CHAPTER TWO
Atlanta, Georgia
T he Buffett Evangelical Centre for Christ could seat fifteen thousand people and tonight it was packed. The choirmaster was warming up the audience with a booming rendition of ‘How Great Thou Art’, while backstage Jerry Buffett was making his final preparations.
Buffett appeared younger than his sixty years. Ruggedly good looking with a tanned face, blue eyes and a square, determined jaw, his personal hairdresser had been tasked with ensuring his dark hair held no hint of grey. His no-nonsense ‘all-American’ approach held wide appeal across the country, especially in the southern Bible belt. September 11 had seen the rise of the religious right in America and over five million Americans, including the President, tuned in to his weekly broadcasts.
The knock on the door of the well-appointed Dressing-room One was soft and respectful.
‘Five minutes, Reverend Buffett.’
‘Thank you.’ Jerry Buffett poured himself a bourbon. The CCN broadcast had unhinged him, momentarily. A triumph of Islam over Christianity would be a disaster for humankind and he would call the President in the morning. In the 2004 election hundreds of pastors from the Buffett Ministry had been instrumental in signing up hundreds of thousands of voters across the country, especially in the swing states of Florida, Ohio and West Virginia. That effort had kept the presidency in Christian hands and, to use the President’s own words, the capital was there to be spent. If the Omega Scroll existed it would be important to quietly retrieve it before the other side used it to their advantage. Jerry Buffett drained his glass and made some hasty amendments to his opening lines.
‘I have just seen a broadcast on CCN this evening,’ he began, in his deep southern drawl, ‘which has predicted the triumph of Islam over Christianity.’ The crowd fell silent, some shifting nervously in their seats. The events of September 11 had frightened many Americans.
‘You and I have kept a Christian President in the White House, and Islam will never triumph!’ Jerry Buffett paused to allow his emphasis to take effect. ‘Islam will never triumph over Christianity!’
The audience cheered wildly, some of them stamping their feet.
‘Islam is an evil religion!’ Buffett thundered. ‘God only withdrew His support from our people on September 11 because we turned our backs on Him! Islamic terrorism is a message from God! It is flourishing because we no longer allow the commandments in our courthouses. Our schools no longer have prayers or Bible readings, that’s why God has given up on America because we’ve given up on Him!’ Many in the audience nodded in agreement.
‘God Almighty is no longer protecting America because Americans are obsessed with wealth, sex and drugs.’ Jerry Buffett began to pace up and down the huge stage. ‘Homosexuality is an abomination in the sight of the Lord, yet some of us want to legalise same sex marriages,’ Buffett stormed.
Back at the lecturn he took his Bible in his right hand. ‘The husband is in charge of his wife,’ he said softly, ‘just as Christ is in charge of his Church. It’s right here in the book. And make no mistake,’ he continued, his voice rising again as he clenched his other hand into a fist, ‘just as the Almighty has sent the plague of AIDS against homosexuals, so there will be more terrorist attacks by the Muslims unless we turn back to the Lord!’
Jerry Buffett was greeted with another round of applause that rumbled loudly into the Atlanta night.
CHAPTER THREE
Roma
P etroni leaned his tall, thin frame back into his leather chair. Mission accomplished. The precedent for resignation was now out in the public domain; the softening-up process was under way. Now, as long as Cardinal Donelli, the journalist and the woman could be kept out of the equation and the Omega Scroll safely recovered, anything might be possible. After all, he reasoned with himself, it was not the first time his beloved Church had needed protection from those who might seek to question her authority. Which brought him to the reaction of the other cardinals and any possible questioning of his own authority. Seeking resignation was a risky strategy but the Holy Father might go on for quite a time yet, and with each passing year Petroni’s chances of getting his hands on the Keys to St Peter were correspondingly diminished. Younger cardinals were threatening to overtake him.
Cardinal Petroni unlocked the top drawer of his desk and took out a much-thumbed black leather book. Divided into sections for cardinals, archbishops and bishops, it showed their dates of retirements, dates of promotion and ages. Chances for further promotion were assessed under Petroni’s own system of stars, from a low of one to the more threatening four star rating and, in rare cases, five. Awarded according to competence, standing in the wider Church, mentors, age and a host of other factors that would have done justice to a bookmaker’s form guide. By his own reckoning Petroni had three main rivals.
The first two on his list had been given five stars. Cardinal Thuku, the charismatic leader from Kenya, and Cardinal Medici, the noted Liberation theologian from Ecuador. The strategy to defeat the two Third World candidates from Kenya and Ecuador would have to be carefully managed, he mused, but he’d already developed a suitable line: ‘In due course, there would certainly be a Pope chosen from one of the many Third World candidates, but perhaps not yet.’ Cardinal Petroni was reinforcing this line at every opportunity. Closer to home, Cardinal Giovanni Donelli, the recently installed Patriarch of Venice and the youngest of the College of Cardinals by several years, was now a clear and present danger. Originally Petroni had countered Donelli by quietly reminding his cardinal colleagues that a long Papacy carried enormous risks if the candidate didn’t turn out as expected, but Donelli’s investigation into the Vatican Bank’s sale of shares in a bank in the Veneto had forced a dramatic change in Petroni’s approach.
He and Giovanni Donelli had worked together once. In 1978 when Petroni had been an archbishop in the Vatican and Giovanni Donelli was private secretary to Pope John Paul I. Back then the ruthlessly ambitious Archbishop Petroni had identified the brilliant young priest as a potential threat and after John Paul I mysteriously died after only thirty-three days in office, Petroni had sidelined his young rival. As a result, Cardinal Petroni reasoned that Donelli would not be well enough known by others in the College of Cardinals and he had left his name circled in his black book as ‘B-list at best’. It had been a crucial mistake that would now be rectified.
Petroni took a deep breath. It was time to set the wheels of his own destiny in motion. He pushed the preset button for the Papal Physician.
‘Vincenzo. Come stai? ’
‘Bene, grazie, e tu?’
‘ Molto bene, grazie. I am arranging for the Curial Cardinals to meet in the Borgia Chamber tomorrow night. I think it is time they were given a frank assessment of the Papal condition.’ Cardinal Petroni came straight to the point. Small talk was not his long suit. ‘I would be grateful if you could provide such a briefing?’
‘But of course, Eminence.’ Professor Vincenzo Martines politely stuck with protocol. The Papal Physician had long ago concluded he had no desire to be on anything other than professional terms with the current Secretary of State.
‘ Eccellente. I will send a car at seven. That will give us time to, shall we say, plan our approach. Fino ad allora. Until then.’
The Papal Physician put down the phone and stared at it. For a long time now the Pope’s health had not been his only concern in the Vatican. Professor Martines was an eminent physician, but he also had an additional qualification in psychiatry. Not for the first time Professor Martines wondered whether the Cardinal Secretary of State was fit for high office. There was a long list of symptoms: egocentric and grandiose; deceitful and manipulative; a lack of remorse or guilt; shallow emotions; demanding automatic compliance with expectations; a need for excitement; and requiring excessive admiration. Martines wondered if his diagnosis was accurate, or was it something even deeper, even more sinister. Martines also wondered if there might have been problems in Petroni’s childhood. Had he been privy to the Cardinal’s private life, the Papal Physician’s innermost fears and diagnosis would have been confirmed.