painstakingly have to go back over the scene where Cardinal Portini died, in the hope of turning up some other piece of evidence. This afternoon, no later. The photographs weren’t so bad in any case. She slammed the folder shut. She couldn’t concentrate.
Paola found it difficult to admit that she was frightened. There she was, in the very heart of the Vatican, in an edifice set apart in the centre of the City – a building with more than fifteen hundred offices, including the private office of the Pope himself. To Paola, the mere profusion of statues and paintings that filled the hallways was unsettling, distracting. And, of course, for the Vatican’s statesmen over the course of the centuries, that was the desired result; they were well aware of the effect their city produced on visitors. Yet Paola couldn’t allow herself even the slightest distraction. ‘Padre Fowler?’
‘Yes?’
‘Can I ask you a question?’
‘Of course.’
‘It’s the first time I’m going to see a cardinal.’
‘Really.’
Paola thought for a moment. ‘I mean to say, in the flesh.’ ‘And what is your question?’
‘How do you address a cardinal?’
‘Normally you would say “Your Eminence”.’ Fowler closed his book and looked her in the eye. ‘Relax. He’s only a person, like you or me. And you’re the inspector running the investigation. You’re a professional. Act just as you would under normal circumstances.’
Dicanti smiled gratefully.
At last Dante opened the door to the office’s waiting room. ‘Please come in.’
There were two desks in the waiting room, with two young priests seated by the telephone and a computer. They greeted the visitors with polite nods of the head, and the small party continued on into the chamberlain’s office. It was an ascetic room, without paintings or carpets. There was a library on one side and a sofa with small tables on the other. A wooden crucifix was the only decoration on the walls.
Unlike the empty walls, the desk of Eduardo González Samalo, the man who held the reins of the Church until the election of the next Pope, was crammed with papers. Samalo, in dark-red robes, got up to greet them. Fowler kneeled and kissed the cardinal’s ring as a sign of respect and obedience, something every Catholic does when meeting a cardinal. Paola hung back, hoping to be discreet. She bowed her head a little, perhaps slightly ashamed. She hadn’t regarded herself as a Catholic for many years.
Samalo took Dicanti’s rudeness gracefully, but exhaustion and anxiety were clearly etched on his face and in the slump of his shoulders. He was the ultimate authority in the Vatican for the next few days and he didn’t seem to be enjoying the role.
‘Forgive me for making you wait. I was on the phone with a delegate from Germany. He’s extremely out of sorts. There are no hotel rooms to be found anywhere and the city is a veritable nightmare. And the whole wide world wants to be in the front row at tomorrow morning’s funeral.’
Paola nodded her head courteously. ‘I imagine this whole commotion must be tremendously trying.’
Samalo merely let out a long, painful sigh in response.
‘Have you been informed about the situation, Your Eminence?’
‘Of course. Camilo Cirin has been diligent in keeping me abreast of events as they’ve taken place. It’s a horrible state of affairs, all of it. I suppose that in other circumstances I would have reacted much more strongly to these nefarious crimes, but I must tell you in all sincerity, I just haven’t had the time.’
‘As you know, we have to think about the security of the other cardinals, Your Eminence.’
Samalo gestured in Dante’s direction. ‘The Vigilanza has made a special effort to gather all of them together in the Domus Sanctae Marthae ahead of time, in order to maintain the building’s security.’
‘La Domus Sanctae Marthae?’
Dante interrupted. ‘Saint Martha’s House. A building that was remodelled at the direct request of
Paola found it difficult to admit that she was frightened. There she was, in the very heart of the Vatican, in an edifice set apart in the centre of the City – a building with more than fifteen hundred offices, including the private office of the Pope himself. To Paola, the mere profusion of statues and paintings that filled the hallways was unsettling, distracting. And, of course, for the Vatican’s statesmen over the course of the centuries, that was the desired result; they were well aware of the effect their city produced on visitors. Yet Paola couldn’t allow herself even the slightest distraction. ‘Padre Fowler?’
‘Yes?’
‘Can I ask you a question?’
‘Of course.’
‘It’s the first time I’m going to see a cardinal.’
‘Really.’
Paola thought for a moment. ‘I mean to say, in the flesh.’ ‘And what is your question?’
‘How do you address a cardinal?’
‘Normally you would say “Your Eminence”.’ Fowler closed his book and looked her in the eye. ‘Relax. He’s only a person, like you or me. And you’re the inspector running the investigation. You’re a professional. Act just as you would under normal circumstances.’
Dicanti smiled gratefully.
At last Dante opened the door to the office’s waiting room. ‘Please come in.’
There were two desks in the waiting room, with two young priests seated by the telephone and a computer. They greeted the visitors with polite nods of the head, and the small party continued on into the chamberlain’s office. It was an ascetic room, without paintings or carpets. There was a library on one side and a sofa with small tables on the other. A wooden crucifix was the only decoration on the walls.
Unlike the empty walls, the desk of Eduardo González Samalo, the man who held the reins of the Church until the election of the next Pope, was crammed with papers. Samalo, in dark-red robes, got up to greet them. Fowler kneeled and kissed the cardinal’s ring as a sign of respect and obedience, something every Catholic does when meeting a cardinal. Paola hung back, hoping to be discreet. She bowed her head a little, perhaps slightly ashamed. She hadn’t regarded herself as a Catholic for many years.
Samalo took Dicanti’s rudeness gracefully, but exhaustion and anxiety were clearly etched on his face and in the slump of his shoulders. He was the ultimate authority in the Vatican for the next few days and he didn’t seem to be enjoying the role.
‘Forgive me for making you wait. I was on the phone with a delegate from Germany. He’s extremely out of sorts. There are no hotel rooms to be found anywhere and the city is a veritable nightmare. And the whole wide world wants to be in the front row at tomorrow morning’s funeral.’
Paola nodded her head courteously. ‘I imagine this whole commotion must be tremendously trying.’
Samalo merely let out a long, painful sigh in response.
‘Have you been informed about the situation, Your Eminence?’
‘Of course. Camilo Cirin has been diligent in keeping me abreast of events as they’ve taken place. It’s a horrible state of affairs, all of it. I suppose that in other circumstances I would have reacted much more strongly to these nefarious crimes, but I must tell you in all sincerity, I just haven’t had the time.’
‘As you know, we have to think about the security of the other cardinals, Your Eminence.’
Samalo gestured in Dante’s direction. ‘The Vigilanza has made a special effort to gather all of them together in the Domus Sanctae Marthae ahead of time, in order to maintain the building’s security.’
‘La Domus Sanctae Marthae?’
Dante interrupted. ‘Saint Martha’s House. A building that was remodelled at the direct request of
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