No Stone Unturned: A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, Book Eleven Page 32

  “That’s impossible.” Jacopo looked at his clerk, stunned.

  “It gets worse, sir. Apparently along with your confession, you emailed each of them all the emails where they are mentioned negatively. It will be difficult to deny all of them.”

  Jacopo’s mind was a mixture of despair and rapid-fire searching of scenarios that would rescue him from this situation. His only hope was to convince the pope that it was a deliberate ploy by enemies of the Vatican to weaken the church during the time of his failing health. A plot to drive them apart at a time when the cardinals should all be coming together. It was pretty weak. But if it was going to work, he had to get to the pope before one of the other Cardinals did. Damn Slash. He was going to pay for this, and pay again.

  Father Koenhein was still scanning the emails. “Oh, no,” he said, and crossed himself.

  “I am not in a mood for secrets. What did you find?”

  “In your supposed email to the Holy Father, you apologize for disgracing the church, yourself and his Eminence. You say you are willing to humble yourself before God and man and seek forgiveness and absolution.”

  “The pope? My emails have been forwarded to the pope, too?” This couldn’t be happening. It was destroying everything.

  “It also appears you offered to resign.”

  “I what?” he roared. He heard a noise behind him and glanced over his shoulder at the other cardinals who were crowding the doorway, listening.

  “You said you were resigning, Your Eminence. That’s what the email says.”

  Jacopo snatched the papers from the printer, read the first email and crushed the rest in his fist. His rage burned hot. “This is a travesty. I’m taking this to the Holy Father.”

  Father Koenhein’s computer dinged again and he turned back to read it. “He just requested your presence. He’d like to see you at once. Shall I tell him you’re on your way?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Jacopo pushed past the cardinals at the door of his office. “I will go speak with the Holy Father now and clear this up.”

  Cardinal Bartini stopped him, putting a hand on his arm. “If any of those emails were legitimate, Jacopo, we’re in serious trouble. Some of those emails were sent to us, which means our names are attached to this mess. You were careless, very careless.”

  “I was hacked!”

  “Regardless, it shows poor judgment. We will be watching carefully.”

  Jacopo lowered his voice. “Don’t you dare desert me now. I’m what’s holding together this coalition.”

  Cardinal Bartini removed his hand. “We will wait to see how you resolve this. But even if you survive, I believe this will cost you considerable support. I will pray for you.”

  He walked past Jacopo without any more comment. The other cardinals filed out silently, most avoiding direct eye contact with him.

  Jacopo’s anger boiled as he snatched his zucchetto and slammed it down on his head. When he stalked out of the room through Julian’s office, he saw it was empty. Just as well. He was ready for a fight. He’d been itching for a confrontation with the Holy Father and now he had it. He had no doubt that the pope had a hand in this mess. Now, he’d find out how deep that hand went.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Cardinal Jacopo Lazo

  “The Holy Father will see you now.”

  Jacopo followed the priest into the Holy Father’s office. Once he was ushered in, he approached the pope, kneeling and kissing the ring as he was offered it.

  “Father Lazo,” the pope said softly. “Please have a seat.”

  Jacopo sat as instructed, then watched as the pope rested his cane against his chair and sat across from him.

  “I’m disappointed by the correspondence I’ve seen from you but encouraged by your confession and apology in the letter you penned to all of us this afternoon.”

  Jacopo leaned forward. “I’m afraid none of this is true. I was hacked. Someone was posing as me. I never wrote those emails, and I certainly have no intention of resigning.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  Jacopo carefully studied the Holy Father’s face. “Of course I’m sure.”

  “It does not suit you to lie, Jacopo.”

  “I’m not lying.” Yet, his hands had started to sweat. The Holy Father looked too assured, too calm for his taste.

  For a minute the Holy Father didn’t speak, just regarded him. Jacopo kept the calm expression on his own face, waiting. Two could play this game. He had to be patient and see in what direction the Holy Father wanted to take this.

  “It’s no secret we don’t share the same views on the future of the church,” the pope finally said.

  “No, it’s not,” Jacopo agreed.

  “I am greatly concerned by a number of your recent actions. I fear you have lost sight of the true way. You wish for power for the wrong reasons.”

  “That’s an outrageous assumption. None of my actions should trouble you. I have but the purest of intentions when it comes to the future of this church.”

  “Perhaps you truly believe that. But first, let us discuss your home residence.”

  “My home?” Jacopo startled, surprised by the abrupt shift of topic. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Your home recently underwent renovations, did it not?”

  “It did, as it is located in quite an old building. It badly needed updating. But what does that have to do with anything?”

  “Did that update include a $20,000 bathtub and an 800-square-foot fitness room?”

  Jacopo made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “I don’t know the exact cost of the bathtub, but I can confirm I did request a fitness room. My body is a vessel of Christ. It’s not as if the president of the Vatican can just go to the gym.”

  The Holy Father regarded him critically. “Or fraternize with the other priests who use the fitness rooms already provided by the Vatican?”

