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Cardinal Jean Villot was slumped, ashen-faced, on one of the crimson couches in his office. A large ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts sat next to a copy of L’Osservatore Politico on the coffee table. The headline could not have been worse – ‘The Great Vatican Lodge’.

Membership of a Masonic Lodge, especially one as well connected as P2, had significant benefits but the Catholic Church had always been very clear on the ‘sons of evil’. Any Catholic found to be a Mason would be excommunicated, and the editor of L’Osservatore Politico, a disgruntled former member of P2, had published a list of a hundred and twenty-one prominent Catholics who were members of Masonic Lodges. The Cardinal Secretary of State’s name was at the top of the list, along with several other cardinals. Petroni’s gut clenched. He had been accepted for membership just the week before.

‘I have just been sacked,’ the Secretary of State said simply.

‘The list?’ Petroni asked, glancing towards the paper. ‘May I?’

‘You’re not on it.’

‘I don’t understand, Eminence,’ Petroni replied, struggling to keep the relief from his voice.

‘Your membership was agreed but it hasn’t been processed yet.’

‘I’m sorry about your name being published, Eminence,’ Petroni offered belatedly. ‘I guess I’ve been lucky this time,’ he added, seeking confirmation that he had indeed escaped.

‘Not really. The Pope intends to relieve you of all your duties tomorrow. Yesterday he received a preliminary report on your activities in the Vatican Bank and he intends to hold a thorough investigation into all Vatican finances. If that goes ahead I don’t have to tell you that it will result in criminal charges that will have some of us behind bars for a very long time.’

Lorenzo Petroni returned to his office, his face the same colour as the Secretary of State’s, his mind in turmoil. The investigation could not be allowed to go ahead. He would need to confer with Giorgio Felici, the young Sicilian from P2.

Giovanni Donelli made his way to the Papal dining room on the third floor of the Vatican’s Apostolic Palace. It had been thirty-two days since Luciani’s election and tonight, Pope John Paul I had asked Giovanni to dine with him alone.

At Luciani’s request the sisters of the Papal household had prepared a simple meal of clear soup, veal, fresh beans and salad.

‘You look troubled, Holiness,’ Giovanni ventured.

‘Some of what I have to tell you tonight, Giovanni, will become common knowledge tomorrow, but some of it will not. You’ve seen L’Osservatore Politico?’

‘I was shocked, Holiness,’ Giovanni said. Freemasonry was an anathema to him, let alone Lodges that were linked to the Mafia.

Albino Luciani nodded. ‘This afternoon I relieved the Cardinal Secretary of State of all duties. He will be sent back to France to a retirement home where hopefully he will find some peace. The other cardinals and bishops on that list will be found dioceses where they can reflect and are unlikely to have any contact with a Masonic Lodge.’ It was a measure of the man; bitterly disappointed and shaken, he still found time to consider those who had betrayed the Church.

‘The preliminary report on the Vatican Bank that I gave you for safekeeping, did you read it?’

‘No, Holiness, I wasn’t sure if I should. I put it in the safe.’

Luciani smiled. Had the positions been reversed he would have done the same. ‘We need to apply the same rules here as we did in Venice, Giovanni. Neither of us is used to Vatican politics but you need to be across all the issues. When you have time I’d like you to read the investigation. I’m not sure how to proceed yet, but tomorrow I will be relieving Archbishop Petroni of all his duties.

‘Your Chief of Staff?’ Giovanni was no great fan of the arrogant and aggressive Petroni, but he was still stunned at the levels to which corruption and deceit had reached within the Vatican.

As Pope John Paul I and Giovanni continued their conversation, and the nuns of the Papal household relaxed in the kitchen, a figure dressed in a priest’s black soutane left the Pope’s bedroom as quietly as he had entered.

‘The Vatican Bank has been involved in serious criminal activities for at least as long as Petroni has been at the helm.’

Giovanni listened intently.

‘Over the past few years we have criminally abused our position as a Papal State and our immunity from investigation by the Italian authorities. The Vatican Bank has been laundering billions of lire for the Mafia and we are heavily involved in a fake invoicing scheme that is defrauding the Italian people of billions more. We have shares in companies that make tanks and munitions, and I’m told that of the more than ten thousand accounts in our Bank, fewer than 10 per cent have a legitimate purpose. Most of them are slush funds for Petroni’s cronies in the Mafia.’

‘We should make a clean breast of this, Holiness,’ Giovanni observed astutely.

‘I intend to, including the fact that at one stage, Istituto Farmacologico Sereno was owned by the Vatican.’

‘The big pharmaceutical?’

Pope John Paul I nodded. ‘One of their biggest selling products is Luteolas, the oral contraceptive pill. You know my views on our doctrine on contraception, Giovanni, but to be condemning birth control while at the same time manufacturing millions of contraceptive pills because it makes us money plunges us to a new depth of hypocrisy. There is, however, an even more sensitive issue. The investigation has revealed that earlier this year we purchased a Dead Sea Scroll for ten million dollars. Have you ever heard of the Omega Scroll?’

‘I’ve heard of it, Holiness, but I had no idea it actually existed, much less that the Vatican might have bought it.’

‘We have known each other for a long time, Giovanni, and when I’m long gone it will be up to you and others like you to carry the Church forward. If what I’m told is true, the Omega Scroll will force us to rethink much of our doctrine and that will upset a great many people, but we must never shy away from the truth. At my request, an old retired Professor of Middle East Antiquities from Universita Ca’ Granda, Professor Salvatore Fiorini, has been here for the last week secretly translating it. I have a brief that I will read tonight. My initial impression is that amongst other revelations, the Omega Scroll contains a terrible warning for us all.’

Giovanni woke to the urgent ringing of the Holy Father’s bell. He looked at the alarm clock on his bedside table. It was just after five in the morning. Giovanni struggled into his robe and hurried down the corridor that connected his own small apartment to that of the Pope’s.

‘Sister Vincenza. You look ill!’ Giovanni said as he reached the end of the hallway. ‘What on earth’s happened?’

‘Something terrible, Father. His Holiness… He’s…’ Sister Vincenza choked on the words.

Giovanni recoiled in shock when he entered the Pope’s bedroom. His Holiness was upright in bed, his face twisted in agony, eyes bulging. His glasses had slipped to the end of his nose. Giovanni felt a strange and overwhelming need to remain calm as he glanced at the Pope’s slippers that had been kicked off in disarray beside the bed, the toes covered in vomit. He picked up the phone beside the Pope’s bedside and rang the Cardinal Secretary of State in his Lateran Palace Apartment. The Cardinal answered almost immediately.

‘ Mon dieu, c’est vrais tous ca? My God, is that true?’

The Cardinal, Giovanni would reflect later, sounded awake and alert.

‘When did you find him, Sister?’ Giovanni asked.

‘Just before I woke you, Father,’ Sister Vincenza replied, tears streaming down her kindly old face. ‘I left the Holy Father’s coffee outside his room at four-thirty as I always do and when I checked just before five it hadn’t been touched, so I knocked and then…’ Her voice trailed off as she started to sob.

‘You did all you could,’ Giovanni said, comforting the old nun. ‘Make yourself a cup of tea,’ he said, giving her something to do.