Chapter 11
In looking at the frescoes, Brother Armagh thought that Fra Angelico had done a fine job depicting those terrors, and he felt his own flesh creep at the sight of such despair, agony, and torment. He made an effort to avert his eyes.
He had been escorted to the Camera dei Gobbi by an ispettore, an inspector, in the Corpo della Gendarmeria dello Stato della Città del Vaticano—-Vatican City’s police force. He had some idea of what this was about, and he was apprehensive, which he concealed with a calm, pious expression.
The inspector indicated where he was to sit—-in one of the elaborate wooden chairs lining the back wall of the room, the carved arms polished by centuries of use.
The inspector took a seat next to him, and they sat in silence, waiting in the dark, empty chamber, lit only by the fire from a bank of candles.
The close air was fragrant with the scent of smoke, wax, and stone.
Finally, the door creaked open and in entered a man Brother Niall recognized as none other than Cardinal Collini.
It was all he could do to remain still as the tall cardinal strode in, his scarlet cassock sweeping behind him, dressed in full liturgical regalia, with biretta, fascia, and ferraiolo, the heavy pontifical cross swinging from his neck.
Collini was not your typical stooped and decaying prelate—-he was a powerful man with a handsome face who radiated stern, spiritual charisma.
He was followed by three men in the uniform of the Corpo della Gendarmeria, one being the chief inspector himself, Commissario Leo Manicaldi.
Cardinal Collini took a seat at the head of the room, opposite Brother Armagh, while the three policemen took seats behind him.
A long silence ensued as Collini arranged his cassock, adjusting his cross and ferraiolo, then raising his eyes to Armagh, contemplating him with a severe gaze.
He finally began to speak in Italian, his unexpectedly quiet voice almost a whisper.
Father Armagh understood him—-all the Irish Pallottine brothers in the basilica were fluent.
It was a necessity in order to work with their Italian associates in the church.
“Brother Armagh,” the cardinal began, “it’s my understanding that you came to us not from Ireland but from Chicago?”
“Yes, Your Eminence.”
“So you are familiar with America?”
“I spent nine years there, after graduating from the Pallottine College in Thurles.”
“And in Chicago, you were a law enforcement chaplain, is that not correct?”
“Yes, Your Eminence. I served as chaplain for the Federal Bureau of Prisons, mostly at the MCC in Chicago. I counseled prisoners on their spiritual needs, and I worked closely with the FBI and other law enforcement as well as prison correctional officers.”
“So you are familiar with American law enforcement, and you have much experience dealing with law enforcement and investigative personnel?”
“Yes, very much so, Your Eminence.”
“You are no doubt familiar with the dishonor your order, the Pallottine Fathers, have cast upon themselves in allowing one of the holiest relics in Christendom to be desecrated?”
Brother Armagh swallowed. The Italians had always looked down on the Irish fathers, and the desecration of the relic only seemed to confirm their skeptical view. “I am deeply sorry for it. We all are.”
“Very well. But we are not here to discuss the security failures that led to it. We’re here because His Holiness has charged me to oversee the return of the relic. And that is why I called for you, Brother Armagh.”
Armagh nodded, his heart accelerating. The pope himself was involved.
Cardinal Collini now picked up the briefcase, placed it in his lap, and opened it. He removed a piece of paper.
“What we will now discuss is of the utmost confidentiality.”
“Understood, Your Eminence.”
“When Brother Padraig brought our attention to the desecration of the relic, we reviewed the security footage and quickly spotted the thief. The man had hidden in the church after closing, emerged at midnight, and disabled the alarm system most cleverly. He then broke the seal of the cube, lifted it, and used a small tool to remove a piece of the relic and placed it in a sealed tube. Afterward, he hid himself. When the church was opened in the morning, he mingled with a group of tourists and then left.”
He paused dramatically. “He was hooded, his face obscured. Through extensive investigation, we were eventually able to identify him.” He turned to the chief inspector sitting next to him. “Commissario, will you please review the file for us.”
The chief inspector removed a file from his own briefcase, opened it, and began to speak in that monotonic style favored by the police. Brother Armagh listened intently, trying to memorize every word. He wished he’d thought to bring notepad and paper.
