God's Lions - House of Acerbi (15 page)

“What are you two conspiring about? Is it some kind of Catholic plot?”

Morelli and Leo turned to see a sullen-looking Lev Wasserman standing behind them. Morelli grinned back at him and pulled a small yellow box from his coat pocket.

“Here, Professor. This might help to make up for your poker losses with the Cardinal.”

Lev whistled softly to himself as he gingerly opened the box and inhaled the unmistakable and overpowering aroma of twenty-five genuine Cuban cigars.

“Cohibas!”

“Yes. The Church is making significant inroads back into Cuba. Raul Castro gave them to Bishop Hernandez when he was meeting with Fidel last month. Hernandez doesn’t smoke, so he mailed them to me and I’ve been saving them for you ever since.”

“Your thoughtfulness has just earned you a special place in heaven, Anthony!” Lev stepped back and eyed the bishop suspiciously. “What do you want?”

Morelli laughed. “Well, go ahead ... we know you’re dying to try one.” They both watched as Lev expertly clipped the end from one of the precious cigars and lit it with a match. Closing his eyes, he exhaled and let the thick, bluish smoke drift upwards around his head and through his hair as his face widened with a huge grin. “I don’t know how to thank you, Anthony. How did you know these are my favorites?”

“I didn’t, but I knew they must be good considering where they came from and who sent them.”

Those entrenched in the cigar world knew that only ten farms in the Vuelta Abajo region of Cuba supplied their best leaves for the Cohiba. That, plus the fact that they are the only brand to use three fermentations—one of many small details that make it one of the finest cigars in the world. First introduced in 1968, the Cohiba was an instant sensation. Back then, the Cuban government was looking for something special. Their cigars were a point of pride, and Fidel wanted the best of the best when it came to giving a special gift to foreign dignitaries. The Cohiba exceeded his wildest expectations, and when word of its velvety flavor spread among cigar aficionados the world over, the new cigar became almost impossible to obtain, making it one of the most expensive and sought-after tobacco products in the world. Needless to say, Lev was ecstatic.

Morelli relished watching Lev’s reaction. The bishop was truly a man who enjoyed giving more than he enjoyed receiving, and those who counted themselves among his close friends quickly got used to receiving little gifts from him for no special reason.

Morelli glanced down at his watch. It was time for him to leave. Not one for long goodbyes, he turned away and walked quickly down the red dirt road to the little white car that had followed them all the way from Rome. Looking back at Leo and Lev, he gave a quick wave before climbing into the back seat. Moments later, the little car had disappeared from sight.

“Nice cigars.” Leo and Lev glanced over to see Francois standing next to them.

Lev sighed as he reached into the box and handed Leander one of his precious stogies. Running the prized cylinder of tobacco beneath his nose, Francois nodded his head in the direction of a group of fit-looking men sporting an array of automatic weapons. “As you can see, one of my quick response teams arrived during the night. I think it’s time we leave for Portofino.”

While Leo and Lev settled into the back of one of the armored SUVs, Francois conferred with the Swiss Guard captain before hopping behind the wheel and starting the engine. Flanked by several additional vehicles full of heavily-armed men, the procession pulled away from the farmhouse and headed up the coast highway toward the stair-stepped houses that made up the seaside village of Portofino.

Considered by many to be one of the most beautiful seaside ports in all of Europe, millions of would-be travelers had gazed upon pictures of the tiny Mediterranean village on posters displayed in windows of travel agencies all over the world. One look at the idyllic seaside setting was usually all it took to make customers reach for their wallets and hand over their credit cards as they stared at the poster, hypnotized by thoughts of rubbing elbows with the rich and famous on the Italian Riviera.

Although the harbor at Portofino was too small to accept a super yacht the size of the Carmela, the port was filled with smaller yachts along with brightly-painted fishing boats that appeared to float on air in the clear aquamarine water that lapped at a dock populated with sidewalk cafes. The laid-back, seaside retreat of Portofino was a place where the rich and not-so-rich mingled in a setting untouched by time, drinking and eating late into the night as the velvety sea air filled their lungs with the sweet perfume of the ocean.

