Day Of Confession

53

Still Sunday, July 12.

Via Carissimi was a street of stylish apartments and town houses bordered on one end by the sprawling gardens of the Villa Borghese, and the elegant, tree-lined Via Pinciana on the other.

Harry had been watching the ivy-covered, four-story building at number 46 off and on since nine-thirty. Twice he'd dialed Cardinal Marsciano's private number. Twice an answering machine had started to pick up. Twice he'd clicked off the cellular. Either Marsciano wasn't there or he was screening his calls. Harry wanted neither. He couldn't leave a message or give Marsciano the opportunity to leave him hanging while someone put a trace on his call. The best thing was to be patient, at least for a time. Try later and hope the cardinal himself answered.

At noon he dialed again with the same result. Frustrated, he went for a walk in the Villa Borghese. At one o'clock he took a seat on a park bench on the edge of the Villa grounds where he could see the cardinal's residence clearly.

Finally, at two-fifteen, a dark gray Mercedes pulled up in front and stopped. The driver stepped out and opened the rear door. A moment later Marsciano appeared, followed by Father Bardoni. Together the clergymen walked up the steps and went into Marsciano's building. Immediately the driver got behind the wheel and drove off.

Glancing at his watch, Harry took the cellular from his pocket, waited for a young couple to pass by, then hit redial and waited.

'Pronto,' - hello – the cardinal's voice came back strongly.

'My name is Father Roe, Cardinal Marsciano. I'm from Georgetown University in-'

'How did you get this number?'

'I'd like to speak to you about a medical problem…'

'What?'

'A third breast. It's called a supernumerary nipple.'

There was a sudden pause – and then another voice came on.

'This is Father Bardoni. I work for the cardinal. What can I do for you?'

'Monsignor Grayson at Georgetown School of Law was kind enough to give me the cardinal's number before I left. He said that if I should need help, His Eminence would be more than willing to give it.'

Harry waited on the bench until he saw Father Bardoni come down the steps and start down the block toward him. Getting up, he walked slowly toward a large fountain and the crowd clustered around it, people vainly attempting to escape the oppressive heat and humidity of this July Sunday afternoon. Harry was simply one among them, a priest, young and bearded, doing the same.

Looking back, he watched the young, tall priest with the dark, curly hair cross into the park. He walked casually, as if he were out for a stroll. Yet Harry could see him looking in his direction, trying to find him in the crowd around the fountain. It was the manner of a man not wanting to draw attention to himself or what he was doing, of someone on the spot and uncomfortable. Still, he was coming, and that was enough to tell Harry he'd been right. Danny was alive. And Marsciano knew where he was.