The Parchment (6 page)

Barbo was taken aback by the question. “Yes, Archbishop Finnergan is our nuncio.”

“I admire his courage. He risked his life for strangers. I will give you another day but no more. And no tricks from the Jews.”

Barbo pushed the button to reconnect Vincent. “John, they'll hold off until noon tomorrow because of the courage Finnergan displayed in the church. Contact Washington and tell them they
have more time to persuade Israel to change its mind and let all the terrorists go.”

“I'll tell the president, but after Eilat I think we have run out of leverage.”

“Gentlemen, Hamas will extend the deadline for another twenty-four hours.” There was loud applause from the nuncios when Barbo made the announcement. “That's the good news. The bad news is that the Israelis have withdrawn from negotiations because of Eilat. They're threatening to invade the church.”

Archbishop Finnergan stood up. “Your Eminence, let me try to speak with the Israeli Prime Minister.”

Goethals snapped at Finnergan. “With all due respect, Your Excellency, we can't be seen begging the Israelis.”

“Goethals, I'd beg the devil if it meant saving the lives of innocent people.”

“You're a diplomat, Archbishop Finnergan. We can't take sides.”

Finnergan's eyes flashed with anger. “Go to hell with all your diplomatic niceties.”

Goethals jumped up from his seat and glared at the Irish prelate. “Most Irishmen can tell a man to go to hell and still have him enjoy the journey. Somehow Archbishop Finnergan never inherited that skill. Whatever politeness he learned must have been in the back alleys of Belfast.”

Barbo stood up from his chair slowly and deliberately as if to emphasize his impatience with the bickering in the room.

“Archbishop Finnergan, call the Israelis. I'm expected at a reception in honor of the president of the republic at the Quirinal Palace. Archbishop Kennedy, will you chair the meeting in my absence?”

“Of course, Your Eminence.”

As Cardinal Barbo climbed the grand staircase of the Quirinal, steel-helmeted guards dressed in red and blue uniforms snapped to attention. After he had greeted the president of the republic and the
Italian prime minister in the grand salon of the palace, Barbo saw Pietro Visconti coming toward him.

“Could I have a moment with you, Eminenza?”

“Of course, Signor Visconti.”

“It is too noisy here. Perhaps we could step out on the balcony?”

“As you wish, Pietro.”

When they found a quiet spot on the terrace, Visconti handed Barbo an envelope. “Before I forget, one of my clients wishes to have Masses said in honor of his parents. I assume, Eminenza, you can make the necessary arrangements.”

Barbo opened the envelope. “Of course I can, but this is too much, Pietro”

“My client is a generous man. Use the rest to help the poor in Rome.”

Barbo thanked Visconti and tucked the envelope in the pocket of his cassock.

“Eminenza, I have been asked to approach the Church on a matter of some delicacy.”

“My chief of staff, I'm sure can handle it. You know Father Ales-sandri, of course.”

“Yes, but this matter requires your personal attention.”

Barbo shrugged. “Come to my office today at five o'clock. I'm sure Alessandri can fit you in.”

As they rejoined the reception in the grand salon, Barbo was surprised to see Hans Cardinal Diefenbacher among the guests. A Jesuit, Diefenbacher was archbishop of Durban and primate of South Africa. Jailed for his opposition to apartheid, Diefenbacher had recently become a passionate advocate of a decentralized Church. In a recent article in the Jesuit weekly,
America
, Diefenbacher had floated the idea of sharing the pope's spiritual authority with the Eastern Rite patriarchs and giving national bishops' conferences a much wider role in Church governance. Some suspected that what Diefenbacher really wanted was virtual autonomy for national churches, with the pope acting simply as a unifying symbol of faith and belief. “If Diefenbacher were ever elected pope,” Alessandri joked after reading the
America
article, “he would give away
so much of his authority that he would have little to do. I guess he could wander about Rome in the morning shaking hands and in the afternoon passing out holy cards.”

“Hans, it is good to see you. You know, of course, Pietro Visconti.”

“Yes, of course. We had dinner with mutual friends the last time I was in Italy.”

“What brings you to Rome, Hans?” Barbo noticed that Diefen-bacher wore no pectoral cross or other sign of his rank in the Church.

