The Angel of Milan (23 page)

             
I gave it to Dinard to hold in his hand. I knew he would be completely fascinated. As he studied it, I explained the inscriptions and the design element around the edges.

             
“Thank you, Adama, thank you. It is such a wonderful thing. To think of the Hebrew priests who have held this on each Yom Kippur in the court of the Great Temple.”

             
“You may carry it back to St. Andrew, if you wish, Father.”

             
“Oh no, Adama, what if I dropped it or lost it? No, here, please take it.”

             
“Very well, give it back then.”

             
I had just closed my hand around the Lot when someone behind us spoke and my ass immediately began to hurt.

             
I quickly turned to see the expected face of O’Malley smiling broadly at me. From the broken front tooth in his smile, I could see that Dinard had indeed given him his due on the street the other day.

             
“I thank you for finding that for me, Father Adama. I doubt that I would ever have thought of looking here. How appropriate a place for you and your little fat friend to meet your demise. May I have the Atonement Lot?”

             
O’Malley was not alone. The tall, lanky priest Donnelly stood next to him, and another dozen men around them. I reached for the HK, and as I drew it, something hit me in the back of the head, sending me to the ground. I was dazed for only a second, but had dropped the pistol before regaining my feet. The mob rushed us headlong with fists flailing. I know that I seriously injured four of them before several jumped on my back, dragging me to the ground. From the corner of my eye, I saw Dinard in the same predicament. The last moment I remember was biting down hard on a hand across my mouth as I received a crashing blow to my head. That internal buzzing sound in my ears was the prelude to unconsciousness, and just as the light dimmed in my eyes, I could have sworn I saw the Rabbi’s angel on the top of the Del Cielo vault…    

11
             
             
             
             
             
When I opened my eyes, Dinard was in front of me trying to get me to my feet. To my astonishment, I felt alright, and stood straight up. I immediately put my hand to the back of my head expecting to find blood or at least a lump the size of an egg, but there was nothing there.

             
My next surprise was to see a dozen men lying flat all about unconscious, as if they were all hit with a giant fly swatter. Instinctively, I picked up the HK pistol and put it in my waste band.   

             
“Dinard, are they dead?”

             
“No, just unconscious. Come now, we must leave here,” he said, taking me by the arm.

             
I stole a glance back at the top of the Del Cielo tomb. There was nothing there. Then I stopped short.

             
“The Lot. Where is the Lot?”

             
Dinard stopped pulling me as a question crossed his face.

             
Then I felt it, still in my closed fist. I slowly opened my hand, and there it was; I had not dropped it even when knocked unconscious. A smile came to Dinard’s mouth.

             
“God is gracious, Adama, but now we must leave. It is not wise to tempt the Lord thy God.

             
He continued pulling me down the path to the exit, but I had so many questions.

             
“Father, did you see the angel?”

             
“Whatever are you talking about?” he said, still hurrying me forward.
             

             
“Never mind, it was probably just a hallucination from the blow to my head. What happened to O’Malley and the rest of them?”

             
“Surely I don’t know, Adama. I woke up just as you,” he said, panting as he rushed me onward. “One second I was being beaten by that mob, and the next I was on my back, opening my eyes, staring straight up at the blue sky. The men around me—they were breathing, but lifeless like rag dolls. We must be gone before they wake up. Whatever happened to them, we don’t want to be here when they come about.

     Something strange had happened, but he gave me little time to think. His determination to reach the front gate was unyielding. 

             
We passed back though the Famedio and out the gate to the Piazza. Finally, Dinard slowed down to catch his breath. He was breathing like a race horse.

             
“Try to breath slowly, Father; lean over with your hands on your knees, and breath slowly now.”

             
“I’m sorry, Adama. I…I am too fat for all this running.”

             
Another moment passed, and his breathing was returning to
normal. I stood him up and looked to the street for a taxi.
Within minutes we were on our way back to St. Andrew all in one piece, with the Atonement Lot in my pocket.

