“To whom was it addressed?”

“An old friend.”

Donati then described the scene he encountered when Cardinal Albanese led him into the papal bedroom. Gabriel pictured the tableau as though it were rendered in oil on canvas by the hand of Caravaggio. The body of a dead pontiff stretched upon the bed, watched over by a trio of senior prelates. At the right side of the canvas, scarcely visible in the shadows, were three trusted laymen: the pope’s personal physician, the chief of the Vatican’s small police force, and the commandant of the Pontifical Swiss Guard. Gabriel had never met Dr. Gallo, but he knew Lorenzo Vitale, and liked him. Alois Metzler was another story.

Gabriel’s private Caravaggio dissolved, as though washed away by solvent. Donati was recounting Albanese’s explanation of having found, and then moved, the corpse.

“Frankly, it’s the one part of his story that’s plausible. My master was quite diminutive, and Albanese has the body of an ox.” Donati was silent for a moment. “Of course, there is at least one other explanation.”

“What’s that?”

“That His Holiness never made it to the chapel. That he died at his desk in the study while drinking his tea. It was gone when I came out of the bedroom. The tea, that is. Someone removed the cup and saucer while I was praying over Lucchesi’s body.”

“I don’t suppose it underwent a postmortem examination.”

“The Vicar of Christ—”

“Was it embalmed?”

“I’m afraid so. Wojtyla’s body turned quite gray while it was on display in the basilica. And then there was Pius XII.” Donati winced. “A disaster, that. Albanese said he didn’t want to take any chances. Or perhaps he was just covering his tracks. After all, if a body is embalmed, it would make it much harder to find any trace of poison.”

“You really need to stop watching those forensic shows on television, Luigi.”

“I don’t own a television.”

Gabriel allowed a moment to pass. “As I recall, there are no security cameras in the loggia outside the private apartments.”

“If there were cameras, the apartments wouldn’t be private, would they?”

“But there must have been a Swiss Guard on duty.”

“Always.”

“So he would have seen anyone entering the apartments?”

“Presumably.”

“Did you ask him?”

“I never had the chance.”

“Did you express your concerns to Lorenzo Vitale?”

“And what would Lorenzo have done? Investigate the death of a pope as a possible homicide?” Donati’s smile was charitable. “Given your experience at the Vatican, I’m surprised you would even ask a question like that. Besides, Albanese never would have allowed it. He had his story, and he was sticking to it. He found the Holy Father in the private chapel a few minutes after ten o’clock and carried him without assistance to the bedroom. There, in the presence of three of the Church’s most powerful cardinals, he set in motion the chain of events that led to a declaration that the throne of St. Peter was empty. All while I was having a late supper with a woman I once loved. If I challenge Albanese, he’ll destroy me. And Veronica, too.”

“What about a leak to a trusted reporter? There are several thousand camped out in St. Peter’s Square.”

“This matter is far too serious to be entrusted to a journalist. It needs to be handled by someone skillful and ruthless enough to find out what really happened. And quickly.”

“Someone like me?”

Donati made no reply.

“I’m on holiday,” protested Gabriel. “And I’m supposed to be back in Tel Aviv in a week.”

“Leaving you just enough time to find out who killed the Holy Father before the beginning of the conclave. For all intents and purposes, it’s already begun. Most of the men who will choose the next pope are holed up at the Casa Santa Marta.” The Domus Sanctae Marthae, or Casa Santa Marta, was the five-story clerical guesthouse at the southern edge of the city-state. “I can assure you those red-hatted princes aren’t talking about the sporting news over dinner each night. It is imperative we find out who was behind the murder of my master before they file into the Sistine Chapel and the doors are locked behind them.”

“With all due respect, Luigi, you have absolutely no proof Lucchesi was murdered.”

“I haven’t told you everything I know.”

“Now might be a good time.”

“The missing letter was addressed to you.” Donati paused. “Now ask me about the Swiss Guard who was on duty outside the papal apartments that night.”

“Where is he?”

“He left the Vatican a few hours after the Holy Father’s death. No one’s seen him since.”

8

RISTORANTE PIPERNO, ROME

GABRIEL WAS MOMENTARILY DISTRACTED BY the man who wandered into the campo as the waiters were clearing away the first course. He wore dark glasses and a hat and carried a nylon rucksack over one square shoulder. Gabriel reckoned he was of northern European stock, German or Austrian, perhaps a Scandinavian. He paused a few meters from their table as if to take his bearings—long enough for Gabriel to calculate the length of time it would take to draw the Beretta lodged against the small of his back. He drew his phone instead and snapped the man’s photograph as he was leaving the square.

“Let’s start with the letter.” Gabriel returned the phone to his breast pocket. “But why don’t we skip the part where you claim not to know why Lucchesi was writing it.”

“I don’t,” Donati insisted. “But if I were to guess, it concerned something he found in the Secret Archives.”

L’Archivio Segreto Vaticano, the Vatican Secret Archives, was the central repository for papal documents related to matters of both religion and state. Located near the Vatican Library in the Belvedere Palace, it contained an estimated fifty-three miles of shelf space, much of it in fortified underground bunkers. Among its many treasures was Decet Romanum Pontificem, Pope Leo X’s 1521 papal bull ordering the excommunication of a troublesome German priest and theologian named Martin Luther. It was also the final resting place of much of the Church’s dirtiest laundry. Early in Lucchesi’s papacy, Gabriel had worked with Donati and the Holy Father to release diplomatic and other documents related to Pope Pius XII’s conduct during World War II, when six million Jews were systematically murdered, often by Roman Catholics, with scarcely a word of protest from the Holy See.

“The Archives are regarded as the personal property of the papacy,” Donati continued. “Which means a pope is allowed to see anything he wants. The same is not true for his private secretary. In fact, I wasn’t always allowed to know the nature of the documents he was reviewing.”

“Where did he do his reading?”

“Sometimes the prefetto would bring documents to the papal apartments. But if they were too fragile or sensitive, the Holy Father would review them in a special room inside the Archives, with the prefetto standing just outside the door. Perhaps you’ve heard of him. His name is—”

“Cardinal Domenico Albanese.”