Magnificat (51 page)

“I would not dispute with you,” said Cardinal Dellegos. “It may be vanity, but I miss Eminence.” He rose and went for a bit more port. “I want to celebrate Cardinal Gemme becoming one of our company.”

“History may deride us,” said Cardinal Sinclair as he topped off Cardinal Dellegos’ port, “but our reasons are worthy.”

“History isn’t my concern,” declared Cardinal Belleau, watching Cardinal Gemme narrowly. “The opinion of the world is never our concern.”

“It doesn’t matter what history says about us,” announced Cardinal Ruhig, taking up Cardinal Belleau’s argument. “The Church is a spiritual institution. We are fallible enough to forget this, though we cannot avoid it for long. It is of the utmost importance that we seek to restore the Church to her rightful place in the world. Let history say whatever it likes, we will have done the tasks we have sworn to do.” He could not stop smiling now. It had been well over a year since he had been able to feel so completely satisfied in himself.

Cardinal Sinclair pursed his lips. “Well, do you know, I’d like to think that history will understand what we have to do, and will use us kindly, for the sake of the Church.” He strolled over to the large rosewood desk where the owner of the office usually sat. “And I want the Catholics throughout the world to understand, too. I want them to realize that we had to act.”

“Yes,” seconded Cardinal Belleau. “I don’t think that we will have accomplished as much as we hope to while there is continuing support for all the unconscionable acts that have been called reforms. In addressing the ills that are always besetting the world, in attempting to bring about their worldly resolution, the spiritual might of the Church has been compromised. That cannot be tolerated. Being rid of that Chinese woman is not sufficient. We must restore the Church to her station.”

“Yes. Otherwise we cannot undertake this…task.” Cardinal Sinclair looked over at Cardinal Gemme. “We must not do this for revenge.”

Cardinal Gemme swung around to stare at him. “Revenge?” He began to rise, then resumed his place. “You believe that I am throwing in my lot with yours for something so paltry as revenge? Jesus taught us to turn the other cheek.” He touched his bandages for emphasis. “I am a Christian, a Roman Catholic. I do not hold grudges and I forgive those who have done me ill. What I cannot forgive is the injury this Chinese woman had done to the honor of the Church and God.”

“You have been given much to bear,” said Cardinal Sinclair relentlessly. “If you wanted to match her injury for injury, it would not be unexpected. Jesus Christ taught us to forgive, but He has always forgiven us when we have not been able to have His mercy ourselves.” He downed his whiskey and poured another.

“I wouldn’t do that,” said Cardinal Gemme, his ire making his voice more like static than before. “I have searched my soul. I know that my motives are not so despicable. I know I have been blinded.”

“Have you?” Cardinal Sinclair shrugged.

Cardinal Ruhig, who had watched this exchange with growing dismay, said to Cardinal Sinclair, “Why are you subjecting Cardinal Gemme to this examination? He is not a criminal on trial, to be made to answer the inquiries of a judge; he is a man who has come to us, to offer us his convictions and his support.” He looked at the other Cardinals. “Do the rest of you question him as Cardinal Sinclair does?”

“No, of course not,” said Cardinal Dellegos at once. “I have already asked him many, many questions. I am satisfied—”

“You had to be, or you wouldn’t have brought him,” said Cardinal Sinclair impatiently. “What about you?” he asked Cardinal Belleau. “Are you satisfied that Cardinal Gemme is not seeking vengeance for his injuries and public shame?”

“What shame?” Cardinal Gemme was more angry than before. “The shame was the riot, and the desecration of the great churches.”

“According to the newsmedia, you ran. They had taped it.” Cardinal Sinclair cocked his head to the side. “And boy-o, that isn’t a thing most men want the world to see.”

Cardinal Gemme glared at Cardinal Sinclair. “You know as well as I do that the news distorts things. The news wanted the world to see a Cardinal run, and so they created the opportunity. I didn’t run. My priests forced me to leave when the rioters started throwing rocks. They didn’t want me to be hurt. But as you see, they were a little too late.”

