“My doctors told me that I had to be resuscitated in the ambulance. It’s a strange feeling knowing that you’ve been dead. Even if it was only for a moment or two.”
“But you were never alone.”
“I’m told you stayed at the hospital all night.”
“Luigi was there too.”
“That much I remember.” She drank some of the wine. “At least I think I do.”
“He was a wreck that night. He blamed himself for what happened.”
“It wasn’t his fault. In fact, I’m to blame for everything that happened.”
“Why you?”
“Because I was the one who rekindled our friendship after the death of my husband. It’s a miracle we were able to keep my identity a secret after I was shot. Can you imagine the scandal that would have erupted if the press had found out that the Holy Father’s former lover was recuperating in his private suite at the Gemelli?”
“His Holiness managed to change the subject rather quickly. For better or worse, you were something of an afterthought.”
“As were you, it seems.”
“Not for long, I’m afraid.”
“The Leonardo?”
He smiled.
“Am I allowed to see it?”
Gabriel handed over his phone.
“Dear God,” she whispered. “You did a remarkable job.”
“I had a rather good collaborator. Not to mention subject,” he added. “I have no doubt the girl from Milan will soon be the most famous woman in the world.”
“Better her than me.” Veronica returned the phone. “Did you see His Holiness when you were at the Vatican today?”
“Briefly.”
“Did he ask after me?”
“He spoke of nothing else.”
She sighed. “It’s rather pathetic, don’t you think? This tragic tale of mine?”
“So write a new one.”
“As it happens, I’m hard at work on an alternative ending.”
“Anyone I know?”
“A handsome young captain who works for the Art Squad in Venice.”
“Veronica . . .”
“I know, I know. He’s very young.”
“But?”
