Magnificat (31 page)

While his housekeeper brought him a glass of strong, sweet tea, Dmitri Karodin leaned back in his chair, going over in his mind the most recent additions to his file on Magistrate Zhuang. He had already decided that he would have to find out where the rumor of Zhuang’s being an agent of the Communist Party came from, and who was behind the insistence that she was under orders to destroy the Church for ideological reasons. Not that he ruled out such a possibility, he added to himself as he made a few notes on the pad he kept on his desk. Premier Zuo Nangkao was not one to neglect such an opportunity, though Dmitri knew that Zuo had played no part in Magistrate Zhuang’s election. Yet Dmitri was not surprised that there would be rumors about what the Chinese government expected to achieve through Magistrate Zhuang’s unexpected advancement, or that some would assume there had been subtle machinations on the part of Chinese intelligence to obtain the Throne of Saint Peter for her. However, the fabulous notion of drugs and subliminal manipulation of the entire College of Cardinals was too preposterous for him to consider as anything more than entertainment.

But the rumor—the specific rumor—had come from somewhere, he knew. And wherever it was, there Magistrate Zhuang had implacable enemies. He finished his tea and made a few phone calls, none of them to Moscow.

* * *

Drizzle turned the entire city of Milan a dark, surly grey. Late spring often went nasty in the north of Italy; the small party from Rome waited in the security VIP lounge of the airport, peering out at the weather and waiting for the announcement that the plane from Hong Kong via Delhi had arrived at last.

“I can understand why Barbarossa sacked this city twice,” said Vitale, Cardinal Cadini when the lounge hostess had brought them all brandy with coffee and left them alone. “It made him gloomy.”

“It became gloomy after he sacked it,” said Cardinal Pingari, thinking that the lounge was a little stuffy. He liked the rain and if he were not in his most elegant business suit, he would have taken half an hour to walk alone in it.

Cardinal van Hooven set his brandy aside. “It is better this than smog.”

All five of the Cardinals in the lounge agreed.

“Do you think this new Pope will take an interest in smog? Now that environmental abuse is listed as a sin, she might insist that something be done,” Cardinal Gemme tried to laugh, and showed instead a nervousness like stage fright. His usual confidence was absent today, and instead he fussed. “The Chinese have not been very concerned with the environment until Zuo became Premier.”

“There’s no use anticipating. We’ll have to wait until she arrives to find out,” said Cardinal van Hooven. He was comfortable in his chair and showed no inclination to get up and pace, as Cardinal Gemme was doing, or to watch impatiently as the wall clock marked off an eternity of seconds, as Cardinal Ochoa did, or to stare out at the rain and lowering clouds as if they were an assembly of devils, as Cardinal Shumwoe did. If he had learned one thing in his years of psychiatric practice it was to wait without expectation, so that he would not be shocked, whatever happened. In his own apartments he might have lit a pipe; but here, he realized that would only serve to provoke the others.

“You said Cardinal Mendosa called you from Delhi,” said Cardinal Gemme, addressing Cardinal Cadini. “What did he have to say?”

“That the trip was bouncy and the food was bad and the movie boring, but that the airline staff was being pleasant,” said Cardinal Cadini with extreme calm. “What else could he say in the middle of a busy airport? There might have been newsmen around, and he didn’t want to advertise their presence.”

“There
is
a newsman around all the time,” complained Cardinal Gemme, with a look to the others for support. “His translator is a journalist.”

“And so far he has sent nothing to the papers, or the networks,” Cardinal Cadini said gently. “He gave Cardinal Mendosa his word and he has honored it.”

“What did he have to say about the woman?” asked Cardinal Pingari, his question sounding very loud.

“He said that she was tired. They’ll probably be suffering from jet lag when they arrive. They’ll want nothing more than a light meal and a good night’s rest,” said Cardinal Cadini, hoping that so mundane a consideration as jet lag would keep the Cardinals from demanding the entire attention of the newcomer.

