Swivel seats were distributed through the cabin of what had to be a Boeing 7-something, outfitted with just about everything.
Sarah was pushed toward the front of the plane. Various agents were working throughout the plane, oblivious to her or Herbert. Computers, radar, flat screens reflecting graphs added to the crowded space. At the front was a closed door. Herbert opened it and pushed Sarah inside.
It was a small office for so many people. Sarah recognized only a few, Barnes, seated behind a desk, Staughton, Thompson, although she didn’t know their names, and… Simon Lloyd.
‘Simon,’ she shouted fervently.
She tried to reach him, but Herbert held her tightly. She evaluated his condition, and it didn’t indicate good treatment. Bruises on his face, dried blood, and a swollen lower lip. Simon Lloyd had endured severe punishment, and she felt responsible, as if she’d done it herself.
‘Oh, Simon.’
He lifted his eyes as well as he could and bowed his head again, beaten.
There were more men in the small office, two seated, one in a wheelchair, who Sarah recognized as the man who was inside the black van they’d been put into in Moscow. Another two standing, and a woman. No sign of Phelps.
‘He doesn’t know anything. Why have you done this?’ she protested emotionally.
‘He doesn’t, but you do. Take it as a warning,’ Barnes said seriously. He glanced at Herbert. ‘Go get the other one.’
‘With pleasure,’ replied Herbert, who was not given to taking orders. Things were going well. Opening the door, he encountered Phelps, and they looked at each other.
‘Good work,’ Phelps praised him.
‘You were magnificent.’
‘Have you told Marius?’
‘He’s waiting for us,’ Herbert told him.
‘Perfect.’
Herbert came close to his ear, so no one else would hear.
‘You’ll have to tell me how you did it. Everything turned out exactly as you said it would at our last meeting at the restaurant.’
‘Secrecy is the soul of business,’ Phelps replied without bothering to lower his voice.
They went their separate ways, Herbert in the direction of the cell where Rafael was, Phelps to make the narrow office even tighter.
Sarah felt a mixture of fear and nausea on seeing him. He shot her a sarcastic smile.
‘How long before we land?’ Barnes asked everyone and no one.
‘An hour to Rome,’ the ever-solicitous Staughton answered. ‘Excuse the question, but I recognize you from the Chelsea and Westminster Hospital. You were with the suspects and helped them.’ There was no reproach in his voice.
‘Is that a question?’ Phelps was impatient with interrogations.
‘Quiet, Staughton,’ Littel interrupted. ‘Mr. Phelps was working as an infiltrator.’
‘You knew that?’ Barnes wanted to understand, shaken.
‘Obviously,’ Littel declared.
‘My name is James William Phelps. I’m a bishop of the Roman Catholic Church and administrator of the Opus Dei prelature. Any other questions?’
‘Who’s the other man you communicated with?’ Barnes asked.
‘My number two. His purpose was to take care of everything while I was indisposed.’
‘Do you consider yourself a servant of the Church?’
Phelps turned his eyes to the source of the question… Sarah. She couldn’t manage to keep quiet.
Phelps smiled. ‘The Church serves a purpose that I don’t expect you to understand.’
‘It serves to kill?’
‘To kill and create. It’s much more than a house of prayer. The Church is the engine of the civilized world. The support for democracy.’
Sarah threw him a look of incredulity.
‘There are no free states without the Church. Every sacrifice is minor if we keep that in mind.’
‘Enough demagogy,’ Barnes ordered. ‘Let’s get to what concerns us. Where are we?’ His eyes never left Phelps. He was the one being asked for explanations. There were too many chiefs in the room.
‘I infiltrated the heart of the enemy,’ the bishop said. ‘I was singled out as an assistant to a cardinal in the Holy See, who informed me about some lost papers of Albino Luciani and other paper that belonged to Wojtyla, in addition to a complete file on the steps that led to the May thirteenth, 1981 attempt on his life.’
‘Who are Albino Luciani and Wojtyla?’ asked the diplomatic adjutant, Sebastian Ford, who’d joined the group.
‘John Paul the First and John Paul the Second,’ Thompson whispered.
‘As you can imagine, I never slept a night in peace after that,’ Phelps continued, repulsed by such gross ignorance. ‘In the pleasant conversation with my number two I learned the location of some documents. Others were within reach of the cardinal I serve, and my web of contacts got me the rest. I pulled strings to organize a competent, professional team and obtained your collaboration. It wasn’t difficult given the favors your president and his family owe me.’
‘Have you managed to acquire all of them?’ Littel asked.
‘No,’ he admitted disagreeably. ‘But I know who has what’s missing. I became an assistant for Father Rafael Santini, also known as Jack Payne, as you must know. He’s a difficult man.’
‘Who’s going to argue with that?’ Barnes said.
‘But no one is invincible.’
At that precise moment the door opened to admit Rafael and Herbert. Those standing up moved to accommodate them.
‘Speak of the devil…’ Phelps said.
‘The devil speaks,’ Rafael countered.
He got a smack on the head for that.
‘Shut up. Speak when you’re told to,’ Herbert warned. One has to be courteous.
‘Go on. Who has what we need?’ Barnes announced.
At that moment they heard over the intercom: ‘Gentlemen, this is the pilot here. We are descending into Rome. Landing in twenty minutes.’
Phelps looked at Rafael, who looked back without blinking.
‘Our friend here has the file.’
‘Him?’ Barnes protested, pointing at Rafael.
‘What’s the matter, Barnes?’ Littel asked.
‘Good luck. I hope you have an alternative plan because he’ll carry that information to the grave.’
‘What are you saying?’ Now it was Phelps who didn’t understand.
‘My dear sir, this man is trained for the most dangerous missions. Unless you have some hold over him, the only thing torture will get from him is body parts and organs.’
Phelps smiled. He understood the American’s worry.
‘Don’t worry. He’s going to tell us everything. We have the woman.’
‘What woman?’ Sebastian Ford asked.
‘Her.’ He pointed with irritation at Sarah Monteiro.
The room looked in silence at Phelps. What did the woman have to do with Rafael?
Phelps assumed the attitude of a teacher. Was he the only one who noticed?
‘There are certain feelings between the two of them.’
Sarah blushed.
Barnes looked at Rafael and Sarah, then at Littel.
‘Do you believe it?’
‘Phelps is the one who knows them,’ Littel answered with a shrug.
‘And the rest of the documents?’
‘My number two has discovered that the cardinal betrayed us. So they can only be in JC’s hands.’
‘Then she’s screwed.’ Barnes didn’t mince words.
‘Everything is as it needs to be. We know who has what. And I’m counting on your help to throw out some bait for JC,’ Phelps announced victoriously.
‘What?’
‘Ah… well. I want to talk to you about that,’ Littel said to Barnes, and got up. ‘We know you’ve worked with P2.’
‘P2?’ Sebastian Ford asked again.
‘JC’s organization,’ Littel told him. ‘We need you to mount a plan to catch them.’