Echoes Through the Vatican: A Paranormal Mystery (The Echoes Quartet Book 2) (9 page)

Belladonna laughed and Enrico smiled just before the corners of his mouth turned down. She said, “I would like to be a fashion designer. It is the furthest thing there is from being in the police, no, Enrico? Enrico? Enrico?”

Her partner was no longer beside her. She found him fifteen feet behind her holding Julian Blessing by the throat, pushed up against a light standard. The way Enrico was standing told the inspector her assistant’s weapon was drawn and probably pressed against Julian’s chest.

She took her time, knowing Enrico would have some useful words of advice for the American.

Enrico Marino’s eyes were like obsidian – hard, black, angry and merciless. “Do wizards die from gunshot wounds?” he hissed into Julian’s face. The barrel of the sergeant’s Beretta 9mm pressed painfully into Julian’s sternum.

Julian’s voice was pinched and he was breathing rapidly. “Pretty sure they do,” were the only words he could choke out.

Julian’s reading and rereading of the Jesuit Book had given him scores of metaphysical responses. The only countermeasure he could manage for this situation was to try to get oxygen into his lungs the old fashioned way.

A chill passed through Julian as he watched the policeman say, “Let’s find out for sure, wizard.”

“Enrico, please let signore Blessing breathe, but don’t let him go. And put your weapon away. You know how I hate loud noises and the tourists are staring,” the inspector said.

“Signore, what is it about following two well trained and heavily armed police officers that made you think doing such a thing was a good idea?” The Inspector let a full thirty seconds pass before she said, “That’s right, nothing made it a good idea. What are you doing following us?”

“I went by your headquarters and asked for you,” Julian said still gasping.

“And you found someone there who just said, ‘Oh thank you for asking, signore. Bella and Enrico are at the Palace of Justice. Can we give you a lift over there?’ Is that what happened?” the young woman asked.

Julian struggled to break Enrico’s grip on his throat. “I came away with that impression, yes – except for the lift part.” The grip tightened a fraction.

“Enrico, please let the signore go,” the inspector said. Reluctantly, her assistant reholstered his firearm and let Julian breathe.

“Now, signore, what is it that you wanted that would cause you to track us down and risk your life?”

“Califano was wrong.” Julian was bent over with his hands on his knees still gasping. The police officers exchanged looks.

“Wrong in what way?” the inspector asked pleasantly.

“The car that drove the doctor away from the airport wasn’t from the Vatican. C08004 – diplomatic plates. Assigned to the Ukrainian embassy,” Julian gasped and began to cough. “At least, that series is assigned to them.”

“Enrico, stand our new friend upright. He is going to take us to the other side of the bridge, buy us some gelato, and tell us how he knows what he shouldn’t – again,” the inspector said with a pointed grimace.

***

“Shit, shit and shit,” the inspector said as she returned to her seat in the outdoor café and pocketed her cell phone. She looked down into her cup of melted gelato. “And shit,” she added.

Enrico looked at Julian and jerked his thumb in the direction of the bar. Julian left to find some gelato that wasn’t melted.

With her treat restored, the inspector said, “There is no C08004 and certainly not at the Vatican. The Ukrainian embassy has a C08001, 02, 08 and 11, but no 04. Somebody is going to a lot of trouble to put this at Bogdan Sokolov’s door or Bogdan Sokolov is that stupid.”

“Well, that’s enough for me,” Julian said quietly.

“What’s enough for you?” the inspector turned to Julian and asked.

“I’m tired of screwing around. I’m going to see Sokolov,” Julian looked up and said.

Enrico rubbed the center of his forehead to dispel an ice cream headache while his partner looked dumbfounded.

“So you are going to go see the man who wants you dead. Is that right?” the inspector asked.

“What Mr. Sokolov wants and what he gets may be two different things. I’ve been sitting on my hands for too long. I’m going to find the doctor, then we are leaving Rome,” Julian said. “Want to tell me where Sokolov is?”

“Enrico, is he serious?” Her assistant looked into Julian’s eyes and what he saw there disturbed him. He nodded his head once.

“I am afraid my government wouldn’t like it if I stood around while a tourist committed suicide. They become cranky because they have no sense of humor. Sadly, we cannot allow you to do this thing.”