“There is a press conference scheduled for tomorrow at noon,” said Cardinal Gemme. “In Rome.”

“And we will be certain to have something for the press,” said Cardinal van Hooven. “We need not produce Zhuang for them. In fact, it might be best if we wait until we have the opportunity to speak with her ourselves before we ask her to deal with the press. We need only tell them that she has arrived safely and that plans are underway for her coronation.” He saw Cardinal Pingari and Cardinal Ochoa wince at the last word; he went on, “It will be what they expect, yet in these times, it will serve our purpose to give them what they expect.”

“Quite true,” said Cardinal Cadini with enthusiasm. “We really ought to behave as if this were the most normal election in the history of the Church, to keep them from making all those outrageous claims we keep seeing in headlines. Have you followed the most recent speculations? They’re like the story in a bad movie. Hypnotic suggestions! Communists in the kitchen! Bugs in the Sistine Chapel! As if this lot could be uniformly hoodwinked without difficulty.”

The others nodded endorsement of his indignation.

“At home,” said Cardinal Shumwoe in his deep, entrancing voice, “people are saying that a spell has been put on the Church, by older gods who are not pleased to have an upstart like Jesus Christ taking the place of the old ones. Those old gods are bloody. If they demand revenge, it is taken in pain and lives. They are false gods, but many are deceived by these tales of their power.” He crossed himself. “I have been warned by many of my clergy that we will lose converts because of that woman.”

“If she is the choice of the Holy Spirit, they will return, and bring many more with them,” said Cardinal van Hooven tranquilly.

Cardinal Gemme rounded on him, his hands tightening to fists. “How can you sit there, pretending that nothing important is happening?”

“It has not happened yet, if you are speaking of Zhuang’s arrival. If you mean her election, that was weeks and weeks ago. It is no longer news to alarm me.” He decided to have a little more brandy. “For the sake of Our Lord, Marc-Luc, spare yourself. You will need all that energy later. There is nothing to be gained squandering it now.”

Cardinal Gemme turned away abruptly, almost overturning Cardinal Cadini’s snifter of brandy. “You all think this going to go away, don’t you? You assume that we’ll be able to carry on as usual, that she’ll be so baffled and confused that she will not be able to do anything but what we tell her to do.” He came close to pounding his fist against the wall in frustration. “Don’t be blind! She could make many changes, serious changes. She is about to become
Pope!
And we don’t know anything about her. Hasn’t it penetrated your brains yet? She will have the authority to command the Church. If that doesn’t frighten you, if you are not apprehensive at least, about what she could so, then you are worse than fools.”

Cardinal Cadini applauded lightly. “Very convincing, Cardinal Gemme.” He was about to continue when an announcement, first in Italian, then in English, then in German, informed them of the arrival of a flight from Copenhagen.

All the Cardinals visibly relaxed.

“I find your attitude offensive,” said Cardinal Gemme to Cardinal Cadini.

“I might say the same of you, Cardinal Gemme,” Cardinal Cadini replied. “It is moments like this when I wonder if we are truly on the same side.”

“Side! How can you allow something so petty as side to cloud your judgment?” Cardinal Gemme moved past Cardinal Cadini, but the lounge did not give him much room for dramatic effect. He had to be satisfied with a short turn and a resumption of his pacing.

“The whole problem is that each of us has a side,” said Cardinal Cadini as if he were unaware of the slight Cardinal Gemme had offered him. “And that woman is going to have to contend with all of them. Some of us have hopes that her insights will help us find new ways to teach our old lesson. Others would rather stick with old methods, viable or not.”

“He’s not a student of yours, Cardinal Cadini,” said Cardinal Pingari, doing his best to sound more confident than he felt. “None of us needs a lecture from you.”

“Your point is taken, Eminence,” said Cardinal Cadini, shifting in his seat with with a serene smile. He directed his attention to the shiny runways.

“How much longer, do you think?” asked Cardinal Ochoa, with a glance at his watch. “They were supposed to land twenty minutes ago.”

