‘Given that this Pope has appointed far more cardinals than any of his predecessors, there are many who are suggesting that the next Pope will be a cardinal in his likeness, perhaps even more conservative.’
‘An Italian?’
‘That’s hard to predict, although certainly one of the frontrunners is the present Cardinal Secretary of State, Lorenzo Petroni. A hard-line conservative and no great fan of Vatican II.’
‘Does he have the numbers, Tom?’
‘The doctrine maintains that it is the Holy Spirit rather than the College of Cardinals that makes the selection. There are 194 cardinals, of whom only 117 are under eighty and therefore eligible to vote. Of the 117 there are only twenty-three Italian cardinals. For an Italian to be elected he would have to carry a sizeable number of those and the rest of the European bloc, as well as two other blocs, such as Africa or Central or South America. During a conclave no cardinal is allowed to leave or have any communication with the outside world, and all telephones are disconnected except for one in the Camerlengo’s room that can be used for emergencies. Even the windows are sealed.’
‘Any “dark horses” in the field, Tom?’
‘There are those who are saying it is time we had a Pope from one of the Third World countries and there are one or two outstanding candidates, although they will probably be blocked by the conservatives. There is another Italian whose name might surface, Giovanni Donelli, the present Patriarch of Venice. He is very progressive and would appeal to the liberals but the conservatives are likely to oppose him strongly.’
‘And if they can’t agree?’
‘That’s happened before, but before he died, Pope John Paul II introduced a new rule. If no candidate can achieve two-thirds of the votes, and if they can hold out until the thirtieth vote, then a candidate can be elected on a simple majority.’
‘That was Tom Schweiker reporting on the Papal conclave in Rome. Now to the news at home…’
Lorenzo Petroni was hosting a lavish reception for the Italian and African blocs in his sumptuous apartment across the Tiber, the third such reception in as many nights. His plans were going well. With the final copy of the Omega Scroll locked safely in a special compartment of the Secret Archives, or so he thought, and Felici still confident that eventually both the woman and the journalist could be eliminated, Petroni was basking in the glow of his impending power. Even though Donelli had survived the bomb blast in Jerusalem, Petroni was confident that with the help of the Knight of Malta in New York, the Keys to Peter were his; and once he had them in his pocket, that would put an end to any investigation into the Vatican Bank. It would be the old cardinals’ turn tomorrow night. Petroni would use the gathering to recognise the octogenarians’ unique contribution to the Holy Church. Flattery was always so useful.
‘Of course the Pope’s new rules on voting give rise to some interesting possibilities, Agostino,’ Petroni offered smoothly, addressing his remarks to Cardinal da Silva of Luanda.
‘Do you have a candidate in mind, Lorenzo?’
‘Someone strong, Agostino, and although there are many good African candidates, the time for that is probably next time around. But we do need a candidate who can promote the cause of the Church in Africa and he will need a good Secretary of State. Someone like you, Agostino. Champagne?’ Lorenzo Petroni squeezed Cardinal da Silva’s hand and moved on to his next guest, Cardinal Fiorelli from the Italian bloc.
‘Vittorio, how good to see you again. Come stai?’
‘ Molto bene, grazie. Who do you favour, Lorenzo?’ Vittorio asked, more comfortable with the politics of a conclave.
‘We shouldn’t speculate, and Il Papa has done a wonderful job, but it would be good to see another Italian looking after the Church. Someone who can reinforce the tried and tested values.’
Cardinal Fiorelli smiled. ‘Who did you have in mind, Lorenzo?’
‘No one in particular, but whoever is chosen should have someone like you as his Secretary of State, Vittorio. It is a difficult appointment and there are not many who have your skills. Champagne?’
As the sun set over the Tiber, and Giovanni strolled in the Vatican gardens, conversing with the Holy Spirit, Cardinal Petroni moved on to his next guest, the Cardinal Archbishop of Paris. ‘Of course the Pope’s new rules Jean-Pierre…’
New York
‘One minute, Geraldine.’
The CCN anchor adjusted her posture and took a sip of water. To her surprise she looked up to find Daniel Kirkpatrick striding towards the news desk. The brief was headed ‘Breaking news from Rome’.
‘We can’t run that, Daniel!’ Geraldine hissed. ‘The day before the conclave!’
‘Twenty seconds, Geraldine.’
‘We can, and we will,’ Daniel Kirkpatrick said frostily. ‘Those decisions are not yours to make, unless you would like me to find a replacement to read the next bulletin. And every subsequent bulletin after that?’
‘Ten seconds… and live…’
At the end of the bulletin Geraldine turned to Camera Three and summoned every bit of professionalism she could muster.
‘The Vatican has announced an investigation into the Patriarch of Venice, Cardinal Giovanni Donelli, over his remarks at the aborted peace ceremony in Jerusalem and an address he gave on religion and science in which he questioned the Catholic doctrine on creation. Cardinal Donelli has been seen by some as a possible contender for the Papacy, at this week’s conclave in Rome. A spokesman for the Vatican said it would be inappropriate to comment on the investigation in any detail until after it has been completed. Cardinal Donelli’s assertions that the promises given by Abraham might have been fulfilled by Muhammad as well as Christ were described by the Vatican spokesman as “unhelpful”. It is understood that Donelli has also been widely criticised within the Church over his challenge to the Bible with the notion that life began as bacteria beneath the sea. There will be another news update in an hour.’ Geraldine smiled, but only until the red light on Camera Three had gone off.
Jerusalem
‘David! That’s outrageous. It’s got that arsehole Petroni written all over it!’
It was a side of Allegra that David did not see very often. She had even picked up some of David’s more colourful expressions.
‘Announcing that just before they go into the conclave is deliberate.’
‘I think you’re right,’ David agreed, ‘but I’m not sure there’s much we can do about it.’
Allegra shook her head defiantly. Her eyes flashing angrily, she picked up the phone and dialled Patrick O’Hara’s number. It was Sister Katherine who answered the phone.
‘Thank you, Sister Katherine, I’ll be there at half past eight,’ she said, a look of frustration on her face.
‘Patrick’s in Bethlehem for the night, but I’ll go round in the morning. It will be too late though,’ she said resignedly. ‘The conclave starts tomorrow. That bastard Petroni has timed this to the minute.’
Tom Schweiker roused himself from a deep sleep and reached for his mobile but it rang out before he had a chance to answer. It rang again. Whoever that is wants to speak to me now, he thought with a touch of irritation. Daniel Kirkpatrick probably. Tom had decided long ago that even if Ferret Face could have absorbed the detail he had more than likely been absent from the geography lesson that dealt with time zones.
‘Schweiker,’ he answered, without looking at the number on the screen.
‘Sorry to bother you, Mr Schweiker, but I thought you should hear this as soon as possible.’
Tom sat up, trying to place the voice. ‘Who is this?’
‘My name is Hank Petersen, Mr Schweiker. Before he was killed my friend Mike McKinnon sent me an unusual parcel. The prints on the whisky glass were excellent, and I thought you might like to know they match those of a Father Rory Courtney. He did time in Montana for assault back in the late 1950s. His file is also flagged with a number of suspected paedophilia offences. No charges were ever laid, although the Catholic Church carried out an internal investigation that was handled by a Bishop Petroni in the Vatican. Courtney disappeared shortly afterwards. I’m not sure if that’s any help, but if you were a friend of Mike’s, it’s the least I could do. If you’re ever in Washington, look me up.’