“The same one who’s been leading opposition to my anti-corruption legislation.” His jaw tightens. “And look here—these offshore accounts? They match the ‘untouchable accounts’ Monsignor Adessi mentioned in his suicide note.”
I flip through more pages, connecting more dots. “These Vatican investment vehicles—they’re all approved by the Financial Council. Cardinal Antonelli chairs that council.”
“The same Cardinal who objected so strongly to our cooperation?” Matteo’s eyes meet mine.
“The very same.”
We continue comparing notes, laying out documents side by side, creating a map of corruption that spans both our institutions. Shell companies in Malta connecting to Vatican-backed development projects. Offshore accounts linking Italian political donors to Church charities. A pattern emerges—money flowing between Church and State in ways designed to be untraceable.
“This is bigger than either of us realized,” I say finally, sitting back in my chair. “They’re not separate investigations. It’s one network with tentacles in both the Church and Italian government.”
Matteo runs a hand through his hair, wincing slightly as he toucheshis bruised forehead. “And now they’re trying to eliminate both of us.”
“Because we’re both pulling at different threads of the same tapestry.”
“And if we pull hard enough, the entire thing unravels.” He stands, pacing the small chapel with renewed energy despite his injuries. “This explains the escalation. First threats, now actual attempts on our lives.”
I watch him move, admiring his resilience. “We’ve become dangerous to them.”
“We’ve become lethal.” He turns to me, eyes bright with determination. “Separately, we might have uncovered pieces, but together—”
“Together we can expose the entire network.” I finish his thought, feeling a surge of purpose that borders on exhilaration.
“This is why they tried to stop our meetings,” he says. “They feared exactly this—us comparing notes, joining forces.”
I stand too, energy coursing through me despite the late hour and the stress of the day. “They should be afraid.”
Matteo laughs suddenly—a genuine sound that echoes through the chapel. “Listen to us. The Pope and the Prime Minister, plotting like revolutionaries.”
“Isn’t that what we are? You with your anti-corruption crusade, me with my financial reforms? We’re both trying to overturn entrenched systems.”
“And making powerful enemies in the process.” His expression sobers. “Enemies willing to kill us.”
I move closer to him, drawn by shared purpose and something more complicated I don’t dare name. “Then we need to protect each other.”
“How do you propose we do that?”
“Share security information. Coordinate our protective details.” I hesitate, then add, “Create a secure channel between us that bypasses our respective bureaucracies.”
“You don’t trust your own people?”
“Do you trust yours?”
He considers this, then shakes his head. “Not all of them. Not anymore.”
“Then we trust each other.” I offer my hand, the formal gesture at odds with the intensity between us. “Complete transparency between us. No intermediaries.”
He takes my hand, his grip firm and warm. “Agreed.”
The contact lingers longer than necessary, neither of us pulling away. In this abandoned monastery, with ancient saints looking down from faded frescoes, we stand as unlikely allies—the progressive Pope and the reformist Prime Minister, both targeted by the very institutions we lead.
“I should arrange secure phones,” he says finally, releasing my hand. “Untraceable.”
“Sister Lucia can help with that. She has contacts outside official channels.”
“The nun who came with you? She doesn’t seem like the type to have underworld connections.”
I smile. “There’s more to Sister Lucia than meets the eye. Much like there’s more to you, Matteo.”