“This airport is always behind,” complained Cardinal Gemme. “I have missed more connections here than anywhere but Frankfort.”

“We haven’t been told there is a delay,” said Cardinal van Hooven, “so we must assume that they are part of the planes scheduled to land. Be patient if you can. Pray for patience.” He had a little more of the brandy. “This is quite good. You should try some.”

“No, thank you,” said Cardinal Ochoa. He looked uncomfortable in his secular clothes although he was dressed with expensive, restrained good taste. “If only they would land.”

Another two planes descended, then taxied to other parking spots, waiting for the airport ferries to come and claim their passengers, bound for other gates than the one where the Cardinals waited.

Then a plane came in bearing the emblem of China/World Airlines, the most recent of the People’s Republic’s ventures into tourism. No announcement on the public address system greeted its arrival.

Cardinal Cadini watched it eagerly. “They’ re supposed to let her off first. That’s what the police want, so they can give her proper protection.” He nodded toward the police cars waiting near the runways a quarter of a mile from the terminal. “The airport staff said they would take her off the plane very near here.”

“How can you be sure this is the plane they’re on?” Cardinal Gemme demanded, anxious and annoyed at once.

“Well, the next China/World flight isn’t due until nine this evening. So it would appear that this is our plane.” Cardinal Cadini was staring out the window now, close enough to the glass that his breath left ghosts on the pane.

Cardinal Gemme came to his side. “There’s no announcement.”

“They won’t make one until after Zhuang and Cardinal Mendosa leave the plane. And Willie Foot, too, for that matter.” Cardinal Cadini made no attempt to disguise the smile that spread over his features. “We’ll be able to watch them from here.”

Cardinal van Hooven rose to his feet and came to the window. “What does she look like?” He scolded himself silently for anticipating the woman, but could not deny his curiosity.

“Chinese,” said Cardinal Cadini comprehensively. “Wait. It won’t be long now.”

The plane reached the end of the runway now and was turning to come back to the terminal. It was accompanied by ten police cars, a whale in a school of minnows.

Finally the plane stopped and steps were rolled out to it.

“I want to watch,” said Cardinal Shumwoe as he came to the window with the others.

As the door swung open, Cardinal Mendosa stepped out into the rain. He lifted his arms and opened an umbrella with a broken vane, so that one side flopped toward his ear. Even at this distance, his fellow-Cardinals could see he was grinning.

“How does he look?” asked Cardinal Cadini, wishing he had his other pair of glasses with him.

“He looks like Charles, Cardinal Mendosa,” said Cardinal Gemme in disgust. “He’s probably wearing his cowboy boots.”

Next came Willie Foot to stand beside the Cardinal, disdaining the shelter of the umbrella with British unconcern.

The third figure held the rapt attention of the six Cardinals in the VIP lounge: she was shadowed by the umbrella, and dwarfed by the two men who flanked her; she did not seem very distinguished. Her hair was dark, but that was expected. Before she started down the steps she addressed a remark to Cardinal Mendosa which made him laugh. She stood straight and walked without hesitation, her shoulders square, her head carried well. Her clothes were nondescript, but she did not behave as if this troubled her.

“
Habemus Papam
,” said Cardinal Cadini softly as Magistrate Zhuang stepped onto Italian ground to be lost to sight amid the police cars. “Or whatever the feminine of Pope may be.”

Part II:

ELEVATION

Chapter 17

It was impossible to reach the Vatican by road. Tens of thousands of Catholics, non-Catholics, anti-Catholics, the crazed and the curious had turned out to catch a glimpse of the woman from China. Several vocal minorities shouted slogans against the new Pope, calling her Antichrist and Whore of Babylon, Communist and Subversive. A few smaller, more respectful groups staged demonstrations of support, a contingent of nuns going so far as to celebrate a Mass at the base of Castel’ Sant’ Angelo; the break-away group that claimed the right of succession to the Throne of Saint Peter for themselves sang the
Requiem
. Others recited prayers in Latin and admonished sincere Catholics to turn away from revisionist policies and irreligious practices which had made the Church a puppet in godless hands.

