The Chimera Sanction (5 page)

‘I speak with the Secretary and prepare the small tray—’

‘Cardinal Signorelli?’

‘Yes. Sometimes, in his absence, his assistant, Archbishop Ferris. I ask him when the Pope will be retiring, and if His Holiness has any requests.’

‘What kind of request?’ Dulac thought he sensed her distrust slowly melting.

She cleared her throat. ‘He sometimes suffers from insomnia, so I give him aspirin.’

‘Aspirin? I’m a little surprised, sister. To my knowledge, aspirin isn’t a sleeping aid,’ said Dulac, trying to disguise his disbelief behind a hint of curiosity.

‘For him it is. He says it relaxes him. Particularly when he’s had a stressful day.’

‘So you put the aspirin on the tray only when requested by the secretary?’

‘Yes.’

‘And who keeps the bottle?’

‘I do.’

‘And after you have finished, where do you store it?’

‘In the medicine cabinet, in my room….’ she said, her voice trailing off.

‘I’m sorry. Where?’

‘In my room.’

‘I see. Is the access to your room guarded?’

‘Well, yes but … no, not really.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘There’s the Swiss Guards, but they’re down the corridor.’

‘So someone could – excuse me, let me rephrase that. As far as you’re concerned, they don’t always see you enter or leave your room.’

‘Sometimes yes, sometimes not.’

Dulac wasn’t getting the answers he wanted to hear. He couldn’t believe the lack of security around the leader of the Catholic world.

‘Sister Vincenza, did His Holiness take aspirin last night?’

‘Yes, he did.’

‘And who requested it?’

‘The Secretary, Cardinal Signorelli.’

‘I see.’ Dulac paused for a moment. He knew he couldn’t continue in that line of questioning. She might perceive the next question he had in mind as discrediting Signorelli, and he didn’t know, couldn’t guage the amount of trust between them. He needed the nun’s cooperation. If anyone in the Pope’s entourage was beyond suspicion, it was her. It was common knowledge that she’d been Pope John-Paul I’s assistant as well, and had been first to see his body after his fatal heart attack.

‘Sister Vincenza, at approximately what time did you leave the tray at the Pope’s door?’

‘At about 10.30 p.m., as I always do.’

‘Did you happen to see His Holiness?’

‘Yes, he looked tired,’ she said, looking tired herself.

‘Did you happen to notice the Swiss Guards on duty when you left the tray beside the papal apartments?’

‘They were both there.’

‘Who would that be, sister?’

‘It was Haeker and Dumont, I think, no, I’m sure.’

‘Was it the same two when the Pope buzzed for help?’

‘I didn’t notice. But you can check their time of rotation. Colonel Romer has the schedule.’

‘Yes, of course.’ He saw the beginning of a smile on her worn face.

I’ve got her trust. Don’t rush her. Don’t break the trust.

‘Sister Vincenza, how long have you known Cardinal Signorelli?’

She paused. ‘About two years. His nomination is quite recent.’

‘You didn’t know him before that?’

‘No, only when he took office.’

Dulac paused. ‘Sister, that will be all for now. You’ve been very helpful.’

As she rose to leave, Dulac knew he had to ask his last question. ‘Sister Vincenza, one more question. Could Cardinal Signorelli have had access to your room?’ He didn’t like the way it sounded, but there was no other way of putting it.

‘Mr Dulac!’

‘I only want to know who could possibly have had access to that bottle. The drugs found in the Pope’s glass could have been put in that bottle.’

‘I see. So you also suspect me and the Cardinal?’

‘Unfortunately, I suspect everyone. It’s my job.’

‘I rarely lock the door, if that’s what you wish to know.’

‘So others might have access also.’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s all I wanted to know.’

‘Good day, Mr Dulac,’ she said and turned to leave.

Great, now I’ve offended the hell out of her.

‘Sister, before we finish, could you please get me the bottle of aspirin?’

‘Of course,’ she snapped.

As he waited for the nun to return, Dulac thought: maybe I should have held back and continued later. He knew that the trust he needed so badly was now, if not broken, at least seriously damaged. Suddenly, the nun rushed in.

‘I … I was sure I … I cannot find it anywhere. It’s gone.’

While Dulac waited in the library for Dumont, the Swiss Guard, he went through the logic of the kidnappers’ plan. If drugs had been exchanged for the aspirins, how could they be sure the Pope would take them? The timing included the kidnappers’ infiltration onto the grounds and neutralizing the helicopter pilot and co-pilot. It also depended on the absolute certainty of the appearance of the Pope’s falling ill that night, between 10.30 p.m. and early morning, before the pilot and co-pilot would be missed. Only one thing was certain: the Pope drank water every night. Dulac couldn’t even be sure the pontiff had taken only the bottled water. Then there was the missing aspirin bottle. Had it been used to smuggle the drugs by someone having access to sister Vincenza’s room? Cardinal Signorelli…. Yet others could have had access to her unlocked room. But the kidnappers couldn’t know for sure that the Pope would take aspirin that night. Predictability was essential to their plan. Yet Cardinal Signorelli had ordered….

