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Slash looked up from some papers he was reading. “Alive?”

“Alive.” I paused for a moment, scanning the information. “He retired from the priesthood about five years ago. He lives fifty minutes away from here in a small coastal town called Licosa.”

“I know where Licosa is. Are you’re sure that’s him?”

I studied his passport photo. “Pretty sure. He’s listed as having spent several years working at this church. You could, of course, call him to confirm.”

“I will. But I think we’d have a better chance of obtaining potentially helpful information if we were able to see him in person. If he’s only an hour away, it might be worth the trip.”

“Your call. How’s it going with the search for the acolyte?”

Slash set aside the papers and stood, stretching out his back. “In terms of finding a name, terrible. The church’s filing structure leaves a lot to be desired. I did, however, find my baptism certificate. As luck would have it, only Father Armando’s name is on it.” He held up a piece of paper between his fingers.

“No parents’ names by chance?”

“I’m not that lucky.”

I pursed my lips. “Hey, you got me, didn’t you?” I was rewarded with a laugh, so I stood and walked over to get a look at the certificate.

“Did you get a photo of it?”

He tapped his phone. “I did.”

“Good.” I studied the photo, enlarging it on the date. “Well, at least this confirms you’re thirty-three.”

“Almost thirty-four.”

I studied Father Armando’s looped signature on the certificate. “It was nice of Father Armando to baptize you, wasn’t it?”

Slash didn’t respond. Apparently that hurt was still too fresh to address. Instead he sat down in front of my laptop and studied the photo of Father Opizzi.

“Does he look familiar?” I asked.

Slash shook his head and pulled out his phone. “No, but let’s see if he’s willing to talk.”

Slash tapped out Father’s Opizzi’s number on his phone and waited. Someone must have answered on the other end because Slash started speaking in Italian. There was a short conversation, then Slash hung up.

“Well?” I looked at him hopefully. “Was it him?”

“It was him. He’s agreed to see us today.”

“Finally, some luck goes our way.” I closed my laptop, rested my hands on top of it. “How much did you tell him?”

“Not much. I need to gauge his reaction when I tell him I’m the baby who was brought into the church, if he even remembers it. I said only that I wanted to talk to him about his time at the church of San Mauro. I told him I’d worked at the Vatican and was trying to track down one of the priests who used to work there.”

“Does he remember the acolyte’s name?”

“No. But he remembers him. He said he kept personal journals while at the church. He’s going to look for the name and let us know if he’s found anything by the time we get there.”

“That would be great.” I pulled off the power cord and began winding it up. “So, should we head out now?”

“Si. But let’s have a quick bite to eat first.”

“Great idea, because I’m famished.”

Slash began to pick up the books, papers and boxes strewn across the floor while I packed up my laptop.

“I guess if Father Opizzi doesn’t know who the acolyte is, we can always find him in the Vatican records, right?” I asked.