Echoes Through the Vatican: A Paranormal Mystery (The Echoes Quartet Book 2) (5 page)

A full minute passed before the cardinal looked up, rang a small bell on the table, and a liveried steward arrived and served lunch.

“Mr. Blessing, do you mind if I call you Julian? It ‘tisn’t formalities we need to stand on, now is it?” the cardinal said. Julian enjoyed the Irish English sentence structure and the way the cardinal employed it not to charm but to disarm. Julian nodded knowing this relaxation of formalities was a one-way street.

“Julian, I told you when you arrived, it was my good self who meant to be of assistance to you,” the cardinal said. “Well, help you I shall. I’m afraid my authority is, however, strictly spiritual so the assistance I can offer is only my advice. I may be able to call in a small favor here and there to aid you though.

“You have come to my attention for several reasons. This is the Vatican and we all have our tasks to perform. In addition to overseeing the Vatican Bank, one of my duties is to watch over all things Irish. I am the resident Irishman and so the resident expert. At least my betters say that. I’ve always suspected I’m it because no one else would take the job of dealing with the Irish.” The cardinal’s smile was as practiced as his speech had been.

“Your friend, Dr. Dwyer, is missing.” The cardinal said it flatly, a statement of fact, but he looked grave. “This is a vital concern to me and to others.

“You are deeply tied to the Irish Republic, Julian. I understand you’ve applied for residency. Even without that, with your many ties to Ireland, you are now one of my flock. What concerns you, concerns me deeply.

“To that end, let me tell you this. Have a care, my son. You are swimming in a shark tank. I know many of the sharks personally and know how dangerous they can be. In my early days in Rome, I was bitten many times.”

Julian drifted into his own Irish accented English. “Ach, wouldn’t your Eminence be talkin’ about a time before he started biting back?” The cardinal eyed Julian carefully, smiled broadly and nodded his head.

“You have been to see Cardinal Luciano.” The cardinal held up a hand. “No need to say anything. Rome is still a very small town really and the Vatican is smaller still.

“Tread lightly around the Cardinal Archbishop. He is a man who is not only powerful, but he can be deadly. I know some who have suffered at his hands. I can say they are not the men they once were because of the exchange. I will not ask you about your conversation. I do not need to know the contents. Still, I can tell you that nothing said or done will be to your benefit.”

Julian nodded his understanding and asked, “Eminence, what would be the best way to protect myself?”

Cardinal Manning thought for a moment before saying, “Julian, my advice is to stay away from his Eminence, Cardinal Luciano. However, I know this is not advice you will follow – I’m not sure it is advice you will be allowed to follow. The cardinal has what is probably an unholy interest in you and he is unlikely to let you slip away so easily.

“I do have a resource you can use to help you with this, but we can speak of that later.”

Julian nodded.

“I know who you are, of course.” The cardinal smiled, toyed with his butter knife and let the sentence hang in the air, his green eyes alive with mischief.

After a mouthful of crab salad, Julian said, “Eminence, I can’t tell you how delighted I am to hear that. I frequently don’t know who I am, so it is good to find someone who does.”

“Yes, well perhaps I stated that incorrectly,” the cardinal chuckled. “Let us say, I know what you are – approximately. I know the life you live, although I’m ignorant of the how of it all. I’m familiar with your activities in Ireland, to a large extent, and your life in the United States before that. This is a subject upon which I have dedicated much study. It may seem odd to you, but I know many who are like you.

“You are acquainted with Mrs. Bridget Bragonier, of course,” the cardinal said. “She is probably the most intelligent, charming and terrifyingly formidable woman I have ever met. I knew her in her younger days. She was captivating then and has become more so with time, although it has been donkey years since I’ve seen her.” Julian said nothing and the cardinal continued.

“The Church has known of the group to which you, and she, and the others belong for a very long time. I will remind you, the Church calculates time in terms of centuries so very long is very long indeed.

“Careful study has been made of the works all of you do and those who came before you. I can tell you, scores of theologians and philosophers have debated, to exhaustion, the relative value most people like you have brought and continue to bring to the table. That value has been proven to be substantial.