Someone coughed. Dulac looked up to see the Swiss Guard, dressed in a blue uniform, standing in the doorway.

‘You must be Dumont,’ Dulac said.

‘Yes,’ said the blond, pale-complexioned young man.

‘Come in, come in. Please.’ Dulac offered him the chair in front of the desk. ‘Mr Dumont, I am Inspector Dulac of Interpol. Do you know why you’re here?’

‘Yes, Colonel Romer has briefed me. He mentioned that the Pope is resting in Gandolfo, but that an attempt may have been made on his life.’

‘Correct. Did you see anything unusual last night? Anything out of the ordinary?’

‘No,’ the guard said, as he squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.

‘Mr Dumont, how long have you been a Swiss Guard?’

‘Two years,’ said the young man, looking like an about-to-be-
chastised
schoolboy.

‘About the same time Cardinal Signorelli became secretary?’

‘He was already here when I joined.’

‘And what did you do before becoming a Swiss Guard?’

‘I worked on the family farm.’

‘Where?’

‘In the Valais, near Sion.’

‘I see. Apart from last night, has anything unusual, out of pattern, happened in the past, say, two months?’

‘Not really, except we’ve been asked to extend our shifts by an hour.’ Dulac smiled at the guard’s perception of the unusual.

‘By whom?’

‘Colonel Romer.’

‘And why is that?’ Dulac said, elbows on the desk, hands clasped.

‘He says he has fewer men. We must make do. How is the Holy Father?’

‘He’s fine. That will be all, for now. Thank you for coming. If
anything
comes to mind, call me.’ Dulac handed him his card.

The interview with Haeker, the other Swiss Guard on duty that fateful night, had proven just as inconclusive. Dulac now squarely faced the delicate prospect of questioning Cardinal Signorelli. He knew the
reputation
of the Vatican’s diplomats. Secrecy, evasiveness and ambiguity were their stock in trade. Inside the muted corridors of the Vatican, the saying went:

If you can avoid it, don’t even think it.

If you think it, don’t say it.

If you say it, don’t write it.

If you write it, well, don’t be sorry.

‘Good morning, your Eminence,’ said Dulac as he rose from behind the desk. He pointed to the chair. ‘Please.’

The cardinal sat down slowly, his corpulence overflowing on either side of the small seat. The prelate was a tall man for an Italian. His chin, barely distinguishable under layers of fat, had a shallow dimple to remind one of its past location. The quiet brown eyes surmounted by overlapping, tightly drawn eyelids, his sensuous-lipped, enigmatic smile only heightened Signorelli’s resemblance to an overdressed Buddha. Dulac was about to discover, however, that behind the benign-looking façade resided a razor-sharp mind and a stratospheric IQ.

‘Have the staff been advised and sworn to secrecy?’ said Dulac.

‘Yes. The official line is that the Pope is resting in Castel Gandolfo.
It’s being told on a need-to-know basis.’ Signorelli crossed his hands over his prominent belly and gave Dulac a condescending sneer.

‘Any reaction?’

‘Mr Dulac, it’s not the first time the Pope has interrupted his
schedule
to rest at Castel Gandolfo.’

‘But the swearing to secrecy. Didn’t that arouse suspicion?’

‘Not really,’ Signorelli said, looking bored.

‘What do you mean?’

‘We often require members of the staff to assure us, let us say, of a certain amount of discretion.’

‘Meaning?’

Signorelli leaned forward slightly and took the loose end of his fascia, as if to check its state of wear. Without looking up he said, ‘You might be surprised to learn, Mr Dulac, that not everyone wishes it to be known that they visited the Pope.’

‘I see.’

Signorelli dropped the end of the fascia and looked up at Dulac. ‘And vice versa.’

‘I was about to ask.’

Signorelli’s air of condescension had been replaced by a cold, hard stare. ‘Mr Dulac, you didn’t request this discussion purely to find this out, surely?’

‘Not exactly. Would you go through again, the sequence of events—’

‘Mr Dulac,’ interrupted the cardinal, ‘am I a suspect in this matter?’

Dulac waited an instant before answering, trying to regain the tempo of the questioning. It wasn’t the first time a VIP had tried to embarrass him by cutting to the chase. ‘Does it make any difference if I say no?’

‘I suppose not,’ said Signorelli, his air haughty again as he inserted both thumbs between the part of the fascia around his waist and his bulging black cassock.