Julian pushed back from the table slowly. He looked relaxed, his face serene and his manner tranquil. “Inspector, Sergeant,” Julian looked to each in turn. “I realize you have the best intentions, but I’m afraid this is something I have to do. You can’t go knock on the Russian’s door and sit down for a chat. I can.

“Inspector, you said, you can’t allow me to do this. In fact you must allow it, because you have no choice.” Julian spoke softly and slowly, without pretense or bravado. He looked almost apologetic. His eyelids were heavy.

“Both of you, I promise I will report back everything I learn,” Julian said and smiled.

“No,” the inspector was emphatic. Enrico leaned forward slightly in case the American moved further than his inspector wanted him to.

“I’m sorry,” Julian said. He took a slow deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them, all movement around him appeared to have stopped. He had developed the ability to step outside of linear time while working with his teacher in Ireland. The Jesuit Book helped, but he still couldn’t maintain it for long. But in a few minutes he would be a block away and the police officers would be questioning their sanity.

“Very nicely done, Mr. Blessing. Bravo.”

Julian had stepped back into the normal flow of time directly into the path of Cardinal Antonio Luciano. “Your Eminence does get around,” Julian said.

“My car is right here. Perhaps I can offer you a ride?” The cardinal posed it as a question, but it wasn’t.

“Thank you, but walking is good exercise and I don’t do enough of it. I see you found a new driver, Eminence. Does he understand how temporary his job can be?” Julian asked.

The cardinal smiled and shrugged. “It was my hope you and I could have a talk, signore Blessing. May I call you Julian? A pleasant drive around Rome is conducive to conversation, I find.”

“It is a funny thing. The more you insist I get into your car, the more I am disinclined to do so. Why do you think that is? As for the whole name thing, let’s just leave it the way it is right for now.”

“Ah, I see. My car makes you uncomfortable. Perhaps we could walk together? I suppose only your friends call you Julian and I, as yet, have not earned your friendship. Do you have many friends? I am fortunate; I have many friends from all walks of life. I would be honored if you would consider me your friend.

“As a show of good faith and friendship, let me pass along a word of warning,” the cardinal continued. “You are newly arrived in Rome and so have no idea of whom you can and cannot trust. Currently, you count the Jesuit priest, Fr. Marek Soski, as an acquaintance, perhaps even a friend. I would not be much of a friend myself if I did not warn you. Soski is not a man to be trusted.”

“But Eminence, Fr. Soski is one of us. Are you saying not all of us are to be trusted?” The sarcasm in Julian’s voice did not faze the cardinal at all.

“Sadly, Mr. Blessing, it is true. Nearly all of us can be trusted. We share certain core values and desire only to enrich mankind. Soski has no such values and is interested in enriching himself only.

“What would cause you to come to that conclusion?” Julian asked. He was beginning to ache from the effort to protect his thoughts from the cardinal. Although Julian’s barbs were not lost on Cardinal Luciano, the man wanted to know what Julian knew and everything he had ever known. If that meant Julian’s mind would be destroyed in the process, well, to Luciano, that was the cost of doing business. The two walked past dun colored shops that managed to put on display a colorful sameness.

“Fr. Soski is a thief. He stole something from his employer and when confronted, he refused to confess or return the item. Despicable is what I call it. The man has no honor,” the cardinal said and his mouth twisted in disgust.

“But that isn’t true, Eminence.” The cardinal spun too quickly and overbalanced, nearly falling into the priest who addressed him. In a clerical suit and roman collar, the man wore a black overcoat on a pleasant Roman afternoon. A broad brimmed fedora and dark glasses completed the wraith that stood before Julian and the cardinal.

The priest’s dry rasping whisper brought a smile to Julian’s face and caused the cardinal to recoil with only one hissed response, “Soski.”

“Mr. Blessing,” Fr. Soski said. “It is a terrible world indeed when princes of the Church make free with the reputations of others.”

“The eighth commandment, Eminence?” Soski goaded. “I know you are a bit out of touch with that sort of religious thing, but you remember – that’s the one about bearing false witness. There is another one about murder, but I forget the number.” The priest looked expectant while the cardinal looked rabid. “I would be delighted to hear your confession,” Soski added.

“Do not tempt me, Soski. Reason dictated I should have finished what I started with you.” The cardinal spat the words.

“Oh, Eminence, you would have. If you could have. You were distracted. I understand completely. How is your limp? I’ve been meaning to ask.” Fr. Soski smiled an evil smile and continued.

