“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m asking you to find out what’s really happening between them.”
Franco studies me for a long moment. “Surveillance on the Prime Minister and the Pope. You realize what you’re asking?”
“I’m asking you to follow Matteo. Discreetly. Document his movements, especially any meetings with the Pope. Photograph them together if possible.”
“And if I find nothing?”
“You will.” I’m certain of it now. “There’s something there. Something personal. I can feel it.”
“And if you’re right? What then?”
I drain my glass and set it down carefully. “Then I’ll have what I need to ensure Matteo’s corruption investigation focuses elsewhere. The Italian public might support prosecuting corrupt officials, but they won’t support a Prime Minister engaged in a scandal with the Pope.”
Franco nods slowly. “I’ll need resources. Specialized equipment.”
“You’ll have whatever you need. Just find me something I can use. Quickly.”
After he leaves, I pour one final drink and return to the window. Below, Franco’s car pulls away from the curb, disappearing into the night traffic.
Matteo Valentini. My political ally. My supposed friend. The man whose coattails I’ve ridden to power.
“Nothing personal,” I murmur to his invisible presence. “Just politics.”
I’ve never believed in Matteo’s crusade. His anti-corruption zeal, his performative righteousness—it’s all just another political strategy as far as I’m concerned. One that’s served him well, admittedly. One that I’ve been happy to associate myself with.
Until now.
Now it’s a threat. And threats must be eliminated.
If there is indeed something inappropriate between the Prime Minister and the Pope—something that could be framed as scandalous—it would be the perfect weapon. Not just to deflectthe corruption investigation, but to remove Matteo entirely.
And then? The coalition would need a new leader. Someone already in position, with the right experience to lead the party through turbulent times. Someone like the Deputy Prime Minister.
I smile at my reflection in the dark glass, raising my glass in a silent toast to my future self.
Prime Minister Carlos Rossi. It has a nice ring to it.
III
Increasing Stakes
15
Opposition
Marco
“The synod must be stopped,” Cardinal Visconti’s voice is unmistakable. “This young fool will destroy millennia of doctrine with his progressive idiocy.”
“Patience,” Cardinal Lombardi replies. “Our allies in the media are already painting him as inexperienced and reckless. The financial investigation has been contained. Once we present evidence of his… unsuitability… the College will have no choice but to act.”
“And if he persists with this reform agenda?” Cardinal Antonelli asks.
“Then we implement our contingency plan,” Lombardi says. “The Church has survived far worse threats than an overly idealistic pope. One way or another, this phase will pass.”
“The contingency plan concerns me,” Antonelli’s voice drops lower, forcing me to strain to hear. “Using Canon three hundred thirty-two is one thing—pressuring him to resign maintains appearances. But your other suggestions…”
“History is written by the victors, Eminence,” Lombardi’s tone is coldly pragmatic. “Pope John Paul I lasted only thirty-three days. Some questions were asked, then forgotten. If medical issues wereto befall our young pope—stress of office, perhaps a congenital heart condition previously undiagnosed—who would truly question it?”
