The Angel of Milan (12 page)

             
I could see a hesitation on his face. It was to be expected, given the preference for privacy that I had displayed to him on several past occasions.

             
“Go on, what about Opus Dei?”    

             
“They are very active in Milano, and I have had run-ins with them in the past. Usually they stay away from St. Andrew, not because they fear anyone here in the least, but rather because there is no gain for them here. Our parishioners are steeled against their overtures to join them. Their attempts to seduce our youth have proven unsuccessful, so they ignore us for the most part. However, I have seen several of their members who are known to me in the nearby streets. I must think that it has something to do with you, Adama.”

             
Opus Dei, I hadn’t considered them! I expected Jews, Moslems, and probably this Del Cielo character, but why hadn’t I considered a source a little closer to home? Everyone else seemed to know about the Atonement Lot, so why not them, too…

             
Opus Dei was one of the few organizations in the Vatican that Burtuchi didn’t seem to have total control over. I remembered him passing a comment once that he would eventually put them in their place. They would certainly want to play in this arena if given the chance. They could be a nasty lot when provoked, and I didn’t want to see anyone at St. Andrew get hurt over this.

             
I had never taken anyone into my confidence before, and I was reluctant to even consider it now. I couldn’t help thinking that maybe it was because I really never had anyone I considered a friend before, at least not since my school days. The truth was that while I was more than often celibate physically, I was celibate socially, as well.

             
“It probably does have to do with me. I have ruffled someone’s feathers, someone who can call on others to do their bidding. I am afraid that I have brought trouble to St. Andrew.”

             
“It is the Atonement Lot, isn’t it?”

             
“Yes and no.”

             
He looked puzzled, and I wasn’t surprised. I had unintentionally given him a slippery answer. I knew he would not push his questioning further, so I made the decision to tell him what I knew. Certainly I owed him something after he remained silent with the police and hid the HK.

             
“Very well, here is the crux of the matter. You know I have been sent to recover the Atonement Lot. It is obvious that many others know this as well, as you have already told me yourself. If Opus Dei is involved, it is more than just the Atonement Lot. There is a power play within the Vatican, and possession of the Lot would aid them in their political intrigues both within and outside of the Vatican walls.

             
“Aside from the usual suspects from the Middle East, and now Opus Dei, there is one entity that is still a wild card in the whole matter, and that is Victorio Del Cielo. My superiors have reason to believe that he would want the Lot for himself. Against instructions, I have decided to seek him out, and find out what he knows for myself. My suspicion is that they fear something I may learn from him—information that I was never supposed to hear, and it is quite possible they know I intend to see him.

             
Dinard was busting trying to remain polite and contained. I have to give him credit for being able to control his desire to know more.
What the hell
, I thought,
let’s let it go, and see what comes of it
. I owed him that much.

             
“Father Dinard, what do you know about Grigori?” 

             
By the look on his face, I could tell he almost wet his pants with excitement. I then related the whole thing to him, from the discovery of the Atonement Lot, to my meeting with Burtuchi, on through Crochi’s demise, and finally how I found Giovanni. He soaked it all in like a sponge. He didn’t say a word for a long time. I was beginning to think he was dumbfounded by the whole thing. Of course, I was wrong. That round ball on top of that round body had been thinking a mile a minute.

             
“Well, Adama, we know by Giovanni’s assassination that another presence has made itself known. Possibilities include Opus Dei, and even Del Cielo. We have to figure out if it’s just one or both.”

             
“We, Father? Who is ‘we’?”

             
“You and I, of course, Adama. You can’t possibly think that I can hear everything you have told me and not want to be part of this adventure.”

             
The little man’s eyes were as large as saucers now and sparkled like a child’s at the sight of an ice cream cone. I have to say, I should have expected it from Dinard. In the short time I had known him, I discovered that his appetite for life was as large as his considerable appetite for food. Between that and his fascination with religious artifacts, I should have seen it coming. I couldn’t say I wouldn’t appreciate a comrade, but I had always worked alone. Many of my deeds were better accomplished without witnesses.

             
“I’m beginning to regret taking you into my confidence, Father. Are you forgetting that several people have already died in this “adventure,” as you call it? I assure you that it is anything but an adventure. It is dangerous business, where the stakes are for keeps. I do not want to see you get hurt.”

