‘Jack Payne is dead,’ Rafael observed. ‘He belongs to another story. There’s nothing to say.’
Sarah helped change the subject.
‘You mentioned a they just now. That have been following me. Who are they? Barnes?’
‘No,’ Rafael quickly corrected her. ‘Barnes is a puppet in the hands of other interests. He just wants them to leave him in peace.’
A hesitant clearing of the throat indicated Phelps’s turn to join the conversation.
‘I don’t mean to be at all critical, but I’ve thought of a certain reason for the story only Sarah and Rafael know about.’ In spite of the diplomatic manner, his judgmental attitude was evident. He turned to Rafael. ‘I believe it’s time to make everything clear. I don’t want to get into your joint history, far be it from me to intrude on your privacy, you have a right to it, but, when I asked Rafael a question last night, I was terrified by the answer, although it was evasive.’
‘What was the question?’ Simon was curious.
‘Who are we after?’ Phelps concluded.
‘And what was the reply?’ Sarah asked with her eyes fixed on him.
‘John… Paul… the Second…’ Phelps responded slowly, so that each component of the name weighed on them.
The silence was oppressive, and attention turned immediately to Rafael, who showed no sign of reproof toward Phelps or any sign of discomfort.
‘Oh my God. The dossier on the Turk,’ Sarah let slip, remembering the file that JC had left with her in the Grand Hotel Palatino in Rome, the one that was behind the bottle of vintage port.
‘The one I was going to look for?’ Simon asked with wide-open eyes.
‘Yes.’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ Rafael tried to appease them. ‘It hasn’t been there for a long time.’
Sarah was angry. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘That it hasn’t been there for a long time,’ Rafael repeated without a bit of emotion.
‘It wasn’t where?’ Sarah was afraid she’d lose her mind if he said what she thought he would say.
‘In your house that exploded in Redcliff Gardens, behind the bottle of port, vintage 1976,’ he said. ‘I was there to get it also, but I suspected you’d miss it.’
Sarah got up from the table, red-faced, upset with the outrageous back and forth about her life, and, what was worse, without her realizing it.
‘How could you?’ she almost shouted at him.
‘Someone had to read it,’ Rafael argued. It was a fair argument from his point of view.
‘You had no right,’ Sarah continued, hurt, although she might have felt flattered knowing that he was always present and attentive to her survival. She sat back down.
‘We’re digressing again,’ Phelps complained.
‘Actually, we’re not,’ Rafael answered. ‘The Turk’s dossier is an important element of this case.’
‘In what way?’ Phelps insisted.
‘It’s a complete report on how everything happened, what led to planning the death of the Pole, who the conspirators were, what happened in the years that followed, and the consequences. An authentic, detailed account.’
‘And where is it?’ Phelps asked like a police inspector. ‘I’d like to read it.’
‘It should be in my house,’ Sarah protested, although more calmly now.
Rafael smiled. The second time Sarah had seen him smile.
‘You didn’t pay attention to it, Sarah. You fled from it like the devil from the cross.’
Phelps crossed himself on hearing mention of the devil, provoking a laugh from Simon, who tried to hide it.
‘And where is it?’ Phelps asked again.
‘In a safe place. It’s better you don’t know its location for security reasons.’
‘For our security? What’s the problem?’ Phelps asked again. Ah, brave man.
Rafael confronted the three questioning looks without blinking.
‘What do you think all this is about?’
‘Why don’t you clarify it for us?’ Sarah’s tone was serious.
‘They want that report and to eliminate any and all threat it could represent, even though they’ve not yet read it,’ he spelled out.
Once again because of papers, Sarah thought with a strong feeling of deja vu.
‘Don’t these people know they should leave nothing in writing?’ she lamented. ‘And this has nothing to do with Albino Luciani and what happened to him?’ She began to feel a certain fear. This was much more complicated than she thought.
‘No. It’s about John Paul the Second and what we don’t know about him.’
‘But, who are they?’ Simon asked. His body began to ache again. He needed rest.
‘The saviors of the Church. Those in command of the Church.’
‘The pope?’ Simon continued.
‘No, of course not. Who thinks the pope rules the Church?’
‘The conclaves, the electors of a successor, the Swiss Guard, the prime minister. Choose one.’ Simon presented an endless list.
‘The commander of the Church is and always has been… money,’ Rafael explained.
Phelps felt insulted by the remark. ‘Listen, Rafael…’
Rafael raised an authoritative hand, demanding silence. ‘Money rules the Church. Think of the banking system.’
Phelps sighed. What sacrilege. For her part, Sarah couldn’t understand where Rafael was going with this idea.
‘Banks have to obey the directors of the Central Bank. They raise or lower interest rates, set policies, regulations-’
‘Where are you going with this?’ Sarah was the impatient one this time.
‘To what is obvious. We have the Holy Mother Church, the Vatican, which is the face and regulatory agent that manages the wealth and advises what decisions to make to promote the faith.’
‘For the love of God.’ Phelps was furious. He got up and put his hands on the table. ‘What are you talking about? Surely the Vatican-’
‘You’re mistaken. I’m speaking about Escriva’s organization.’
‘Holy Virgin.’ Phelps crossed himself again three times in a row. ‘Heresy.’
‘Escriva’s organization?’ Simon was lost.
‘Opus Dei,’ Sarah and Rafael said in unison.
‘That seems like a theory without foundation,’ Sarah contradicted.
‘An outrage,’ Phelps added. His voice trembled with indignation.
‘Unfortunately it’s not a theory, it’s not even speculation. It’s a certainty. That’s the way it works.’
Phelps sat down completely crushed. ‘My God, I don’t believe it. There has to be something wrong.’
Minutes passed without a word, only listening to their breathing, panting, fatigued, nervous.
‘Okay!’ Sarah interrupted the silence, recalling conversations of this kind with Rafael in the past. ‘I think we’re all in agreement to tie up the loose threads. We want to know everything.’
The other two just nodded in agreement. Yes, they wanted to know everything… now. Sarah looked at Rafael seriously. We want to know everything… now.
‘You can start by talking about the bodies,’ Phelps suggested, crossing himself at the same time.
‘What bodies?’ Sarah felt goose bumps.
‘This is getting more and more interesting,’ Simon said with a sour smile.
‘The bodies this guy went to pick up in Amsterdam. We covered five hundred miles with them before we got here,’ Phelps said incriminatingly.
‘Natalie?’ Sarah said timidly. ‘The bodies of Natalie and Greg? You’ve brought them?’ She couldn’t conceive of this repulsive act, snatching two bodies, people she knew, from eternal rest.
Rafael nodded.
‘Why?’ Sarah demanded. This man never ceased to amaze her. She had no idea how he felt, if he considered this good or bad.
‘Among other reasons… for this.’ Rafael showed them a small black object the size of a jacket button, circular, smooth.
‘What’s that?’
‘A CD.’
‘That’s a CD?’ Simon looked astonished at the object. ‘They make them that size?’
‘They make whatever size is necessary.’
‘And what does it have on it? Who had it?’ That was what mattered to Sarah.
‘Information Natalie had been investigating for a long time,’ he only said.