‘Glad we understand each other, your Eminence. So when did you enter the Pope’s apartment?’

‘I think around quarter to three. Cardinal Legnano phoned me.’

‘Did you see anything unusual in or outside the apartments last night?’

‘Not really, no.’

‘And before?’

‘Mr Dulac, you don’t have to pry from me the slightest anomaly or unusual behavior of anything or anyone. I’m as deeply concerned about this as you are, and have been racking my brain to see what and how this happened. Unfortunately, I’ve come up as empty-handed as you seem to be.’

Swallowing the insult, Dulac smiled, his eyes still locked onto the cardinal. Dulac leaned forward, shoulders hunched, hands clasped on the desk. ‘Your Eminence, we both realize how delicate this is, but I’ve learned in my job that the mind plays tricks on the best of us. Something I might ask or say might trigger some seemingly insignificant thought or comment, which I might find vital. I know this is embarrassing, but it is necessary.’

The cardinal sat silent, arms crossed, giving Dulac that supercilious smile of his again. Dulac changed gears and went for the jugular. ‘Did you have access to the Pope’s drinking water last night?’

The prelate looked away, paused then said, ‘I suppose I did.’

‘When?’

‘Mr Dulac, if you are insinuating that I put the drugs in the glass, I would first have to know when the water would be poured in order to avoid detection, wouldn’t I?’

‘Which you didn’t?’

‘No. My access would be limited to the time when Sister Vincenza poured it, and the Pope drank it. I would have either had to go to Sister Vincenza’s room before she poured it, in which case she would’ve seen the drugs in the glass, or between the time she delivered it and the Pope opened the doors to his apartment and took the trolley.’

Dulac saw instantly where the Cardinal was leading him. ‘And the Swiss Guards would’ve seen you.’

‘Go to the head of the class, Mr Dulac.’

‘Unless they weren’t there. Did you order aspirin for His Holiness last night?’

‘As a matter of fact, I did. He said he felt stressed, so I spoke to Sister Vincenza. But you already know that since you interviewed her.’

‘I’m told she rarely locks her room. So anyone on that floor could have had access and substituted the dobutamine and arbutamine for the aspirin.’

‘I suppose.’

‘Including you?’

‘I find your question insulting, inspector. I won’t even consider answering it.’

‘You already have, your Eminence. Thank you.’

Inside the lower echelons of the Vatican’s administration, a vague, strained unease could be felt, but not identified. Following the Curia members’ meeting with the policemen, Sforza had returned dejectedly to his office. Unable to resolve the battle within his conscience between the divulgation and the keeping secret of the kidnapping, he’d requested another meeting with the cardinals in Legnano’s office.

An hour later, Sforza entered the ornately decorated room, only to find the cardinals already waiting, an air of impatience sketched on their faces.

‘Where is Cardinal Signorelli?’ asked Sforza.

‘With Inspector Dulac,’ answered Legnano from behind his desk. ‘He’ll join us shortly.’

‘I’ll get right to the point, your Eminences. I think we are making a mistake. I think we should announce the kidnapping,’ said Sforza.

Legnano bolted up from his chair. ‘We agreed not to, cardinal.’

‘People are already questioning the Castel Gandolfo story,’ said Sforza. ‘There’s bound to be a leak, and we will be seen, once again, as hiding the truth.’

‘Cardinal, may I remind you of St. Thomas Aquinas’ wise words,’ said Legnano. ‘When two moral principles oppose each other, find in your heart the greater one and apply it. Our greater responsibility here is to protect the Pope by helping the police.’

An uneasy silence permeated the room.

Undeterred, Sforza continued, ‘What if the Holy Father dies and we haven’t told the world about his abduction?’

‘Please, Monsignor, let’s not panic,’ said Legnano. ‘If we can buy another day for the police, we increase our chances of finding him, hopefully alive.’

At that moment, Cardinal Signorelli entered the room.

‘Ah, cardinal,’ said Legnano. ‘We are debating whether or not we should reconsider disclosure. What do you think?’

‘Absolutely not. We must give the police every opportunity to find
His Holiness,’ said Signorelli.

‘Any other votes for disclosure? None? The matter is settled,’ said Legnano. ‘We will announce only the theft of the helicopter. Cardinal Signorelli, please prepare the press release accordingly. It’s 11.55 a.m. Let’s reconvene at 1 p.m. and review the draft.’

The Cardinals were preparing to leave when Archbishop Ferris, Cardinal Signorelli’s assistant, suddenly burst into the room. ‘Monsignori, I have a reporter from Corriere Della Sera on the line. He says he’s received information from a credible source that the Pope has been kidnapped. He’s asking us to confirm or deny.’