Day Of Confession

116

Harry watched in the mirror, feeling the response of the Mercedes' acceleration as they left the checkpoint. Behind him he could see the glow of the mercury-vapor lamps, the taillights of cars moving north as they slowed to a stop, the mass of Italian Army vehicles and carabinieri armored cars. This had been a major checkpoint, two hours south of Milan. Unlike the roadblock at Chiasso, where they'd just been waved through, barely slowing, here they had been slowed to a stop with heavily armed soldiers approaching the car from both sides. That was until an army officer suddenly pointed to the license plates, glanced at the priests in the front seat, and quickly waved them past.

'Wise ass.' Danny grinned at him as darkness enveloped the car and they were safely away.

'Just because I waved the guy a thanks?'

'Yeah, just because you waved the guy a thanks.' Danny glanced back at Elena and smiled again. 'What if he hadn't liked it and decided to pull us over? Then what?'

Harry looked over. 'Then you could have explained to him what the hell was going on and why we had to get to Rome. Maybe he would have even sent the army with us…'

'The army wouldn't go into the Vatican, Harry… Not the Italian Army, not any army…'

'No, just you… and Father Bardoni…' Harry's voice had a decided edge.

Danny nodded. 'Just me and Father Bardoni.'

Rome. The Church of San Crisogno, Trastevere section. Thursday, July 16, 5:30 a.m.

Palestrina stepped from the back of the Mercedes and into the mist of early-morning light. Glancing around protectively at the deserted street, one of Farel's black-suited men moved ahead of him, crossing the sidewalk to open the door to the eighteenth-century church. Then he stepped back, and the Vatican secretariat of state entered alone.

Palestrina's footsteps echoed as he approached the altar and then, crossing himself, knelt to pray beside the only other person there – a woman in black, a rosary in her hand.

'It has been a long time since my last confession, Father,' she said without looking at him. 'Could I confess to you?'

'Of course.' Palestrina crossed himself again and stood. And then he and Thomas Kind walked away toward the dark singularity of the confessional.