Stealing God (17 page)

She had put him on the floor and now she was busy kicking the shit out of him. Oh well, what she was only doing with words he had done often enough with fists and feet. If you're going to put someone down make sure they stay down. It was a universal rule. It obviously applied as much to people who worked for the Vatican as it did to corrupt coppers or North London gangsters

‘So that's it. That's what I have to do, find a friend?'

‘I can only advise you, and remember, I have no medical knowledge whatever. You are free to dismiss the interpretation I have put on events. I didn't think you suitable for this investigation but, as I said, I was overruled. How is the enquiry going by the way, any progress?'

Her voice hadn't changed. It was still coldly matter of fact but she'd finished with the dangerous head-case who was on the way to becoming criminally insane, now she was talking to the clever detective who was supposed to be good at getting results.

His reply was automatic. She was entitled to ask so he answered. There was no question who had taken the lead role in this relationship.

‘Maybe. We need to know how many other cardinals, if any, have died in circumstances similar to Archbishop Cheng's over the last two years, unexpectedly but apparently of natural causes.'

‘I'll send you someone who can give you all the details you need. Anything else?'

‘What about Ricci?'

‘What about Inspector Ricci?'

‘As a friend.'

‘I will give you a word of advice about Inspector Ricci. He has a talent for the kind of work he does. He moves among people whose lives are built around extravagance, around show and display. False, constructed lives for false, constructed people. He can see through their show with an almost amazing insight. He can see the real person behind the façade. He can pass as one of them without becoming one of them and he can cultivate the right friends. He will go far, but he will not go as far as he expects. I told you, he has a spotless record. What I didn't tell you was that he keeps it that way because when he gets to the top he wants no skeletons in his cupboard to hamper him in enjoying his power and authority. He may even have political ambitions. If and when you find yourself in circumstances where you need Inspector Ricci to commit unconditionally, be careful, he may very well not be there. I tell you this because you must work together and work well. Yesterday he found out about you. Today you find out about him.'

‘And when do I find out about you?'

Her answer was a smile but nothing else.

‘I hope, Mr Costello, you are now fully and irrevocably committed to this investigation and we will have no more of the “it was the Chinese” nonsense.'

‘How do you know it was nonsense?'

‘In the same way you do. If you are to make progress I suggest that you open your mind to the wider possibilities.'

‘Which are?'

‘These days it is not only governments and multi-nationals who can influence international affairs.'

‘Do you have anybody in mind?'

‘More importantly, do you? As I said, keep your mind open to all the possibilities. Now, if there is nothing else I must conclude our meeting.'

She stood up, so did Jimmy. The interview was over.

‘Thank you, Professor.'

‘Not at all, I have been asked to give you my full co-operation. I hope you feel you are getting it.'

‘Oh, yes, I feel you're holding nothing back.'

‘Then goodbye.'

He was dismissed.

He left feeling numb and shell-shocked.

No, he thought as he descended the stone stairs, she was holding nothing back. No one could accuse her of that.

TWENTY-TWO

The library had once been the dining hall in the Rome residence of Gioffre Borgia, youngest son of Pope Alexander VI. He was considered at the time and thereafter by history as a very minor Borgia. His only rumoured excursion into family-like behaviour was the apparent murder of his elder brother Giovanni because he was having an affair with Gioffre's wife, Sancia. His father, Pope Alexander, had to use his divine authority and publicly exonerate him. Gioffre subsequently remarried, retired from Rome, and had four children by his new wife Maria de Mila. He chose to live in the small town of Squillace on the Calabrian coast which he held as a vassal of Naples and which his descendants ruled after him in comparative peace until 1735. Well away from Roman politics and intrigue he came to be considered a good man, for a Borgia, and in his will he left his small Roman palazzo to the Church on the understanding that his soul would be prayed out of Purgatory and into Heaven in no more than a year. The Church had accepted the gift on the grounds that, for a Borgia, he hadn't been at all such a bad man.

