It was as it had been on the night the Holy Father died – the same atmosphere of bewilderment and suppressed alarm, small groups of cardinals standing around talking quietly, heads turning as he entered. Mandorff, O’Malley, Zanetti and the masters of ceremonies were in a huddle by the front desk. In the dining room some of the cardinals had taken their seats. The nuns stood around the walls, apparently unsure whether or not to begin serving lunch. All this Lomeli took in at a glance. He crooked his finger to summon Zanetti. ‘I asked for the latest information.’
‘Yes, Your Eminence.’
He had demanded the plain facts, nothing more. The priest handed over a single sheet of paper. Lomeli glanced at it briefly. His fingers clenched involuntarily, crumpling it slightly. What a horror! ‘Gentlemen,’ he said calmly to the officials, ‘will you be good enough to ask the sisters to withdraw into the kitchen, and please make sure no one else comes into either the lobby or the dining area? I would like complete privacy.’
As he walked towards the dining room, he saw Bellini standing alone. He took him by the arm and whispered, ‘I have decided to announce what has happened. Am I doing the right thing?’
‘I don’t know. You must judge. But I’ll support you whatever happens.’
Lomeli squeezed his elbow and turned to address the room. ‘My brothers,’ he said loudly, ‘will you please be seated? I wish to say a few words.’
He waited until the last of them had come in from the lobby and found their places. At recent meals, as they had got to know one another better, there had been some intermingling of the various linguistic groups. Now, in the hour of crisis, he noticed how they had unconsciously reverted to their seating on the first night – the Italians towards the kitchens, the Spanish-speakers in the centre, the Anglophones closest to reception. . .
‘Brothers, before I say anything of what has occurred, I would like to have the authority of the Conclave to do so. Under paragraphs five and six of the Apostolic Constitution, it is permitted for certain matters or problems to be discussed in special circumstances, provided that a majority of those cardinals assembled agree.’
‘May I say something, Dean?’ The man with his hand raised was Krasinski, Archbishop Emeritus of Chicago.
‘Of course, Your Eminence.’
‘Like you, I am a veteran of three Conclaves, and I recall that in paragraph four of the constitution, it also states that nothing can be done by the College of Cardinals that “in any way affects the procedures governing the election of the Supreme Pontiff” – I believe those are the exact words. I submit that the very fact of trying to hold this meeting outside the Sistine Chapel is an interference with procedure.’
‘I am not proposing any change to the election itself, which I believe must continue this afternoon as laid down in the rules. What I do wish to ask is whether the Conclave desires to know what has happened this morning beyond the walls of the Holy See.’
‘But such knowledge is an interference!’
Bellini stood. ‘It is quite plain from the dean’s manner that something serious has occurred, and I for one would like to know what it is.’
Lomeli gave him a grateful look. Bellini sat to a muted chorus of ‘Hear, hear’ and ‘I agree’.
Tedesco rose and at once the dining room went quiet. He rested his hands above the swell of his stomach – Lomeli thought he looked as if he were leaning on a wall – and took a moment before he spoke. ‘Surely if the matter is as serious as all that, it is bound to increase pressure on the Conclave to come to a rapid decision? Such pressure is of course an interference, however subtle. We are here to listen to God, Your Eminences, not to news bulletins.’
‘No doubt the Patriarch of Venice believes we shouldn’t listen to explosions, either, but we all heard one!’
There was laughter. Tedesco’s face flushed and he looked around to see who had spoken. It was Cardinal Sá, the Archbishop of São Salvador de Bahia – a liberation theologian, no friend of Tedesco or his faction.
Lomeli had chaired enough meetings in the Vatican to know when the time had come to strike. ‘May I make a suggestion?’ He glanced at Tedesco and waited. Reluctantly, the Patriarch of Venice sat down. ‘The fairest course is obviously to put the question to a vote, and so with Your Eminences’ permission, that is what I shall now do.’
‘Wait a moment-’
Tedesco made an attempt to interject, but Lomeli spoke over him. ‘Will all those who wish the Conclave to receive this information, please raise their hands?’ At once, scores of scarlet-sleeved arms went up. ‘And those against?’ Tedesco, Krasinski, Tutino and perhaps a dozen others reluctantly raised their hands. ‘That is carried. Naturally, anyone who doesn’t wish to hear what I have to say is free to leave.’ He waited. Nobody moved. ‘Very well.’
He smoothed out the sheet of paper. ‘Just before I left the Sistine, I asked for a summary of the latest information to be prepared by the press office in conjunction with the security service of the Holy See. The bare facts are these. At eleven twenty this morning, a car bomb exploded in the Piazza del Risorgimento. Shortly afterwards, just as people were fleeing the scene, an individual with explosives strapped to his body detonated himself. Multiple credible eyewitness reports state that he cried, “Allahu Akbar.”’
Several cardinals groaned.
‘Simultaneous with this attack, two gunmen entered the church of San Marco Evangelista and opened fire on the congregation while Mass was being celebrated – indeed, prayers were being said at that very moment for the welfare of this Conclave. Security forces were nearby, and both attackers are reported to have been shot dead.
‘At eleven thirty – that is, ten minutes later – there was an explosion in the library of the Catholic University of Louvain. . .’
Cardinal Vandroogenbroek, who had been professor of theology at Louvain, cried out, ‘Oh God, no!’
‘. . . and an armed man also opened fire inside the Frauenkirche in Munich. That incident seems to have turned into a siege and the building has been surrounded.
‘Information on casualties is still being assessed, but the latest figures appear to be as follows: thirty-eight dead in the Piazza del Risorgimento, twelve dead in San Marco, four at the university in Belgium and at least two in Munich. Those figures I fear are very likely to rise. The wounded must be numbered in the hundreds.’
He lowered the paper.
‘That is all the information I have. Let us stand, my brothers, and observe a minute’s silence for those who have been killed and injured.’
After it was all over, it was to be obvious, to theologians and canon lawyers alike, that the rules under which the Conclave operated, Universi Dominici Gregis – ‘The Lord’s Whole Flock’ – issued by Pope John Paul II in 1996, belonged to a more innocent age. Five years before 9/11, neither the pontiff nor his advisers had envisaged the contingency of a multiple terrorist attack.
But to the cardinals gathered in the Casa Santa Marta at lunchtime on the third day of the Conclave, nothing was obvious. After the minute’s silence ended, conversations – hushed, shocked, disbelieving – slowly broke out around the dining hall. How were they to continue with their deliberations after what had occurred? But equally, how were they to stop? Most of the cardinals had sat down immediately after the silence, but some remained standing. Among them were Lomeli and Tedesco. The Patriarch of Venice was peering around him, frowning, evidently unsure of what he should do. If just three of his supporters deserted him, he would lose his blocking third in the electoral college. For the first time, he appeared less than fully confident.