‘He has a letter of appointment from the late Pope addressed to the archdiocese of Baghdad, which they kept secret at the Holy Father’s request. He has a seal of office. Look for yourself.’ He showed the package of documents to Lomeli. ‘And he is an archbishop, fulfilling a mission in one of the most dangerous places in the world. I cannot think why he would forge his credentials, can you?’
‘I suppose not.’ The papers certainly looked authentic to Lomeli. He returned them. ‘Where is he now?’
‘I asked him to wait in the back office.’
Mandorff conducted Lomeli behind the reception desk. Through the glass wall he could see a slender figure sitting on an orange plastic chair in the corner, between a printing machine and boxes of copying paper. He was dressed in a plain black cassock. His head was bare, no skullcap. He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his rosary in his hands, looking down and apparently praying. A lock of dark hair obscured his face.
Mandorff said quietly, as if they were observing a man asleep, ‘He arrived at the entrance just as it was closing. His name wasn’t on the list, of course, and he isn’t dressed as a cardinal, so the Swiss Guard called me. I told them to bring him inside while we had him checked. I behaved correctly, I hope?’
‘Of course.’
The Filipino was fingering his rosary, entirely absorbed. Lomeli felt intrusive merely watching. Yet he found it hard to look away. He envied him. It was a long time since he had been able to muster the powers of concentration necessary to shut oneself off from the world. His own head these days was always full of noise. First Tremblay, he thought, now this. He wondered what other shocks awaited him.
Mandorff said, ‘No doubt Cardinal Bellini will be able to clear matters up.’
Lomeli looked around to see Bellini approaching with O’Malley. The former Secretary of State wore an expression of uneasy bewilderment.
Lomeli said, ‘Aldo, were you aware of this?’
‘I wasn’t aware the Holy Father had actually gone ahead and done it, no.’ He stared wonderingly through the glass at Benítez as if gazing upon some mythical creature. ‘And yet there he is. . .’
‘So the Pope mentioned it was in his mind?’
‘Yes, he raised the possibility a couple of months ago. My advice was strongly against it. Christians have endured enough suffering in that part of the world without inflaming militant Islamic opinion even further. A cardinal in Iraq! The Americans would be appalled. How could we possibly ensure his safety?’
‘That is presumably why the Holy Father wanted it kept secret.’
‘But people were bound to find out! Everything leaks eventually, especially from this place – as he knew better than anyone.’
‘Well it certainly won’t remain a secret now, whatever happens.’ Beyond the glass the Filipino silently worked his rosary beads. ‘Given that you confirm it was the Pope’s intention to make him a cardinal, it’s logical to assume his credentials are genuine. Therefore I don’t think we have any choice except to admit him.’
He moved to open the door. To his astonishment, Bellini seized his arm. ‘Wait, Dean!’ he whispered. ‘Must we?’
‘Why shouldn’t we?’
‘Are we sure the Holy Father was entirely competent to make this decision?’
‘Take great care, my friend. That sounds like heresy.’ Lomeli also spoke softly. He didn’t want the others to hear. ‘It’s not for us to decide whether the Holy Father was right or wrong. It’s our duty to see that his wishes are honoured.’
‘Papal infallibility covers doctrine. It does not extend to appointments.’
‘I am well aware of the limits of papal infallibility. But this is a matter of canon law. And on that I am as qualified to judge as you are. Paragraph thirty-nine of the Apostolic Constitution is quite specific: “Should any cardinal-electors arrive re integra, that is, before the new pastor of the Church has been elected, they shall be allowed to take part in the election at the stage which it has reached.” That man is legally a cardinal.’
He pulled his arm free and opened the door.
Benítez glanced up as he came in and rose slowly to his feet. He was a little below average height, with a fine, handsome face. It was hard to put an age to him. His skin was smooth, his cheekbones sharp, his body thin almost to the point of emaciation. He had a feathery handshake. He appeared utterly exhausted.
Lomeli said, ‘Welcome to the Vatican, Archbishop. I’m sorry you’ve had to wait in here, but we had to make some checks. I do hope you understand. I’m Cardinal Lomeli, Dean of the College.’
‘It is I who must apologise to you, Dean, for making such an unorthodox entrance.’ He spoke in a quiet, precise voice. ‘You are most kind to take me in at all.’
‘Never mind. I’m sure there’s a good reason for it. This is Cardinal Bellini, whom I think you may know.’
‘Cardinal Bellini? I’m afraid not.’
Benítez held out his hand, and for a moment Lomeli thought Bellini might refuse to take it. Eventually he shook it; then he said, ‘I’m sorry, Archbishop, but I have to say I think you’ve made a grave mistake in coming here.’
‘And why is that, Your Eminence?’
‘Because the position of Christians in the Middle East is perilous enough already, without the provocation of your being made a cardinal and showing yourself in Rome.’
‘Naturally I am aware of the risks. That is one of the reasons why I hesitated about coming. But I can assure you I prayed long and hard before undertaking the journey.’
‘Well, you’ve made your choice, and there’s an end of the matter. However, now that you’re here, I have to tell you I don’t see how you can possibly expect to go back to Baghdad.’
‘Of course I shall go back, and I shall face the consequences of my faith, like thousands of others.’
Bellini said coldly, ‘I doubt neither your courage nor your faith, Archbishop. But your return will have diplomatic repercussions and therefore it won’t necessarily be your decision.’
‘Nor will it necessarily be yours, Eminence. It will be a decision for the next Pope.’
He was tougher than he looked, thought Lomeli. For once Bellini seemed at a loss for a reply. Lomeli said, ‘I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves, my brothers. The point is, you have come. Now, to be practicaclass="underline" we need to see if there’s a room available for you. Where’s your luggage?’
‘I have no luggage.’
‘What, none at all?’
‘I thought it best to go to the airport in Baghdad empty-handed, to disguise my intentions – I am followed by government people wherever I go. I slept overnight in the arrivals lounge in Beirut and landed in Rome two hours ago.’
‘Dear me. Let us see what we can do for you.’ Lomeli ushered him out of the office and towards the front of the reception desk. ‘Monsignor O’Malley is the Secretary of the College of Cardinals. He’ll try to get you everything you need. Ray,’ he said to O’Malley, ‘His Eminence will need toiletries, some clean clothes – and choir dress, of course.’
Benítez said, ‘Choir dress?’
‘When we go to the Sistine Chapel to vote, we are required to wear our full formal costume. I’m sure there must be a spare set somewhere in the Vatican.’
‘When we go to the Sistine Chapel to vote. . .’ repeated Benítez. Suddenly he looked stricken. ‘Forgive me, Dean, this is quite overwhelming for me. How can I cast my vote with the appropriate seriousness when I don’t even know any of the candidates? Cardinal Bellini is right. I should never have come.’
‘Nonsense!’ Lomeli gripped his arms. They were bone-thin, although yet again he sensed a certain inner wiry strength. ‘Listen to me, Your Eminence. You will join us all for dinner tonight. I shall introduce you, and you will talk over a meal to your brother cardinals – some of them at least will be known to you, if only by reputation. You will pray, just like the rest of us. In due course the Holy Spirit will guide us to a name. And it will be a marvellous spiritual experience for us all.’