“Holy Mother Church has dealt in the spheres of the corporeal and the incorporeal, the realms of the physical and the metaphysical, for millennia,” the cardinal smiled, “with successes and failures on both sides of that coin. The natural and the supernatural are well known to us and so you are perhaps better understood than you think.

“I am authorized to tell you, the abilities you and many of your associates wield, as well as your activities to date, present no obstacle to the Church.

“I cannot tell you that you have our support or blessing, but I can say we will not stop you or work against you. That, in itself, is an endorsement of sorts and one not without value.”

“You said, ’Most people like me,’ Eminence, but not all?” Julian said. “You mean we are not universally prized?” He smiled.

The cardinal smiled back and looked thoughtful. “I like you Julian. You are an honorable man, from what I can tell, and you try to do good work.

“For this reason and for your protection, I will tell you, there are those who share your gifts, but whose intentions are not your intentions.” The smile left the cardinal’s face and he looked stern and unyielding.

“Their motivation is purely one of self-interest. The results of their actions are often reflected in the haunted eyes of those they have harmed.

“Trust that men without honor, such as these, are well known to us and their activities are closely monitored. Still, they are dangerous,” the cardinal said.

Julian said, “Our earlier discussion about one of your brother cardinals and the discussion we are having now is, of course, related. Am I right, Eminence?”

Cardinal Manning smiled broadly and with his Irish accented English fully engaged again said, “Ach, sure it is, Mr. Julian; it stands like this wi’ me. Although your honor is free to say such a thing with confidence, a humble Irishman and a poor priest besides, would never dare to speculate.”

Julian and the cardinal shared a chuckle and the remainder of their meal was passed in pleasant conversation. Still the myriad of threats facing Julian were serious and, if possible, he wouldn’t leave without addressing them.

After lunch, Cardinal Manning walked with Julian to the front door of the Vatican Bank – a rare honor and not one lost on Julian. The cardinal became serious as they approached the security checkpoint.

“Julian, I mentioned I would suggest a way you might protect yourself.”

“I thought to remind you,” Julian said, “but knew you would circle back to it in your own time. I have, your Eminence, been among the Irish too long to think it would be otherwise.”

The cardinal smiled, reached into the wide scarlet sash of his cassock and handed Julian a piece of paper. “This is the name and address of,” Cardinal Manning hesitated searching for the right nuanced expression, “a friend. He is someone who will understand you, someone who is like you. In a way, he knows you better than you may know yourself and perhaps better than you wish he did.

“This man is knowledgeable in the ways of Rome, the workings of the Vatican and the mind of someone from whom you need to protect yourself.

“My son, make seeing this man your first order of business. He can help you in ways and in areas where no one else can. You can trust him with your life. One day, you may have to.”

“I understand completely, your Eminence. Thank you for taking time from your busy schedule to talk with me today. Still, there is something that is troubling me,” Julian said and the cardinal nodded and looked suitably concerned.

“Dr. Dwyer,” Julian said.

“Yes,” the cardinal said and his eyebrows moved closer together. “As I said, the doctor has been on my mind since I heard of it. I realize she is incredibly important to you and I understand the full impact of how important.

“I have contacted the authorities, of course, and have used my influence as best I can. Do not think they are handling this as anything but a case with the highest priority. As yet, I know nothing. I will continue to make inquiries of my own and to lean on the various police agencies. Please, know both you and the doctor shall be in my prayers. Go with God, Julian.”

***

Needing time to think, Julian declined the offer of a ride back to his hotel. He walked into the sunshine of a perfect Roman afternoon. He was deep in thought, considering the things the cardinal said and the things left unsaid. He was not so distracted that he did not sense the presence of someone who was a jumble of overheated emotions. He stopped before reaching the bottom step. Julian closed his eyes, hung his head and held out both wrists in front of him.

“Stregone – in the car now!” Inspector Belladonna Saviano barked.

