It was as far as Giovanni was prepared to go. Already he sensed the unease that his challenge to the accepted biblical story of creation had created amongst the faithful and he dared not raise the issue of the origin of DNA. This was not the time to raise the possibility of a powerful spiritual force that he felt sure was driving the cosmos; one that encompassed the inadequacy of all of humanity’s attempts at religion.
‘So where does that leave the Bible and Adam and Eve?’ he asked. ‘Where does it leave us as Christians?’ Not a shoe shuffled. ‘As both your Patriarch and a scientist I see only positives in this. For me, this is just another revelation of “how” it was done. And such is the brilliance of the Creative Spirit I am certain that we have only scratched the surface.’
Vittorio listened, deep in thought. He had always believed in the creation doctrine that was laid out in the Catholic catechism: The Lord God caused man to fall into a deep sleep; and while he was sleeping, He took one of the man’s ribs and closed up the place with flesh. Then the Lord God made a woman from the rib. Genesis was a beautiful story with no hint of bacteria, yet Vittorio felt a growing sense of trust for this intectually gifted man who was so willing to share his knowledge. It was as if the great cathedral had been opened up to an aggiornamento. A wind of modernisation was blowing hard through the portals of San Marco. In time it would become a gale.
Unseen by either Giovanni or Vittorio, the shadowy figure in the back row was quietly taking notes.
Night had descended on the Piazza di San Marco and the nearby stone alleys and narrow streets of Venice. The ever present gondolieri were competing for ‘sea room’ on the Grande along with a myriad of lesser canali, expertly guiding their seemingly flimsy craft amongst the vaporetti and the barges that waged a ceaseless battle to supply the water city’s needs.
Oblivious to Venice’s elegant pulse, Giovanni sat in his study overlooking the Piazza and reflected on his sermon. Francis Crick’s theory on the origin of DNA had threatened many in the Vatican’s corridors of power and the brilliant scientist had been successfully discredited. In the 1980s Universita Ca’ Granda’s Professor Antonio Rosselli had revived Crick’s investigation with strong support from the Israeli mathematician Professor Kaufmann. But Kaufmann’s analysis of the codes in the Dead Sea Scrolls had gone a lot further than DNA. Had the final countdown begun? Rosselli had been convinced it had.
Giovanni’s thoughts went back to the time when he had studied under the great mind, a time when he and Allegra Bassetti, the stunning young nun from southern Italy, had been students together. A time when Rosselli’s theories had prompted passionate arguments over pasta and cheap red wine in La Pizzeria Milano. It had been over twenty-five years since they had been assigned to Milano’s Universita but it seemed like only yesterday. If it hadn’t been for the extraordinary series of events in 1978, they might never have met and the proposal for them both to study at a secular university would have remained buried in the Vatican’s archives.
BOOK TWO
CHAPTER NINE
Roma
A rchbishop Lorenzo Petroni, Sostituto for General Affairs in the Secretariat of State, was the most influential archbishop in the Vatican. Following the death of Pope Paul VI and the election of Cardinal Albino Luciani of Venice as Pope John Paul I, Petroni had continued in the appointment as the new Pope’s Chief of Staff, retaining control of the vast finances of the Vatican Bank. Nothing went in or out of the Pope’s office without Petroni seeing it, or so he had thought, but today, less than a month after the new Pope’s election, Lorenzo Petroni was a very worried man. Cardinal Luciani had been elected as someone the Curial Cardinals thought they could control but the quiet cardinal from Venice had turned out to be quite the opposite. The very careers of both Archbishop Petroni and the French Cardinal Secretary of State, Cardinal Jean Villot, were now seriously threatened.
Archbishop Petroni frowned as he read the memo from Father Giovanni Donelli, private secretary to His Holiness. His Holiness has expressed a wish that a small number of priests and nuns be given the opportunity to study at a secular university. The aim is to promote an exchange of experiences to enable the Holy Catholic Church to better respond to changes in the wider world and to become acquainted with the thinking of the next generation. His Holiness would be grateful for advice.
‘Exchange of experiences!’ Angry at having to even consider such a proposal when other events were spiralling beyond his control, Petroni screwed the memo up and threw it into the bin, wondering who or what might have prompted the Holy Father to even contemplate such a move. A move fraught with danger, even if the right people could be found. His thoughts were interrupted by the quiet buzzing of the intercom.
‘Petroni!’
‘His Holiness would like to see you, Excellency.’
‘Subject!’
‘I think it might be about the university proposal,’ Father Donelli replied calmly. He was getting used to the Chief of Staff’s irascibility.
‘It would make life easier if we were sure,’ Petroni snapped, switching off the intercom, relieved that the summons had not been the one he was dreading. He quickly composed himself and focused his thoughts on how he might best head the university proposal off at the pass.
‘ S’accomodi!’
‘You wished to see me, Holiness?’
‘Have a seat, Lorenzo.’ Luciani’s demeanour was polite but uncharacteristically cool, something that was not lost on Petroni.
‘This university proposal. You’ve had a chance to look at it?’
‘Not in much detail, Holiness, but I will.’
‘It has some merit, non e vero?’
‘Certainly, Holiness. Although I think there are some pitfalls that should be examined before we go ahead.’
‘Oh?’
‘It will be important to select the right people, and of course the right university. The course content will also be crucial. With all that in mind I think it would be prudent to establish an interdepartmental committee that should be asked to report on these and some of the other issues.’ Lorenzo Petroni had learned early the value of an inter-departmental committee. With the right man at the helm, in this case himself, a proposal like this could be buried before it even got off the ground. If someone did remember to ask, an interim report could be relied upon to cause further delay until whoever had made the proposal in the first place had moved on.
‘Inter-departmental committees can be useful things. Sometimes,’ the Pope added meaningfully. It was not the first time the young Petroni’s arrogance had led him to misjudge an adversary, and it would not be the last.
‘I have already had a very favourable response from the Chancellor of Ca’ Granda, the Universita Statale in Milano.’
‘There is an excellent Universita Cattolica in Milano,’ Petroni countered.
‘We know that, but our mind is made up.’ The Holy Father’s rare use of the Papal plural carried a note of finality. ‘I would like the Cardinal Prefect for the Congregation for the Clergy to examine it and get his people to provide four nominations.’ Luciani’s smile lacked its customary warmth.
Furious at being outmanoeuvred, Petroni stormed back to his office. Exposing young Catholic priests and nuns to the perils of an uncontrolled secular world risked corruption of their minds, but the university proposal could wait. Right now Petroni’s biggest problem was the Pope’s rumoured investigation of the Vatican Bank.
A week later Lorenzo Petroni, more worried than ever, was summoned to see the Cardinal Secretary of State.
‘Of course, Eminence, I’ll come down straight away.’