Thieves of all sorts took advantage of this marvelous opportunity. The newsmedia gobbled it all and asked for more. Not everyone approved of this exploitation, but those who objected were ignored or shouted down. Worshippers and zealots blocked the Sant’ Angelo bridge and the police barricaded the Vittorio Emanuele II bridge in a desperate attempt to reduce the number of people crowding onto the north-west bank of the Tevere; they were not very successful and the crush grew worse.

Rafaele, Cardinal Tondocello, dressed as casually as his rank and the gravity of the occasion would allow stood to greet the three men from Interpol as his Jesuit secretary left them. “Welcome, gentlemen. Come in. Come in. I’m sorry for all this…inconvenience,” he said, and held out his ring to them, sketching a blessing to them as they knelt. He was very tired and the commotion around him made him testy. “Please. Sit down.”

The two Frenchmen complied at once; the Italian remained standing until the Cardinal himself was seated. The senior officer, a Commander Alphonse Bouleau from Nantes, presented his credentials. “Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Your Eminence. I’m sorry we come on such an unpleasant errand. We appreciate your cooperation, at what must be a very difficult time. Still, we might have expected worse, all things considered.” He paused, giving Cardinal Tondocello the opportunity to speak. When the Cardinal remained silent, Commander Bouleau continued, “Inspectors Cervi and Fleche and I have been asked by the Italian government and the European Economic Community Police Agency to assist you, for the protection of Rome. Of course, the Vatican need not accept our aid, but.…” He made a gesture to imply the rest.

“Yes,” said Cardinal Tondocello. He sighed, thinking that tomorrow he would have to have dialysis again, and would feel better afterward. “It would probably be best if we work together.”

“We know you have your own security people.… Interpol has a long history of good relations with your security. We’ve already been in contact with them, of course. So have the EECPA.” Inspector Cervi said in placating tones. “But in this instance—and I believe you will agree—the situation is too delicate for our usual methods.”

Cardinal Tondocello nodded. “Of course. We were informed last night. They are not adequate to this.” He lifted his hand to indicate the crowd three stories down from his study window. “That you arrived by helicopter is proof of the gravity of the situation.”

“The crowd is now estimated at forty to fifty thousand,” said Inspector Cervi. “According to INS, that is low. They are estimating it at seventy-five to eighty thousand in their news programs.”

“So many gathered like this is a…dangerous environment. And when you consider the controversy of the occasion, the risks are greater. Anything might happen. It would take very little to turn that crowd into a mob. Or worse,” added Inspector Fleche.

“What could be worse than a mob?” asked Cardinal Tondocello. “Are you afraid that there might be a deliberate attempt to disrupt the Pope’s arrival? I don’t mean
Requiems
on the bridge or Masses at Sant’ Angelo.”

“It is something we must anticipate, little as we might want to. It would not be difficult to work the crowd into a frenzy, and then it could turn violent quickly. We don’t want anyone getting hurt or killed because the Chinese Pope is coming. We may have to take necessary steps to reduce the volatility of that crowd. But we do not want to use aggressive measures, not here, with the whole world watching. It would be a very bad beginning for the new Pope. If there is a riot here, then it will signal more of them in other places. And there could be more dangerous factors here than we know,” said Commander Bouleau.

“How do you mean?” asked Cardinal Tondocello. His back was sore and his eyes were tired; it was only three in the afternoon. He longed to be back in Palermo.

“Well,” said Inspector Cervi in a studious and polite manner, “as far as we are aware, there has been no official notice from the Vatican that the…the Chinese woman has arrived in Italy, and yet everyone out there is here, expecting to meet her. How did they learn she had arrived?”