Cardinal Belleau scowled, and said to Cardinal Gemme, “It may be as you’ve said. We will never be certain, one way or the other. But you must understand why we are skeptical.” He turned. “I can understand why you have asked the questions you have,” he said to Cardinal Sinclair. “I wish Cardinal Fiorivi were with us, for his judgment is very sound. But he is not willing to take a stand, either for or against the Chinese woman. He says he is prepared to debate with any man, but anyone the Holy Spirit has endorsed twice cannot be disputed.” He swatted his hands together as if to rid them of dust. “I have reservations, Eminence,” he said directly to Cardinal Gemme. “It would not be true if I said otherwise. But I thank God that you have come to us, whatever your reasons, for you are known to be a martyr. That will give us legitimacy when the time comes to answer for our actions.”

“And just what are those actions?” asked Cardinal Sinclair. “It’s time we stopped dancing around it, Eminences. We have a dirty job to do, and we’d better get on with it.” He put his free hand deep into his jacket pocket, his expression alert and thoughtful “We’ve ruled out explosives, because of the Vatican itself: we could damage it beyond all repair. It would not be right to endanger the Vatican unless it was the only way we could see an end to this woman.” He paced down the room, stared out the side window, then paced back. “Thanks to Cardinal Tayibha’s death, Security is on the alert for poisons. And we have seen that poison does not always reach its mark. We must not make that mistake again.”

Cardinal Gemme shook his head. “There is more than one way to poison. If certain substances were introduced into her food, they might be found; but what of those poisons that can be spread on the skin, and vanish before the body is cold? They are not easily obtained, but men in our line of work”—his attempt at a smile was ghastly—“ought to know someone who could provide us with what we seek.”

“It is too dangerous,” said Cardinal Belleau. “Poison is not going to work. We must find another way.” He lowered his head. “I listen to myself and I cannot believe what I hear. That I should join those attempting to kill the Pope—”

“But she is
not
the Pope,” said Cardinal Dellegos with sudden passion. “She is an imposter, sent to throw the Church into disorder. We were duped by Satan to endorse her.” He put his hand to his face. “We are all honest men. We have made the Church our lives. We have sworn with the most sacred vows to serve her. And it was our piety that brought us to this catastrophe.” He spoke softly, as if his heart had broken.

“Still, we are planning to commit a murder,” said Cardinal Ruhig as bluntly as he could. “We had better get used to the notion, for it is the truth.” He placed the palms of his hands together, in tension, not in prayer. “From now until we are able to put an end to this terrible period, we cannot afford to deceive ourselves. We are plotting murder. When we have done it, a Chinese widow will be dead.”

“And the Church will be restored,” said Cardinal Gemme, his eyes glittering. “If one of us, or all of us, must answer to mundane authorities for what we do, what does it matter? I will not deny my actions, or my reason for them. If that means my death, then I will pray God to lift me up to His Right Hand, knowing that my heart killed for love, not for malice.”

“Very good. A pity that there are no cameras to record that for your court appearance,” said Cardinal Sinclair. “This is the reason I am not confident about you, Eminence,” he said directly to Cardinal Gemme. “I am worried that you will want the endless notoriety.”

“Notoriety is offensive to me,” said Cardinal Gemme, becoming insulted.

“Notoriety is very attractive, if it can be turned to personal advantage,” said Cardinal Sinclair. “We’ve all used the trick from time to time, haven’t we?” He looked at the others, then returned his attention to Cardinal Gemme. “You have been very visible. It isn’t easy to give that up.”

“I wish I knew why you have chosen to attack me this way, Eminence,” said Cardinal Gemme with sudden humility. “If you had wanted more exposure to the newsmedia, you might have told me. I would have done everything I could to bring you into greater prominence.”

“That’s the trouble!” said Cardinal Sinclair with heat. “You continue to equate what you do with public attention. We are not here for public attention. We do not seek it. If possible, we will avoid it. But the fact of the matter is that what we intend to do will draw attention to us. When that happens, we will not want one of us to turn the whole calamity into innuendo and…and performance.” He turned on his heel and walked back to the concealed bar. As he poured yet another whiskey, he added, “I pray God your purposes are as you say, Eminence. For we are placing our lives in your hands.”

Cardinal Gemme was about to defend himself when Cardinal Ruhig laid his hand on the Frenchman’s arm. “Not now.” Then he went to join Cardinal Sinclair. If this were a taste of what their meeting would be, he wanted more fortification than his nerves alone provided.

