Papal Decree (28 page)

‘Did you call me?’ Aris asked from the director’s office door.

‘Yes. Come in and close the door.’

Aris came in and sat down without being asked.

‘I talked with the Holy See,’ Barry informed him.

‘Okay, you’ve got my attention.’

‘It was the only thing I could drag out of that son-of-a-bitch historian. The name of his superior, Cardinal William, who happens to be from Long Beach,’ Barry muttered.

‘Long Beach? How does someone from Long Beach become a cardinal?’ Aris asked curiously.

‘The conversation was cordial. They have almost everything under control,’ Barry continued, ignoring Aris’s remark.

‘Do you believe that?’

‘Of course not. I threw him a few crumbs to let him know we’re informed without letting him know we’re just outside the door.’

‘And the door is still shut,’ Aris added, jokingly. ‘And locked.’

‘Well, he half opened it. An Islamic terrorist group kidnapped Ben Isaac’s son.’

‘Who’s claiming it?’

‘Islamic Jihad.’

‘Those bastards.’

‘They go after the very rich, study them, analyze their weaknesses, and then strike. In this case Ben Isaac’s son,’ Barry explained, joining his hands together on the desk.

Aris thought about the story for several moments and then found flaws. ‘That doesn’t explain what happened in Paris, or Rafael’s presence.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ Barry agreed.

‘What did Cardinal William say?’

‘That Ben Isaac was a devout Catholic and well thought of by the church. Besides, he has
partnerships
with the Vatican and the Bank of the Holy Spirit.’

‘A banker with interest in banks. Tell me something new,’ Aris said sarcastically. ‘So the guy gives money to the church, and that’s why the priests want to save him. This doesn’t explain the murders. Or the agreement, the Status Quo.’

‘The agreement was another weakness for Ben Isaac. An agreement between financiers. They used the excavations as a way for Ben Isaac to transfer money to the church legally as investments. Islamic Jihad eliminated almost everyone involved to demonstrate they weren’t kidding, and would kill his son in the blink of an eye.’

They thought over William’s explanations, looking for a flaw.

‘Does that seem believable?’ Aris asked finally, lifting his hands behind his neck to stretch.

‘Not at all. The English and French have taken charge of the rescue operation. Let’s wait and see. Then in Rome we’ll know everything. Tell Sam to investigate these
partnerships,
’ David said, making quotation marks in the air, ‘between Ben Isaac and the Vatican and the Bank of the Holy Spirit.’

‘Okay.’ Aris got up promptly, went to the door, and turned toward Barry. ‘Does this mean that Rafael doesn’t know what he’s doing?’

‘Apparently.’ Barry took out his gun, checked the bullets, and returned it to his holster.

‘Are you leaving?’

‘Let’s go,’ Barry said, grabbing his jacket. ‘Take care of the calls and come with me to the garage. It’s time to deal the cards.’

The voice echoed from the speakers in perfect English. Everyone listened in tense silence, some scarcely breathing. Garvis kept his hand in the air to restrain gestures or words. Ben Isaac was standing up next to the dining room table full of electronic paraphernalia. A few technicians were seated with headphones, listening in. Others connected the call to special software that displayed the voices in graphic color on the computer screens.

Sarah put her arm around Myriam, who remained seated on the sofa, shivering with every word from the cold voice issuing from the speakers. This was the man who had hurt her son. Calculating and implacable.

‘Stay calm, Myriam,’ Sarah whispered in her ear. ‘Everything is going to be okay. It’s almost over.’

Myriam wanted to believe those sweet words, but knew they were only painkillers for her soul.

‘Listen carefully because I’m only going to say it once,’ the male voice said. ‘Since you ignored our instructions to get rid of the journalist, we’re going to give you a
final
opportunity.’ No one missed the emphasis on the word
final
. ‘She’ll be the one to hand over the parchments. If Sarah Monteiro isn’t at the Gare du Nord in two hours with the parchments in her hand, your son will die. We won’t call again.
Ciao,
Ben Isaac.’

The call ended abruptly. The man had been very clear. There was no room for doubt. All eyes were on Sarah. Since she’d left Francesco in their room at the Grand Hotel Palatino, everything had been out of her hands. The conversation with William in the Palazzo Madama, his instructions, going to meet Ben Isaac, the flight, the morning sickness, everything had unfolded with a will of its own that she didn’t recognize at all. It was enough to show her that even the remote appearance of control was pure delusion. She’d known it for a long time, since Florence, since JC, Rafael, Simon Templar, and John Fox. Ben Isaac, Myriam, and their son, the French inspector, the English one, all the paraphernalia to detect the undetectable, the phone call, Francesco, Rafael again, always … None of this had impressed her. No one controlled anything, except God, if He existed, Who controlled everything.