“It's my five-year
ad limina
visit.” Diefenbacher looked at Visconti and rolled his eyes in mock aggravation. “Every five years, the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith sifts through a bishop's statements on faith and morals to see if he's still orthodox. I have passed the test, but just barely. My interrogators looked concerned.” Diefenbacher made a dismissive gesture. “I'm now waiting for my audience with the Holy Father.”

Visconti bowed to the two cardinals. “If you would excuse me. I'll let you two catch up on Church politics. Until this afternoon, Cardinal Barbo.”

“Yes, at five.”

As Visconti left, Diefenbacher took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. “Francesco, be honest with me. I have not been able to schedule an audience with the Holy Father for two weeks. How is the pope's health?”

From years of diplomatic training, Barbo was skilled at answering one question by asking another. “If you were ultimately responsible for getting the hostages out of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Hans, wouldn't you be preoccupied? The pontiff thinks of nothing else.”

A photographer pushed his way through the crowded salon and approached the cardinals for a picture.

Diefenbacher looked uncomfortable. “Not with this in my hand.” He gave his glass to a waiter. “Some in my diocese would not approve.”

As the picture was taken, there was a flourish of trumpets and the president of Italy stepped up to the podium to speak. The two cardinals turned their attention to the president's remarks.

When Barbo returned from the luncheon reception at the Quirinal Palace, Roger Hendricks was waiting in his outer office.

“Francesco, bad news.”

“What?”

“I faxed the pope's medical records to Bentzel and Souvenne and asked for an immediate response. I told them the patient was the CEO of a multinational corporation.”

“And?” Barbo tensed.

“They both think that, given the patient's failure to respond to medication, his pace of deterioration will increase rapidly. Like me, they think the pressure of the office may be speeding his deterioration.”

“We've tried to relieve Benedict of most of his day-to-day papal responsibilities.”

“But you can't relieve him of everything, Francesco. This Hamas crisis is literally killing him.”

“So the three of you agree that staying in office worsens his condition.”

“Yes. Stress has a known synergistic effect on Alzheimer's.”

For a moment, Barbo stared at a silver icon of Jesus the Panto-crator that hung on the wall behind his desk. Barbo always drew strength from Jesus' eyes — strong but compassionate.

“Thank you, Roger.”

When Hendricks left, Barbo buried his face in his hands. As the highest ranked churchman after the pope, the secretary of state would have a decisive say in whether the pope would have to abdicate.

Alessandri knocked softly at the door.

“I'm sorry Your Eminence but Signor Visconti is here with two American professors. He has no appointment.”

“See if you can handle the matter, Enrico.”

“I tried to, but Signor Visconti insists on seeing you. He said he spoke to you at the reception.”

Barbo felt the envelope in his pocket. Given the generosity of Visconti's clients, Barbo knew he would have to go through with the meeting. At least, he would keep the meeting short.

“Show them in.”

When Visconti and the two professors entered his office, Barbo waved them to a seating area to the right of his desk.

“Eminenza, thank you for squeezing us into your busy schedule. Let me introduce you to Professor Bielgard from the University of Michigan and Professor Michellini from Bard College in New York.”

“I am honored. Your biography of Eleanor of Aquitaine was superb. How can I help you? Pietro, you told me there was a matter of some delicacy.”

“Yes, Eminenza.”

Visconti removed a document from his briefcase.

“Eminenza, this is a photocopy of a Jewish census record. Although I know you read Hebrew, I have prepared an Italian translation of the original.”

Visconti stood up and laid the photocopy and translation in front of the cardinal.

“Eminenza, I think you will find this manuscript troubling.”

Barbo's face grew pale as he read down the document. “Where did you get this?”

“It's a photocopy of a document from the Vatican Library, Eminenza. The original was in a pile of Templar records from the twelfth century. I don't think it's been read in centuries.”

Barbo looked at Visconti. “Well if the original is from the Vatican Library, then give it to me. I'll see that it gets back into the right hands.”

Visconti stood up and walked to a window overlooking St. Peter's Square. “The worshippers down there live such simple lives. For us life is not so simple.”

“What do you mean, Visconti?”

