The Secret Cardinal (12 page)

Following the mass, Donoher and Grin saw Kilkenny off for Berlin, his departure setting in motion the first active steps of Operation Rolling Stone. Grin returned to the catacombs to continue what he called the practice of his dark technological arts, and Donoher left for the Apostolic Palace to convene a meeting of all the cardinals now present in Rome.

15

As a constitutional matter, all cardinals and archbishops in charge of departments in the Roman Curia officially lost their jobs the moment the pope died. As with any change in national administration, this purge of top officials allowed the newly elected pope to install his own team of senior advisers.

The deposed secretaries continued to oversee their domains within the Vatican bureaucracy but acted in caretaker mode during the interregnum. Any serious or controversial matters were to be deferred until the new pope was installed or, in the event of something requiring immediate attention, brought to the College of Cardinals for a provisional decision.

Donoher considered this as he looked over the gathering of unemployed cardinals mingling with their diocesan brethren in the Pauline Chapel. Like the other curial cardinals, he was a lame duck in his dual roles as head of both the Vatican Library and Vatican Intelligence. There was, of course, the possibility that the new pope would ask him to stay on, but that depended on which cardinal was elected. Although on good terms with most of the papabili, he knew a few would doubtless broom him out. Such was the nature of politics, even in the Vatican, and Donoher had decided early on to leave his fate in God's hands.

Only three of the curial cardinals retained their jobs during the interregnum. The vicar of the Diocese of Rome, who provided for the pastoral needs of the diocese, still enjoyed all the powers he held under the pope. Overseeing confessional matters related to the Holy See, the major penitentiary also continued at his post, because the door to forgiveness should never be closed.

Third among the Vatican cardinals still employed was Donoher, in his most recent appointment as camerlengo. Only with the passing of the pope did the power of this office become evident as Donoher administered
all assets of the Holy See. Initially shocked at being named camerlengo, Donoher came to believe that the pope sensed his impending death and the effect it would have on the effort to free Bishop Yin. In naming him camerlengo, Pope Leo gave Donoher the power to act during the interregnum, should he choose to do so. With Kilkenny and his team heading into China, Donoher appreciated the late pontiff's prescience.

One of the cardinals assisting Donoher, a dark-skinned Venezuelan named Ojeda, who headed the Congregation for the Clergy, moved through the crowd toward him.

“They are all assembled, Your Eminence.”

Donoher smiled. “Would you do us the honor of an opening prayer?”

Ojeda called the congregation to order with a stirring invocation. At the conclusion of the prayer, Donoher nodded his thanks and moved to the lectern. Around him loomed Michelangelo's last frescos:
The Crucifixion of Saint Peter
and
The Conversion of Saint Paul
. The images perfectly illustrated the Church's ongoing battle with evil in the world—a struggle in which martyrs lost their lives balanced against the hope that even their persecutors could be redeemed.

Donoher looked out on an august assembly of men in scarlet-trimmed cassocks and zucchettos. Nearly all those who qualified as electors were now present, with only a few settling last-minute affairs or struggling with difficult travel arrangements from remote dioceses.

Prior to the election of the new pope, two kinds of congregations would assist Donoher in his duties as camerlengo. The particular congregation consisted of Donoher and three cardinals, one drawn from each of the cardinal orders of deacon, priest, and bishop. The trio of cardinal-assistants were drawn by lot and served for three days, after which three new assistants would be selected. The particular congregation would deal with only minor questions, reporting their actions to the general congregation consisting of the entire College of Cardinals.

“My Eminent Lord Cardinals,” Donoher called out, “it is time for us to begin this preparatory general congregation. I believe you all have received a packet containing a copy of
Universi Dominici Gregis
, which describes our duties and responsibilities during the interregnum. As
required by article twelve of this Apostolic Constitution, I shall now read aloud the portion regarding the vacancy of the Apostolic See.”