             
“What now, Adama? I suppose now that you have the Lot, you will be leaving for Rome. I’m going to miss you… Things will be very quiet at St. Andrew.”

             
“I will leave for Rome, but not right away. To be honest, I am not even sure what to do with the Lot. Del Cielo has made an accusation regarding the cardinal that I must verify. If what he said proves to be true, then the Atonement Lot must never reach the cardinal’s hands.”

             
I found myself in a true dilemma. I had spent all my energy on finding the object, and hadn’t reasoned out what I would do with it if and when it came into my possession. There was also the question of keeping it. I wasn’t worried about Opus Dei any longer. They had already made their play for the Lot, and were soundly rebuked. Although exactly how, none of us would ever know for sure. They would be in no hurry to repeat the episode. Nevertheless, there was Del Cielo himself to consider. He had an interest in the object, he admitted so himself, but what interest? He seemed to be in no great rush to hold it in his hand. I wondered if that were only because he knew it could be his any time he wished. Alessandra had also warned me against releasing it to him. None of this would do.

             
“Father Dinard, how would you like to visit Lake Como?”      

             
“Como? Now? Whatever for?”

             
“We must settle the issue of the Atonement Lot before we go any further. Victorio Del Cielo…it is time to pay him a visit!”

             
Hearing myself speak those words, I wondered just what I was going to do when I got there. What could I possibly say to the man?

             
Hey, Victorio, I have the Atonement Lot. You’re okay with that, right? Good, glad to hear it. Ciao.

             
Lunacy, just lunacy. But what else was there to do? I had a strong notion that he already knew I had the Lot, anyway. Somehow, I didn’t think he would let it fly off to Rome without first getting what he wanted from it.

             
Then there was Alessandra. She went to great pains to hide it from him. However, it looked like he might have known exactly where it was all along. There was something more to whatever game these two were playing, and I was tired of being in the middle.

             
“Driver, we have changed our mind. Please take us to Lake Como.”

             
After being cursed and firmly told that it was impossible by the driver, he graciously accepted an exorbitant amount of Euros to reverse his decision. He happily announced that it would be his pleasure to take a drive along the lake. Unfortunately, he did not drive like Alessandra, and it was more than a hour before we arrived at the address.  
             
  

             
After enduring the driver’s comments about how well the church pays, we thanked him and watched as he drove back up the driveway out of sight.

             
“What now, Adama?”

             
“We go to the front door and knock, of course.”

             
“I hope you know what you are doing. You just don’t go up to the front door of homes like these and knock uninvited.”

             
“Make believe you are a Jehovah witness, and just do it.”

             
“Mother of God, I hope there are no dogs. They always have big dogs in places like this,” he said, making the sign of the cross.

             
“I’m not worried about the dogs, Father.”

             
“And why in God’s name not?”

             
“I can run faster than you.”
             
 

             
We reached the front steps and the door opened while we were still at the bottom. A rather large man in a vest and white shirt stepped out.

             
“You are trespassing. What do you want? Oh, excuse me, Fathers, I didn’t notice right off that you were priests. How can I help you?”

             
“We are here to see Victorio Del Cielo. Is he in?”

The man looked quite puzzled.

             
“Victorio Del Cielo? Whatever do you mean? The man does not reside here. I think you have come to the wrong place.

             
“Doesn’t live here? That can’t be, I was here only a few days ago and had lunch with him!”

             
Two other men appeared in the doorway behind him. Their dress was unmistakable as household help.

             
“Is there a problem, sir?”

             
“No, no, it is alright. Go on about your duties.” They immediately turned, and left the door.

             
“I’m sorry, Father, but I assure you that you have the wrong address. I know of Signor Del Cielo, and I believe he has offices downtown, but not here.”

             
“It can’t be.”

             
“It is. Now, please be on your way. I don’t mean to be disrespectful to you, Father, but this is a private home and you have no business here.”