William Kienzle - Shadow of Death

“You have contacts both in Toronto and Rome.” It was a question uttered as a statement by Inspector Koznicki.

“If you had not been in my land, I would not be in yours.” Toussaint smiled. “There are Jamaicans and Haitians all over the world whose ancestors were forcibly snatched from their homelands in Africa. So, there are networks of voodoo and pocomania and Rastafarians all over the world. Only a worldwide network could attempt a plot of this magnitude.”

There was another pause in the one-sided conversation during which their waiter cleared the table. Koznicki ordered a fruit and cheese plate, a bottle of Asti Spumante, and espresso for himself and Koesler.

“If I am to understand correctly,” Koznicki said, “the book you mentioned yesterday . . .” he mentally groped for the title.

“The Inner Elite,” Koesler prompted.

“Yes. Thank you. That is not a definitive listing of papal candidates?”

“Oh, no. There is no definitive list,” Koesler replied. “For one thing, any such list shortly becomes outdated. Cardinals grow old and die, new ones are appointed, and others are waiting in the wings. And, in any event, any listing of papabili has to be pure speculation, mixed with a few educated guesses. When the Cardinals enter the conclave in the Sistine Chapel, literally any one of them may emerge the next Pope. And frequently, the touts are wrong, hence the saying, ‘He who enters the consistory a Pope comes out a Cardinal.’ So much chemistry, even politics, is involved in the selection of a Pope.”

“Some would even claim there is the influence of the Holy Spirit,” Toussaint said with a smile.

Koesler returned the smile. “Some might so claim. And I would not deny it.

“Let me put it this way, Inspector. In 1939, the Catholic world would have been very surprised if Eugenio Pacelli had not become Pope Pius XII. And in 1963, we would have been extremely surprised if Giovanni Battista Montini had not become Paul VI. On the other hand, in, let me see, I think 1903 or 1904, the Catholic world was stunned when Giuseppe Sarto became Pius X. And, in our own time, remember how astonished everyone was when in 1959 Angelo Roncalli became the great Pope John XXIII.

“So you see, Inspector, predicting who will be the next Pope is not an exact science. But there sometimes are strong possibilities. And, right or wrong, somebody always has a list of papabili, as they’re called in Italian.”

“Yes, I see,”said Koznicki. “But what I am driving at is that not only might the most informed list of papal candidates prove incorrect, but that there must be more than one list.”

“I’m sure there is,” said Koesler. “I suppose the degree of probability would depend on the prognosticator’s credentials and, conceivably even on his track record.”

“So,” Koznicki concluded, “it is possible, even probable, that the listing found in The Inner Elite could well be different from that of the Rastafarians.”

“Yes, I’m sure that’s true,” said Koesler.

“Then we are left with the indeed literally vital question of which Cardinals are on the Rastafarians’ list.”

“That is correct, Inspector,” said Toussaint, helping himself to some cheese. “And that is my current undertaking: to try to get a copy of their list. And to discover, if at all possible, how, when, and where they intend to assassinate the men on that list.”

“Ah,” Koznicki sat back in the booth. “Now, short of having no problem at all, that knowledge would put us in a perfect position—what Red Barber would call the catbird seat. When do you expect to obtain that list?”

“I hope to get it sometime tonight or tomorrow,” Toussaint replied, “I pray I will have it before the new Cardinals take possession of their Roman parishes tomorrow evening. Until then, they have no scheduled public appearances. They should be in seclusion and relatively safe. But tomorrow evening, even those Cardinals ordinarily protected by their bureaucratic remoteness will be available to anyone who wishes access to them for whatever reason.”

“We shall join you in that prayer.” said Koznicki.

“And now, if you’ll excuse me,” Toussaint eased out of the booth and stood, “I will be on my way.” He checked his watch. “I must go now to meet my first contact.”

After a hasty farewell, Toussaint left the restaurant.

Koesler sipped the effervescent Asti.

“I don’t suppose I ought, but somehow, after listening to Ramon, I feel sort of relieved. At least now we know who is responsible, as well as the motive.”

“That is,” Koznicki responded, “if all our theories are correct.”

“You doubt the conclusions Ramon reached?”

“Remember, Father, I have been in this business long enough so that I’ve learned to keep an open mind on everything. Everything! It was that open mind that led me to give ear to Toussaint in the first place. And it is that same open mind that will not close off other hypotheses that could be just as possible as the ones we have proposed.”

“Gee, I don’t know. It all sounded very logical to me.” Koznicki’s skepticism was contagious. Koesler felt his sense of confidence waver. “Whether or not he gets this list, I feel encouraged that Ramon will be with us and close to Cardinal Boyle.”

“And I will be right there beside him.”

Koesler turned to look directly at the Inspector. “You don’t trust Ramon!”

“Things are seldom what they seem.”

7.

Once a Cardinal is created the Pope plants a metaphorical ecclesial magnet in the man. A magnet that keeps drawing that Cardinal back to Rome.

At the drop of a red hat, the Pope can call a consistory, which is a solemn meeting of Cardinals convoked and presided over by the pontiff. The death of a Pope, of course, summons the Cardinals into conclave to come up with a replacement.

And the Cardinal is symbolically given a Roman parish. He becomes titular pastor of said parish. From that point on, he may do as he wishes with said parish. He may treat it with benign neglect or take a paternal interest in it.

His Eminence Mark Cardinal Boyle was about to take symbolic possession of St. John XXIII parish near Monte Mario. It was Saturday, May 3, early evening of a soft Roman spring. At 6:00, there was still plenty of daylight.

This was to be the final ceremony of the ceremony-filled week. At the conclusion of this rite, all the newly created Cardinals would be free to leave Rome. If, indeed, as was the case with most, their actual assignment was somewhere in the world beside the Eternal City.

The usual buses that had ferried the tourists from one event to another had done it again. Except that now, for the first time, all the buses of all the tourists from all over the world were not all going to the same place. For the first time this week, each Cardinal was going his separate way. And wherever each Cardinal went, his entourage was sure to go.

Many in the Detroit contingent felt exposed to be alone with each other rather than rubbing shoulders with Germans, Dutch, Spanish, French, Portuguese, and even Californians, Missourians, and New Yorkers.

St. John XXIII was a comparatively recently constructed church, just as St. John XXIII was a recently canonized saint. But somehow, everything in Rome, even recently constructed buildings, seemed old. It was almost as if Rome’s antiquity were infectious. As yet, St. John XXIII church had not fallen victim to Rome’s communicable dry rot, but there was every indication that it would.

One lesson immediately learned was that the Detroit contingent by itself did not come close to filling this church. The second lesson was that either the parish had not properly publicized this ceremony or that its parishioners were not crazy about going to church more than once a week. It was clear from all the recognizable faces that no one was present but Detroiters.