Magnificat (20 page)

“That day may come,” said Metropolitan Gosteshenko. “These are very uncertain times, my friend.”

“They are,” agreed Cardinal van Hooven. “I will keep you informed of our progress, if you like.”

“Do, whether I like it or not,” said Metropolitan Gosteshenko, doing his best to laugh so that Cardinal van Hooven would understand he was making a joke. “I would rather be upset than off-guard on this occasion. There are too many unknowns where your new Pope is concerned.”

“There are many hazards for all of us,” said Cardinal van Hooven. “That is why we need that woman here.”

Metropolitan Gosteshenko gave Cardinal van Hooven a Russian blessing before he hung up.

* * *

Her quarters in the guest house in Xi’an were small; Zhuang Renxin was not dismayed to find she had only two rooms, for that seemed more than reasonable, given the reason for her presence. She had been driven there from the airport almost an hour ago, then left with the assurance that she was a guest of the People. The summons that had brought her here had arrived less than an hour after her call to Dame Leonie, and she had been surprised only because it had taken so long to reach her.

She stood before the mirror in her cramped little bathroom and combed her hair. There would be another twenty minutes before the car arrived to take her to her private and unofficial interview with Premier Zuo. Ordinarily she would not have been nervous, but today she was jittery; her hands would not remain still, and the slight, constant trembling embarrassed her as much as the occasion for her presence. She examined her jacket, worried that stains might have appeared on it in the last few minutes. As she chided herself for this foolishness, she peered at her face to be certain there was no blemish on her chin or cheek. Then she combed her hair again.

The driver was not in uniform, but his bearing was military and the way in which he greeted her was perilously close to a salute. He made no comments about the city as he drove the short distance to the cluster of governmental buildings, confining his remarks to occasional warnings about the traffic. Only when he stopped the car did he tell her anything about her visit, though it was little enough. “It is the third door on the left. They are expecting you, Worthy Magistrate.”

“You are most helpful,” said Magistrate Zhuang as she closed the door. While she was not frightened, her apprehension increased as she walked up the short flight of stairs and found the third door on the left.

A guard requested her name and admitted her, escorting her along a narrow, doorless, tunnel-like hallway. He showed her into a small sitting room at the end of the corridor and told her to wait. Then he left her alone.

Premier Zuo let Magistrate Zhuang sit for almost fifteen minutes before he came through the interior door, bowing slightly to her as he did. “Worthy Magistrate.”

She rose at once and offered him a formal bow, proud that her parents had drilled her in the correct show of deference to all stations of persons. “Premier,” she said respectfully, a little awed that so august a person would actually be willing to speak with her. Until this moment she had not been wholly certain the meeting would truly occur. But the last few days had been filled with unanticipated events, she told herself, hoping that she would not behave improperly.

He sat down, but did not gesture for her to do the same; he began without preamble. “I have seen the report of your visitors, and I have been informed of their requests.”

Magistrate Zhuang bowed again but said nothing. She knew it would be incorrect to volunteer information until it was requested.

“It is quite an unusual event, Worthy Magistrate, if my information is accurate. According to the report, a Cardinal of the Roman Catholic Church has informed you of your election as Pope. I understand you have accepted the post.” He looked at her at last. “Is this true?”

She bowed a third time. “Yes.”

“Will you please tell me how this came about?” Premier Zuo requested in a voice that warned her of the danger of refusing.

Magistrate Zhuang had to restrain her desire to assure Premier Zuo that she would never defy the leader of China. Prudently all she did was incline her head. “I was visited by Charles Ruy Mendosa, who came to tell me that the College of Cardinals, of which he is a member, has elected me to that position. I did not believe him at first, but he has convinced me. I questioned him most thoroughly, Worthy Premier.”

“You spoke with him for some considerable time,” said Premier Zuo, neither accusation nor praise in the statement.

