Seemingly in response to Elisabetta’s look of confusion Tremblay added quickly, ‘Don’t worry about understanding it. I’m not sure any contemporary scholar really has a handle on the text. Apparently there was a secret oral tradition that properly explained the Monad but it’s been lost to time. The important thing for us is that the Monad was adopted by the Lemures as one of their symbols, a quick and easy way for them to identify themselves, a shorthand, if you will, for recognition.’
‘What makes you so sure? And what makes you think Dee was one of them?’
‘There’s a 450-year trail of breadcrumbs scattered throughout the Vatican. My predecessors have done most of the work. I’ve added a few documents here and there to the mix but we know that by the late sixteenth century secret correspondence between known Lemures began to adopt the Monad by way of signature. It clearly had some profound significance for them and we presume that John Dee was one of them. But no direct evidence has ever been found.’
Elisabetta looked at the frontispiece again. ‘The Monad. It looks as though it has a tail, doesn’t it?’
‘Yes, it does.’
‘I need to show you something.’
She left Tremblay behind with a quizzical expression on his long face and went to her father’s room. She returned with her mother’s book and handed Tremblay the Vatican envelope. When he pulled out the card he puckered his lips as if he’d sucked hard on a lemon.
‘It was my mother’s,’ Elisabetta said. ‘She died when I was eight. I thought I’d seen the symbol before and I had. At her deathbed.’
‘A Vatican envelope,’ Tremblay said. ‘What was her connection?’
‘None that I know of. She was an historian at La Sapienza.’
‘This book? It’s hers? Flavia Celestino?’
‘Her first and only one. She died young.’
‘Do you know if she ever did any work, any research at the Vatican?’
‘I was a child. Perhaps I can ask my father.’
‘Let me see the book.’
Tremblay turned to the acknowledgment section and scanned it. ‘Here. She thanks the Vatican for giving her access to certain documents.’
Elisabetta sighed at her ignorance of her mother’s life.
Tremblay stood suddenly and checked his watch. The band was too loose, as if nothing could properly fit a wrist so thin. ‘What are you doing tomorrow morning?’
‘I’ve no plans.’
‘Good. You’re coming with me to the Vatican Secret Archives. We need to find out why your mother had the Monad.’
TWENTY-ONE
EVEN THOUGH IT was a full day before the Conclave and only six in the morning, St Peter’s Square was buzzing with eager pilgrims and an assemblage of international journalists setting up their first shots of the day.
Zazo made a detour from his usual route from the Gendarmerie parking lot to the Tribunal Palace so he could pass through the square and check his men who had been on the night shift. Except for a drunken tourist who’d wandered through at two AM making a ruckus, all was reportedly peaceful.
At 6:30 there was a joint meeting of officers of the Gendarmerie and Swiss Guards. For the sake of harmony the venue of these meetings had alternated between the Tribunal Palace and the Garrison of the Guards. At the podium were Inspector General Loreti and his counterpart, Oberst Franz Sonnenberg. Standing behind them, at ease, were their vice-commandants, Sergio Russo for the Gendarmerie and Mathias Hackel for the Guards.
Zazo and Lorenzo sat together. A row behind them, Major Glauser of the Guards deliberately bumped the back of Zazo’s chair with his boot. ‘It’s time for the big game, Celestino. Are you guys going to be ready?’ he said with his usual condescending tone.
Zazo glowered back and said nothing. ‘I’m ready to kick his ass,’ he whispered to Lorenzo.
‘Did you get a look at his suit?’ Lorenzo asked.
‘It was probably half-price because of his half-size,’ Zazo said.
Loreti tapped the microphone. ‘Okay, gentlemen, let’s begin. I welcome Oberst Sonnenberg and his men to our home for the final group briefing before the Conclave begins. You are all aware of our modus operandi: we leave nothing to chance. Nothing. Everything is planned to the minute and there will be no deviations. This morning we will review the order of events for tomorrow, Day One. After Day One, the final length of the Conclave is clearly out of our hands, but each day will have the same schedule until there is a new Pope. Then the post-Conclave program of events will begin and that too is planned to the minute, without any possible deviations. The security of the Cardinals, the new Pope, the Holy See, the employees and the world’s visitors to the Vatican depend on our strict observance of the joint security plan. Everything must run as precisely as Oberst Sonnenberg’s wristwatch.’
Amidst small guffaws at Loreti’s quip, Mathias Hackel took the microphone. He was a head taller than the others and as broad as the podium. From his stern look and his tight lips it was clear that he had no intention of warming up the audience with a joke.
He pressed the remote control and called up the first PowerPoint slide. ‘Here is the program for Day One,’ he began. ‘We will go over it now in detail. I will expect every officer to ensure that each of his men will have their precise assignments perfectly understood. The Swiss Guards will do their jobs. The Gendarmerie Corps will do their jobs. There will be faultless command and control. The entire world will be watching and we must be perfect.’
Zazo turned to his printed presentation and worked hard to concentrate. He knew the details by heart and Hackel’s monotone only made him aware how early he’d woken that morning.
8:45 AM. Buses arrive to transport Cardinal Electors from the Domus Sanctae Marthae to the Basilica for the Pro Eligendo Romano Pontifice, the Mass for the Election of the Roman Pontiff.
9:15 AM. Beginning of Mass.
10:15 AM. Conclusion of Mass.
10:30 AM. Buses back to Guest House.
12:00 PM. Private lunch for Cardinals at Guest House.
3:00 PM. Buses arrive to transport Cardinal Electors from Guest House to the Hall of Blessings in the Basilica.
3:30 PM. Procession from Hall of Blessings to Sistine Chapel.
4:00 PM. Doors of Sistine Chapel locked. Conclave begins.
7:00 PM. First ballot slips burned in chimney of Sistine Chapel.
7:15 PM. Buses from Sistine Chapel to Guest House.
With Hackel’s bloodless briefing done, Zazo and Lorenzo went for a quick coffee and headed to their office. They had only a few minutes before mustering their platoons but Zazo glanced at his inbox and clicked hopefully on an email from Interpol.
He was stunned that they had responded so quickly but when he began to read the message he understood.
Aldo Vani’s fingerprints had lit up Interpol’s computers like a Christmas tree.
Under the name Hugo Moreti – wanted in Switzerland for assault.
Under the name Luis Crea – wanted in Spain for rape.