“Our friends in the Polizia di Stato say not. Which means it’s probably in the hands of Archbishop Donati.”
Bishop Richter exhaled heavily. “Will no one rid me of this meddlesome priest?”
“I would advise against it,” said Estermann. “Donati’s death would undoubtedly delay the start of the conclave.”
“Then perhaps we should kill his friend instead.”
Estermann stopped pacing. “Easier said than done.”
“Where are they now?”
“Back in Rome.”
“Doing what?”
“We’re good, Bishop Richter. But not that good.”
“May I offer you a piece of advice?”
“Of course, Excellency.”
“Get better. And quickly.”
22
Rome
The main entranceof the Vatican Secret Archives was located on the northern side of the Belvedere Courtyard. Only accredited historians and researchers were granted access, and only after a thorough vetting, presided over by none other than theprefetto, Cardinal Domenico Albanese. Visitors were not permitted to venture beyond thesala di studio, a reading room furnished with two long rows of ancient wooden desks, recently upgraded with electrical outlets for laptop computers. With rare exceptions, only members of the staff went down to the Manuscript Depository, which was reached via a cramped lift in the Index Room. Even Donati had never been there. Try as he might, he could fathom no set of circumstances, no reasonable-sounding cover story, that would allowhim to wander the Depository unaccompanied, let alone with the director-general of Israel’s secret intelligence service at his side.
It was for that reason Gabriel and Donati went straight to the Israeli Embassy after their return to Rome. There they descended to a secure communications room known as the Holy of Holies, where Gabriel conducted a conference call with Uzi Navot and Yuval Gershon, the director of Unit 8200. Navot was appalled by the operation Gabriel had in mind. Gershon, however, could not believe his good fortune. Having cracked the data network of the Pontifical Swiss Guard, he was now being asked to seize control of the power supply and security system of the Vatican Secret Archives. For a cyberwarrior, it was a dream assignment.
“Can it be done?” asked Gabriel.
“You’re joking, right?”
“How long will it take?”
“Forty-eight hours, to be on the safe side.”
“I can give you twenty-four. But twelve would be better.”
It was dusk when Gabriel and Donati finally slipped from the Israeli compound in the back of an embassy car. After dropping Donati at the Jesuit Curia, the driver took Gabriel to the safe flat near the top of the Spanish Steps. Exhausted, he crawled into the unmade bed and plunged into a dreamless sleep. His phone woke him at seven the next morning. It was Yuval Gershon.
“I’d feel better if we did a few dry runs, but we’re ready when you are.”
Gabriel showered and dressed, then walked through the coldRoman morning to the Borgo Santo Spirito. Donati met him at the entrance of the Jesuit Curia and escorted him upstairs to his rooms.
It was half past eight.
“You can’t possibly be serious.”
“Would you prefer to dress as a nun?”
Gabriel looked at the clothing laid out on the bed: a clerical suit, a black shirt with a Roman collar. He had utilized many disguises during his long career, but never had he concealed himself beneath the mantle of a priest.
“Who am I supposed to be?”
Donati handed him a Vatican pass.