“Speaking of reason, Mr. Blessing, has the good cardinal regaled you with his ‘Soldiers of Reason’ speech. It is one of his best. You really should ask him to recite it to you. Although many find it laughable, I believe you would be more restrained and respectful. The cardinal demands respect, although he may not command it.” Soski was enjoying goading Luciano.

“Father,” Julian said, “his Eminence did use that phrase when we first met. I must say, I had never thought of us in those terms.”

The cardinal’s car was parked at the curb on the far side of the street. The driver left the vehicle on a run when he saw the exchange between his employer and the two men.

As he approached, Julian saw the man reach under his suit coat. Julian’s response was instinctual and blistering. He concentrated and extended his hand slightly. The driver stumbled, slowed and stumbled again, then a look of horror crossed his face and he began vomiting. He fell to his knees and the revolver he had been reaching for dropped from his hand and skittered, vomit encrusted, to the gutter.

Julian returned to the conversation to find the cardinal and Soski looking at him. “Cardinal,” Julian said, “your driver seems to be ill. Maybe some bad antipasto, huh? Want me to get you a taxi?”

The cardinal smiled a narrow smile and said, “Have a care for the company you keep, Mr. Blessing. As I said to you before, I can use a man like you and your efforts would be,” the cardinal paused, “appreciated.”

“Eminence, friends don’t use their friends, do they?” Julian said.

“As I said, choose your friends wisely,” the cardinal said and Julian could feel Luciano probing his mind.

“Indeed, Mr. Blessing,” Fr. Soski said as he deflected some of the cardinal’s intense scrutiny. “If you choose your friends wisely, it makes it so much easier and enjoyable to murder them later.”

The cardinal left his attack on Julian, turned and walked to his car. He got behind the wheel and merged into traffic easily, leaving his driver retching in the gutter.

“Shall we?” Julian asked and Fr. Soski nodded. Together, they both made their way through a small portico into a smaller piazza crowded with parked cars. Soski walked slowly, painfully, and Julian slowed his pace to match the priest’s.

“That was nicely done with the driver. Luciano was impressed or shocked. I don’t know which. Can I assume the Book is helping then?” Soski asked.

“It is helping. However, that whole driver thing, well, I was trying to trip him. I have no idea what I did to make him start throwing up like that. Looked painful,” Julian answered and winced at the memory.

“I wouldn’t worry about it. Once, in the early days, I was learning to calm my thoughts sufficiently to be able to move a large tree branch out of the road. My teacher told me progress comes slowly. I can hear him saying that even today.”

“Did you get the branch to move?” Julian asked.

“No, I set my teacher’s house on fire instead. Not the whole house. Just a small shed that then set the rest of the house alight. Not the outcome I was hoping for actually,” Fr. Soski said.

Contemplating the nature of personal growth, and the part the multilayered web of maladroitness and bold stupidity have to play in it, both men walked up the broad steps and into the cool, dark embrace of the Basilica di Sant' Agostino.

Julian and Fr. Soski walked down the wide center aisle of the Basilica. The priest had removed his fedora. The hair Julian took to be silver, when seen in the dim light of Soski’s office, was a dull white. The skin on the man’s face was dry and withered. A network of deep lines extended from under the priest’s dark glasses along with signs of old scarring.

The church was small, but took every opportunity to increase its grandeur. Heavily veined marble pillars ascended to towering frescoed arches. Stained glass windows grew from the arches and bathed the interior of the church in blue and red sapphire, wispy purple and ghostly white. Six naves set deeply into the outside walls hinted at treasures without lifting their veils.

Rather than genuflect, Fr. Soski stopped next to the first pew and bowed his head. Julian watched the man and reflected this priest would bow before his god, but to no other.

The men sat in the pew and enjoyed a companionable silence absorbing the church’s smell of pungent incense and dust.

Julian was the first to break the stillness. “Following me Father?”

“Why would I be interested enough in your activities to follow you? Conceit is the original sin, Mr. Blessing.”

“I will bow to your superior knowledge of the Bible, Father and confess my sin.”

“Bible? Oh, no, I got that from a bit of Japanese anime I saw once,” the priest said and smiled. “Besides, I’m not as agile as I once was and I seem to lack the ability to be inconspicuous. This overcoat is not part of a clever disguise. I am susceptible to the cold and so wear this topcoat year round. So, following people is out of the realm of possibility for me.

