Sarah looked at him. He was a calm, happy man. He carried a black briefcase he gave to Rafael.
‘Safe and sound.’
Tim went over to the well that turned out to be stairs going underground. The panel that covered it was half open. It wouldn’t have been easy for Tim to lift it alone.
‘Let’s go,’ he said, going down rapidly ahead of them.
Sarah couldn’t figure out precisely how long they descended, but she was surprised to see electric lights illuminating the way, very different from Moscow.
‘This is private property?’ Rafael asked.
‘Yes, bought by the Vatican,’ Tim answered eagerly.
‘Do you know what you’re going to do with your life now?’ Rafael changed the subject.
‘No. Time will tell. Whatever comes, I hope it’ll be for the best.’
‘That’s a good philosophy,’ Rafael agreed.
They entered something that seemed to be a crypt, confirmed as such by a tomb in the center of the wide space.
It was new, granite, with letters engraved in gold.
Krystian Janusz Wladyslaw.
II–IV-MMV.
‘What does that mean?’ Sarah asked, confused.
‘Thirty-three days after his interment in the tomb of the popes in the Vatican, Karol Jozef Wojtyla was brought here secretly in accordance with his wishes. Here he’ll rest for eternity under this name. If someday someone enters here mistakenly, he won’t know to whom it refers.’
Sarah got down on her knees on the floor next to the tomb holding the body of the most beloved pope of all times. She let tears of emotion fall.
‘There’s now nothing to keep me here,’ Tim said to Rafael. ‘Keep this as a memory.’
He left a gilded object, small, cylindrical, bright in his hand… a bullet.
‘Good-bye.’
‘Good-bye.’
Alone. Rafael approached Sarah and gave her his hand to help her up.
They remained for a moment holding hands, keeping watch on Karol Wojtyla’s tomb.
‘And now?’ Sarah asked emotionally.
Rafael looked at her, and, afterward, at the tomb.
‘This isn’t over yet.’