Page 132 of An Inside Job

Gabriel was relieved when Donati led him downstairs to the Casa’s kitchen. They sat at a small table in the corner while two nuns from the Daughters of Charity warmed leftovers from the evening meal—rigatoni pomodoro, green beans with garlic and olive oil, thick slices ofvitella alla fornara. Gabriel read the reviews of the papal trip while Donati, a napkin tucked into the collar of his white cassock, ate his first meal since breakfast. TheNew York Timeshad declared the homily “an earthquake” that was certain to anger traditionalists who were already wary of the liberal pope’s intentions.La Repubblicasaid it was the clearest signal yet that His Holiness intended to call a Third Vatican Council to address the divisive issues confronting the Catholic Church.

“Did any of the reporters speak to Cardinal Byrne, by any chance?”

“I’m afraid so, Holiness.”

“He disapproved, I take it?”

“He called it heretical rubbish.”

“I expected far worse.”

“He’s also convinced you’re preparing to call Vatican Three.”

“He’s wrong. Not for the first time, I might add. It’s possible I’ll call one at some point, but not now.”

“Why wait?”

“I have other more pressing matters to attend to, including Cardinal Byrne himself. I’m afraid His Eminence is about to lose his salary and that rather palatial subsidized apartment of his.”

“What is it with the apartments?” asked Gabriel.

“It’s an obsession around here. Most of the younger priests live in dormitory-style religious houses or in dreadful little apartments. They spend their days plotting against one another at the office, andon the way home the children of Rome call thembagarozzi.” It was the Italian word for black beetles. “If they’re lucky enough to become a bishop, they get a modest subsidized apartment with a few sticks of furniture. The big apartments are reserved for the red-hatted princes of the Church. And yet even then, they’re never satisfied. How many square meters is it? Is it within the walls or without? Are there enough rooms for household nuns and perhaps a relative or two? It never ends.” Donati impaled a tube of rigatoni. “This isn’t bad, you know. They’ve definitely raised their game.”

“They must have found out about your secret visits to Osteria Lucrezia.”

“We should have a drop of wine, don’t you think?”

“It’s late.”

“My mother always said a little wine before bed was good for the blood.”

“Mothers are never wrong.”

“Especially Italian mothers.”

“Or Jewish.”

Donati asked one of the nuns to bring some wine, and she returned a moment later with a bottle of Umbrian red. Gabriel removed the cork and filled their glasses.

“What will happen to Cardinal Bertoli?”

“If I had any sense, I would take his advice and sweep the matter under the Curial rug.”

“It won’t stay there. The Italians are determined to go after the Camorra’s money laundering operation. And they’re going to start by arresting Nico Ambrosi and Franco Tedeschi.”

“But they won’t have much of a case against them without the cooperation of Cardinal Bertoli.”

“Spoken like a canon lawyer. But you’re not really thinking about letting him off the hook, are you?”

“It will be a fight to the death,mio amico. And even if I prevail, I will undoubtedly inflict damage on my papacy in the process. You have to understand, the Curia and the powerful cardinals run the Catholic Church. They merely tolerate a pope. My only hope of bringing about lasting reform is to survive.”

Gabriel held up his wineglass to the light. “In that case, you should try some of this Sagrantino. It’s delicious.”

“The grapes come from a village in Umbria called Montefalco. I lived not far from there during my sabbatical from the priesthood.”

In a little villa on the slopes of Monte Cucco, thought Gabriel. A beautiful young archaeologist named Veronica Marchese had lived there too.

“I suppose you’ll be returning to Venice tomorrow,” said Donati.