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CHAPTER 79

V ATICAN C ITY

F RIDAY , J ULY 4

11:14 A.M.

J ASON ENTERED THE A POSTOLIC P ALACE AND WALKED STRAIGHT TO the second floor and the offices of the Secretariat of State. He’d not called ahead or made an appointment. No need. He’d come on authority of the pope himself as his personal representative.

He’d traveled yesterday from Florence back to Rome and was there when the Swiss Guard briefed the pope. Father Giumenta had accompanied him, and together they explained all that had happened. He owed his life to the young priest. No question. Using information that Cardinal Stamm had unearthed, inquiries were made to other cardinals, some of whom confirmed that Ascolani had made improper overtures to them attempting to influence their votes in any upcoming conclave. That was strictly forbidden by canon law. With the combined testimony it had been easy for the pope to order Ascolani’s immediate removal.

“ I am truly sorry ,” the pope said to him. “ For all that happened to you. I was given false information, which I trusted and relied upon. That was my mistake. Can you forgive me? ”

He could understand how it happened. The Vatican secretary of state was more like a prime minister than a foreign representative. The job came with myriad responsibilities that included supervising the Curia, drafting papal documents, writing speeches, organizing ceremonial rites, regulating access to the pope, choosing people to be promoted to official posts, managing church money, and making countless other operating decisions without consulting anyone. The job was a gatekeeper by which everyone had to pass before seeing the pope. The opportunities for abuse were endless, and Ascolani had taken full advantage.

“ Consider it forgotten ,” he told the pope, “ if you will grant me one small thing. ”

And his old friend had gladly complied.

He informed one of the assistants in the outer office that he had come to see Cardinal Ascolani. That had brought an immediate rebuke, the clerk saying that the secretary of state was busy, with no time to speak to anyone.

“I am here on order of the pope,” he made clear. “And you may check with the papal secretary to verify.”

And with that he brushed past and opened the door to the private office. The space, like Ascolani’s apartment, was a monument to extravagance. The walls were Italian marble dotted with priceless Botticelli paintings depicting the life of Moses. Ascolani sat behind an impressive ornamental desk, his face impassive in a high-backed gilded chair, dressed in a plain black cassock.

Jason stopped before the desk.

The clerk had followed him inside. “I am sorry, Eminence. But he just barged in.”

“It is okay,” Ascolani said. “You may go.”

The clerk left, closing the door.

“We have two problems,” Jason said, mimicking what Ascolani had told him a few days ago in the Vatican Gardens. He pointed a finger. “More accurately, you have two problems.”

“Really? Please explain. I so want to hear.”

“First. Thomas Dewberry is dead.”

No reaction at the use of the name came from Ascolani. The face remained the color of bone, sallow, bloodless, the lips forming a smile of contempt. “Is that supposed to be important to me?”

“It should. He worked for you. Or more accurately, he killed for you. He shot Casaburi yesterday, then he himself was shot dead.”

“Your allegations against me are baseless and false.”

“We retrieved a mobile phone from him. There were multiple calls, along with text messages, which we retrieved. They paint a clear picture of what was happening in Siena and Florence. All messages from you to Dewberry. Also, the priest you sent to retrieve the rifle from the Palazzo Tempi in Siena has provided a sworn statement, as has the second priest who removed it from Siena and delivered it to Dewberry outside Santa Maria di Castello. Dewberry then used it to try to kill myself and Cotton Malone, and then did use it to kill Casaburi. That makes you an accessory to murder.”

“Again, that seems like wishful supposition.”

“And it would be except for one additional fact. We have the sworn affidavit of the man you used as an intermediary with Dewberry. He says, under oath, that you ordered that I be killed.”

“Seems he may have incriminated himself with such a statement.”

He shrugged. “True. But he was granted full immunity from prosecution. Which he was more than willing to accept, considering that Thomas Dewberry is dead. He had no desire to take all the blame himself.”

Ascolani said nothing.

The walls were surely closing in. No other way could the situation be viewed. He and Cardinal Stamm had thought this through in precise detail, trying to anticipate any and every move a manipulator like Ascolani would make.

“ Ascolani fears you ,” the pope said. “ You are most papabile, and your fellow cardinals know that. Two Germans have made it to the papacy. You could be the third. ”

Those words had shocked him. Of course he’d brushed aside the praise, urging the pope to not resign and continue to serve. But the argument had fallen on deaf ears.

“What has happened here makes it even more imperative that I stand aside. I was deceived, and things could have turned disastrous. The church needs a new direction with younger, more vital leadership.”

“The pope has ordered your immediate removal from the Secretariat of State and the Entity,” he said to Ascolani. “You have also been suspended from any and all ecclesiastical duties.”

Ascolani stood. “I think I have heard enough. You may leave.”

He smiled. “When the pope suspended you, he also apologized to me. I, of course, accepted that apology with one condition.” He paused. “That I be allowed to bring you the news.”

“And you have. Now get out.”

“As you wish.” He turned, walked back to the door, and opened it. Two Swiss Guardsmen entered, along with Cardinal Stamm. Jason faced Ascolani. “I told you there were two problems. The first is that you have been removed from office and suspended. The second is that you are now under arrest.”

Ascolani pointed at Stamm. “These are your actions.”

“No, Sergio. They are entirely yours.”

“You hired Thomas Dewberry. He was here when I assumed control of the Entity.”

“That I did. But I used him in only the most dire situations and always in a defensive posture with the full knowledge and consent of the pope. Unlike you, I have nothing to hide. Men like you are a threat to all of the faithful in every parish of this world. The church has no need of you.”

“The great new sin of modern times is the unwillingness to become involved. At least I am not guilty of that.”

“No, Sergio. You are as Jesus said to the Pharisees. If a man knows to do right and doeth it not, to him it is a sin. Take him.”

The Swiss Guard motioned for Ascolani to come with them. But the older man stood still. Jason enjoyed watching Ascolani’s formidable will reach its limits. “Please. Make this difficult. I so want them to physically carry you from this building. They would like that too. After all, you also ordered the killing of one of their own.”

A moment of silence passed between them.

Finally, Ascolani relented and stepped from behind the desk, leading the two guardsmen from the office. He and Stamm watched as they left through the outer door.

“Sadly,” Stamm said, “the church seems cursed by weak men with huge ambitions who rise to power. None of them recall what St. Augustine said. The sufficiency of my merit is to know that my merit is not sufficient. ”

“I am glad that’s over,” Jason said.

“It may be here, but not in Florence.”