The inspector and Julian were rocketed into the back seat as Enrico Marino, sped away from the curb. The car careened down narrow streets, disappeared into even narrower alleys, only to reappear on a broad thoroughfare. The vehicle shot through the gates of the Vatican and vanished into the heart of Rome.

“We have a problem,” the inspector said to Julian. “A very large problem and this time it isn’t you.”

Bogdan Sokolov didn’t so much shout into the telephone, he breathed fire. “You asshole! I give a fool like you a simple problem to solve. You were to bring me that dick, Blessing.

“‘Bogdan, of course you can trust your brother-in-law to do this simple thing for you.’ That is what I say to myself and what do you do instead? You send some other idiots who are now in jail! I say to myself, ‘I should just kill you’, but my sister would have to go find a new husband and next time he may be a bigger asshole than you! Is possible, but I do not see how.”

Bogdan Sokolov was unhappy and would soon get a lot unhappier.

***

The sedan sat in an underground parking garage. Belladonna, Enrico and Julian sat in the dark silence. No movement. No sound. The busy streets of Rome swarmed with cars, motorbikes and pedestrians. But for the three, the only sound was their breathing.

“There are people who want to kill you,” the inspector said. “We came to collect you this morning. I told you to stay in your room, so, of course, you had to go out. You do that a lot. Neither Enrico nor I like this habit of yours. The next time we will take stronger measures to keep you where we leave you.

“On this occasion, however, your disobedience probably saved your life. We, as I say, arrived to pick you up, but instead of you, stregone, we discover two Russians. Imagine our surprise.

“They were not happy about being arrested. It happens sometimes. My report will read that during the arrest, the suspects resisted and some small damage was done to the hotel room before they could be restrained. In fact, your room was destroyed,” the inspector said and smiled and shrugged.

“The hotel’s management was initially most unhappy and wanted you arrested too, but…” Julian cut in. “The hotel wanted me arrested? Russians in my room?”

“Oh, stregone.” She was at her most condescending.

“Now, follow along wizard. The Russians were there to kidnap you, after which I’m sure they would kill you. At least that is what they said after Enrico asked them. You know how polite Enrico can be – he has a way with people. We will explain all of this to you later.

“As for the hotel, well, they assigned one of their rooms to you and it became ruined. You must learn to take responsibility for things entrusted to you, no? Do not worry yourself though. The hotel’s manager is Enrico’s second cousin, so you will not be arrested.”

“Well, that’s something, I suppose,” Julian said.

“Yes, all was forgiven once he told them you had fled the country leaving your room bill unpaid. Enrico reminded his cousin that you had left a credit card on file with them. The room charges and all repairs will be in your next billing. You should thank Enrico for being so clever,” the Inspector said.”

“Like hell!” Julian shouted. “You two wreck my room and blame it on me. I have to pay for the damages and you tell the manager I fled the country. Do I have any of this right?”

“See Enrico, I told you he would understand. He is not so big a fool as you say he is,” the inspector said and her sergeant snorted.

“Well, I need to get my things.”

“No need,” the sergeant grunted.

“Enrico is a man of very few words; you may have noticed.” The inspector smiled. “He means, no need to go back because all of your things are in the boot of the car. I might add, you are very well organized, very neat in your habits. We threw it all in a plastic bag and brought it with us. You had some luggage, but it was bulky so we left it. Besides we were in a hurry.”

“My things are in a garbage bag? Jesus!” Julian hung his head in defeat and said, “Would you mind giving me a ride to another hotel? After all your ‘help,’” he put air quotes around it, “I think you’ll agree I need another place to stay.”

Enrico snorted again, shook his head and looked bored.

“You see, stregone,” the inspector said, “we are the police. It is our business to discover things. For instance, we have discovered you aren’t very good at this thinking business, so we have done all the thinking for you.

“We have managed to find you a charming little place where they will accept a man who uses a plastic bag, instead of luggage, and they will ask few questions. Not all of our hotels in Rome would.” The inspector smiled more broadly this time.

***

On the Piazza della Pilotta in the center of Rome, a man spoke in a voice just above a whisper. “Yes, Eminence. I understand completely.” He hung up the phone and leaned back in his desk chair. He steepled his fingers, and said softly, simply, “Good.” The word summed up his outlook for the future. “And now begins the end.”

