Under the name Hans Beckmann – wanted in Germany for an explosives charge and murder.
Vani was quite the international criminal.
In the fax, Interpol asked for Vani’s Italian police file and death certificate to enable them to close the pending cases, and by attachment they were providing, with compliments, the requested German telephone records of Bruno Ottinger from 2005–6. The only item that gave Zazo pause was a query at the end of the message as to why the Vatican Gendarmerie Corps was involved in the case.
Before grabbing his cap and running off to meet with his men, Zazo sent the phone records to his printer, doubtful whether he’d have time to do more than run them off and take them with him before the Conclave was over. He stuffed the printed sheets into his leather jacket.
There was a steady stream of Cardinals coming and going from the Domus to various appointments around Vatican City. Ordinarily they’d have been allowed to roam freely, accompanied only by aides, but security was tight and each one required at least one Gendarme to shadow him. Zazo was at the Domus after lunch, adjusting to an ever-shifting appointment schedule, when his mobile rang. It was Inspector Loreti’s office. He needed to report immediately.
‘I’m up to my eyeballs,’ he told Loreti’s assistant. ‘This had better be important.’
Loreti saw him straight away; he didn’t look happy. He asked Zazo to sit. He did, his hat in his lap.
‘I got a call from Interpol,’ Loreti said flatly.
‘Look, Inspector …’
Loreti shut him up angrily. ‘I didn’t ask you to speak. Apparently you’ve been making inquiries on behalf of the Vatican about the man you shot. They wanted to know what business this was of our Corps. It’s a good question. Tell me, Major, what business is this of the Gendarmerie Corps? Now you may speak.’
‘My sister was almost killed,’ Zazo exclaimed. ‘She was a Vatican employee at the time, assigned to the Pontifical Commission of Sacred Archeology. And besides, the Polizia don’t have a clue. They’re bungling the case.’
Loreti took a deep breath, puffed out his cheeks and let the air out slowly. Zazo looked like he pretty much knew what was going to come out of his mouth. ‘I’ve heard some ridiculous excuses for inappropriate behavior in my day, but coming from one of my top officers this is one for the record books. Here are some facts: number one, the crime took place outside Vatican City and is therefore not in our jurisdiction. Number two, the Polizia did not request our assistance. Number three, you were a principal at the crime scene. You shot and killed the assailant. One does not investigate one’s own involvement in a crime. And number four, in case you didn’t know it, the Conclave begins tomorrow. This kind of distraction from your duties in unacceptable.’
Zazo nodded like a chastened schoolboy. ‘I’m sorry, Inspector. This involves my sister. Perhaps you would have done the same thing if your sister was attacked this way. But I should at least have talked to you and gotten your permission.’
‘I would have said no!’
‘That would have been the end of it, I suppose. I accept your criticisms and I’ll accept, of course, whatever sanctions you choose to impose.’
‘Well, that’s good. You’re not going to like it, your comrades are not going to like it and I don’t like it, but I have no choice. You’ll be taken before a tribunal to answer for your actions and until then you’re relieved of duty, effective immediately.’
‘But Inspector! The Conclave! My men!’
‘I’m going to give Lorenzo temporary command of your men. He’s going to have to work double and thank you for it. I can’t risk having a seriously distracted officer such as yourself responsible for the lives of the Cardinal Electors and the next Pope. You are dismissed, Major.’
Lorenzo found him sitting disconsolately at his desk, staring out the window.
‘Christ, Zazo,’ he said.
‘I’m sorry. I screwed up.’
‘I would have done the same thing if it were my sister. What are you going to do now?’
Zazo shrugged miserably. ‘Go home? Go to a bar? Watch you do my job on television? Hell, Lorenzo, I don’t know.’
Lorenzo patted him on the shoulder and walked him out.
Near the parking lot Zazo ran into Glauser who was looking particularly smug. ‘Hey, Zazo, I heard what happened,’ he called out. ‘Next time I see you, if they ever let you back, you’ll have to salute because we won’t be the same rank.’
‘Hey, Glauser,’ Zazo replied. ‘Go fuck yourself.’
A tall priest with ghostly skin accompanied by a pretty young nun entered the Tower through the Porta di Santa Anna. They were challenged instantly by two Swiss Guards.
Father Tremblay showed his identification card and when the Guards questioned Elisabetta he said, ‘The Sister is with me.’ The guards asked again and this time Tremblay said louder, ‘I said, the Sister is with me!’
The guards let them pass.
‘It’s the Conclave,’ Tremblay whispered to her. ‘Everyone’s on edge.’
They passed through an enormous pair of brass doors adorned with a bas-relief of Old Testament scenes.
They were in the Tower of the Winds.
‘Welcome to the Secret Archives,’ Tremblay said, leading Elisabetta up a narrow winding staircase.
She followed on his heels but had to pull up abruptly when he stopped partway up the staircase, breathing heavily and wheezing audibly.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s my condition. I’m not very fit.’ He kept talking, apparently giving himself a chance to catch his breath. ‘The tower was built by Ottaviano Mascherino between 1578 and 1580 as an observatory. If we had more time I’d give you a tour. Higher up, the Hall of the Meridian is covered in frescoes depicting the four winds. There’s a tiny hole high in one of the walls. At midday the sun shines through the hole and falls along a white marble meridian line set into the floor. On either side of the line are various astrological and astronomical symbols once used to try to calculate the effect of the wind upon the stars.’
‘I’d very much like to see that one day,’ Elisabetta said.
Tremblay was composing himself and breathing more easily now. ‘In the seventeenth century, under the orders of Pope Paul V, the Secret Archives were separated from the Vatican Library and remained absolutely closed to outsiders until 1881, when Pope Leo XIII opened them to researchers. The Archive, you see, is the central repository for all of the acts promulgated by the Holy See: state papers, correspondence, papal account books, and many other documents that the church has accumulated over the centuries. Researchers have to apply for access with specific document requests. They can do a search in the Index Room and documents are brought to them by the staff. Officially, no one is allowed to simply browse.’
From the way he said that Elisabetta added, ‘But you can, right?’
He started climbing again. ‘Yes. I am allowed.’ He stopped on the landing and opened a door. ‘Come. The Index Room and the librarians are next to the Old Study Room.’
The Old Study Room had canary-yellow walls and a high vaulted ceiling. Life-size statues of saints were set into niches in the walls. Large windows overlooked the Vatican Gardens. There were row after row of white laminate desks with gooseneck reading lights and power plugs for computers. All the desks were empty.
‘It’s closed,’ Tremblay said. ‘Because of the Conclave.’
The Index Room, also devoid of people, was lined with card catalogs and computer terminals. Tremblay knocked on a door with the nameplate of the Head Librarian and a woman in her fifties wearing heavy make-up responded.
She greeted him warmly. ‘Father Tremblay! How nice to see you.’
‘Signorina Mattera,’ he replied. ‘I’m sorry to trouble you without notice. I’d like to introduce a colleague to you, Sister Elisabetta.’