“In fact, he’s the only member of the Roman Curia who can see me without an appointment.”
“Is there nowhere in the Vatican he can’t set foot?”
His Holiness answered by escorting Gabriel into the papal bedroom and opening the doors of the ornate wooden wardrobe. Which was where, at 9:20 p.m., they hid the painting for which a Russian oligarch had just paid a half billion dollars. It was, thought Gabriel, a fitting end to a most remarkable day.
Father Keegan appeared a few minutes later with a stack of documents bound by a metal clasp—a decade’s worth of quarterly reports from the Curial investment fund. Downstairs, he escorted Gabriel to the Arch of Bells, where two Swiss Guards stood watch in their blue night uniforms.
“I don’t need to remind you that these documents—”
“No, Father Keegan. You don’t.”
“Where are you planning to review them?”
“The Hassler, if they’ll have me.”
“Do you have any dinner plans?”
“Room service.”
“That little place off the Via Veneto is open quite late.”
“Is it?”
Father Keegan turned without another word and headed back to the Casa Santa Marta. Sneaky little Jesuit, thought Gabriel, and went in search of a taxi.
42
Villa Marchese
“Iwas hoping you would bring the Leonardo,” said Veronica Marchese. “But I must admit, these documents are far more interesting. All the dirty laundry of Vatican Incorporated, right at our fingertips.”
“But one wonders why the Holy Father’s private secretary wanted you to see them.”
“The private secretary was only the messenger, I can assure you. It was the Holy Father himself who wanted me to see the quarterly reports.”
“The question still stands.”
“Why, you mean?” The doorbell tolled before Veronica could answer. “Our dinner has arrived. Will you excuse me?”
Gabriel listened to the clatter of Veronica’s pumps as she made the long walk from the palazzo’s kitchen to its front entrance. She returned a moment later with several bags bearing the name of a seafood restaurant on the Via Sicilia.
“Is someone else joining us?” asked Gabriel.
“I didn’t know what you wanted, so I ordered a little of everything. There’s a bottle of Alteni di Brassica sauvignon blanc in the fridge. It should pair nicely with the seafood.”
“In my experience, Alteni di Brassica pairs nicely with just about anything.” Gabriel pulled the wine from the refrigerator and removed the cork. He poured two glasses and handed one to Veronica. “You were saying?”
“Why would Luigi want me to see the documents?” Veronica removed the containers of food and began arranging them on the countertop. “As you might remember, he often turned to me for advice on temporal matters while he was serving as private secretary to Pope Lucchesi. You know what it’s like inside the Curia, Gabriel. The Apostolic Palace is a gilded cage filled with ruthless, sexually repressed men who know little of the world beyond the walls. I was the only person Luigi could trust. Other than you, of course.”
“But you were much better connected than I was.”
“At least here in Rome.” Veronica opened a cabinet and took down two plates. “And despite the fact that I am an archaeologist by training, I know a thing or two about the business world and investing. But the princes of the Church know nothing of high finance. Therefore, they have no choice but to rely on the advice of experts, the so-called men of trust. Men like my late husband, Carlo. And Nico Ambrosi, of course.”
“General Ferrari thinks he’s connected to the Camorra.”
“He’s not alone. Everyone in Italian business circles knows that Nico is corrupt. And yet this is the person Cardinal Bertoli turned to for advice on how to invest the Curia’s money.”
“I assume you raised it with Luigi.”
