Allan Folsom - Day Of Confession

Furthermore, if Farel had framed Danny for the murder of the cardinal vicar, and if Farel was working for Palestrina, then Palestrina himself had to have orchestrated the killing. And Marsciano knew about it or he wouldn't be Palestrina's prisoner now. All of which made it obvious the confession had been Marsciano's. So, by killing Danny, Palestrina would wipe out the only trail that could lead back to him.

And whom could Harry tell – Roscani? Adrianna? Eaton? Tell them what? What he had was nothing more than conjecture. Moreover, even if he had proof, the Vatican was a sovereign country and not bound by the laws of Italy. Meaning, that outside the Vatican itself, no one had the legal authority to do anything. Still – and this was Danny's agony – if they did nothing, Marsciano would be killed. And Danny was going to do everything he could to prevent that, even if it cost him his own life.

'Shit,' Harry said to himself as he came into the apartment and locked the door behind him. He was in as much damn trouble as Danny. Not just because he was his brother, but because he'd promised Danny he wouldn't lose him to anyone the way he'd lost Madeline to the ice. Why did he do that? Why the hell did he keep making these kinds of promises to his brother?

'I have not been to Rome often and so was not certain where this place was…'

Harry's introspection was cut short as Elena came eagerly toward him.

'What do you mean?'

'I'll show you.'

Leading him into the living room, Elena took Harry to a large window on the far side of it. The pale of the early light revealed what they could not have seen in the dark when they arrived, a view that looked directly across a street toward a high, yellow-brick wall that ran as far as Harry could see in both directions. On the far side of it to the right, and deep in shadow, were a number of nondescript buildings, and to the left what looked like the tops of trees, as if the wall enclosed some kind of large park.

'I don't understand…' Harry said, unsure of Elena's interest.

'It's the Vatican, Mr Addison… part of one side of it anyway.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes, I have toured the gardens just over the wall.'

Harry looked back, trying to find a landmark he could recognize, get some sense of where they were in relation to the public front and St Peter's Square. Still, he couldn't get his bearings. He was about to question her again when he looked up and a chill came over him; what he had taken for skyline was a huge building still in shadow, but its top was full in sunlight. He was looking directly at St Peter's itself.

'Christ,' he said under his breath. Not only had they landed in Rome unmolested, they had also been given the keys to a piece of real estate barely a stone's throw from Marciano's prison.

For the briefest moment Harry rested his head against the glass and closed his eyes.

'You are tired, Harry…' Elena's voice was hushed, comforting, in the way a mother might talk to her child.

'Yes,' he nodded, then opened his eyes to look at her.

She was still in the business suit the priests had found for her in Bellagio, still had her hair pulled back. Yet it struck Harry that this was the first time he was seeing her not as a nun but as a woman.

'I slept in the car, you did not,' she said. 'There is another bedroom here… You should sleep… at least until Father Bardoni comes.'

'Yes…' Harry started to say. Then, out of nowhere, he realized that he had a major problem. Elena. The gravity of what Danny and Father Bardoni were planning had suddenly become dangerously real, and he couldn't let Elena stay and be part of it.

'-Your parents are alive…' he said cautiously.

'What does that have to do with sleep?' Elena cocked her head, looking at him with the same caution.

'Where do they live?'

'Tuscany…'

'How far is it from here?'

'Why?'

'It's important…'

'Roughly two hours by car. We passed through it on the Autostrada.'

'And your father has a car. He drives?'

'Why?'

'Does he have a car?' Harry said again, harder and more directly. 'Does he drive?'

'Of course.'

'I want you to call him and ask him to come to Rome.'

Abruptly Elena felt fire shoot through her. She leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms defiantly in front of her.

'I cannot do that.'

'If he leaves now, Elena, ' Harry said, emphasizing her name, as if to silence her protest, 'he can be in Rome by nine. Nine-thirty at the latest. Tell him to pull up in front of the building and stay in the car. That when you see him, you'll come down and get in and he is to drive away immediately. No one will ever know you were here.'

Elena could feel the fire grow hotter, her indignation rise. How dare he? She had feelings and she had pride. And she was not about to call her father, of all people, to have herself be picked up like some red-faced schoolgirl left abandoned in the big city the morning after.

'I am sorry, Mr Addison,' she said, bristling, 'but my duty is to care for Father Daniel. And I will stay with him until I am formally relieved of that duty.'

'That is very easy, Sister Elena.' Harry glared at her. 'You are hereby formally, reliev-'

'By – my – mother – general!' The veins stood out in Elena's neck.

A shattering silence followed. The two staring at each other. Neither realizing this was their first lover's quarrel – and that one of the lovers had just drawn a deep line in the sand. Yet who would blink first was never answered.

CRASH!

Suddenly the kitchen door flew open, slamming hard off the wall behind it.

'Harry!-'

Danny came through the doorway fiercely. Thrumping the wheels of his wheelchair with both hands, his eyes wide with alarm, a cell phone in his lap.

'I can't reach Father Bardoni. I have three numbers for him. One's a cell phone he always has with him. I've tried them all! No answer!'

'Danny, take it easy.'

'Harry, he was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago! If he was on his way, he'd at least be picking up the cell!'

Harry turned the corner onto Via del Parione and started down the block. By his watch it was now seven-twenty-five, nearly an hour after Father Bardoni was to have met them at the apartment. As he walked, he tried the cell number again with the phone Adrianna had given him.

Still nothing.

Common sense told him that for one reason or another Father Bardoni had simply been delayed. It was no more complicated than that.

Ahead was number 17, Father Bardoni's building. Behind it, Danny had said, was an alley and, off it, an old wooden gate to the rear entrance of the building itself. To the left of that entrance, and under a potted red geranium, he'd find the key.

Turning down the alley, Harry walked twenty yards and then saw the gate. Opening it, he crossed a small gravel courtyard. The pot was where it was supposed to be. Under it was the key.

Father Bardoni's flat, like the one they were staying in, was on the top floor, and Harry took the back stairs to it quickly. Outwardly, he was still thinking nothing unusual had happened and that there was a simple explanation for Father Bardoni's tardiness. But inwardly, he felt the same as Danny had when he'd burst through the kitchen door. Dread.

Then Harry was at the top of the stairs and turning down a narrow hallway, stopping as he reached Father Bardoni's door. Taking a breath, he put the key in the lock and started to turn it. It wasn't necessary. The door was unlocked, and swung open.

'Father-?'

There was no reply.

'Father Bardoni-' Harry stepped into a darkened hallway. In front of him was a small living room. Like the one in Danny's apartment, little more than utilitarian.