Cardinal Tondocello shrugged. “Someone might have noticed her landing at the airport. All those police were not inconspicuous. Someone might have recognized one of the Cardinals at the train station. They all wore secular clothes, but Cardinal Gemme and Cardinal Cadini are familiar faces to the public. The whole world has been waiting for Zhuang Renxin to come here. There is likely to be a vigil, no matter what announcements are made, and so we’ve said nothing. I am not surprised that we could not keep so momentous a secret.”

“But so many people. The Mass at Castel’ Sant’ Angelo. There are groups carrying banners and placards protesting the election of this woman, including about twenty Chinese students here to learn musical composition.” Inspector Fleche leaned forward in his chair, a scarecrow-thin man with wiry mop of khaki hair. “Twenty Chinese students are nothing. If they were all we had to contend with, we would not need to speak with you. But for every supporter of the new Pope, there is at least one detractor. Many protesting are Catholics, Eminence. This concerns us all very much.”

“No more than we are concerned here at the Vatican,” said Cardinal Tondocello. He was afraid he was whining when he wanted most to be forceful. “We do not want to alienate anyone who might come to salvation through the Church, but we cannot defy the Holy Spirit because there are Catholics who have forgot the obedience that is part of their faith. Perhaps if we make a formal announcement, people will understand.” He hoped he expressed himself emphatically, but could see from the expressions of the Interpol men that he had not.

“Such an announcement should have come earlier, if at all. It will not make much difference to that crowd,” said Commander Bouleau. “It could easily make things worse, and we cannot condone any action that might turn the balance to violence.” He folded his hands; his square, stocky body and thinning hair reminded Cardinal Tondocello of a determined monk. “We must agree on a strategy, Your Eminence.”

Cardinal Tondocello sighed again, wishing now that he had never consented to work with the police in this matter; he had wanted to show that he was not a reactionary and at the time he was offered the task, it had seemed a good way to prove it. “I am at your disposal, gentlemen,” he told them, resigning himself to a dreadful afternoon.

* * *

By the time the train reached Empoli, news had spread that the Chinese woman was aboard. Seven thousand people poured into the station in the hope of getting a glimpse of her in the Vatican’s private car as it rolled on toward Siena. Police were called out, the newsmedia descended in noisy gaggles, and a riot was narrowly averted, but warnings flashed south along the route of the train, informing stations and crossings to be prepared for trouble, and all but two halts along the line were canceled to avoid another gathering like this.

“But this is ridiculous,” said Magistrate Zhuang as she peered out the window at the milling crowd with the armored police driving them back from the rails. “If I were to go to the window, wouldn’t that satisfy their curiosity?”

“Keep away from there, Worthy Magistrate,” Cardinal Mendosa cautioned her in his clumsy Chinese. “It’s not bullet-proof.”

“Bullet-proof,” she scoffed. “You tell me that religious figures are men of peace. Why should bullet-proof glass be necessary?” She looked over at Willie Foot, who was at the other end of the car drinking espresso with Cardinal Cadini. “If this position has such privilege and beneficence, as you inform me it has, why should I fear being shot?”

“I got most of that,” said Cardinal Mendosa.

Willie picked up his little cup and came closer to Zhuang. “I should not have to explain to you, Worthy Magistrate. You are familiar with the theory: any position of power, beneficent and respected or not, is a position that is envied and sought by others. It is prudent to guard against the actions of those who are envious.”

“There is more to it than that,” Cardinal Mendosa went on, letting Willie translate for him instead of struggling to find the right words in Chinese. “It isn’t simply envy that drives men to struggle and bring down Popes. Power is part of it, yes, but there is the more complex aspect of faith. Whenever you question a man’s—or a woman’s—faith, there are problems.”

“Indeed?” said Zhuang Renxin. “Why should this be a question of faith at all? This is a matter of standard procedure. You Cardinals are the committee who selected the leader, and your decision is regarded as final. You made that clear to me. The only thing that is unusual in my case is that you have chosen me instead of one of your own number to be leader. You have acknowledged this. Why should it have any bearing on faith?”

The train was moving again, slowly at first, but gathering speed.

