Stealing God (30 page)

Suddenly something she had said switched a light on in Jimmy's brain and he could see his mistake. He had become convinced it was the Americans because he wanted it that way. Now he could see who else benefited.

‘This wasn't about starting Armageddon, was it? It was about stopping it.' She sat in silence. He was there. ‘It was the bloody Israelis. If the world thought terrorists had nuked the Vatican the Israelis could call it a first strike and reply in kind by hitting Iran. They're shit scared of the Iranians going nuclear. If they took out an Iranian development facility with a strategic nuclear attack that would send the message from Egypt to Syria and beyond: we will use a nuclear response to any attempt to create nuclear weapons in the region. No western government would object. After what had happened to Rome the Israelis would be the good guys, showing they'd take out any facility in the region they thought was being used to develop a nuclear weapons capacity. They'd be making sure the status quo remained, with Israel as the only nuclear power in the region. The bloody Israelis. Why didn't I see it?'

‘Because you wanted it to be the Americans, Mr Costello. So many people want the Americans to be the bad guys and you've just found you are one of them.'

‘The bloody Israelis.'

‘No, Mr Costello, you're close, but it wasn't the Israelis, not the government anyway. It was a combination of a radical splinter group in their military and an extreme religious political group. Between them they dreamed up the plan and set it up. Fortunately for us one of the military involved told his wife. She couldn't accept that the loss of so many innocent lives justified what they were planning to do. As it happened she had specialised in classical history when she was at university and spent some time in Rome. I'm sure that the loss of so many historical treasures weighed with her just as much as innocent lives. Anyway, whatever her reasons, she didn't dare go to her own people because that may have placed her husband in danger so she went to a priest friend and asked him what to do. He contacted, well, never mind who he contacted. The matter arrived at the Collegio Principe and we took it from there.'

‘The Collegio Principe, your college?'

‘Yes, my college, not the Vatican. It was a matter of politics, power, and religion, so it came under our remit of action.'

Jimmy sat trying to see it.

‘But, surely, Fr Phan, the monsignor, surely …'

‘The Collegio enjoys excellent relations with many institutions in Rome as it does with many academic institutions, governments, and government agencies. They are always willing to assist if the project in hand seems to justify support.'

She waited and gave him time.

‘So what are you, some sort of Vatican secret service?'

‘I told you, Mr Costello, we study politics, power, and religion. What good would all those centuries of study be if they resulted in nothing but yet more words? Study leads to knowledge and the proper use of knowledge is action, right action. What good would the CIA or any other intelligence service be if all it did was put its knowledge into words and never take any action. We knew the people planning the attack were going to approach the Chinese because she told the priest they had identified a nuclear scientist who was known to have sold bits and pieces. We acted on our knowledge and took the necessary right action. We warned the Chinese. The rest you know.'

‘The rest I found out.'

‘If you prefer it that way. If the attack had gone ahead the political group which sponsored the attack would have pressured the Israeli government to follow it up, to, as you said, make the best use of the situation on the ground.'

‘What's done is done, let's make the best of it.'

‘Yes.'

‘And would they have gone ahead?'

‘Oh I think so. It was a very good idea and very well done. It would certainly have been taken as an Islamic terrorist attack and it gave them a way of justifying strikes against any nuclear weapons facility their neighbours in the region tried to build.'

‘Now they'll all have to go on killing each other with conventional weapons?'

‘Regrettably yes. As far as the Israeli-Palestine conflict is concerned our success changes nothing.'

‘What about the Chinese, won't they want the plutonium back?'

‘They can have it any time they ask for it, but they have plenty. I think they'll prefer it to stay where it is and do the job we want.'

‘Why did they want Chinese plutonium? Couldn't they have got some from inside Israel?'

‘I don't know, but they couldn't have used it. If the bomb had gone off it would have left a nuclear footprint. The radiation could be examined and the source of the plutonium identified. If they used their own plutonium the Americans would have recognised the footprint as Israeli because they gave Israel the bomb in the first place. The source had to point to a terrorist bomb which meant it had to come from somewhere like China, India, or Pakistan. It had to be an illegal sale.' Jimmy sat back and the professor relaxed. Now it really was all over. ‘What will you do now, Mr Costello? You have some dangerous and very powerful information. There are those who would pay well for what you know.'

‘I don't need any more money.'

‘A sentiment as refreshing as it is rare. So what will you do?'

‘Can I go on studying for the priesthood?'

‘Perhaps, if I do not share what I know about you with the relevant authorities. I'm afraid if they knew the sort of person you really are they would insist on your departure.'

‘Will you tell them?'

‘Does it matter? Can you still see yourself as a priest?'

‘I don't know. What does a priest look like on the inside?'

‘A good question but not one to which I have any answer.'

‘What about Ricci?'

‘He was satisfied it was all over when the bombers were intercepted.'

‘But when he finds out that the crate doesn't contain any bomb – what is in it, by the way?'

‘Tractor machine parts, as it said on the manifest.'

‘Well, he'll find out and he'll start thinking. He's not such a bad detective. He might very well get as far as I did.'

‘I doubt it. I doubt anyone will. The two students were targeted because they could be radicalised. As you said, they were unsuspecting young men carefully selected and trained well away from any real Islamic group. They'll admit to everything. They'll glory in what they tried to do. The police may even give them a real but conventional bomb, with a faulty trigger of course, and let them have their day in court and their years in prison. It would seem to be the best ending all round. They get to be heroes of jihad, the police get to be heroes of democracy, we get our evidence. Only the fanatics lose out.'

‘For the moment.'