As Donoher recited from the constitution penned by the late pope, he recalled the words of Cardinal Antonelli, a layman who served during the nineteenth-century reign of Pope Pius IX and was the last lay cardinal, regarding a conclave:

Donoher then answered a few questions regarding specific clauses in the constitution and how they would be implemented. The questions were thoughtful and reflected the seriousness with which these men regarded the impending conclave. When all questions were answered, Donoher turned the floor over to Cardinal Scheuermann for the swearing-in.

Scheuermann was a lanky German whose salt-and-pepper hair had naturally receded into a medieval tonsure. In addition to his elected position as dean of the College of Cardinals, Scheuermann also served as cardinal-bishop of Ostia and Vellitri-Segni and prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith—an office known in earlier times as the Inquisition.

“We, the cardinals of the Holy Roman Church,” intoned the seventy-six-year-old Scheuermann, “of the order of bishops, of priests and of deacons, promise, pledge, and swear, as a body and individually, to observe exactly and faithfully all the norms contained in the Apostolic Constitution
Universi Dominici Gregis
of the Supreme Pontiff Pope Leo XIV, and to maintain rigorous secrecy with regard to all matters in any way related to the election of the Roman pontiff or those which, by their very nature, during the vacancy of the Apostolic See, call for the same secrecy.”

One by one, the cardinals approached Scheuermann.

“I, Norbert Cardinal Clements, so promise, pledge, and swear,” the archbishop of Toronto vowed. Placing his hand on the Gospels, he
added, “So help me God and these Holy Gospels which I now touch with my hand.”

After the entire congregation was sworn in, Donoher returned to the lectern and reported on a list of business items as required by the Apostolic Constitution, including the schedule for the funeral rites and the status of preparations for the conclave. He also announced the schedule for the requiem masses to be offered by the cardinals at the titular churches in Rome during the
novemdiales
—the nine days of official mourning that would follow the pope's funeral.

As he neared the end of his list, Donoher motioned to an aide who brought forward a small wooden box. He placed the box on the lectern and opened it.

“On the night of the pope's death, I took possession of the fisherman's ring and the leaden bull of the pope's holy office. These items have been continuously in my possession, and I report to you now that they have been destroyed.”

In his right hand, Donoher held the broken fragments of the golden signet ring. A chisel had cleanly halved the image of Saint Peter as a fisherman. Similarly, the leaden bull used to seal all the pope's public pronouncements lay in pieces. Donoher returned the remnants of papal authority to the box and locked it.

“Last, as there are no extraordinary circumstances known at this time that may delay the start of the election, the conclave to name the successor of Pope Leo XIV will commence in twelve days' time.”

16

SÜHBAATAR PROVINCE, MONGOLIA
October 19

A breeze rustled through the tall golden stalks of grass that grew in thick clumps across the vast Mongolian steppe. The air was cool and dry, rushing down from the mountains north and west of the plains that covered the eastern province.

Kilkenny sat in a low-slung folding chair supported by carbon-fiber struts reading
The Travels of Marco Polo
. Halfway through the Italian adventurer's travelogue, Kilkenny was convinced the man had been obsessed with prostitution. Fall was in the air and Kilkenny was dressed in jeans, Oakley assault boots, and a sweatshirt bearing the embroidered logo of
bd's mongolian barbeque—Ulaanbaatar
restaurant.

He sat amid four traditional Mongolian yurts—circular dwellings with conical roofs framed with wooden poles and covered with sheets of thick felt. The yurts were arranged in a semicircle with their flapped entries facing south. A wispy trail of smoke curled out of an opening in the roof of the yurt closest to Kilkenny.

Max Gates emerged from the steppe on a Mongolian horse, the animal and rider moving as one through the clumps of long grass. He stopped where several other horses were grazing, dismounted, and gave his mount a friendly rub on the nose.

“Any beer left?” Gates called out as he worked his way toward the encampment.

“See for yourself.”

Gates ambled over and peeked into the cooler beside Kilkenny's chair. All twelve bottles Gates had placed inside remained unopened.