***

“It’s a whorehouse!” Julian whispered his shout. Whispering, he didn’t sound as outraged as he was. However, his facial contortions made it very clear.

“Is it? Are you sure? You are far more familiar with such places than am I, it seems. I have no need to frequent such places,” the inspector said with a sadistic smile. “I will ask the proprietress if what you say is the case.

“Signore Blessing, may I present your hostess, signorina Joselina Conaletti,” the Inspector said. “Signorina, signore Blessing believes your establishment is a house of prostitution. Is this true? Surely, it cannot be.”

The old woman looked up at Julian with, if not madness, severe eccentricity in her eyes. She walked around Julian and his garbage bag of earthly possessions. Reaching out she squeezed his left bicep. She poked a finger into his stomach in a way that made it turn.

Julian tried to read this woman, but her signature was a muddle of emotions and avarice.

Signorina Conaletti smiled a licentious smile and cackled. Julian shivered. She did not look at him so much as examine him as one would a bug. She grabbed his right thigh and he jumped. She sniggered.

The old woman addressed the inspector in Italian, “Bella, where did you find such a pretty one? What is wrong with him that you would give him to us? No matter, for you, he can stay.”

The signorina addressed Julian in heavily accented English. “Signore, I am the owner of Casa Felicità. We do not provide whores. We bring joy to men in need of it. Belladonna can tell you of our good works.”

“Oh, many good works and all very legal. Several members of the government have been regulars for years. Apparently they are in need of much joy, no?” The women smiled at each other and the inspector called to her assistant. “Enrico, leave the whores alone. We are going.”

She continued to Julian, “Signorina Joselina says you can stay, but you must behave or you will have to leave.” The inspector added, to watch Julian squirm, “Of course, some of what you charge your customers will have to go to signorina Conaletti.”

“What!”

***

A man in his late sixties with sharp features and slate gray hair looked into the distance. His green eyes were hooded in thought.

A younger man in a conservative, perfectly tailored black suit asked a question and looked wary. “This newcomer, this Julian Blessing, will he will be trouble, do you think?”

“Nothing you need worry yourself about. Leave him to me. He will prove useful,” the cardinal said. His smile was thin and shrewd and Cardinal Manning’s Irish accent showed not at all.

***

Julian left the House of Joy, entered a taxi and gave an address to the driver. Ten minutes of insane driving left him breathing hard and standing in front of Sapienza University.

Bridget’s husband, Professor Bragonier, had given Julian a name and address for the chair of the antiquities department at Sapienza, Professor Agostini. Agostini was in possession of a copy of the papers Ailís had attempted to pick up from the express service.

Julian felt there might be some clue to her disappearance and doing something was always better than doing nothing.

No matter where he looked on the campus, he encountered block after block of purpose built architectural madness. The university was a mash up of styles. As he walked, he was treated to an absurd smorgasbord of collegiate gothic, Doric, baroque, neoclassical, modern and, what Julian thought of as just plain ugly buildings. Finding the antiquities department would be a miracle.

It appeared in the form of Giovanni Silvestri. The young man was in his very early twenties with fashionably long hair, tight jeans and a tee shirt that read ‘New Mexico ~ the Land of Enchantment.’

Julian stopped and turned when he felt Giovanni’s signature. ‘A young man with an uncommon interest in you,’ is what it said to Julian. The student stopped abruptly ten feet short and his face broke into a smile that disarmed coeds and charmed their mothers.

“I’m sorry, sir. You look like an American and a lost one at that. I need to practice my English and I am lost only half the time. We could help each other, no?” Giovanni said.

“You’re right. I am an American, but I’ve not yet begun to be lost. That, I suppose, will come in an hour or so of wandering around. I would appreciate some help.

“As for your English, I can tell you I have worked with Americans who didn’t speak the language as well as you.”