After parking on a sloping cobblestoned street, Francois walked with Leo and Lev down to the waterfront. Predictably, the cafes were deserted as a slight breeze ruffled the multicolored umbrellas over the empty tables.

Squinting out at the dazzling harbor, they could see an enormous blue and white yacht pulling at its anchor chain in the softly rolling swell of the sea beyond the protective rock jetty. It was a welcome sight to the weary men who, only the day before, were not sure if they would live to see another sunrise.

“Daddy!” The startled men turned to see a shapely young woman with long brown hair running toward them.

“Ariella! I thought we sent word ... no one was supposed to come ashore.”

“John and I brought the speedboat in, Father. You weren’t planning on swimming out to the yacht, were you?”

“I see.” Lev’s futile attempt to look stern brought a smile to Ariella’s face. Ever since she was a child, Lev had learned that his efforts to control his headstrong daughter were met with about as much success as an attempt to shape dry sand.

“Where’s everyone else?”

“On the yacht. John is across the harbor looking to buy some fresh fish for supper tonight ... he should be along in a minute.”

“Leo!” Ariella threw her arms around the cardinal’s neck. “We’ve missed you so much. It’s been almost a year since my wedding. Where’s Bishop Morelli?”

“On his way back to the Vatican. Is that John?” Leo pointed to a tanned and shirtless young man who was slowly edging a gleaming white speedboat up against the dock. As soon as he spotted Leo, he jumped from the boat and reached out with an eager handshake.

“It’s good to see you again, sir. Ariella and I have been meaning to come to Rome for the past several months, but the house ... school ...”

Leo stood back and admired the young couple. They were the closest thing to having children of his own that he had ever experienced. “You two are still newlyweds. You need to feather your nest.”

John grinned. “Come on ... hop in the boat. We need to get going. There’s a storm coming and the captain wants to put to sea as soon as possible.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Lev said, looking around at all the empty tables. “I’m not convinced this epidemic is over yet. It’s only a matter of time before it pops up again.”

Ariella shuddered. Looking down into the speedboat, she spotted an empty wire basket lying on the floorboards. “No luck finding any fresh fish for supper, hon?”

“No fishermen. This town is locked up tight. I saw a few people watching me from their windows, but they closed their shutters when they saw me looking up at them.”

Speaking into his radio, Francois hurried over to the group. “I’ll be saying goodbye for now. My men and I need to get back to the Vatican.”

“Thank you, Francois,” Leo said. “We’ll stay in touch.”

Francois shoved a satellite phone into the cardinal’s hand. “Remember, we can get to you wherever you are ... we’re only a phone call away.”

As everyone clamored onboard the speedboat, John took his place on a raised seat behind the wheel and turned the key. Immediately, the engine came to life with a muted rumble that grew into a throaty roar as they moved out into the harbor. Inching the throttles forward, the bow rose steadily through the water as John steered the boat out into open water toward the Carmela. Standing behind him on tiptoes, Ariella wrapped her arms around his shoulders and laid her head against his tanned back, her long hair whipping in the slipstream as she closed her eyes against the saltwater spray.

Sitting next to Lev on the padded seat in the back of the boat, Leo watched the young couple with a mixture of joy and sadness. He felt a great sense of satisfaction that these two had found happiness with each other, but his joy was tinged with sadness at the fact that he would forever have a void in his life. He would never experience the same closeness with a woman. No one would ever hold him the way Ariella held on to John. His only embrace came from his faith, for that was the path he had chosen.

Only a few of the cardinal’s closest friends knew that he fought a constant internal battle with the issue of celibacy and marriage. His rough-chiseled features and intelligent green eyes had attracted more than one woman throughout his life, and for some odd reason, his Roman collar had actually acted as a magnet to some. But despite his yearning to share his life with another, Leo had come to terms with the fact that life wasn’t always fair to those who served. He had always managed to remain faithful to his vows, but in his view, the Church’s demand for priests to remain celibate had condemned thousands of men to a life of unnatural solitude. More and more he was coming to believe that this demand for a life filled with reflective isolation was a throwback to the Middle-Ages, to an unenlightened era in history, when enforcing deprivation on others was power.