“Wuss,” Gates said with a sneer.

He pulled out two bottles, handed one to Kilkenny, and wiped the other across his brow. His face was flushed and sweaty with exertion.

“How was the ride?” Kilkenny asked.

“I'll tell you what,” Gates replied in his thick drawl, “they got some fine horses here. You should've come with me.”

“My rear end is still sore from the trek out here.”

“I stand corrected—you are a turbo wuss.”

Gates dropped into the chair beside Kilkenny, popped off the beer cap, and drained two inches from the longneck bottle. The beer was dark and carried a strong, hoppy flavor. Gates smacked his lips and bayed like a wolf at the moon.

“Baadog!” Kilkenny said in what had become a running joke between the two old friends.

When provisioning for the trek in Ulaanbaatar, they had a choice of three domestically brewed beers: Chinggis, Khan Brau, and Baadog. Neither was sure what the name meant, but for guys who enjoyed beers named Pete's Wicked Ale and Magic Hat #9, Baadog seemed the right choice.

“That solar-powered cooler sure put a nice chill on these long-necks,” Gates opined.

“It definitely beats lugging bags of ice all the way out here.”

“Or drinking lukewarm beer.” Gates took another swig. “As far as bivouacs go, this is definitely one of our better ones, though a bit of a hike on such short notice.”

“Chief, I know for a fact you and I have gone farther faster than what it took to get here.”

“True, but Uncle Sam wasn't paying us to pussyfoot around on those ops.” Gates held up his beer. “When someone absolutely, positively—”

“—needs their ass kicked,” Kilkenny continued for him, “it pays to send the very best.”

They tapped bottles, drained another inch of beer, and let out a howling “Hoo-yah.”

“We've had some good times, my friend,” Gates said.

“That we have, which is why I thought of you when this came up. I know you're pulling the pin pretty soon.”

“Yeah, I got my twenty-five in and as many stripes as the arms on my dress uniform can hold. Any more, and I'll have to stitch ‘em on my pants.”

“Not quite up to Navy regs. Any thoughts on what you might do next?”

“I did a little technical consulting on a movie last year, so I'm kicking around marketing myself as a personal trainer to the stars. I think it might be fun to stomp the snot out of some action hero who doesn't even know how to hold a weapon. Of course, I'd probably have to pay the studios to train Halle Berry or Jennifer Garner.”

“You'd have to control that libido of yours first.”

“Hey, I'm a perfect gentleman around the ladies. They always have to ask, and they usually do.”

Kilkenny laughed at how quickly their repartee degenerated into machismo.

“Of course,” Gates continued, “I could take a clue from our cover as prospective franchisees and go into the restaurant business. Maybe take a slot in your buddy's fast-spreading empire.”

“Billy's a gustatory Genghis Khan all right. He could definitely hook you up.”

“I'd have to be Stateside, though—the one he's got in Ulaanbaatar is bit off the beaten path for me. Hard to believe I have enough time in to retire, it went by so fast, but I guess all good things come to an end.”

“Some before their time,” Kilkenny added.

It took a second, but Gates quickly realized that Kilkenny was referring to his abbreviated tenure as husband and father. The SEAL had attended the funeral of Kilkenny's wife and child along with Kilkenny's former commanding officer, Rear Admiral Jack Dawson. As the senior officer present, Dawson presented Kilkenny with the flag that draped the coffin, and he extended a grateful nation's thanks for Kelsey's brave service as an astronaut aboard the International Space Station.

“I'm oh-for-three when it comes to marriage,” Gates admitted. “All my blessed unions tragically lasted longer than yours, but not one had a hope in heaven of going the distance. I can't pretend to understand what kind of knots this must have tied in your craw, but I sure
envy you for the time you had with Kelsey. Being from the Bible Belt, I can just hear the preacher saying your tragedy is part of God's unknowable master plan. Sounds like a load to me, but if that's the case, then the Almighty's got some explaining to do.”