  “I prefer to have my own space. That’s not a sin.”

  “Hmmm. Did you not commission a giant iron cross suspended from the ceiling of the new personal chapel that you also had built as an addition to your residence?”

  Jacopo leaned forward. “Where are you going with this? You know full well that the president of the Vatican entertains important guests. It is vital for them to see us in settings that reinforce our position.”

  “Which is why we already have rooms in the Vatican for such purposes.”

  “I enjoy entertaining from home. It makes the encounters more personal and encourages more investment when done that way.”

  “I’m afraid the renovation costs of twelve million euros do not outweigh the potential investments from outside sources. It’s a travesty, an embarrassment. There are millions of people in this world who are starving, and millions more who have no clean water to drink. And you spend that kind of money to renovate your personal quarters? To improve your comfort and status? You have lost sight of what is important, Jacopo. Humility, loyalty, compassion and self-control. Those are the characteristics of Jesus that we follow.”

  Jacopo’s face burned. “I have never lost sight of what this church stands for.”

  “Then how will you explain your transgressions against Father Emilio Armando? Trying to force him into a confession of an illicit affair? Is that an action of a man of God?”

  “Why is confronting a sinner with his sin a transgression?” Jacopo argued. “It’s vital for the church to have a leader who has the right moral compass.”

  “Except that’s not the reason you blackmailed the man you believed to be his son. If you truly had concern for Emilio’s soul, you would have approached him privately. Not tried to coerce a man you hoped was his son into making a public confession or forcibly extracting a DNA sample from him.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ja
copo felt his voice rise and fought to temper his emotions. “I didn’t blackmail anyone. But the Catholic people have a right to know if one of their own has shown a serious lapse in judgment.”

  The pope lifted his hands. “Finally, we agree on something.” He leaned forward. “I’m issuing a statement tomorrow notifying the press I have accepted your resignation as president of the Vatican.”

  “What?” The Holy Father wouldn’t dare risk an uproar at such a sensitive time for the church. Would he? “I won’t agree to it.”

  “I suggest you reconsider. Your actions, including blackmail, the threat of releasing classified Vatican information, employing mercenaries to extract a DNA sample from an unwilling person, and trying to unearth evidence of my nonexistent love child, has settled it. You’re finished.”

  “You have no proof that ties me directly to any of this other than the request to speak to the man I believed to be Father Armando’s son, for which I’m completely justified.” Jacopo’s mind was whirling, seeking an angle, a way out of this mess. “Your Eminence, this is clearly an unfortunate misunderstanding. I’m a victim here. I was hacked. How does that put me in the wrong?”

  “You have lost your way, Jacopo.”

  “I assure you, I have not. We are not on opposing sides. We both have the interest of the church foremost in our hearts. It is neither fair to condemn me for something I haven’t done, nor to punish me for it. That’s not the benevolent way.”

  “It is the right way.”

  Apprehension coursed through Jacopo. The old man wasn’t budging, so he was going to have to adjust his tactics. Removing him as the president of the Vatican would be politically delicate and could cause a possible shift in the pope’s own coalition. There would be public outcry, interest and discussion. The pope would have to justify his dismissal, a move that might anger Jacopo’s supporters and result in the airing of the Vatican’s dirty laundry. That was something he knew the pope would be loath to do. It was time to engage a different strategy.

  “Your Eminence, none of this makes sense,” Jacopo said in a quieter voice. “Let us take a moment to consider the fallout of my dismissal. You are gravely ill, and the Vatican is at a crossroads. Removing me at this critical juncture would reveal a serious weakness and division within the highest echelons of the church. We cannot risk splitting our believers. You know that. The church requires cohesiveness and solidarity more than ever. You do not want your legacy to be one of divisiveness and scandal. It’s obvious I was hacked and those emails were not mine. If I were asked to resign, I would be expected to offer an explanation to the press for my resignation. I would have to express my concerns about the serious divisions and inner turmoil of the church in its present state. That would further weaken your legacy and cause discord among the cardinals and bishops. All that is required to make this go away is that you acknowledge I was hacked, accept my apology for the inconvenience to the cardinals, and we go on. Business as usual.”

  The pope listened without interrupting, but shook his head in disappointment. “That sounds dangerously close to blackmail.”

  “That couldn’t be further from the truth. This is about preserving the image of the church, its reach and legacy. We must focus on cohesiveness and strength. To show weakness and division would be a grave mistake.”

  “It would also be a grave mistake to keep you as president of the Vatican. You’ve engaged in criminal behavior. You crossed the line. You made grievous mistakes while associated with the Church. It will not be tolerated. You have acted outside—and contrary to—the wisdom, doctrines and guidance of our church. Therefore, if you will not resign, I will dismiss you. I will be fully within my rights.”

  Jacopo’s throat burned with fear. “I’ll demand a trial. This will go public and your accusations will collapse. You have no proof.”

  “I’m afraid I do.” The Holy Father clapped his hands twice and a side door opened.

  Father Koenhein shuffled into the room, moving to stand behind beside the pope.