The room which was now a library was small for a princely dining hall, probably capable of seating no more than forty to fifty people, but when the palazzo was turned into a college it was thought perfect to house their library. This it had stayed. Ricci's China-watcher loved the room. He loved the rich plaster decoration of its ceiling, the leaded windows with stained glass decorations above and between the dark wooden shelves which were still filled with leather-bound books. He especially loved being alone in this room, which he frequently was when he visited. But he was under no illusions. One day it would be taken over for some other use and the volumes archived, hidden away. Their content, if considered of any value, would be digitised and databased and put online or stored on some electronic retrieval system. But until then he would use the room to sit, think, pray, and sometimes doze.

He was sitting beside a small table in a comfortable leather chair. Opposite him sat Inspector Ricci, waiting for an answer. Finally it came.

‘Definitely.'

‘He was a cardinal?'

‘Certainly.' He paused for a moment. ‘In my opinion.'

‘Are you sure?'

‘Certainly.'

‘Thank you.'

‘In so far as it is possible to be certain.'

Ricci fidgeted. He didn't want to press the old man but he wanted a straight answer.

The China-watcher was a tiny, delicate, oriental man with wispy grey hair, who wore in a black suit that was shiny with age, and a Roman collar. The large chair made him seem even smaller than he was. He looked very old, except for his eyes which shone with either mischief or delight. Or maybe it was both. Ricci got the feeling that if handled in the least bit roughly, he might break, like some flimsy, porcelain trinket.

Ricci tried another tack.

‘What makes you so sure he was a cardinal?'

‘Because he came to Rome.'

‘But last time you told me that he was probably sent to Rome by the Chinese to see if he could be a link between them, the Vatican, and the underground church.'

‘Yes, that is what I told you.'

‘So how does coming to Rome make you sure he was a cardinal? You said it was the Chinese who wanted him here.'

‘Archbishop Cheng was sent to Rome by the Chinese. I have given you what I think is their reason.'

There was another pause.

‘And?'

‘You never asked me why Archbishop Cheng was summoned to Rome.'

‘Summoned to Rome?'

‘By the Vatican. You never asked me why the Vatican wanted him here.'

‘And should I have?'

‘That is not for me to say, your reasons are your own. I have been asked by a friend to answer your questions which I have done to the best of my ability.'

Ricci sighed; it was tough going. The old priest watched him. His wrinkled face was creased with a smile. He was enjoying himself.

‘Please tell me, Fr Phan, why was Archbishop Cheng summoned to Rome?'

‘To be given his red hat by the pope personally.'

‘So he was sent by the Chinese for one reason and summoned by the Vatican for another reason.'

‘Unless both parties had wanted Archbishop Cheng in Rome he could not have come. His visit was arranged by a joint agreement.'

‘So Archbishop Cheng was summoned here to be made a cardinal as well as being sent here on behalf of the Chinese government?'

‘No.'

‘No?'

‘No.'

Ricci sighed again. It was getting tougher.

‘No he wasn't made a cardinal or no he wasn't here on behalf of the Chinese government?'

‘Yes.'

Ricci almost swore out loud but fought down the impulse.

‘Yes?'

The smile widened slightly to a grin.

‘Yes. No is the answer to both questions.'

Watching the man opposite the grin slightly widened. Fr Phan hadn't had so much fun since a rather silly CIA agent had tried to pump information from him about a high Chinese government official whom it was rumoured had become a secret Catholic.

Ricci sat back. He was beaten.

‘I give up, Father. You've defeated me.' He'd have to wait and let the old priest do it in his own way. He would help when he was ready, he just wasn't ready yet. ‘Tell me, Father, how did you become a China-watcher?'