Myriam hugged Sarah tightly. ‘Bring me my son, Sarah,’ she pleaded desperately. ‘Don’t let them hurt him. Don’t.’

Garvis lowered his hand, and frenzy broke out in an ordered chaos that only those involved understood.

‘Do we have a location?’ Garvis asked.

‘Rome,’ two technicians said.

‘Jerusalem,’ said another.

‘London.’

‘Düsseldorf.’

‘Oslo.’

‘Does this mean we don’t have a location, Jean-Paul?’ Gavache interjected.

‘We’re lost, Inspector.’

‘What’s going on? The call lasted for more than a minute,’ Garvis asked uncomfortably.

‘One minute and fifty-six seconds,’ Jean-Paul added, to give some precision to the information.

‘We are unable to locate the origin of the call,’ one of the technicians said. ‘They obviously know they’re being monitored.’

‘I agree,’ Gavache said, taking a draw on his cigarette. ‘Or now they’re monitoring us.’

Ben Isaac was exhausted and pulled out a chair to sit down. ‘And now? And now what’s going to happen to my son?’

‘Now? And now, Jean-Paul?’ Gavache asked, looking at Ben Isaac.

‘We’ll do what they say.’

Gavache turned his glance from Ben Isaac to Sarah hugging Myriam. Garvis approached her. ‘Are you willing to do what the kidnappers demand, Sarah?’

Sarah didn’t answer right away. She felt Myriam’s arms squeezing her ever more tightly. It was as if not only the life of her son, little Ben, depended on Sarah’s reply, but her own as well. There was only one answer.

‘You can count on me,’ she finally said, timidly. She didn’t feel like a heroine, just the opposite.

Myriam’s embrace tightened even more, if that were possible. ‘Thank you, Sarah. You’re an angel.’

‘I wasn’t just talking, Myriam,’ she whispered in the ear of the stricken woman to calm her. ‘Everything is going to be all right.’

‘Excellent,’ Gavache applauded.

‘We need your help,’ Garvis advised Gavache. ‘We don’t have much time, and a crucial part of the operation is going to take place in your country.’

‘Bien sûr.
Relax, Garvis. I’m going to convey the situation to the minister of the interior and prepare the team,’ Gavache said calmly. ‘I need to have them in place at the location in Paris the kidnappers specified.’

‘I’m going to commandeer a plane immediately,’ Garvis informed them, taking his cell phone out of his pocket.

‘Jean-Paul,’ Gavache called.

He appeared at his side almost before his boss finished pronouncing his name.

‘You’re going to accompany Sarah from the first minute to the last. Give her all the protection she needs. Don’t forget about her condition. Provide her every comfort possible. Understood?’ he asked in French.

‘Perfectly, Inspector.’

‘Guard her with your life if necessary. I’ll find you later.’

Gavache went over to Ben Isaac, who was holding his face in his hands, as if he were carrying the weight of the world, his world, and put his hand on Ben Isaac’s shoulder. ‘We’re going to fulfill our part. Now it’s time for you to fulfill yours.’

Ben Isaac uncovered his face and looked at the Frenchman arrogantly. ‘Tell me, Inspector. What do you mean by “fulfilling your part”?’

‘Look around.’ Gavache raised his hand and pointed around the room. ‘An international team dedicated to solving
your
problem. No one here knows your son, but they’re doing everything possible to rescue him. As if he were their own son. They could lose their life doing it. A woman who could very well just turn her back on all this is risking her life without asking anything in return. We’re going to complete our part, Ben Isaac.’

The banker remained seated, staring into space. He analyzed all the options, and finally looked disdainfully at Sarah. ‘Why?’

Sarah didn’t understand the question. With her exhaustion and nausea, she was slow to respond.

‘Why are you risking yourself for us?’ Ben Isaac continued. ‘You’ve only known us for a few hours. You tried to kill her.’

Sarah lowered her glance. Duty, solidarity, ethics, love of one’s neighbor – there was no shortage of reasons. Ben Isaac could choose the one he wanted.

‘The kidnappers didn’t leave me any option,’ she chose to answer, with a half smile. She was nervous.

