Day Of Confession

145

If there had been a phone booth Harry would have felt like Superman. There was no phone booth, just a low wall with dense shrubbery behind it across the roadway from St Peter's where he'd come out. It was here he ducked out of sight and stripped off the beret and priest's clothing revealing the chinos and work shirt underneath.

Then, burying the priest's outfit in the thick of the bushes, he scooped up a handful of the powdery dirt at his feet and dusted it over his chest, rubbing the remainder off on his thighs. Then he moved from the bushes, waited for a small black Fiat to pass on the narrow roadway and stepped out, hoping to hell he looked enough like a gardener to pass if anyone saw him.

Resolutely, he walked down the short sweep of manicured lawn and crossed the road to the Fountain of the Sacrament. Getting his bearings, he took the short stairway to the right. At the top he stopped and looked quickly around. He saw no one. Directly before him were the planters and pine tree Danny had designated. As he moved toward them his coolness left. Suddenly he was aware of his own breathing, felt the awkward press of the Calico automatic in the waistband under his shirt, felt his pulse begin to race.

Now he was at the planters at the base of the tree. Anxiously, he glanced around, then knelt. His hand touched nylon and he could feel the breath go out of him in relief.

It meant not only that Danny and Elena were there, but also that the bulky package he'd decided not to wear at the last minute, for fear it might raise the suspicion of security guards inside St Peter's, had been safely delivered.

Glancing around once more, he stood and slipped into the tree's shadow. Loosening his shirt, he fastened the waist pack underneath at his waist and repositioned the Calico inside the pull of its strap. Then, tucking his shirt back in, letting it fall loosely at his waist to cover the pack's bulge, he walked off and back down the steps. The whole thing had taken no more than thirty seconds.

9:57 a.m.

The Tower of San Giovanni. Same time.

There was the cruel sound of the lock turning and then the door to Marsciano's apartment opened and Thomas Kind entered. Anton Pilger was in the hallway behind him, hands crossed in front of him, staring in. He stayed there as Kind crossed the room.

^'Buon giorno, Eminence,' he said. 'If I may.'

Marsciano stood back silently as Kind looked carefully around the room, then went into the bathroom. A moment later he came out and crossed to the glass doorway. Opening the doors, he stepped out onto the tiny balcony. Putting his hands on the railing, he looked down at the gardens below and then up, overhead, at the sheer brick wall leading to the roof.

Satisfied, he came back in and closed the glass doors and for a moment studied Marsciano.

'Thank you, Eminence,' he said, finally. Crossing the room, he went out immediately, pulling the door closed behind him. Marsciano shuddered at the sound of the lock turning. By now it was a grating that had become almost unbearable.

Turning away, he wondered why the assassin had visited him for the third time in the last twenty-four hours, and each time had gone through the exact same motions.