“The individual’s name is Javier Castillo, an American, and a resident of San Francisco. Until recently, he was a professor of exobiology at San Francisco State University, a position from which he was dismissed.
“Castillo has no criminal record. He appears, at least on the surface, to be a respectable citizen.”
He turned the page in his file and continued, “He flew to Rome on May 9, vandalized the relic the night of May 10, and flew back to San Francisco on May 11. Castillo seems to have worked with an accomplice. While in Rome, before the crime, he made contact with a Portuguese man we’ve identified as Joachim da Silva—-who appears to have supplied him with the specialized tools needed to disable the alarms and open the sealed cube containing the relic.
” He paused. “Unfortunately, two weeks after the theft, Joachim da Silva disappeared before we could get to him, and he has yet to resurface.”
Now the commissario halted and looked directly at Brother Armagh, who dropped his eyes at the severe gaze. Then the commissario resumed.
“We do not know Castillo’s motive for this crime and are investigating several possibilities.
The most likely hypothesis relates to the fact that there are three other claimants to having relics purporting to be the head of Saint John the Baptist. This has long been an area of controversy: a debate over which relic is the true one. ”
He looked up again. “That is all, thank you.”
Now the cardinal spoke again. “Brother Armagh, do you have any questions so far?”
Armagh tried to think. He had a million questions, but none seemed appropriate to ask at that time. “Not yet, Your Eminence.”
“Very well. I have conferred with the pope about this matter. He does not want a scandal or publicity. He does not want the Vatican police to bring the matter to the Italian authorities, Interpol, or the Americans. He would like to keep it quiet—-for now. That, Brother Armagh, is where you come in.”
Armagh gave a slight bow of the head.
“You will travel to San Francisco and meet privately with Mr. Javier Castillo—-and ask for the relic back.”
A silence fell as Armagh absorbed this surprise.
“His Holiness would like this to be accomplished quietly and with dignity. If Mr. Castillo will not cooperate, then we will escalate. His Holiness is concerned that if Mr. Castillo learns he’s under a criminal investigation, he might destroy the relic to cover his tracks.
We would like to give him the opportunity to make things right, with no charges filed. That is where we need your help.”
“Yes, Your Eminence. But … what if he no longer has it?”
“We haven’t seen any evidence of it being passed along to a third party.
But if he doesn’t have it in his possession, you will andrà a braccio and induce him to cooperate in its retrieval.
Commissario Manicaldi here will brief you on the details of your assignment in the Biblioteca Cardinalium later this evening.
All the arrangements for your mission have been made—-flights, hotel, car, ample funds.
You will go as yourself, Brother Armagh, and you will leave tomorrow morning.
You will appeal to Mr. Castillo’s sense of fairness and his conscience, if he has one.
You might also make clear to him the consequences of not cooperating—-that he will be extradited to Italy and face trial here.
We have security footage and additional evidence—-everything we need to convict.
He will face many years in prison. That, of course, is a last resort. ”
The cardinal leaned forward, a scowl on his handsome face. “This is an opportunity for you, Brother Armagh, to redeem your order from the dishonor that has fallen upon it.”
“Thank you, Your Eminence. I greatly appreciate this opportunity.” Even though his face remained calm, inside, Brother Armagh was reeling.
This was not a simple assignment, and there was no telling what this Castillo was really like, why he’d done what he did, or how he would react to being approached.
The burden of redeeming Brother Armagh’s beloved order of Irish Pallottines was now on his shoulders.
He couldn’t help but think a success could lead to his becoming Rector …
or failure to his disgrace and his departure from Rome to some backwater posting.
Cardinal Collini rose, and now a smile broke out on his face for the first time, dramatically transforming it from chiseled severity to radiant blessedness.
He went to Brother Armagh and clasped his hand in both of his, pressing it warmly.
“Brother Armagh,” he said kindly, “I feel assured you will succeed at this important assignment. I know His Holiness shares my confidence in you. You know how to get along with Americans, how to interact with criminals and law enforcement alike. Handle this as you see right—-we will not micromanage.”
He turned to leave, his cassock sweeping the ground, and the three policemen with him rose as well and followed.
As Brother Armagh turned to the inspector who had escorted him, his eye fell once again on the gaggle of burning hunchbacks with their twisted, screaming faces, illuminated in the flickering candlelight—-and he shuddered.