Echoes Through the Vatican: A Paranormal Mystery (The Echoes Quartet Book 2) (17 page)

Bogdan Sokolov let his chin drop to his chest as he pinched the bridge of his nose. His head jerked up as he heard Julian say, “Time’s up.”

Julian was sitting on the other side of Sokolov’s desk. A place where five seconds before, there had been a distinct lack of Julians.

“Sokolov. Your twenty-four hours have passed and at your request, I granted you another day.”

Sokolov’s mouth twisted into a nasty snarl. “Blessing, I will kill you now.”

“Okay,” Julian said and his face was placid and pleasant. “Do you have a fire extinguisher nearby?’

“What?” Sokolov spat. He opened a desk drawer and fire erupted out, licking at the edge of his desk. The Russian managed to get the drawer closed and, open-mouthed and enraged, looked at Julian.

To Sokolov, nothing about what this American did or said aligned with anything in human experience. There was nothing the Russian could do which Julian wouldn’t counter simultaneously. Intimidation and bribery were jokes. There were no surprises possible. Speed meant nothing. Animal cunning was worthless. Raw force and brutality wouldn’t work and that combination had been his go-to solution for most of his life.

“Produce the doctor,” Julian said. His gray eyes captured and held Sokolov’s attention. The eyes were unflinching and remorseless and deadly.

The Russian took a breath and held it. He exhaled noisily and said, “Blessing, I will do as you say, but I want something from you. It isn’t much, but if you do it, you get your woman back today, yes?” Sokolov said and tried to look sincere.

“What is it you want?” Julian’s response was measured, the words emotionless, and his look never left the Russian’s face.

“I want you to introduce me to this Luciano. You know him, no? I think I can do business with him. He is with the bank and I need someone inside. Start at top, no?” Sokolov tried to resist the unseen force that was pushing him back in his chair.

“Sokolov, you are without doubt the stupidest man I know. You have taken being dim-witted to new lows. The Russian mafia is hard up for leadership if you are still alive and walking around.” Julian squinted at the big man who was struggling to get out of his chair.

“I just want to make sure you understand. If I take you to see Cardinal Luciano, he will kill you. If you think dealing with me is bad, you’ll think I was your guardian angel compared to Luciano. Take my word for it, you don’t want to meet with the cardinal,” Julian concluded.

Breathless from trying to free himself, Sokolov reiterated, “Introduce me to this priest and as soon as my business is done with him, I will make one call and your woman goes free.”

Julian tried again to read the big Russian. The man was a bag of hatred, anger and bile. Beyond that, Julian couldn’t tell if Sokolov was lying or not. Still, Julian had a suspicion, a feeling too strong to ignore, but upon which he could not act without corroboration. He knew how to get that corroboration.

“You know, Sokolov, let me make you a deal. I will introduce you to his Eminence. At the conclusion of the interview, we will walk out, you will make the call and you will have her put on the phone so I can talk with the doctor. If you do not do these things – I want you to pay special attention to this part – you will burst into flames. I will not hesitate and there will be no further negotiations. Am I making myself clear?” Julian asked.

“Fuck you!” Sokolov shouted as he continued to struggle to free himself. Julian shook his head and looked resigned and sighed. A high bright flame erupted from the center of the Russian’s desk blotter. Julian tossed a bored look at the man. Sokolov recoiled from the heat. Julian moved his hand and the fire moved closer to the Russian.

“Done. That is deal. Cardinal first, then your woman.” The fire disappeared as quickly as it appeared leaving only a large scorch mark and a furious Sokolov whose eyebrows had been singed off.

“Shall we go?” Julian said to Sokolov. “You can drive.” Julian released the mobster.

***

Fr. Soski sat in his office. His head was resting on the back of his chair and his eyes were closed. The priest was feeling the thoughts of his teacher, another Jesuit living in retirement.

“
Ronaldo. As always, I appreciate your help. Our time is short. I must find Mr. Blessing and
…”

“Marek,” the teacher interrupted. Soski paused and had a feeling of foreboding. It was difficult to hide anything from his teacher, his friend, his confessor. This was such a time.