“Yes. He, a British journalist, and their Chinese driver came to my house. I arranged for my neighbor’s wife to serve as chaperon. Cardinal Mendosa explained to me how the election is done and what had happened on two separate occasions. He said it would not be fitting for them to proceed until I had been located and given the opportunity to serve. They are obliged to do this because I was elected twice, and that creates certain demands.” She repeated this as if she were reciting a lesson, but as the words came, she began to realize how unlikely it all sounded. “He was very persuasive.”

“He must have been,” said Premier Zuo. “You have agreed to do this, I have been told.”

“Yes,” she said. “If what Cardinal Mendosa says is true, I have a duty to the Church to direct it, since the authority has, apparently, been given to me.” Her eyes met his.

Premier Zuo indicated the chair opposite his own. “We must talk.”

Magistrate Zhuang sat down very carefully, moving as if she expected Premier Zuo to change his mind and keep her standing; her back was very straight. “Of what do you wish to talk, Worthy Premier?”

“Your decision. And before you go on, I want you to understand that you are not to tell anyone anything of what we say. In fact, I want you to deny that this meeting ever took place. If you are asked why you were flown to Xi’an, you are to say that certain government officials had questions to ask you about the foreigners who visited you. Nothing more. No one is to be identified. You must not reveal we have spoken. Is that clear?”

“Yes. I will certainly do as you wish, Worthy Premier,” she responded quickly. “I am gratified to do this for you.”

“Very good,” said Premier Zuo. He reached down and lifted a small brass bell. As he rang it, he said, “I want to know about this man, the Cardinal. How did he describe the Church to you?”

“He described it as corrupt and venal, filled with deceptions and abuses,” Magistrate Zhuang answered at once. “He said that the only person who has the power to end this venality is the Pope, and that it would be a difficult task even for her. He said that if I condemn what the Church is, I am obliged to bring about its change if I am given the opportunity. He believes that there is a religious reason that I have been selected.” She ducked her head.

“Religious?” Did he tell you about the political nature of the Church?” asked Premier Zuo, a bit startled. He had not anticipated that Cardinal Mendosa might be candid with Magistrate Zhuang.

Once again she answered promptly. “He said that he did not have time to unravel it all. He told me that men have devoted the studies of lifetimes to Vatican politics and never comprehended them. It is very complicated, involving many countries and peoples, and many organizations within and without the Church. There is also a great deal of money controlled by the Church, and that is one of the most important issues in the world today.”

“Your Cardinal Mendosa is a very direct man, it appears.” Premier Zuo looked up as a young man discreetly presented himself. “We will take tea in the courtyard in half an hour.” He motioned the young man away.

“You are very gracious, Worthy Premier,” said Magistrate Zhuang. She decided to speak her mind, though she did her best to present her thoughts tactfully. “It is an exceptional honor, Worthy Premier, being called to speak with you, one that I never expected to be accorded me; I am more gratified than I can express for the attention you have shown me, undeserving as I am.”

“If you are deserving of the notice of the Catholic Church in Rome,” said Premier Zuo with asperity, “then you are also deserving of the attention of your country.” He folded his hands. “Worthy Magistrate, you do not appear to realize how remarkable your position is.” He paused so that he would have her complete attention. “The Roman Catholic Church is the enemy of the Revolution and of the People, a cruel oppressor that binds the mind with mental chains; and for those who are under its rule, their lives are made harder because of it. For hundreds and hundreds of years the Church has wrung gold and heart out of its subjects, and still it is venerated as an institution dedicated to the welfare of its followers. It controls the lives of millions and influences millions more, all for the power of the Church in the world. The clergy are perverted and corrupt, the leaders are ambitious, ruthless and venal.”

“I said as much to Cardinal Mendosa,” Magistrate Zhuang told Premier Zuo when he let her speak. “And for the most part he agreed.”

“A clever man, one who has learned to make his way in the Church,” Premier Zuo discounted him. “It would be wise to question everything he says, for his motives are unclear and his position makes him suspect.”

“All those things are true. But his arguments impressed me, for he is aware of the hazards of his station. More than that, I think,” said Magistrate Zhuang with sincerity. “He is one who believes that the soul is real, and he wishes to tend to the souls of his followers, but he is more concerned for the Church, which has failed in its duty to its people.” She knew better than to smile, but there was a softening at the corners of her eyes. “What the Church is supposed to do is worthy: what is reprehensible is that it has failed so utterly to do it.”