‘Sadly, yes, only for the moment. The search for a nuclear capacity in the region by those states determined to remove Israel from the map will continue. Our success, I agree, can be looked on as a mixed blessing.' Jimmy stood up. ‘Are you going, Mr Costello?'

‘If you've told me everything I should know. Have you?'

‘You were not supposed to know anything, Mr Costello, other than what you were told.'

‘No lies, remember; have you told me everything I should know, yes or no?'

She paused before answering. He was asking a direct question and it required a direct answer. God, she hated telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. It made things so very difficult. Sometimes you just had to give in to temptation and take the easy way out.

‘Yes, Mr Costello, I have told you everything you should know. But you still haven't told me what you intend to do.'

‘No, I haven't, have I?'

And he turned and left the office.

McBride sat for a moment then picked up the phone, dialled a number, and waited for it to be answered.

‘Come to the Duns College rector's office.' It was an order. ‘I don't care who you're with and what you are talking about. I want you here in no more than half an hour, understand?' She listened for a second. ‘I don't care if the minister will think it rude. Tell him anything you like, tell him your wife just had twins, tell him you've just been elected pope. Just get here.'

Across Rome in a splendid office the bland monsignor stood up, made embarrassed excuses, and left. How he hated that woman. Why, oh why had the Church allowed women into positions of power and influence? As he hurried through the marble halls he longed for the days of his youth when women cooked, cleaned, had babies, and it was a simpler, easier world for men.

Professor McBride sat back. She would not leave the office until she had seen the monsignor. It was silly perhaps, bordering on the superstitious, but even going down stone steps could be fatal. A slip, a fall, who knew? As a child she was told that God watched out to take you unawares in your sin. It had been a way of frightening her into going to confession. It was just a silly tale, she knew that, but things from your childhood stuck.

She would sit and wait and not leave the office until the monsignor had come and heard her confession and given her absolution. As she sat she prepared for her confession. It had only been a small lie but the trouble with lies, even small ones, was that you never knew what they might lead to. A lie linked you to consequences over which you had no real control. Better to be on the safe side.

THIRTY-SEVEN

Jimmy got up from his chair, went to the door, and opened it. Ricci was standing there.

‘Come in.'

Jimmy closed the door and followed him into the room. Ricci turned and looked at him.

‘I went to the doctor. He gave me the results of the tests they were doing.'

His voice was flat, almost dazed. ‘Can I sit down?'

‘Sure.'

Ricci went to an armchair and almost fell into it. He held his head in his hands for a moment. Jimmy began to feel worried. Ricci raised his head. There were tears running down his cheeks.

‘I'm going to die, Jimmy. He says I'm going to die.' Jimmy didn't doubt what he was saying for one second. Shit, he didn't need this, he had his own troubles. Ricci wiped his face with a hand. ‘I didn't know who to talk to so I came to you. I don't know why, we're not friends, we hardly know each other. I have no right to …'

‘That's OK, you needed to tell someone. Tell me.'

Jimmy went to the table and pulled a chair round so he faced Ricci, and sat down. Ricci pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his eyes and cheeks.

‘You know I've been getting these headaches then pains in my lower back and over the last few days I've started to be nauseous so I went to see my doctor today. He said he was glad I came because he'd just got my medical report and the news wasn't good.'

‘The report you said was a cover?'

‘That's right.' Ricci put his head in his hands again. Jimmy waited until he was ready to go on. ‘I told him I thought the report was just something he had been asked by the police to pretend to have done, and he said, no, there really was a report and the police hadn't asked him to do anything.'

‘Tell me what happened.'

Ricci began, he wanted to talk.

‘I go for a check-up every six months, I don't have to but I do. I like to stay on top of things, take care of myself. Not the last check up, but the one before that, I was OK except my blood pressure was high. I'm fit, I work out, there was no reason why it should have been high. The doc said it wasn't anything I should worry about and he would check it again next time. Six months later it was still the same so he said he wanted a blood sample to send away for tests. I told my boss about it. He didn't need to know but I told him. I wanted him to know I kept in shape, that I looked after myself. Anyway I forgot all about it until I was told I'd been given leave and the minister's aide wanted to see me. I was going on special assignment and I would be put on indefinite paid leave with a story that I was awaiting the results of medical tests which might indicate a serious illness. I assumed it was just a cover story, but now the report's come back. The doctor said …'

But Jimmy wasn't really listening any more. He needed to work out timings.

‘How long was there between you giving the blood sample and getting told about the assignment?'

‘What?'

‘How long?'

‘I don't remember.'

‘Remember, it's important.'

Ricci's head went back into his hands, then he suddenly stood up. He was very pale. He looked like he was going to throw up.

‘Where's your …'

Jimmy pointed and Ricci went, holding a hand over his mouth. He came back wiping his mouth.

‘It's nausea, it makes me retch, nothing comes up. The doctor said it was to be expected.'

Ricci sat down again.

‘How long between the blood test and getting the assignment?'

He couldn't afford to let it go. Ricci forced himself to concentrate.

‘About two weeks, maybe more, it's hard to remember. I didn't take much notice.' The tears came back. ‘I don't know what to do. What do you do when they tell you you're a dead man?' He was lost, bewildered. Jimmy looked at him. Yes, you're a dead man, and you may not be the only one. Jimmy's mind was running fast. It had to be connected, this had to be part of things. Ricci was chosen because someone knew he wouldn't be around for very long after it was all over and he'd been chosen in case Ricci deteriorated more quickly than expected. But he hadn't got any terminal illness so what was the plan for him? Ricci tried to pull himself together. ‘I'm sorry, I don't know why I came here. I just needed to talk to someone. I don't want to tell my family, not yet, not while I'm like this. The doctor says there'll be a lot of pain but they can control it. For Christ's sake, I've only got a few months.'