“
I can not help you with Mr. Blessing.
” The man’s voice turned hard. “
Marek, it is your time that is short and you have made it so. It is the path you are intent on traveling. I am asking you not to do this thing you are planning. Mr. Blessing’s path is his own. That is true of all of us. You, however, have embarked on the wrong course. It is one of your own design and it will end badly. Revenge is never true or right or wise.

“I will confess, I cannot see into this business and I cannot see the future, but I can feel the steps which will lead to a bad end for you, your friend, and others,” Ronaldo concluded.

“
Thank you for all you have done for me old friend. I have always appreciated your wisdom. Those times I have not followed your advice, I have regretted it. Unfortunately, in this instance, I have no choice. It must end here, it must end now,”
Fr. Soski thought and then continued
. “About that other matter?
”

Knowing his advice would be ignored, Ronaldo sighed and answered his student’s question. The response was detailed and missed nothing. It spoke of how much can be found when you find nothing. The older man finished and the air was thick with thoughts.

“
You are sure of that?
” Fr. Soski thought.

“
Marek, I have been at this a long time, since before you were born. I tell you only what I felt. That was not a simple matter. Everything was obscured. At first, I was clearly seeing the man you told me about, then nothing. He simply winked out of existence.

“It was just a flicker,” the teacher continued. “It was the briefest of moments. The man was there then he was not and then he was there again. I would like to tell you more, but there is no more to tell
.”

He was a man of late old age and he sat on a sofa in his office. His eyes were closed and he could feel all of his student’s confusion, frustration and ever-present physical pain. The man saw through Soski’s milky gray eyes, eyes once alive with mischief and promise and what he saw left him sick at heart.

“
My friend,”
the teacher thought, “
you have spoken to me of Mr. Blessing and spoken often and with much affection. I know of him of course. I know his mentor, Mrs. Bragonier and his teacher, Mrs. Hagan,” the teacher said. If this ends badly, I need to know the Jesuit Book is safe. Another thing, in the event…”

“Ronaldo,” Father Soski interrupted. “The book is safe. It will be delivered to you if,” the priest paused, “if Julian has no need of its use. To answer your other question, yes, please notify Mrs. Bragonier whatever the outcome. She will know what to do.

“Thank you, Ronaldo, addio. You have been a good friend to me,”
the priest said and tried to keep the tears away from his thoughts.

“
Marek, the phrase is, ‘
ci rivedremo,
’ because assuredly, we will meet again,”
the teacher thought and, for the moment, was able to keep the heartache from his mind.

The connection was gone. Fr. Soski squeezed his eyes shut and a tear coursed his scared cheek. He said only one word.

“Manning.”

The telephone on his desk jarred Fr. Soski. “Yes,” he answered and paused. “Do not send him up. Bring him up and do it as quickly as possible, please.” He hung up and concentrated on his closed office door and awaited Fr. Dominic Giglio.

***

Did you hear me Fr. Soski?” the terrified priest asked.

Fr. Dominic had opened with the words, ‘It wasn’t my fault. I stumbled on it all by accident.’ The young priest had been nearly hysterical. At that moment, Fr. Soski had begun matching the young priest’s thoughts to his words. They matched. This was not subterfuge.

“I did, Fr. Dominic, and I thank you. Now go. Find a place where there are a lot of people. Get in amongst them and do not think about the cardinal. Do not think about me. Do not think about you. If possible, do not think about anything,” Fr. Soski whispered and his guest had to lean forward to hear him.

“Your thoughts will lead his Eminence to you.” Soski’s indulgent smile froze Fr. Dominic to the core. The priest with the milky gray eyes said emphatically, “And he will kill you.”

***

“I have anticipated this, but are any of us ever ready?” Fr. Soski said to himself and dread chilled his soul. He hung his head. The priest closed his eyes and thought, “
The moment of the ending was dictated long ago. Now we close the chapter, but the book is not done, only my part in it.”

He stood, took a calming breath, gathered his hat and overcoat and left the office.

***

“Notify the Cardinal Secretary of State that I wish to have Cardinal Luciano taken into custody to await the pleasure of His Holiness.”

The young priest who received this message had been in Rome for a month. He stood paralyzed at Cardinal Manning’s words.

