No one in the group uttered a word. They looked at the old man in respectful-awed-silence.
"I am not sure this is a good idea," Addaio finally replied. "This is not something we-I-can expect you to do. And they would have your body. They will discover who you are."
"No, they will not be able to find that out. I will pull out all my teeth and burn off my fingerprints. For the police, I will be a man of no identity."
"Will you truly be able to do this?"
"I am weary of life. I will make the same sacrifice so many of our brothers have. Let this be my last act of service-the most painful-so that the community may survive. Will God forgive me?"
"God understands why you do this."
"Then if Mendib leaves the prison, send for me and prepare me for death."
"If you betray us, the rest of your family in Urfa will suffer for it."
"Do not offend my honor or my name with threats. Do not forget who I am, who my ancestors were."
Addaio lowered his head in a sign of acceptance, and the old man left their circle to be alone with his thoughts.
The pastor broke the silence that Mendib's great-uncle left in his wake. "What is the status of Francesco Turgut, the porter at the Turin Cathedral?"
He was answered by a short, muscular man with the look of a stevedore, who worked as a janitor in the Egyptian Museum.
"Turgut is frightened. The people from the Art Crimes Department have interrogated him several times, and he believes that the cardinal's secretary, a Padre Yves, considers him suspicious."
"What do we know about this priest Yves?"
"He is French, he has influence in the Vatican, and soon he will be made auxiliary bishop of Turin."
"Might he be one of them?"
"He might be. He has all the characteristics. He is not a typical priest. He belongs to a family of aristocrats, he speaks several languages, has an excellent education, excels at sports… and he is celibate, totally celibate. You know that they never break that rule. He is a protege of Cardinal Visier and Monsignor Aubry."
"Who we are sure belong to their order," Addaio said flatly.
"Yes, there is no doubt of that. They have been very skillful in infiltrating the Vatican and reaching the highest ranks of the Curia. I would not be surprised if someday one of them became pope. That, truly, would be a mockery of fate."
"Turgut has a nephew in Urfa-Ismet, a good boy. I'll have him go live with his uncle," the pastor mused.
"The cardinal is kind; I imagine he will allow Francesco to take in his nephew."
"Ismet is quick-witted; his father has asked me to look after him. I will give him the mission of establishing himself in Turin and preparing to relieve Turgut when the time comes. To do that, he will have to marry an Italian girl, so he can remain in the cathedral as porter in place of his uncle. In addition, he will keep an eye on this Padre Yves and try to find out more about him."
"Is our tunnel still undiscovered?"
"It is. Two days ago the head of the Art Crimes Department inspected the underground tunnels; there were soldiers with him. When he came out, the frustration on his face told it all. They found nothing."
The men continued to talk and drink raki until late that night, when the bride and groom took leave of their families. Addaio, who did not drink, had not even tasted the liquor. Accompanied by Bakkalbasi and three men, he left the hotel where the wedding party had taken place and made his way to a safe house that belonged to one of the members of the community.
The next day he would return to Urfa. He had planned to go to Turin himself, but that would put the community at ultimate risk. He had given very precise instructions; everyone knew what they were to do.
He spent the rest of the night praying, seeking God in repeated exhortations, but he knew, as he always knew, that God was not listening-God had never been near to him, or given him any sign. Yet he, Addaio, miserable Addaio, had destroyed his life and the lives of so many others in His name. What if God didn't exist? What if it was all a lie? Sometimes he had let himself be tempted by the devil and allowed himself to think that his community was kept alive by a myth, by dusty dreams, and that none of what they had told the children was true.
But diere was no turning back. His life had been chosen for him: to serve the community and lead it and, above all, to secure for it the shroud of Jesus Christ. He knew that they would try once again to prevent that-they had been doing so for centuries. The community had fought back as it could, tracking its adversaries and their plunder through the centuries, tracing their activities in pursuit of a common goal. The knowledge they had gathered led down tantalizing avenues, to mysteries and answers Addaio sensed lay just beyond his grasp. But there was no mystery about his overarching purpose on this earth. Someday the community would recover the sacred cloth that had been bequeathed to it, and it would be he, Addaio, who at long last achieved that impossible goal.
30
UMBERTO D'ALAQUA HAD SENT A CAR TO pick Sofia up at the hotel, and at the door of the opera house the assistant manager of the theater had been waiting to escort her to her host.
That touch was impressive, but she felt the full impact of D'Alaqua's stature when she entered his box. The other guests were members of the city's-and the country's-rich and powerful elite: Cardinal Visier, Dr. Bolard, two eminent bankers, a member of the Agnelli family and his wife, and Mayor Torriani and his wife.
D'Alaqua stood up and welcomed her warmly, with a squeeze of her hands. He seated her next to the mayor and his wife and Dr. Bolard. He himself was seated next to Cardinal Visier, who had greeted her with a cool smile.
She felt the men looking at her out of the corners of their eyes-all except the cardinal, Bolard, and D'Alaqua. She'd taken pains to look not just good but stunning. That afternoon she had gone to the hairdresser's and returned to Armani, this time to buy an elegant red tunic-and-pants outfit. It was a color the designer didn't often use, but it was spectacular, Marco and Giuseppe had assured her. The tunic had a low neckline, and the mayor couldn't seem to keep his eyes off it.
Marco was surprised that D'Alaqua had sent a car to pick Sofia up rather than coming personally, but Sofia understood the message. D'Alaqua had no personal interest in her; she was simply his guest to the opera. The man put unbreachable barriers between them, and though he did so subtly, he left no room for doubt.
At the intermission, they repaired to D'Alaqua's private salon for champagne and canapes.
'Are you enjoying the opera, dottoressa?"
Cardinal Visier was looking her over as he asked her the clichéd question.
"Yes, Your Eminence. Pavarotti has been wonderful tonight."