Chapter 27

By the time the reception was an hour old, Dame Leonie wished she had worn more comfortable shoes; her feet were so sore from walking on four-inch heels that about the only thing she could concentrate on was concealing the pain. Yet the shoes were part of the diplomatic uniform, she reminded herself as she tried to flex her toes.

“Delightful evening, Dame Leonie,” said the Ambassador from Sweden to Italy. “I can’t tell you how pleased we are that policy on these events has become more flexible at the Vatican.”

“I’ll inform the Pope,” said Dame Leonie, trying to calculate how much longer she would have to be on her feet.

The Ambassador’s wife smiled, her manner flawlessly gracious. “I think most of Europe…of the world, for that matter, is pleased at the changes Pope An has brought to the Church. One feels that Catholicism has accepted the responsibility for so many things that previously it ignored. The King’s speech on Friday applauded the Church for changing its position on divorce.”

Dame Leonie’s lavish apartment was crowded to the limit with most of the diplomatic and artistic lions of Europe. A small fortune in fresh flowers turned every room into a garden, and in the last glow of sunset, the open windows revealed Rome at its deceptive, glamorous best.

“He was very encouraging,” said Dame Leonie, who had not listened to what the King of Sweden had to say. She smiled, determined to stay on her feet. “If you will excuse me?”

The Swedish Ambassador bowed slightly. “I must say, Dame Leonie, that I did not expect the Church to endorse such sweeping reforms.”

Dame Leonie kept her smile in place. “You will agree that in the last decade, much of the world has endorsed sweeping reforms.” She thought she would fall over if she had to stand up much longer.

There was a gentle cough at her elbow and she looked over to see Vitale, Cardinal Cadini beaming at her. “I’ve brought you some of your own excellent champagne, Madame. Your staff have had their hands full with your guests, and I suspected had not yet got around to you. I hope you will share this with me?” He held up two glasses. In his impeccable dinner jacket he blended into the reception with practiced ease. “Perhaps you could spare me a moment?”

“Thank you,” said Dame Leonie, taking the glass and tasting the wine for the first time that evening.

Cardinal Cadini’s beneficent grin widened. “I’m not so young as some of you; would you indulge me?” He indicated a small cluster of chairs on the far side of the main room.

“Gladly,” she said with feeling.

“It seems to me,” said Cardinal Cadini, strolling along beside Dame Leonie, making his way through the crush with the ease of long experience, “that while Pope An is adjusting the world, she might do something about women’s shoes. As a Chinese woman, you’d think she’d have strong feelings on the subject. Foot binding, and the rest of it.”

“You’d think,” said Dame Leonie. She selected one of the wide, velvet-upholstered chairs and sank onto it. “Of course, now I shan’t want to get up.”

“Indulge yourself, Leonie; your evening is a triumph,” advised Cardinal Cadini as he sat down. He lifted his glass to her. “I must congratulate you on a masterful stroke.” The sound of other conversations was a constant roar, and their talk was carried on in heightened voices, as if they were walking beside the ocean and had to compete with the breakers.

She looked at him, doing her best to keep her expression unchanged, though she had almost choked on her champagne. “How do you mean, Cardinal?”

“Oh,” he said to her happily, “to have so…illustrious a company here, and only a week after the tabloids screamed scandal about your divorce—very deft, Madame.” He drank another sip of champagne in her honor. “You can’t imagine how much I admire this.”

“Thank you,” she said, and added, “I trust that not everyone is so acute as you are.”

“Some of them must agree with me. In such company, grand gestures carried off well are respected, aren’t they?” He finished the champagne and set the flute aside. “I understand the Pope is expected later this evening. The crowning achievement, if you’ll permit me to say so.”

“Thank you.” Dame Leonie set her champagne aside, unfinished. “It wasn’t intended as a diplomatic coup.”

“And is all the more successful for that. I needn’t say so, though. You’re skilled enough to know this.” He leaned back against the velvet cushions. “It is my besetting sin, this love of elegance and good things.” He sighed with pleasure.

“You share that sin—if it is a sin—with most of humankind,” said Dame Leonie, deciding that she would ask Luisa Fuomo to bring her a less dreadful pair of shoes. Not quite yet, she decided, but in an hour, after the Pope had arrived.

Cardinal Cadini interrupted her planning. “I don’t mean to pry, but what plans for protection have you made for Pope An?”