“Is it deaf you are, father?” the cardinal asked in his best jovial Irish English. Cardinal Manning smiled.

“Uh, no Eminence. I will call the Secretariat immediately.”

“Son, no, no, that isn’t the Vatican way. Take yourself off to the Secretariat and see the Secretary of State. Simple. Speak with no one else. His is the oldest office in the Curia. One does not flip out one’s iPhone and discuss such a thing. Do not worry; he will contact the Inspector General of the Corpo della Gendarmeria. From there we need worry no more.”

That said, worry cut deeply into the priest’s forehead. “Eminence, what if the Cardinal Secretary won’t see me?”

“Won’t see you is it? He is waiting for you now. Telephones do have their uses.” The cardinal’s smile, pleasant enough, never reached his green eyes.

The priest bowed slightly and left with a message that would change the complexion of the Vatican, the lives of thousands and the Catholic Church irrevocably. The young priest-messenger had no way of knowing his coming actions would change the world. He hadn’t been in Rome long enough.

***

The Basilica of St. Peter cast long late afternoon shadows across Cardinal Luciano's residence.  The air was thick with humidity, incense and foreboding. Hushed footsteps on thickly carpeted stairs and whispered conversations preceded Julian, Sokolov and their guide as they approached the cardinal's office door.

"Come," the cardinal said, a moment before a young priest knocked.

"Eminence…"

"Yes, I know. Show them in,” Cardinal Luciano said casually. “Do you know where Fr. Dominic is? No matter, tell him I will have need of him tomorrow.”

“Yes, Eminence.” The priest hadn’t seen Fr. Dominic all day. And he never would again.

Julian and Sokolov entered the cardinal’s darkening office. The cardinal motioned his guests to chairs in front of the cold fireplace and he smiled an ingratiating but wintry smile.  

Sokolov, a career criminal, scanned the room as he entered making note of doors, windows and anything he might use as a weapon should this cardinal prove to be a problem.

From the moment he crossed the threshold, his eyes never left the cardinal's face. Julian had employed his time in Rome, and the Jesuit Book, to build a thick wall around his thoughts. He wondered now if his defenses would be enough to keep the cardinal out.

‘Everything you need to know, you will find on his face.  Everything you need to see, everything you need to fear, you will find in his eyes. There you will find the answer too, the key.’ Julian recalled the words from the Jesuit Book to himself. 

"Gentlemen, I usually do not receive guests on such short notice." The cardinal's voice was relaxed and his Italian accented English was soft, expressive and ironical. "Since, it is Mr. Blessing, I have made this exception. Sadly, the press of business will be calling me away rather soon, so there is some haste." The cardinal smiled his humorless smile. 

"Church business, Eminence?"  The derision in Julian’s voice sounded mild. 

"Oh, Mr. Blessing, I exist to serve the Church only, as you know.  Therefore, all my business is Church business." 

"There is something I want, priest," Sokolov stated. His face mirrored his disgust. 

The cardinal looked balefully at the Russian.  “Mr. Sokolov, I can see you are a man built in mind and body for quick and often violent action.  I must tell you, these are traits I do not admire.  I see, also, you are missing your eyebrows and smell of smoke.” The cardinal looked to Julian, but he only shrugged. “Still, I will listen to your request,” the cardinal said and Julian’s mouth twitched. 

“I want a man in Vatican Bank to help my business. You are that man,” the Russian said and Julian shook his head and waited.

“You seem to be a man of many wants. Life, unfortunately is filled with many disappointments,” the cardinal said mildly. “I am a man with few real wants, but what I want, I always receive.

"For example, I want you to remove yourself and your organization from Rome. No, let us make it from Italy altogether.” The tone was mild and smooth and the cadence was relaxed.  Julian could feel the edge even if the Russian could not. 

The following silence was punctuated by the ticking of a clock near the cardinal’s desk and time seemed to move slowly before Sokolov said, “Eat shit, priest.”  

The Russian's accent was thick, but now doubly thick with distain.  “I have business here and my business is no business of yours. There are things you do not understand.  They are things that will get you killed. You can be dead any day I choose it, no matter who you are. So I’m not going anywhere.