“You know as well as I that this census record contains information that could be damaging to the Catholic Church.”

Barbo made a dismissive gesture. “I doubt it. Most of these discoveries turn out to be forgeries, as I'm sure this one is.”

“Eminenza, this is not just another ‘Da Vinci code’ puzzle. It is a very straightforward document that simply states the facts. The parchment is authentic. Professor Baldini from the University of Rome has carbon dated it.”

Barbo fingered his pectoral cross. “Look, Visconti. I'm busy. What do you want?”

Visconti smiled. “Like you, my clients wish to see the document get into the right hands. Still they are academics — and poorly paid at that.”

Barbo stood up from his desk. “Don't toy with me. What's your price for the original?”

Bielgard interrupted Visconti. “Ten million euros — and in cash.”

The cardinal's eyes grew cold. “You realize that I could have the three of you arrested for blackmailing the Vatican.”

Bielgard responded caustically. “You could but you won't. We've obviously taken precautions.”

Barbo walked toward the door to his office. “I've dealt with extortionists before, Professor Bielgard. It's one of the more distasteful aspects of being Vatican secretary of state. An expert from the Vatican Library will have to look at it and do whatever testing he feels necessary.”

Visconti bowed to the cardinal. “My clients have no objection.”

“I will telephone you as soon as I have made arrangements with the library. Now if you would excuse me, Father Alessandri will see you out.”

Barbo paced angrily around his office. The Middle East and Benedict's health required immediate attention. Now this manuscript appears. He had to take the blackmail seriously. Visconti was too clever to become involved in a hoax.

Barbo buzzed for Alessandri.

“Enrico, have Bishop Renini come to my office at once.”

Ten minutes later, Alessandri escorted the director of the Vatican Library into the cardinal's office. Barbo handed Renini the photocopy of the parchment.

“This translation goes along with it. Read the document and tell me what you think.”

The Bishop perused the Hebrew carefully, occasionally looking at the translation.

“Your Eminence, this must be someone's idea of a tasteless joke.”

“Two of your visiting scholars — professors Bielgard and Mi-chellini — claim they found the original among some uncatalogued Templar documents in the Vatican Library. Check through all our databases and see if anything like this is listed in the collection. Have your staff look through the uncatalogued documents as well. They may discover something relevant.”

“A thorough search of the uncatalogued collection would take weeks, Your Eminence.”

“Do what you can.”

Barbo thought for a moment. “Will a search of the Vatican Library databases pick up items in the archives of the Palais des Papes in Avignon?”

“No our files are not linked.”

“Alessandri, get Bishop Pellent on the speakerphone.”

In a matter of minutes, the director of the papal archives in Avignon came on the line.

“Your Excellency, this is Cardinal Barbo. Bishop Renini from the Vatican Library is here with me on the speaker phone.”

“How can I help you, Your Eminence?” Pellet's Italian was heavily accented by his native Flemish.

“A first-century Hebrew census record has been found in a chest full of Templar manuscripts in the Vatican Library. Finding it with Templar documents may or may not be coincidental. I understand that the databases for the Vatican Library and the Palais des Papes are not linked.”

Pellent sounded nervous speaking to the Secretary of State. “That's right, Your Eminence.”

“Then I need you to run a search for any reference to this census record in your archives at the Palais. Bishop Renini is running a similar search here in the Vatican Library.”

“Fax the text and I'll start immediately, Your Eminence.”

“Pellent, if you discover anything, send it to me immediately.” The cardinal paused for a moment and addressed both librarians “These searches must be conducted in absolute secrecy. Administer an oath of silence to both your staffs.”

As Cardinal Barbo clicked off the speakerphone, Bishop Renini stood up to leave. “Is there anything else, Your Eminence?”

Barbo thought for a moment. “There is one thing. Could you send me several reference books on the Templars and a general history of medieval France?”

“Should I include a copy of your dissertation?”

“Yes, bring that, too.”

Visconti hailed a taxi at the top of the Via della Conciliazione.

“That was easy.” Michellini smiled at Visconti and Bielgard.

Visconti was silent for a moment. “Perhaps too easy. Barbo is shrewd. He may try to take the parchment from you. Where is it?”