She turned, startled. “I made arrangements with Dionigi Stelo the day before yesterday. There are more than fifty security people here.” Her heart thudded once. “Is there something I should know?”

He shook his head once, his face changing. “I don’t know. I can’t rid myself of the notion that there is danger under our noses. It may be nothing but thirty years of Vatican maneuvering speaking, but I would recommend caution.” He signaled one of the sixty waiters for another two glasses of champagne. “I must be getting old, and jumping at shadows because my eyesight is failing.”

Dame Leonie shook her head. “If you’ll forgive me, Cardinal Cadini, your eyesight is keener than most, and well you know it.”

He shrugged. “My tall Texan friend is better than I am.”

“Your tall Texan friend is in Houston, and he is probably relying on your report for this evening,” said Dame Leonie with asperity. She took the second flute of champagne from the waiter but kept her attention on Cardinal Cadini.

“He will be gone for another six days. I admit that I would prefer he was here.” He accepted his second glass of champagne and once again offered a casual toast to Dame Leonie. “Let me tell you, you have my respect and admiration, Dame Leonie. And I hope you come through your divorce as unscathed as is possible.”

This time she allowed herself to respond more candidly. “I think that’s more in Sir Arthur’s hands than mine, don’t you?”

“Only to a point,” said Cardinal Cadini thoughtfully. “If you permit yourself to be dragged into his ploys and his schemes, you will not do well. He wants to cause damage and you do not. You’re wise to keep well out of it.”

“I have very capable attorneys,” said Dame Leonie, glancing around once to be certain that no one was listening.

Cardinal Cadini caught this motion and knew its meaning. “Don’t worry. Most of them are more interested in finding out the latest gossip—your divorce is old news for them.” He shoved himself to his feet. “And I fear I ought to do my part. Thank you again for having me at this…celebration?”

“That’s as good a word as any,” said Dame Leonie cautiously.

“It is an excellent word,” Cardinal Cadini declared, very pleased with himself. “And I see that my old friend Professor Bell is here. I ought to have a word or two with him.” He started away from the three settees. “Incidentally,” he said, turning back, “you will want to speak with Sergios, Cardinal Phinees. Another masterful stroke, I must say, inviting him. Everyone wants to meet the new Cardinal.”

“Pope An requested it,” said Dame Leonie.

“Of course she did. He is her first Cardinal,” said Cardinal Cadini. “Only thirty-six, and from Cyprus. I am impressed.” He winked at her, then ambled away into the crowd.

Dame Leonie watched him, her eyes distant. How many of the others here, she asked herself, were aware of the many currents flowing through this gathering? And how many of those currents did she recognize? Mightn’t there be some she knew nothing of? What if the Eurocops had not anticipated danger? It was reassuring to have Axel Maetrich, wearing a Roman collar, coordinating half the security staff, but what if their precautions were not sufficient? The notion disturbed her, and she took a little more champagne. In another moment she would have to get back onto her aching feet and continue to circulate through her guests.

“I’ve missed you.” Willie Foot leaned over the back of the settee and took her free hand, lifting it quickly to his lips, turning it rapidly so that he could kiss her palm instead of the knuckles.

She turned, startled and pleased at once. “Willie.”

He looked down at her, his eyes alive with his passion for her. “If you tell me this isn’t wise—”

“No one is paying any attention,” she said, paying little attention to the rest herself.

“Even if they are, you’re going to be a free woman soon. What you and I do won’t matter then. Will it?” He wore his dinner jacket with the slouchy ease of long habit. “How much longer, do you think?”

“My attorneys haven’t advised me yet,” she said softly. “As soon as Arthur agrees to a settlement, I’ll—”

“Do you think he will agree?” Willie cut in, frowning.

“Yes. After everything he’s said in the press, he can’t refuse. He’s labeled me with every despicable name he can think of. He can’t remain married to me after this. If he won’t settle, he’ll compromise himself too badly.” Recklessly she finished her champagne.

Willie’s eyes narrowed. “I could flay him for what he’s said.”

“That
would
make things better, wouldn’t it?” Her sarcasm was lightened by her hand coming to rest on his. Her eyes pleaded with him, mixing anxiety and trust. “We have to be patient a while longer.”