‘I don’t want to turn over the parchments,’ Ben Isaac finally confessed.

Garvis, who’d gone off, returned to the group. ‘The plane is being serviced now. It’ll take off from Gatwick in twenty minutes. We’ve got to hurry.’

‘We’re waiting for Dr. Ben Isaac,’ Gavache told him. ‘It looks like he doesn’t want to cooperate, is that right, Jean-Paul?’

‘Right, Inspector. He doesn’t want to pay the ransom.’

‘We’ll have to give them something,’ Garvis explained. ‘We’ll place a detector in the parchments, so we can keep track of their location at all times.’

‘You’ve seen what kind of people we’re dealing with, Inspector Garvis. They’re always one step ahead,’ Gavache warned.

Garvis approached Gavache conspiratorially. ‘We’ll have to improvise with whatever bait we can use.’

‘If an agent were making the delivery, I’d risk his neck, Garvis. But we’re dealing with professionals, and it’s an inexperienced civilian who’s going to be exposing herself to the bullets.’ He looked at Sarah, who was listening apprehensively. ‘Speaking figuratively, of course. I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to carry bait instead of the originals.’

‘There must be another solution,’ Ben Isaac offered.

Myriam shrugged off Sarah’s arm and turned to her husband. Tears were running down her face. The slap she gave her husband was hard, and echoed through the room. ‘This is all your fault, Ben Isaac,’ she said, giving him a sorrowful, cold stare. ‘Do you want to kill my son? Is that what you want? Do you want to send an innocent person to her death, carrying false papers? This is not the man I married.’ She turned her back and left the room.

The room was in shock.

Garvis looked at his watch and frowned. ‘We don’t have much time.’

‘What’s it going to be, Dr. Ben Isaac?’ Gavache pressured him as he brought a cigarette to his lips.

Ben Isaac took a pen, wrote something on a piece of paper, and handed it to the French inspector with a resigned expression. ‘The code to open the vault.’

Gavache gave it to Jean-Paul, who hurried toward the underground chamber.

‘Sarah, we’re going to wait for the parchments in the car. We have to hurry. Time’s running out.’

Two agents escorted Sarah to the car. Garvis put on his jacket and saw Gavache sit down next to Ben Isaac. ‘Aren’t you coming?’ Garvis asked.

‘Jean-Paul’s going to escort the woman. I’ll come later.’

‘As soon as I have Sarah sitting in the plane, it’s your problem.’

‘Don’t worry. Everything’s under control. Thanks, Garvis.’ Gavache looked at the defeated Ben Isaac. ‘Now I want to hear that incredible story that was interrupted by the phone call. Tell me about Jesus Christ.’

The conversation had reached a pause. Robin excused himself, his full bladder urging him. Rafael felt uncomfortable, and the Jesuit noticed it.

‘It’s out there to the left,’ Robin pointed to a door down the corridor. ‘You’ll see it. Relax. No one’s going to do anything … unless I give the order.’

Robin went into the second door on the left and didn’t take much time. Two minutes later there was a flush, followed by the priest washing his hands. He came out with his hands dripping and dried them on a towel hanging behind the office door.

‘Still afraid of germs?’ Rafael joked.

‘Laugh away. You have no idea of the pests that surround us. If we’re not careful, they’ll do us in,’ Robin said with conviction.

‘We have bigger things to worry about now.’

‘Do you know it was a Jesuit who discovered the microbes invisible to the naked eye that are responsible for the black plague and other diseases?’ Robin asked, assuming a professorial tone.

‘Athanasius Kircher.’ Rafael sounded like a student who thought he knew it all. ‘The master of a hundred arts. He was one of the first people to observe microbes through a microscope in the seventeenth century. German by birth, he was considered the ultimate Renaissance man. He was the author of innumerable treatises, not only on medicine but also on geology, magnetism, and even music. A true Da Vinci, this Jesuit.’

Robin looked at him with mock disdain before sitting down. ‘Now, where were we?’

‘You know very well where we left things. Keep going.’

Robin crossed his legs and licked his lips. ‘What do you know about Jesus?’

‘He was born in Bethlehem and crucified at thirty-three …’

‘Okay, I see you know nothing,’ Robin scolded him.

‘That’s what they taught us in catechism and at the seminary,’ Rafael argued.

‘Is that still taught in seminary? No wonder the society is so far ahead. How curious that they teach you to think better than most people and invest years and years in your moral, philosophical, and religious education, yet so often you fail to see the obvious.’