“And exploited the people in the process. Cardinal Mendosa has presented his case very persuasively, I see,” said Premier Zuo. “I keep to my original opinion, Worthy Magistrate, that he is a clever man and a capable politician who will manipulate you as readily as he will take money from the poor.” He rose, and she did the same. “I want you to come with me and we will review names on a list I have brought. I want to know everything he has told you about all of them.”

“He did not say much about the other Cardinals, if that is what you seek to learn, Worthy Premier. I do not wish to disappoint you; I think it best that I warn you that I cannot tell you more than a few superficial things.”

“If that is all you can do, then it will be acceptable if it is the totality of your understanding,” said Premier Zuo, already trying to think of ways to thwart her attempts to take up her position in Rome. Her unique situation could very well be useful to him, providing he did not relinquish his control of her. As long as he kept her here yet permitted her contact with the Cardinals, he would be able to finger the pulse of the Church throughout the world; it would suit his purposes very well to know what the Church was doing without the inconvenience of officially recognizing its existence.

“I will do everything I can to give you the information you seek,” said Magistrate Zhuang.

“Excellent,” said Premier Zuo, his smile widening. “Excellent.”

* * *

“You look like you could use a good night’s sleep,” said Willie Foot to Cardinal Mendosa as they sat over coffee in the darkest corner of the restaurant across the street from Santa Maria della Pace. It was a few minutes after ten: news of the election of a Chinese woman to the Papacy was officially five hours old. Every radio, every television, every paper blared the story to the world, and offered commentary and reaction in bewildering variety.

“That would be a good start,” said Cardinal Mendosa, staring into the foaming steamed milk atop his caffe latte. He was in a dark business suit again, black cowboy boots on his feet and a silverbelly stetson, hung for the moment on the back of his chair. “It might also be a good idea to turn off all the telephones in the Vatican, but I don’t suppose that’s possible. And it probably wouldn’t do any good—they’d just call back again later, pissed as hell.” He made no apology for his language.

“Lots of calls?” asked Willie, anticipating the answer.

“Ringing off the walls. We’ve put a dozen more priests on the switchboards, but we’re still overloaded. Everyone wants to know how it happened, and hopes to get inside information. Some people are overjoyed, some are furious. We’re hearing from all of them, and everything in between as well. About ten percent think it’s a hoax. From where I sit, I can’t say I blame them. Justifying a miracle has never been easy, and now—”

“Isn’t that a little extreme?” Willie suggested.

“You think so?” Cardinal Mendosa asked, picking up his latte and trying a sip. “Nope, too hot.” He set it down again. “Suppose you heard about this as a rumor, not through me, but just a rumor. What would you assume about it? If you had any sense at all, you’d think it was sham, and not very good.”

“Maybe, but I’d ask you, just in case.” He bit into a flaky breakfast pastry, noticing that Cardinal Mendosa had eaten nothing.

“That’s hindsight, my friend,” said Cardinal Mendosa slowly. “You were there. You know what’s been going on. But everyone else out there only knows what’s on the evening news—and the morning news, and the noon news, and the news spots—and they assume that we’re trying to put one over on them. One South American paper thinks we’re trying to cover up another death in the College of Cardinals, and this is a smokescreen for the cover-up.” He leaned back. “And in a couple of days, I’ve got to get the ball rolling with Premier Zuo.”

“To get her out?” asked Willie.

“To get me back in. And you as well, if you want to come.” He coughed. “Getting her out is going to be a lot more difficult. Don’t be deceived by the goodwill that we seem to have coming out of China; Premier Zuo isn’t about to let us have Magistrate Zhuang without a fight. They’ve let us reach her, but that doesn’t mean that she’ll be allowed out. It would mean Zuo had to admit the Church exists, and he’s not going to do that unless we nail him to the wall. No crucifixion pun intended.” He picked up his latte and took a long drink of it, not caring that it was still too hot.