Giovanni smiled more broadly and extended his hand for an introduction. “Gio Silvestri. A humble student at the college of economics and business. How can I help?” A wild pack of young women passed on the sidewalk and flirted outrageously with the young man. He ignored them.

“I’m Julian Blessing and I am looking for the antiquities department.” Gio brightened. “Specifically,” Julian continued, “for Professor Agostini.” Gio paled.

“You wish to see professore Agostini? Agostini the Terrible? Agostini the Destroyer of Students? Agostini, the Embodiment of Evil and the Slayer of Academic Careers? Are you in need of a doctor? Are you ill? Only a madman would seek out that creature.

“Signore, a thousand apologies.” Gio looked contrite as he tried to collect himself. “I am sure you know what you are doing and have important business with the professore. I will happily lead you to the department. I will point out his office. I cannot get too near though.”

“Gio, your reticence to drop in on the professor is based on some personal experience?” Julian asked chuckling at the answer he knew would follow.

“We can walk in this direction.” Julian’s guide pointed the way. “My story is a short one. It is different from those whom the professore shriveled slowly.” Gio shivered violently.

“I was to major in history. I have always loved the subject and lived to be a teacher of history upon graduation.

“I had Professor Agostini as a tutor. At the end of our first session, he said he would kill me if I did not change my major. Economics and business was as far away from the professore as I could get.” Giovanni took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“As bad as all that?” Julian said.

“That bad and worse. The man is a horror. He is a fiend sent from hell to torment students. Many believe he drinks the blood of those who fail his courses. He is well stocked since nearly everyone fails. It is true,” Gio said and crossed himself.

Julian laughed, something he had not done in days. The sun was warm, the company was amiable and the walk a pleasantly slow one. It would be easy to lose oneself in such circumstances but there were other circumstances that sat heavily upon him.

They talked of America and Italy, New York and Rome. Gio was fascinated to learn Julian had been a broker on Wall Street and Julian was impressed his guide spoke five other languages.

Giovanni consulted a bulletin board to see if the professor was in class or would be in his office. They walked a bit further and Gio abruptly stopped at an archway that led to a brick, late gothic revival building.

“We have arrived, Mr. Blessing. That is you have arrived. I am just leaving. You will find the Professore From Hell on the second floor, room 250. This building only has two floors. If there were more, the professore would be found in room 666.” Gio made the sign of the horns in the general direction of room 250.

“Gio, you have been very kind. Please give me an email address. There are some contacts I can send you, along with a letter of introduction. I still have associates in New York. No one there has friends,” Julian said. “That is a thing you should remember.”

Giovanni rooted through his backpack for pen and paper. He wrote out his address and phone number and shook Julian’s hand vigorously. Julian watched as the young student walked up behind an especially attractive coed and draped his arm around her. She was not displeased.

Julian turned to look for the office and then stopped. Something was wrong. Something was out of place. What, he could not tell. That it was there, he had no doubt. Not a signature, but a presence, a darkness.

He knocked lightly on the door to the professor’s office. The signature of the man on the other side of this door caused Julian to smile. He knew a man like the occupant of this room – Professor Bragonier. “One professor is much like another,” Julian thought.

“Enter and state your business,” a man’s voice said in Italian. The voice was firm and brooked no disagreement. This was not a request, but a command and Julian understood the intent if not the words.

“Professore Agostini? Mi chiamo,” Julian began.

The professor held up his hand and interrupted. “Before you murder the language further, you are Mr. Blessing. Professor Bragonier told me to expect you. I have information for you and you are here to learn. That puts you in the top one percent of people on this campus. Students, Mr. Blessing, are a curse, but one with which we must live.” The man’s voice had softened. The accent was heavy, but the professor’s use of English was precise.

He indicated a chair and Julian sat in front of a badly battered desk. Stacks of papers stood ready for grading. Books on well-ordered shelves lined two walls of the small office. Prints of long ago battles hung on the walls. This was a room both timely and timeless.

The professor rose and walked to a locked file cabinet. Julian saw a small man with a huge presence. His signature was vital and strong. In his late sixties with a gray fringe of hair, he sported a goatee that gave him a carefully constructed demonic look.