Diego Marani - God's Dog

‘Sister, what time do you close the gate to the unit?’

‘At eight o’clock, straight after supper. That’s when the night-watch starts.’

‘Do you close all the doors? Including those which lead to the other wing?’

‘Those are never open.’

‘Aha! Not even in the day?’

‘Well, they’re no longer in use, you see. We have the keys, though.’

Salazar smiled to himself. He had already found the flaw.

‘So no one can get in without coming through here?’ he asked, as though to spell things out.

‘The duty nurse is the only one who can open up. This is the command button.’ The nurse pointed to an electric panel set into the wall of the porter’s lodge.

‘And how does the night-watch get in and out?’

‘They have to come through our porter’s lodge. There’s an intercom system for emergencies.’

The sister was about to leave. She switched off the computer, lowered the blinds and seemed about to leave the office (double-locking it as she did so).

‘Signor Salazar, if you want to stay here for the vigils, I’ve put a camp-bed in the space behind the changing-rooms. That way you’ll be able to get to the bathroom more easily and no one will disturb you,’ she said, giving him a knowing look.

‘Thank you, sister,’ he said in a neutral tone.

‘Good night then!’ Attaching the bunch of keys to her belt, she slipped on her black jacket and set off towards the stairs.

‘Good night!’ Salazar went with her for a few paces, pretending to be lost in thought. He paused on the gallery to observe the comings and goings of the staff as they ended their shift. When it seemed to him that the way was clear, he went quickly back into the prayer room, pulled the cupboard holding the altar under the video-surveillance camera, climbed on to it and trained the lens on to the door through which the two doctors had gone. Then he went to lie down on his camp-bed, took off his shoes and folded the cushion beneath his head. From where he lay he had a view of the screens in the sister’s office, the way into the corridor and the entrance to the stairs. The new duty nurse had switched on the neon lighting and settled into her seat in the porter’s lodge, the blue of her freshly ironed nurse’s uniform clearly visible in the darkness as she poured herself a hot drink from a thermos. She gave Salazar a vacant look and opened her newspaper out on the table.

Kept awake by the patients’ moans, Salazar spent a sleepless night. He timed the movements of the night-watch, the comings and goings of the lifts, even the movements of the buses in the street below. He kept his eye on the video-surveillance system in the prayer room and on the occasionally nodding head of the nurse in the porter’s lodge. From time to time he glanced at the clock on the wall, noting the all too slow passing of the hours. He saw the traffic on the avenue thinning out, and the last empty train on the overground slipping over the railway bridge. At seven on the dot the night-watch went off duty and the nurses on the new shift started pushing the medicine trolleys along the corridor. Salazar folded up his bedclothes, closed up the camp-bed and went into the bathroom to wash his face. He met the new sister on the stairs; she was out of breath, and her cheeks were pink with cold.

‘Up already, father? At least come and have a coffee. Real coffee, not that stuff from the machines. We nurses have our own mocha, and I’ve brought some croissants!’ she said, pointing to the bag on her arm.

‘Thank you, sister, but I’m in a bit of a hurry,’ he said, and scuttled off down the steps. Outside, the wind had got up again. He breathed in the damp air with a sense of relief; after a night spent with the smell of warm plastic and disinfectant in his nostrils, even the stench of diesel from the buses on the square was welcome. He didn’t feel like joining in the rough and tumble of the overground quite yet, and decided to walk on to the next stop. Once he got on, he soon dozed off, and was awoken by a sudden jolt just before the bridge over the Tiber. In front of the convent, the newspaper kiosk was already open. He bought a copy of the Osservatore Romano and went up to his room, where he filled his pipe, lit the table lamp, opened the newspaper and, taking his first puff, read the front page headline: ‘Death penalty for abortionists’.

Yesterday at the Angelus the Holy Father once again called for those found guilty of abortion, whether practitioners or advocates, to suffer the death penalty. By so doing, the Pope is giving his explicit support to the Ministry of Justice of the Italian Catholic Republic, which has already proposed a similar law on two occasions. As is well-known, the proposal was both times rejected with an adverse vote by the Justice Board of rank and file Catholics. Their ideological tenacity has been repeatedly criticised by their own allies in the government, but to no avail. Today, many observers are wondering what credence can be given to a movement which is now politically isolated, and which is adopting a position of questionable theological severity in defence of the enemies of the Church. The essence of Faith does not lend itself to succinct interpretations, but is nonetheless crystal clear, as the Holy Father has emphasised over the last few days. Buoyed up by the arrest, last month, of yet another unit of backstreet abortionist doctors, the government is now launching a new offensive to storm the last bastions of recalcitrance, and hence to endow our country with this invaluable juridical instrument for the defence of all our citizens. Monsignor Damiani has already drafted a third bill. It is to be hoped that on this occasion the rank and file Catholics will give their support to this long-awaited measure. Number 2267 of Joseph Ratzinger’s catechism of the Catholic Church reads as follows: ‘Always supposing that the identity and responsibility of the guilty party have been fully established, the traditional teaching of the Church does not exclude recourse to the death penalty, if this is the only feasible way of defending the lives of human beings against such unjust aggression.’ The events of the last few weeks prove that our society is now in precisely such an emergency situation as that described by Joseph Ratzinger. The abortionist criminals are striking at human life at its most vulnerable, that is, within the mother’s womb. Thus Benedict XVIII’s appeal for fitting punishment is in complete conformity with a well-established doctrinal approach which should find favour amongst all the faithful. ‘The rank and file Catholics’ vetoing of a law which safeguards human life is incomprehensible, and their position within the government must now be questioned,’ Monsignor Damiani firmly stated recently. Today much of the heat seems to have gone out of the argument, all the more so because the government can apparently rely on a majority to get the law through without calling upon the rank and file Catholics. ‘We wish to avoid pointless friction within the majority but we cannot betray the hopes of the electors who have given us their votes,’ said Monsignor Damiani, mindful of the fact that if the rank and file Catholics left the government on a matter of doctrine, this might raise doubts about the movement’s legality. But opinion polls conducted by Ecclesia show that the rank and file Catholic movement is crumbling. ‘It is disheartening to note that opposition to this government, with the exception of the exemplary case of the Christian Democrats, is continually dominated by subversive and anti-Catholic fringe parties which the state has no option but to declare illegal for its own protection,’ said the Minister of Justice on Radio Maria.

Salazar turned out the light, put his pipe down on the bedside table and watched the coils of smoke wreathing upwards in the semi-darkness until he fell asleep.