“It goes to the heart of—” began Cardinal Ochoa forcefully.

“We’ve been over this before, Worthy Magistrate,” Cardinal Mendosa interrupted. “You know most of the answers already. And I am afraid some of my colleagues do not enjoy intellectual fencing as much as you and I do.”

She looked over at him when Willie was done. “Mendosa, you are wily.”

“Thank you, Worthy Magistrate.” This was in Chinese, so that the other Cardinals would not be offended by her title.

“Still,” Cardinal Cadini said as he strolled the length of the car, only once pausing to hold the back of a sofa as the train accelerated around a very long curve, “it will be a problem, Holiness. You are entering a convoluted world and you are not truly prepared for it. We, who have given most of our lives to the Church and her workings are never truly prepared for it; you have more to learn in less time than we do. You saw those people at the station. There are millions of them all over the world who are going to be satisfied or upset by your election, and they will want their feelings known.”

“You’re a unique event in Church history,” added Cardinal Gemme, abandoning his newspaper and coming to the cluster of sofas where Zhuang sat.

“You make her sound like a volcanic eruption,” said Cardinal Mendosa with an edge to his voice.

“It’s an apt description,” said Cardinal Gemme as he considered his remark. “Nothing like her has happened before. That makes her doubly interesting: she is unique
and
unexpected. There are those who will want to reach you because of your uniqueness, if nothing else.”

“And there are hunters who would kill the last of an endangered species to have the unique distinction of killing the last of its kind,” said Cardinal Mendosa, this time deliberately in English.

“Charming image,” Willie remarked over his shoulder to Cardinal Mendosa. “Do you want me to translate it?”

“Not especially,” said Cardinal Mendosa. “It’s too near the bone.”

Cardinal Gemme had been expanding on his thesis, and now Cardinal Cadini said, “This occasion is unique for a number of reasons, and one of them is the world-wide attention focused on you, Holiness. We are privileged to witness these events, the more so because we are near the person—you, Holiness—who has brought them about. Our proximity gives us credibility.”

“This is not a carnival, to entertain, or a debate among diplomats, to negotiate. This is the Church, where we strive for the redemption of the world,” grumbled Cardinal Ochoa.

“Not quite so fast, Eminences,” Willie requested as he continued to translate.

“Everywhere in the world, yes, that is the issue, the world,” said Cardinal van Hooven, who had been so silent that the others assumed he was napping. “Everywhere in the world they are watching. Everyone in the world will know within minutes that the tiara has been placed on her head, and almost all of them will have an opinion about it. This will be the one activity most observed. We must not do this in secret, behind doors with the excuse of doctrine and clandestine purpose to mask our celebration. This time we must change clothes, as it were, in full view, in the light.” He looked toward the connecting door to the private compartments. “Should we call Cardinal Shumwoe and Cardinal Pingari? Did they say when they wanted to join us?”

“They’re at devotions: leave them be. If something arises, they’ll know,” said Cardinal Cadini amiably, glancing the other way toward the locked door between the Vatican car and the rest of the train. “Perhaps we should request more guards? At the next station, there might be a larger crowd waiting. It would not be wise to have an incident now, and the guards might want a freer hand in controlling the people.”

“Do you think we need more? You, of all people?” asked Cardinal van Hooven. “We are not an armed camp.”

“We have three armed guards the other side of that door. Two more are at the rear of the train.” Cardinal Cadini looked from Zhuang to Cardinal Mendosa. “You’ve had the most experience, my friend. Do we have sufficient protection? If the crowds are any greater we might—”

Cardinal Gemme straightened his jacket and tie and touched his lapel pins. “I’ll attend to it.” He started toward the door. “What shall we tell them?”

“That we don’t want them to endanger themselves needlessly. If they believe they cannot contain the crowds, they should increase their numbers so that they can,” suggested Cardinal Cadini. “We have an obligation to protect the Pope.”

“In the full glare of public attention,” added Cardinal Gemme before he released the locks on the door.