“And what then?” he asked, leaning a little closer to her. His voice was so low that she had to concentrate to hear it. “Will you live with me? Will you marry me, finally? I don’t want any more of this backstairs nonsense. I don’t want to have to be discreet. I want to lie beside you every night. I want to wake up with you. I want to be able to touch you without damaging your reputation. I don’t want to have to sneak about and lie any longer.”

She made a small gesture to silence him though she wanted him to say more. “I…I can’t now. I want everything you want, but not here.” She forced herself to break away from him, to get back on her sore feet. She smoothed her long dress and adjusted her smile.

“We’ll talk later,” Willie promised her, and obligingly moved on to the world-famous director who had just finished a tremendous film about the Knights Templar.

Dame Leonie glanced swiftly at her watch: Pope An would arrive in twenty minutes. It was time to alert Axel Maetrich so that he could position his staff. She was grateful that Pope An had been willing to augment Vatican Security with Eurocops, for a gathering like this one was more than Stelo’s people were used to handling. She had almost reached Maetrich, standing with one of the catering staff and an angular, anonymous gentleman with restless eyes, when she felt a hand on her arm.

“Dame Leonie,” said Dmitri Karodin, giving her a slight bow. “Quite a splendid gathering.”

She stared at the head of the KGB, recognizing him at once and trying to think of something to say beyond an automatic, “Thank you.” All her experience gave her the necessary small-talk. “I had no idea you were in Rome.”

“I am here with colleagues,” he said smoothly, paying no attention to her shock. “A whim, this visit, nothing more.” His clear, penetrating gaze rested on her face, then flicked away. “How could I stay away? The opportunity to meet a woman I very much admire.” He brought his eyes back to her face and smiled at her. “Pope An.”

“You admire her?” Dame Leonie was having difficulty following him.

“Oh, profoundly. She is unique, and not for the reasons everyone cites. How many humane reformers have there been in the past? Usually we have had to settle for one—humane or reformer, but not both in the same person. Those who were humane were usually corruptible and those who were reformers were also intolerant zealots. Not much of a choice between them. But this woman—at least so far—has been both. How remarkable. I consider myself privileged to be able—” He stopped abruptly as Cardinal Gemme came up to Dame Leonie.

Cardinal Gemme paid no attention to Karodin; he planted himself in front of his hostess. “I must talk with you. It is urgent. I regret the interruption.” This last afterthought was nothing more than a formality.

Dame Leonie nodded, looking at Karodin, a faint line between her brows. “Perhaps—” she began, not wanting to offend him. She tried to block out the pain of her feet; she would have to change shoes.

Karodin gave an equivocal smile, his eyes on hers, then moved away without a word.

“I have to speak with Pope An as soon as she arrives,” said Cardinal Gemme without apology. “She is in danger, and I can identify the danger.”

“Oh?” Dame Leonie knew better than to reveal the sudden apprehension that seized her.

“You doubt me?” Cardinal Gemme demanded.

“I don’t know how to answer that, Cardinal,” she said at her most reasonable. “Don’t you think it would be better to tell this to Dionigi Stelo or one of the Eurocops?”

“No!” This outburst attracted stares, and he forced his voice lower. He had come to hate being stared at; stares reminded him of how ruined his face was. “I have to speak to the Pope. Only to her. As soon as she arrives. You must arrange it. I won’t be responsible for what happens if you fail me.”

“Cardinal Gemme,” Dame Leonie warned, “you don’t—”

“There is danger, I tell you. I must warn her. It is up to you to do this for me.” He started to say something more, then changed his mind. “You see to it, Madame. I am depending on you. I won’t answer for what happens if you don’t.” He took a step back and trod on the shawl of the Polish Ambassador’s wife. He said a brusque word to her, then addressed Dame Leonie once more. “When Pope An arrives, you make sure I may speak with her at once.” With that he moved away into the crowd.

As Dame Leonie stared after him in consternation, a soft voice spoke at her elbow. “I think you ought to know: he is carrying explosives.”

She spun around and found Dmitri Karodin beside her once again. “What?”

“Under his jacket. It is the very latest plastic, about the size of a small book. The fuse is two-phase, and he knows how to use it.” There was amusement in his eyes now, and a trace of sympathy. “I have one or two assistants with me. They discovered the Cardinal’s little surprise shortly after he arrived.” He studied the back of his hand. “I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to speak to your security people.”