Day Of Confession

17

'The ispettore capo will tell you.' Farel's eyes held on Harry, but only for a moment. Then he turned, and he and Pio walked to the rear of the Alfa Romeo. It was only as Pio opened the trunk that Harry realized both men wore surgical gloves and that Pio carried something in a clear plastic bag.

Putting whatever it was in the trunk, Pio pulled off the gloves and found a notebook. Filling out some kind of form, he signed it and handed it to Farel, who scrawled his own signature on it, pulled off the top copy, and, folding it, slid it into his jacket pocket.

With a nod to the man who had followed them from the farmhouse, Farel glanced once more at Harry, then got into the Opel. There was a roar of engine and spinning of wheels in the gravel and then Farel and the man who had driven Harry out from Rome were gone, with only swirling dust to suggest they'd been there at all.

'Grazie,' Pio said to the man standing with the two boys.

'Prego,' the man said, then gathered the youngsters and took them back into the house.

Pio looked to Harry. 'The boys are his sons. They found it.'

'Found what?'

'The gun.'

Pio took Harry to the back of the car and showed him what he'd put in the trunk. It was what remained of a pistol, sealed inside a clear evidence bag. Through the plastic, Harry could see a small automatic with a silencer attached to the barrel. Its blue metal was scorched, its polymer grips all but melted.

'It's still loaded, Mr Addison.' Pio looked at him. 'It was probably thrown clear when the bus overturned; otherwise the ammunition would have gone off and the weapon would have been destroyed.'

'Are you concluding that it belonged to my brother?'

'I'm not concluding anything, Mr Addison. Except, most pilgrims to Assisi do not carry automatic pistols mounted with silencers… For your information, the make is a Llama 15. Small-frame autopistol.' Pio slammed the trunk shut. 'It was made in Spain.'

They rode without speaking. Past the high cornstalks. Down the dirt road. The Alfa banging over its ruts. The dust kicking up behind them. At the country highway, Pio turned left, toward the entrance to the Autostrada.

'Where's your partner?' Harry tried to break the quiet.

'At his son's confirmation. He took the day off

'I called you…'

'I know – why?'

'About what happened at the funeral home…'

Pio made no reply, just kept driving, as if he were waiting for Harry to finish.

'You don't know?' Harry was genuinely surprised. He was certain Farel had learned of it and would, at the very least, have informed Pio.

'Know what?'

'I was at the funeral home. I viewed my brother's remains. The body is not his.'

Pio's head came around. 'Are you certain?'

'Yes.'

'The funeral home made a mistake…' Pio half shrugged. 'Unfortunately it happens. It is especially understandable under the circum-'

Harry cut him off. 'The remains are the same as those Cardinal Marsciano identified at the morgue.'

'How do you know?'

'He was there, he told me.'

'Marsciano came to the funeral home?'

'Yes.'

Pio seemed genuinely surprised, his reaction honest and instantaneous. It was enough for Harry to tell him the rest. In thirty seconds he explained about Danny's mole and the reasons why he would never have had it removed. About his private meeting with Marsciano in Gasparri's office, and the cardinal's insistence that the body was his brother's and that he accept the fact and get out of the country with it while he could.

Pio stopped at the tollbooth, picked up a ticket, and swung them onto the Autostrada toward Rome.

'You're certain the mistake is not yours…'

'No, it's not.' Harry was adamant.

'You know his personal belongings were found where the remains were recovered…'

'I have them here.' Harry touched his jacket. The envelope Gasparri had given him was still in his pocket. 'His passport, watch, his glasses, the Vatican ID – they may have been his. The body isn't.'

'And you think Cardinal Marsciano knows that…'

'Yes.'

'You are aware he is one of the most powerful and prominent men in the Vatican.'

'So was Cardinal Parma.'

Pio studied Harry, then glanced in the rearview mirror. A dark green Renault was a half mile back, holding speed with them, and had been for some time.

Pio looked back to the road ahead, accelerating past a truck hauling lumber, then pulled into the lane in front of it.

'You know what I would be thinking if I were you.' Pio kept his eyes on the road.

'Is my brother still alive? And if he is, where is he?'

Harry looked at Pio, then turned away. That Danny might still be alive was a thought that came the moment he realized the corpse was not his. But he hadn't let himself think about it. Couldn't let himself think about it. Danny had been on the bus. Those who survived were accounted for. So, for Danny to still be alive wasn't possible. Any Bore than it was possible for Madeline to have remained Vive all that time under the ice. Yet Harry had stayed there watching, an eleven-year-old shivering in his wet and freezing clothes, refusing to go home and change, while the fire department divers worked. Yes, Madeline was down there in the icy, black water, freezing cold and wet as he, but she was still alive, he knew it. But she wasn't. And neither was Danny. To even consider it, was not only unrealistic, it was also far too painful and self-defeating.

'Anyone would have thought about it, Mr Addison. When there is a change of facts, hope is natural. What if he were still alive? I would like to know that too… So, one way or another, why don't we attempt to find out?' Pio smiled, not unselfishly, and glanced in the mirror once more.

They had reached the bottom of a long hill with the lumber truck now almost a mile behind. Then Pio saw a car come into the passing lane beside it, accelerate, and then cut back into the travel lane in front of it.

The green Renault.