             
His expression turned down, resembling a puppy dog told to stay and not to follow. To this day, I don’t know if it was just a well rehearsed act or if his feelings were that severely hurt. In either case, he had me.
Very well
, I thought,
if you want in, you can have it!

             
I sighed. “Father Dinard, I will welcome your help. You have a keen mind and have already proven yourself capable. However, from this moment on you must do whatever I say. Understand that my mission is my priority, and if it comes down to it, I will sacrifice your life for its success. Please do not die on me, Father, I would be most disappointed.”

             
In one large movement, he stepped forward opening his arms. He was so excited that for a moment I thought he was going to hump my leg. Thankfully, it was only a strong embrace that crushed me against his massive belly.

             
“Thank you, Adama, thank you. I promise to do as you say. I feel that I am finally going to be involved with something larger than myself. You know, the life of a parish priest can be less than exciting at times.”

             
“Just please promise not to get yourself killed on me, Father.”

             
“I promise.”

             
The die was cast. I now had a new ally, seeing how the last one met his demise. I was quite serious though; I didn’t want him hurt. I had truly become fond of him, all three hundred pounds.

             
“Adama, are you willing to indulge me, and take a walk down into the cellar records room with me?”

             
“Whatever for?”

     “Now that you have told me about Cardinal Burtuchi’s suspicions, I must show you something.”

             
“Oh no, not you, too?”

             
“Adama, why can’t you even consider that there is more to this world than can be seen with the naked eye? I can only suppose that you have been too caught up in the business of the faith to take notice of the spiritual world all around us. Please try not to be angry with me. I know this goes against all you have come to know and believe. If you will be patient, I will show you what I have found. If you still think it is nothing then I will not bring the subject up again.”

             
I tell you, it was hard for me not to turn and go out the door, but I remained seated against my better judgment.

             
“Very well, tell me what you have found.”

             
“I must show you so you can judge for yourself.
There is something strange concerning Del Cielo that I want you to see. I cannot clearly explain it without showing it to you.”

             
I could only stare at him. I was sure he was going off into the land of superstition and legend again. I feared Dinard’s interests, or rather, fixations, on religious myths would compromise his otherwise logical and astute mind. Had I taken
a dreamer into my confidence? I was regretting the action already; what had I been thinking? Damn that wine!

             
“Oh please, Dinard, do not go down the path I think you are. I had no choice but to put up with it from Cardinal Burtuchi, but I do not have to hear this nonsense from you, too. I am already sorry I told you anything at all.”

             
“Please, Adama, indulge me. I promise you will not be sorry.”

             
I stood shaking my head but said okay at the same time, in resignation. The little man beckoned I follow him as he started down the long hallway to the back of the church. With his shoulder, he pushed open a door that was swollen into its frame. It made a scrapping noise on the floor as it opened. Feeling for a switch on the wall, he turned on the single light bulb that hung over the worn wooden stairs. The place smelled of dampness and mold just like the cellar of other old houses. At the bottom of the stairs was a pull chain that turned on a string of single light bulbs the length of the cellar. The walls on both sides were lined with file cabinets, some appearing quite old.

             
“The other day when you asked me about Del Cielo, I was surprised to realize how little I knew about such a leading family in Milano, and my curiosity got the better of me. I was sure that there would be some record in our archive of their involvement in major diocese projects over the years, so I came down here,” he said, laughing.   

             
“What is so funny?”

             
“I was just thinking about what difference there must be between our archive and that of the Vatican,” he replied, laughing again.

             
“I see your point,” I replied, looking around at the dust and tatter once more as we walked on toward the end of the room.

             
“Here we are—1948, the dedication of St. Andrew school. It was not long after the war, and the rebuilding of Milano was the focus of the entire city. I recalled a bit of trivia one of the old priests told me when I first arrived at St. Andrew. He said to me that the school should have been named St. Del Cielo for the funds the family had put up for the construction and purchase of books. Anyway, look at this,” he said, handing me a yellowed file folder.

             
I thumbed through the pages of mostly handwritten requisitions and labor accounting forms.

             
“What is it you want me to see? This is all just crap!”

             
“The last pages, Adama. The dedication ceremony, the newspaper clipping.”

             
I found the clipping he was speaking of and began to read the reported account.

             
“No, no, Adama, look at the picture!”