamber belonged to Balbilus and that he and his followers perished during the Great Fire of Rome. It can’t be verified but Peter the Apostle was said to have been involved in their demise.’

‘There were signs of a fire.’

‘You see. Science! That’s why I need you.’

‘To do what?’

‘You’re going to handle the bones for me. You’re an archeologist and a woman who respects the past and the sanctity of the dead. I think you’ll do a marvelous job.’

Elisabetta shook her head. ‘You think I’d do this voluntarily?’

Krek shrugged. ‘I really hadn’t thought about that. I simply decided you were going to do it.’ Before she could express outrage he added, ‘What did you make of the star signs at St Callixtus?’

‘I hadn’t fully worked them out.’

‘You took note of the particular order of the planets, didn’t you?’

She nodded.

‘That was the alignment at the moment Balbilus was born in 4 AD. Check the charts if you don’t believe me. I think it was a personal homage to his greatness. It became a symbol for us – of his power, of our power.’

‘Marlowe used it in Faustus.’

‘Yes! Bravo! You noticed the illustration. I told you that you were the one for this job. We’ve had many powerful astrologers through the ages. Bruno Ottinger was my personal astrologer. I believe you know certain things about Bruno.’

‘I have the book that you gave him.’

‘I want it back,’ Krek said icily. ‘Maybe you’ll give it to me as a present.’ He checked the TV and turned up the volume. ‘So, there they are, all of them in the Pauline Chapel. We should watch.’

Hackel stood immobile inside the Pauline Chapel of the Palace of the Vatican. He was in front of the Pauline Door which led to the Sala Regia, a frescoed hall which connected the Palace to the Sistine Chapel. The Cardinal Electors stood in rows facing Cardinal Diaz who was about to address them. There were two videographers who’d been cleared to broadcast the brief ceremony, the last that the public would see of the Cardinals before the Conclave began.

Hackel heard chatter in his earpiece. Minor things: a tourist had been removed from the Square for public drinking. There were pickpockets about. He controlled his breathing, slow and smooth. It would be over soon. Perhaps his role would come out in the investigation, perhaps not. One could never underestimate incompetency. Regardless, he’d know what he’d done. And, more importantly, K would, too. If it looked as though the authorities were on to him, he would disappear into the Lemures network. There would be choices. He fancied South America. There were beautiful women there.

The Master of the Papal Liturgical Celebrations, Cardinal Franconi, held a microphone up to Diaz’s mouth. He made a short speech in Latin, reminding the Electors of their responsibilities to the Church for the solemn task they were about to undertake and led them in a brief prayer to give them the strength and wisdom to choose a new Holy Father.

It was Hackel himself who opened the Pauline Door to let the procession begin.

TWENTY-NINE

ZAZO WATCHED THE Cardinals in rows of two walk slowly through the Sala Regia flanked by an honor detail of Swiss Guards. He swallowed hard. It was other-worldly to be seeing this play out on TV. He should have been there. He caught a fleeting glimpse of Lorenzo in the background and wondered how he was holding up.

Zazo’s father was puttering about the apartment in an agitated state, unable to go to the university, unable to pick up his Goldbach notebook. By turns he stared out the windows and at the phone as if he could will his daughters to materialize. Zazo tried to get him to eat but he wouldn’t.

Both of them jumped when Zazo’s mobile rang. He answered immediately and shook his head quickly to signal that it wasn’t Micaela or Elisabetta.

He listened and said, ‘Omar, you’re the best. I swear to you that you won’t get in trouble for this.’ Then he clicked off and sat down at his father’s computer.

‘Who was that?’ his father asked.

‘One of my friends in IT at the Vatican. He’s emailing me a file of phone records.’

‘Whose records?’

‘This morning I found out that in 2005 Bruno Ottinger placed a call to a private residence in the Vatican. Matthias Hackel, the man who’s currently second in command of the Swiss Guards, used to live there. I asked for Hackel’s phone logs.’

‘What does this have to do with Micaela and Elisabetta?’ Carlo asked.

‘I don’t know. Maybe nothing. But it’s curious, isn’t it? Why is a man like Ottinger communicating with a Swiss Guard? Anyway, I’d rather follow my nose than sit like a lump. I don’t trust the Polizia to be doing anything productive.’

His father agreed and hovered over his shoulder while Zazo opened Omar’s email and sent the attachment to the printer.

The printer was still churning out fifty pages. Zazo grabbed a sheaf and groaned, ‘This guy made a lot of calls.’

‘What are we looking for?’ Carlo asked.

‘I’m not sure. Patterns. Frequently dialed numbers.’ He pulled out the Ottinger logs and unfolded them. ‘Maybe any calls to third parties common to the two sets of logs.’

At the sight of dense rows of phone numbers, Carlo perked up. He pulled the pages from his son’s hand. ‘You go make me some toast and leave the numbers to me.’