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“It willalwaysbe on me.”

The father shook his head sadly. “You have confessed and asked for forgiveness. That forgiveness has been granted to you by those who are closest to God. God forgives those who are repentant for their sins. You know this. This is not your burden to carry alone.”

He remained silent.

Father Armando exhaled, lifting his cap and rubbing his right temple with his hand. “I believe this may be the time to bring you in. Come let us sit a moment.”

Puzzled, he followed the priest to a shaded bench and sat next to him. Father Armando put the cap in his lap and folded his hands on top of it. “Nicolo, what I’m about to say must stay confidential.”

Now he was more concerned than puzzled. But he kept his voice neutral when he answered. “I understand.”

The priest hesitated for a moment, then spoke. “The pope is ill.”

Dismay and shock shot through him. Whatever he’d been expecting Father Armando to say, that hadn’t been it. He took a moment to work through all the emotions before he managed to ask, “How badly?”

“I’m not sure. His Holiness confided in me a few months ago.”

The fact that the confidence had taken place did not surprise him. The pope and Father Armando had been close friends for decades, both serving in various, and often overlapping, positions in the Vatican. One of the pope’s first official actions had been to elevate Father Armando, the Archbishop of Genoa, to a cardinal.

“I believe His Eminence told me this for a reason,” the priest continued. “I also think you being here is not a coincidence.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because when His Holiness told me about his illness, he provided no other detail other than to say I was forbidden to tell anyone of his condition, except for you...and only if the time was right.”

“Me?” The Holy Father had permitted Father Armando to confide in him? That was nothing short of unprecedented and a little unsettling. He didn’t understand why he would be brought into a matter at the very pinnacle of Vatican power, even when there was a great deal of personal respect and affection between himself and the Holy Father.

“He permitted you to tell me? Why?”

Father Armando shifted on the bench and put a reassuring hand on his back. “At the time, I did not understand why. I know he is quite fond of you, but I thought perhaps the illness had made him confused. It was a lot for me to accept, as it was. However, now you are here and we’re speaking of this, I don’t believe his comment to me was as offhand as I suspected. The Holy Father is a wise and prudent man. So, I believe he had good reason for this. You need to know, Nicolo. But why, and what it means in the bigger picture of what’s going on, I have no idea.”

It was a staggering development, and he wondered why the time had to be “right,” and how that coincided with what was happening. “Why didn’t you summon me at once? You knew I would have come.”

“Si, I knew. But you, better than anyone, understand the supreme confidentiality of what I’ve revealed. It is not a simple confidence. If the Holy Father had not specifically said I could share this with you, I would not have. I’m as mystified by all of this as you are. That being said, I think your presence here is expected. By good or bad forces, I do not know. For whatever reason, you’ve become a player in what’s happening.”

“Whatishappening?” Many possibilities, mostly bad, raced through his head, culminating with Tito’s warning that something big was going down at the Vatican.

“I don’t know, but I’m worried.”

The deeply concerned expression on Father Armando’s face unsettled him. He needed to focus, get his thoughts in order, to figure out how to form a plan of action. “No worries. We can handle this. One place to start is to find out who interfered with Gio’s wedding. That might lead me to the person who has brought me here.”

“Perhaps, but as I suspect you know, this is not about Giorgio. This is about you. They are using him to get to you.”

“Or using me to get to you,” Slash added.

Father Armando considered. “Perhaps. But for what purpose?”

“I don’t know, but thenkondistatue was not sent by benevolent forces.”

“I agree. So, what next?”

Slash rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the muscles knotted tightly. “I’ve already touched base with Tito and I’m thinking a talk with Pacini might be useful.”

Surprise crossed the priest’s face. “Pacini? He no longer lives in Rome. Shortly after the organization was dissolved, he cut ties with the Vatican and essentially disappeared, which is understandable given the circumstances.”

Itwastotally understandable. All those involved in the mission had been reassigned or moved. Pacini, as head of thesodalitium pianum, had a lot more to lose than the rest of them.

“Do you know anyone who might still have contact with him? Tito said he heard rumors that Pacini went to Terni.”