‘When I was eighteen I was sent from Vietnam to Hong Kong to represent a French business based in what was then French Indo-China. While I was in Hong Kong Dien Bien Phu happened, the French were sent packing, and I was left stranded. My family came from what became the Communist North. I couldn't go back so I decided to do what I had, for a time, been thinking about. I applied to be sent to Rome and trained for the priesthood. I was accepted and after six years was ordained and went back to Hong Kong. My family were not among the million or so North Vietnamese Catholics who had managed to go South; I lost touch with them. China was playing Big Brother to the North Vietnamese government, so watching China and Vietnam was one small way of feeling that I was keeping in touch with my family. I kept on watching until I was told by a refugee from my home town who had got out in the mess that was the end of the American war in Vietnam, that my family were dead, killed in an American air raid. I stopped watching Vietnam but kept on watching China. It was something I was good at and the Church wanted me to do it, so I did it.'

‘And you're still doing it?'

The old priest nodded. Now he was ready to answer. He had wanted a bit of fun and a little talk. Now he'd had had both he was ready to tell the inspector what he wanted to know.

‘Archbishop Cheng would have been made a cardinal
in pectore
when he was last imprisoned.'

‘
In pectore
?'

‘
In pectore
is Latin. It means literally “in the breast”. It means Archbishop Cheng was created a cardinal in secret. When that happens it is known only to the pope. Not even the cardinal so named is necessarily aware of his elevation. In any case he cannot function as a cardinal while his appointment is
in pectore
because it is only used in situations where the individual or their congregation need to be protected from any reprisals the elevation might cause. It is used when the individual is functioning, if at all, in a dangerous situation.'

‘So Cheng was already a cardinal when he came to Rome, but he may not have known it?'

‘No, he would have known. He would have been told as soon as his position in China began to be regularised, as soon as there was no danger to him or his people. The Chinese government, however, would almost certainly not have known. It was a move in the game that Rome was saving.'

‘Why?'

The little priest shrugged.

‘I don't know, I watch China not the Vatican.'

‘But others in the Vatican would definitely have known?'

‘Oh yes, there would have had to be others, to arrange for Archbishop Cheng to be told but in such a way that the Chinese government would not get to know.'

‘So it was still secret?'

‘Secret, yes, but no longer known only known to the pope.'

Ricci nodded.

‘I see.'

‘And although Archbishop Cheng was sent by the Chinese he was not really here on their behalf. He was sent as a sign to show Rome that Beijing was prepared to trust him. If Rome chose to use him as a contact in some way, the Chinese were showing they were open to negotiations. When he arrived in Rome he was seen by the pope. What they talked about is known only to them.'

‘And the Chinese, if in some way they could have found out he was a cardinal, might they have wanted him dead and wanted it to happen in Rome, not China?'

‘No, they very much wanted him alive and I would think it mattered little to them whether he was an archbishop or a cardinal. If they cared at all they would probably have favoured it.'

‘So why the ultra low-key funeral?'

‘They didn't want anyone else to know that they hadn't known. It was a matter of face-saving, both domestic and international. They had begun to build up Archbishop Cheng as some sort of symbol of the new China, a China that encouraged individuals with talent and flair. A China that was safe to invest in and work with. But they didn't want anyone thinking that the new China had gone soft or sloppy. The Vatican would have told the Chinese on Cardinal Cheng's death of his elevation. That would have been necessary for his funeral.'

‘Why?'

‘A cardinal is always buried with his coat of arms and red hat on the coffin.'

‘And the Chinese were told that?'

‘Almost certainly. That the man in question had died and was no longer a part of their complicated manoeuvres was neither here nor there. The Vatican had made a move they hadn't seen or countered and that was unacceptable to Beijing. They had to respond so they arranged the funeral in the way they did. The form it took was a rebuke to Rome but the attendance of two senior officials acknowledged the status of the man. Faced with a difficult problem they simply decided to bury it.'

The grin was back and Ricci realised Fr Phan had made a joke.

‘Buried it, yes, I see.'

The priest grinned and nodded.