Now, in the twenty-first century, as information circled the globe at the speed of light, a new generation of priests had become filled with a fierce resolve—a resolve for change. They had become convinced that the Church’s failure to acknowledge a man’s God-given right to marry and have a family was the one thing most responsible for the scandals that had befallen the modern priesthood.

The year before, when Leo had first met John as a young man considering the priesthood, he had counseled him to choose his vocation wisely due to this very issue. John had agonized between his ambition to serve God as a priest and his desire to marry and raise a family. The matter had finally been settled in Israel when John and Ariella looked into each other’s eyes for the first time. Game over. The Church had lost another promising candidate.

A shadow looming over the speedboat caused Leo to look up as the gleaming white superstructure of the Carmela towered above them. Pulling up alongside the yacht’s dark blue hull, John expertly reversed the speedboat’s engines to keep from slamming into the wooden stairway that descended down the side of the yacht from the deck above. Rising and falling with the swell of the ocean, John tried to steady the small boat while Lev scrambled onto the bow and threw a line to a deckhand standing at the bottom of the stairs.

Up on the bridge, Alex Pappas, the Carmela’s captain, stood against the railing, smoking a cigarette. He looked down on the scene below with eyes that matched the color of the sea he had lived on for most of his adult life. His short black hair contrasted with the stark white uniform he wore with pride, and like his father and grandfather before him, he had followed in the footsteps of generations of Greek sea captains who had guided ships across the Mediterranean Sea for thousands of years.

“Secure that speedboat,” Pappas bellowed to the deckhands below. “We’re starting the engines in fifteen minutes.”

The yacht’s mixed crew of men and women looked up and watched as he flicked the remainder of his lit cigarette overboard and walked back into the bridge. The young crewmembers sprang into action, for they knew that their beloved Greek captain always meant what he said, and that in exactly fifteen minutes, the twin turbines of the two-hundred-and-thirty-foot yacht would begin propelling the huge boat away from the coastline and out to sea.

As the crew took charge of stowing the speedboat below decks, Leo and Lev followed John and Ariella up the polished wooden stairs to the main deck.

“We’re going up to the bridge to watch the departure,” John said. “Aren’t you two coming? The view is spectacular from up there.”

“It’s pretty spectacular from here too,” Lev said, settling back into a cushy lounge chair next to a table under a blue canvas awning. “Tell Alex we’ll be up in a minute.”

Shrugging his shoulders, John grabbed Ariella’s hand and the two headed up some outside stairs to the bridge. Seconds later, a female crewmember exited the aft salon with a tray in her hand. She was wearing the crew’s standard uniform of dark blue shorts and a blue-and-white-striped polo shirt with the name of the yacht, Carmela, emblazoned in gold script over the left chest. Bending from the waist, she set two glasses of sparkling white wine at their table before disappearing back inside.

“I had forgotten how much I loved being on this boat,” Leo said, lying back in a recumbent deck chair next to Lev and gazing out at the harbor.

“I know. I love it too. Sometimes I feel more at home on this boat than I do on land. Still, I can’t help but feel a little guilty sitting here amidst all of this luxury, especially in view of what just happened to all of those poor souls back on the highway.”

Leo took a long sip from his glass and stared out at the water. “Life is for the living, Lev, and we have to press on if we are to have any chance at all of stopping this thing. Now that I think of it, this boat is probably one of the best places in the world to be right now. It’s mobile and easily isolated ... a perfect home base for what we need to do. Everything happens for a reason, so we should count our blessings that we have our own little island of safety right now.”

“What you just said reminds me of something I’ve been thinking about since we came onboard. Now that the world is at the mercy of a virus that’s capable of killing millions, we’ve arrived at a kind of crossroads in human history. No one knows where this thing will strike next. Panic will soon rule the cities, and others will be looking for similar places of safety. Untold thousands will be seeking to escape the virus until the threat has passed. I’ve sent word to our people guarding the compound back in Israel to block all access. For now, no one comes in and no one goes out. The same thing goes for this boat except for designated team members who will have to make shore excursions from time to time.”