personally.”
“You’re very wise, Leopold. I hope you will stay close to us in the days to come.”
“I plan to stay until after the funeral, Eminence, longer if you need me.”
The cardinal paused for a moment, looking down at the floor. He then lifted his gaze and fixed Leo with what could only be called a look of total exhaustion. “I fear I must cancel our lunch appointment today. I have something of a situation on my hands, and I’m sure you need some time for solitary reflection.”
Leo’s concern and curiosity was getting the best of him. “Can I be of any assistance, Eminence? I noticed all the security men around. Is everything alright?”
Lundahl’s look of exhaustion disappeared. “Oh...yes...of course. Coincidentally, Father Emilio was notified that some valuable historical papers went missing from the Vatican library last night and our security people are looking for them. Sometimes scholars studying manuscripts take them to their apartments by mistake.”
The stern-looking security man took the cardinal’s statement as his cue to speak. “Yes, it has nothing to do with the death of Father Morelli.”
Leo watched Lundahl stiffen noticeably. The cardinal was staring at the man with the expression one gives a child who is misbehaving in public. The security man immediately realized he had spoken out of turn and made a hasty retreat down the hall, where he began shouting orders to the guards searching the rooms.
Leo saw that the cardinal’s gaze had shifted back to him.
“Please give my secretary a call tomorrow, Leopold. I’ll instruct him to set up a lunch meeting for just the two of us. I need to talk with you about some matters of great importance. God bless you, and also Father Morelli.” With that, Lundahl turned and strode down the hall, his black and scarlet cassock flowing out behind him.
Chapter 10
Father Leo exited the building into the din of early morning traffic. Crowds of tourists were streaming into the holy city. Most were heading toward the Sistine Chapel to view Michelangelo’s magnificent ceiling, while others circled Saint Peter’s Square, hoping for a glimpse of the pope. Distraught with the terrible news of Father Morelli’s death, Leo had no appetite for breakfast. What he really needed now was a drink. As a priest, a man of faith, he should feel joy for a soul now in heaven. But he was also a mortal man and, as such, was grieving for a friend he had known most of his adult life. Yes, what he needed now more than anything was a drink.
Leo walked out of Vatican City, numb to the brilliant sunshine and rows of multicolored flowers springing to life in nearby flowerbeds. His ears were deaf to the birds singing from the rooftops. He kept his head down, not wanting to acknowledge a smile from anyone crossing his path. He crossed the Ponte Vittorio Emanuele II over the river Tiber and continued along the Via Giulia , one of the first Renaissance streets to cut through Rome’s hodgepodge of medieval alleys. Turning left onto the Via Del Pellegrino , he walked slowly until he found himself in the Piazza Campo de’ Fiori . He crossed the piazza, finally coming to rest under one of several green umbrella-covered tables located in front of a traditional family-owned trattoria . Father Morelli and Leo had come here often. Together, they would share a bottle of wine and eat pasta in the afternoon, talking and laughing with friends and students about the day’s events.
Leo ordered a glass of wine and sat staring out into the piazza. The tables around him were full of customers bound together in the time-honored Roman tradition of people watching. This activity usually relaxed him when he was tense or stressed, but despite the pleasant surroundings, questions nagged at the periphery of his thoughts.
Why wasn’t John at the residence hall this morning? Were there really “evil forces” at work against them? If this were true, had something happened to John? Who were the
“You’re very wise, Leopold. I hope you will stay close to us in the days to come.”
“I plan to stay until after the funeral, Eminence, longer if you need me.”
The cardinal paused for a moment, looking down at the floor. He then lifted his gaze and fixed Leo with what could only be called a look of total exhaustion. “I fear I must cancel our lunch appointment today. I have something of a situation on my hands, and I’m sure you need some time for solitary reflection.”
Leo’s concern and curiosity was getting the best of him. “Can I be of any assistance, Eminence? I noticed all the security men around. Is everything alright?”
Lundahl’s look of exhaustion disappeared. “Oh...yes...of course. Coincidentally, Father Emilio was notified that some valuable historical papers went missing from the Vatican library last night and our security people are looking for them. Sometimes scholars studying manuscripts take them to their apartments by mistake.”
The stern-looking security man took the cardinal’s statement as his cue to speak. “Yes, it has nothing to do with the death of Father Morelli.”
Leo watched Lundahl stiffen noticeably. The cardinal was staring at the man with the expression one gives a child who is misbehaving in public. The security man immediately realized he had spoken out of turn and made a hasty retreat down the hall, where he began shouting orders to the guards searching the rooms.
Leo saw that the cardinal’s gaze had shifted back to him.
“Please give my secretary a call tomorrow, Leopold. I’ll instruct him to set up a lunch meeting for just the two of us. I need to talk with you about some matters of great importance. God bless you, and also Father Morelli.” With that, Lundahl turned and strode down the hall, his black and scarlet cassock flowing out behind him.
Chapter 10
Father Leo exited the building into the din of early morning traffic. Crowds of tourists were streaming into the holy city. Most were heading toward the Sistine Chapel to view Michelangelo’s magnificent ceiling, while others circled Saint Peter’s Square, hoping for a glimpse of the pope. Distraught with the terrible news of Father Morelli’s death, Leo had no appetite for breakfast. What he really needed now was a drink. As a priest, a man of faith, he should feel joy for a soul now in heaven. But he was also a mortal man and, as such, was grieving for a friend he had known most of his adult life. Yes, what he needed now more than anything was a drink.
Leo walked out of Vatican City, numb to the brilliant sunshine and rows of multicolored flowers springing to life in nearby flowerbeds. His ears were deaf to the birds singing from the rooftops. He kept his head down, not wanting to acknowledge a smile from anyone crossing his path. He crossed the Ponte Vittorio Emanuele II over the river Tiber and continued along the Via Giulia , one of the first Renaissance streets to cut through Rome’s hodgepodge of medieval alleys. Turning left onto the Via Del Pellegrino , he walked slowly until he found himself in the Piazza Campo de’ Fiori . He crossed the piazza, finally coming to rest under one of several green umbrella-covered tables located in front of a traditional family-owned trattoria . Father Morelli and Leo had come here often. Together, they would share a bottle of wine and eat pasta in the afternoon, talking and laughing with friends and students about the day’s events.
Leo ordered a glass of wine and sat staring out into the piazza. The tables around him were full of customers bound together in the time-honored Roman tradition of people watching. This activity usually relaxed him when he was tense or stressed, but despite the pleasant surroundings, questions nagged at the periphery of his thoughts.
Why wasn’t John at the residence hall this morning? Were there really “evil forces” at work against them? If this were true, had something happened to John? Who were the
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