The Medici Return (Cotton Malone #19)

Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

J ASON WAS LED ACROSS THE V ATICAN, BUT NOT TO THE PAPAL PALACE. Instead, he was taken into the gardens. Forty-four hectares across a sloping landscape that eight hundred years of constant attention had molded into a paradise. It started out as a common medieval garden enclosed by walls and filled with symbols primarily tied to the Virgin Mary. But it had morphed into something extraordinary with manicured lawns, caves, kiosks, statues, and fountains.

He followed the priest down one of the crisscrossing avenues beneath a canopy of umbrella pines, cedars, cypresses, and Egyptian palms. He was perplexed. The pope was not much of an outdoorsman. Papal visits to the garden had been few and far between. Especially on a warm June evening. It was also well known that the pope enjoyed dinner. His favorite meal of the day. Always early and never alone. This pontiff liked people, and garnering an invite to his table was a big deal, one Jason had managed to snare a few times. He’d at first thought this another dining opportunity, but now he was not so sure.

They rounded a corner on the paved path and passed through one of the most attractive and shady areas, a place littered with gurgling fountains and marble benches. The air hung heavy with the cloying scent of honeysuckle. Down a short incline they approached the Fountain of the Eagle. He knew that, like all of the gardens’ fountains, its water came from a lake forty kilometers away. Waiting for him was not the pope, but Sergio Cardinal Ascolani, the Vatican’s secretary of state, second only to the pontiff in importance.

And no friend of his.

Quite the contrary, in fact.

The young priest left them alone.

“Come, Jason,” Ascolani said in English. “Closer, please. We need to talk.”

“I was informed the Holy Father wanted to see me.”

“A small deception on my part, as I knew you would not come if I had been the one asking.”

He should leave. Now. But he was curious. Though Ascolani held a higher position in the Curia, cardinals were, by definition, equal brothers in Christ. No one more important than the other. Which had, for centuries, bred nothing but conflict.

“We have two problems,” Ascolani said.

“We?”

A finger was pointed his way. “More accurately, you have two problems.”

He already knew what one of those was. “You know about Eric Casaburi’s visit?”

“I do. And the church will have no part of him.”

“I told him that. In no uncertain terms.”

“What I do not understand is why you had anything to do with him in the first place? He and his party are neo-fascists with grandiose ideas.”

“That 60 percent of Italy agrees with.”

A smirk came to the Italian’s face. “That is not how we measure our support.”

“You cannot be serious. That is exactly how we measure support. We always have. We back winners. We have no use for losers. The National Freedom Party’s chances of gaining control are quite good.”

“They still need to win thirty-eight seats in parliament for that to happen. Those are elections we can affect. We will affect them. They will lose.”

“Which I told Casaburi.”

“What baffles me is why he chose you to talk with.”

“Since you know of the meeting, you surely know of his mention of a Pignus Christi .”

“I do. That is a fantasy.”

“I said to him the same thing. It is irrelevant. Apparently, he came to me because of my connection to the Vatican Bank. I told him there were others far more politically connected than I.”

“You sell yourself short, Jason.”

“I spoke the truth.”

“Yet he still came to you.”

He heard the question in the words. “I do not see the problem here. He came to me. I made inquiries. I said no. He went away.”

“A man like Eric Casaburi does not go away.”

He shrugged. “What do you want, Sergio?”

“The truth would be welcomed.”

“I told you what happened.”

His nemesis’ face registered nothing, the eyes staring noncommittal, enigmatic, giving zero indication as to thoughts. A talent that had surely come from the womb. He took a moment and noticed the sun setting past the western wall, its faint red glow bleeding color from the tall cedars. “You said there were two problems.”

“You are banned from the Holy Father,” Ascolani said.

“You don’t tell me what to do.”

“On this I do. You have been implicated in the ongoing fraud trial.”

Had he heard right? “Implicated? How?”

“One of the defendants has offered a sworn statement that you were involved with the questionable real estate transactions and the embezzlement. You were paid moneys.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Then why was a satchel full of four hundred thousand euros found at the diocese’s Dillenburg residence?”

He gave a refined chuckle. “You’re making that up, right?”

“No, Jason. I am not. It has been independently confirmed by an American intelligence operative, working with the Swiss Guard. I have pictures.” He started to say something, but Ascolani waved him off. “Please, no denials or explanations. Save those for the tribunal. You will shortly be charged with fraud, theft, and bribery.”

His heart seemed to catch in his throat. “Where was this money found?”

“Inside the old priest hole. Which was equipped with modern upgrades. Was that your doing?”

“The house was remodeled a few years ago, and I had the priest hole upgraded and preserved. It has historical significance.”

“It apparently made for a good hiding place. The money is there.”

“Sergio, if that is true then I am being set up.”

An outstretched hand forbade further arguing. “You will have your opportunity to make a defense. In the meantime your access to the pope has been revoked. An action, I might add, that the Holy Father himself approved.”

“He knows about this?” Then it hit him. “Of course he does. You’d be the first to poison his mind.”

“I merely related that the confidential information provided to the tribunal had proven accurate. And I showed him the picture.”

“I want to see it.”

“It will be provided to your lawyer. I am formally notifying you that, effective immediately, you have also been suspended from all of your Curial duties. That suspension will remain in effect until this matter is resolved. Of course, it goes without saying that, if convicted, you will lose your cardinal’s hat.”

The decree came in a voice that carried an undertone of amused indulgence. “Won’t you be happy.”

“You have also been reassigned,” Ascolani said. “You are to report to Munich and stay at the Holnstein Palace until further notice. Cardinal Schultz says you are welcome there.”

The Holnstein was the official residence of the archbishop of Munich. Hanz Georg Schultz was a dear friend.

“Why can’t I stay here, or in Cologne at my residence?”

“You know the answer. This will not stay secret. We do not want you having anything to do with the diocese, and I certainly do not want you here in the Vatican. Better for you to be isolated. Away. Cardinal Schultz has assured me he will keep a close eye on you.”

Maybe not so good a friend after all.

He started to speak, but the older man lifted a hand to halt the protestation that he was about to make.

“No matter how I might personally feel about you,” Ascolani said. “For the good of the church I hope all of this is explainable.”

He said nothing. Shock was taking hold. This could not be happening.

“Is there anything else you need to say?” Ascolani asked.

“Like what?”

“Would you like me to hear your confession? Forgiveness from the Lord may help.”

“No, thank you.”

“As you wish. Go with God.”

And his enemy walked off.

What in the world was happening?

He’d had no involvement whatsoever in those shady real estate dealings. He was as surprised as everyone else when it all came to light. And money found in Dillenburg? How? His salary was modest, to say the least. He had no more than a few thousand euros saved in the bank. Four hundred thousand euros? Found there? In cash? And there were pictures? As he’d said, somebody was setting him up.

But who?

And why?