“The Holy Father leaves Rome in July because it is too hot,” the priest said, “and here is Fr. Soski with his overcoat.” Again, the priest smiled. He chuckled, but that soon spiraled into a painful sounding cough. With difficulty, he cleared his throat. Speaking, Julian knew, was taking its toll.

“Father, why don’t you rest your voice. We might need it if we have to order in a restaurant later, no?” Julian said.

Soski acknowledged the kindness and accepted Julian’s invitation.
“This is a church I visit with some regularity. It is intimate and usually empty as it is now.

“My eyesight isn’t what it was so I come here to sit up close to the altar and admire the talent of those who made something so plain, so beautiful.”
Julian could feel each hushed word the priest thought.

“Now, Luciano, he was following you. His interest in you is unholy and unhealthy. Take care my friend,”
Soski said.
“My earlier question was a serious one. Did you enjoy the cardinal’s ‘Soldiers of Reason’ monologue? He has given it many times, although not in the way I originally wrote it. He relies on others for his originality. It doesn’t matter though.”

“Father, call me Julian if you wouldn’t mind,” Julian said and then continued. “I have a problem.”

“Dr. Dwyer - yes I know. Julian, I have given this a great deal of attention. It hasn’t done me any good, but you need to know neither you nor the doctor have been far from my thoughts. There are many of us who are trying to find her. There seems to be a screen around all of that which has not yet been penetrated,”
Soski said.

“Father…”

The priest touched Julian’s sleeve and said, “
Please, Marek is preferable to Father Soski.”

“Marek, anyone could have her, although the Russians and Luciano are first on the list of suspects. For all I know, Cardinal Manning could have her. I don’t know anything about Manning. Can he be trusted? Are the police doing all they can? Might the police be somehow complicit?” Julian asked.

“Cardinal Manning is a cardinal, and as such, he is a political animal. He can be trusted as much as one can trust any dangerous wild animal. However, I believe he is rather tame in comparison to many of his brother cardinals. I doubt he has the doctor. What advantage would he gain by taking her? He seems to want nothing from you, but time will enlighten us.”

Fr. Soski continued,
“I have been on to the police. You may trust they are doing all they can. That is not nearly enough for you. I know this. As I’ve said, I admire the restraint you have continued to show thus far. I doubt I would have done so well in your place. Please, believe, if I could put your mind at rest, know I would.

“All of that is, however, an aside. You have a plan. You are a man who is never far from a plan. This one, I think, renders cardinals, gangsters and the police irrelevant. I could be mistaken, but I doubt it.”

“I’m going to see the Russian, Sokolov. I have sat around long enough,” Julian said. “I have no idea where he is but, I’m sure if I stand around, one of his men will find me.”

“Rather than that, let’s make an appointment with him, shall we? I want you to do something, not for me, but for you. Are you willing?”
Soski said and Julian nodded.

“Sit back and look at the doorway to the right of the altar. Look at the door and then into it. Tell me when you can see the individual grains in the wood,” Soski whispered in the sepulchral silence of the church.

Julian’s eyes became heavy. Through half hooded slits, his vision began to narrow.

The door to the right of the altar and the sculptures above the door.

The door and frame.

The door.

It took some minutes, but Julian narrowed his focus further to the wood on the door and nothing else. He sent the thought –
“Now.”

“Good. You are as fast a study as they said. Julian, on the other side of a door, not unlike that one, is your Russian. See him. Watch him. Feel him. It is necessary that you know this man well before you meet him.

“I know you think this is impossible. How could you locate one man out of so many? Remember, we shine a light into the darkness. This man is using that darkness to his advantage, but his dark little corner festers and reeks from his crimes and his sins. Use the light to your advantage and know we make the impossible happen.”

A minute, then two passed. Soski watched Julian.
“The building he is in, I can see it. I see the office, his men. Got it - I see him,”
Julian thought.

“Julian, watch him for a bit and then let Sokolov know that you want him to make himself available for you tomorrow. Take your time. When you are sure you have his attention, give him your message. Watch him and make sure he understands.”

Julian sat in transfixed silence. The old church gave voice to its age as its timbers creaked and a whispered breeze moved the flowers on the altar. Julian closed his eyes and smiled. Soski knew it was done.

“And?”

“It was difficult to get his attention. He is a man not easily distracted. I believe my message came through with some clarity though. I just hope I got the right guy.”