  Jacopo stared at Julian in a mixture of disbelief and fury, his mouth twisted in displeasure. “You? You dare to betray me?”

  “He dares to stand up for what is right.” A thin chill hung on the pope’s words.

  “I’m sorry, Your Eminence,” Father Koenhein said to Jacopo. “I didn’t hack your account or send those emails. But the ones where you referred to the other cardinals in such a derogatory manner—those are genuinely yours. As are the instructions to send the notes and package of the statue to the man named Slash. I also hired those men on your request to extract his DNA so you could see if he was Father Armando’s child. Then you instructed me to cross-reference his DNA with the pope’s.”

  “Lies,” Jacopo hissed. “All of it, lies. None of that happened on my instructions.”

  “That’s not true,” Father Koenhein said quietly. “I will swear to that on the Bible and under oath. Cardinal Lazo, I have been loyal to you for more than twenty-seven years. But I could no longer go along with what you wanted me to do because I knew in my heart it wasn’t right.” He paused, lowering his gaze and plucking nervously at his cassock. “I prayed to God to show me what he wanted me to do right after you told me to cross-reference Slash’s DNA with the Holy Father’s. Not an hour later, I bumped into a young woman in the park. She was my sign from God. She walked me back through my childhood and the reasons I came to the priesthood. I realized how far I’d strayed from that young man I once was. And that knowledge distressed me greatly.”

  “Recant, my son,” Jacopo said softly. “I will forgive you.”

  Father Koenhein shook his head, took a shaky breath. “I became a priest to help people, not hurt them. People could have been hurt...because of me. You told me those men had to get the DNA at any cost. I agreed, thinking it was justified because it was to protect the church. But my conscience bothered me because I knew it was wrong. They brought weapons into that house. They threatened innocent people who could have been injured or killed. There’s no justification for that. I was ashamed of myself, of what I’d let happen in the name of the church. I’ve confessed everything and begged for forgiveness from the Holy Father.”

  The pope’s voice was cooler than Jacopo had ever heard it. “I should let you know, I had an interesting discussion with the chief of police in Rome this morning. I’m sure, that if pressed, he, along with the two men he is holding for a crime committed in Sperlonga, will be willing to speak with me, and likely witness against you in a court of law. There is also the matter of two listening devices that were found in Cardinal Armando’s office and home. Father Koenhein says they were put there on your instructions.”

  Jacopo felt everything he’d worked so hard for his entire life slipping through his fingers. He’d been set up and maneuvered into this position, perhaps by the pope himself. But also by Slash. He was so furious he could hardly speak.

  “Judas,” he seethed, glaring at Julian.

  The pope raised a hand. His eyes were angry, distant. “Listen to yourself, Cardinal. You were once a good man. But power has corrupted you. Here’s the deal: Your confession and apology to the other cardinals has already been accepted by all, including me, as has your resignation. You will remove yourself from Vatican grounds, effective immediately. If you agree, I will ensure your pension and legacy, up to this point, remain fully intact. If you refuse, I will release information regarding what you have done and will consult with our lawyers to decide if we move forward with criminal charges. I give you the choice.”

  “You did this—all of this—to ensure your legacy continues,” Jacopo spat out.

  The pope sat back in his chair, tented his fingers. “My purpose, as your pope, is to provide a watchful and loving eye of a father who not only supports but also, when necessary, corrects his children. I will work to ensure that what God has guided me to start, continues. I understand well political maneuvering, a fervent bel
ief in a cause and a willingness to die for what you believe. But what you’ve done, Jacopo; that is not our way. Throw yourself on the mercy of God and pray for His forgiveness.”

  Jacopo stood up, bristling with anger. “There are others who will resist you.”

  The pope dipped his head in acknowledgment. “I know. That, however, is a fight for another day. Goodbye, and may God grant you his everlasting mercy.”

  Furious, Jacopo whirled around and stormed out the door. Only one thing was on his mind.

  Revenge.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Slash

  Slash thought of Father Armando as he leaned against the wall in the papal waiting area, arms crossed, waiting for the pope’s meeting with Cardinal Lazo to finish. A Bible verse ran through his head.

  “And I say to thee, that thou art Peter; and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.”

  He wondered if the man he had considered a father for most of his life would someday ascend to the papacy. The Bible was full of instances where God had called upon ordinary men to fulfill extraordinary destinies. As pope, Father Armando would face complex and troubling issues. How would he manage a commitment to tradition while embracing an openness of the tasks God set before him anew? It was important that the church continued to evolve in order to survive. That journey required acknowledging the church’s gifts, as well as its mistakes, as it moved forward.

  It was Father Armando who had taught him about a life of faith. Adapting, changing, failing, openly acknowledging shortcomings, but never giving up. Always moving in the right direction. Sometimes it meant leaving behind a safe environment and venturing out of one’s comfort zone.

  It hurt to realize that somewhere along the line, Slash had lost sight of that faith. Hiding his past had been safer than confronting it, and it had almost cost him everything.