Papal decree

18

‘Tell me the story straight,’ Gavache asked as he leaned his head against the front passenger seat.

Jean-Paul was driving the inspector and the two Italians into the city.

‘Saint Ignatius of Loyola was the first to use that saying in the Society of Jesus, which he founded. Ad maiorem Dei gloriam. For the greater glory of God,’ Rafael explained.

‘Saint,’ Jacopo mocked.

‘Are you telling me the Jesuits go around killing people?’

‘No, I’m telling you that a Jesuit killed two people — ’

‘Three,’ Jacopo interrupted to correct him.

Gavache’s eyes almost jumped out. An exasperated Rafael stared at Jacopo with disdain.

‘Three? The count has now gone up to three? Did you hear that, Jean-Paul?’ He looked at Rafael like an inquisitor.

‘Yes, Inspector. Someone’s hiding information.’ Jean-Paul joined the party.

‘That’s exactly what I think, Jean-Paul. Somebody’s making fun of us. What can you expect from those who preach morality? They only preach morality when they’re being immoral, right? But who’s fooling us, Jean-Paul?’ he looked around and stared at the passengers behind him.

Jean-Paul didn’t answer Gavache’s rhetorical question since he knew the inspector could be dramatic when necessary.

‘I’m sorry, Inspector. I didn’t remember that detail,’ Rafael began uncomfortably. He hated to apologize. Difficult for someone who normally did as he pleased… in the name of God. Jacopo had to learn to keep his mouth shut, but this could wait. ‘The third homicide, which chronologically was actually the first, was a Catholic priest in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem.’

‘When?’ demanded Gavache brusquely.

‘Three days ago.’

‘Name?’

‘Ernesto Aragones. He was the administrator of the Catholic wing,’ Rafael clarified. He was still on shaky ground.

‘Why do you say the Catholic wing?’

‘Because the Church of the Holy Sepulcher is administered by six distinct churches.’

‘Did you hear that, Jean-Paul?’

‘A real mess, Inspector.’ Jean-Paul kept his eyes on the road.

A light rain continued to fall, glazing over the windshield irritatingly. The wipers dirtied the windshield more than cleaning it off, forcing Jean-Paul to double his focus.

‘How can six churches fit into one?’ He turned around, facing the road. Spending so much time twisted around to the back was giving him a crick in the neck.

‘Do you know the importance of this church?’

Gavache didn’t answer, as if he were thinking about it, but Rafael realized that he was just irritating him.

‘It’s the most important.’

‘Exactly. It marks the place where Jesus was crucified and buried.’

‘Supposedly,’ Jacopo added, as if that one word made all the difference.

‘I see your friend is not very Catholic,’ Gavache offered, amused but not smiling.

‘Not at all Catholic,’ Jacopo added. ‘Not a drop.’

‘So why’d you come?’

Jacopo didn’t know what to say. He’d rehearsed answers for every possible question, but he didn’t know how to answer that.

‘Jacopo is an eminent historian at the University of Rome, La Sapienza,’ Rafael said. ‘He came because he was a friend of Yaman Zafer.’

‘And of Sigfried Hammal?’

‘I think we met at a conference in ’85, but it wasn’t important enough to remember,’ Jacopo offered in a timid voice.

‘And this Ernesto Aragones,’ Gavache insisted.

‘I’ve never heard of him.’

Gavache was silent a few moments. The only sound was the car moving on the street.

‘Where were we?’ he asked after some time.

‘How is it six churches can fit in one?’ Jean-Paul remembered, as if it were nothing.

‘Exactly. How?’ Gavache repeated.

Rafael explained. ‘As we said, this church is the most important of all the ancient churches, for historical reasons.’ He stared hard at Jacopo. ‘A treaty worked out with the Ottomans in the 1850s divided the custody of the church and adjacent residences between Roman Catholics, Greek Orthodox, Armenians, Copts, Syrians, and Ethiopians. They named a neutral watchman.’

‘Watchman?’ Gavache asked.

‘The person who locks and unlocks the church,’ Rafael explained. ‘They named a Muslim watchman.’

‘What a happy world in which all the religions live together in peace,’ Gavache said sarcastically.

Rafael ignored the remark. ‘This treaty is called the Status Quo.’

Gavache absorbed the historical information and wet his lips.

‘Now the million-dollar question.’ He permitted himself a few seconds of suspense and turned toward the back. He massaged his neck to ease the pain. He wanted to see their faces when they replied. ‘Did Ernesto Aragones, Yaman Zafer, and Sigfried Hammal know each other?’

The two passengers in the back looked at each other.

‘I have no idea,’ Rafael answered.

‘I don’t know what to tell you,’ was Jacopo’s response.

‘Hmm… do you think they’d give the same answers if they were in separate rooms, Jean-Paul?’

‘I have no idea, Inspector. I don’t know what to tell you,’ the subordinate replied.

Gavache was a falcon. He hovered over his prey several times before sinking in his talons.

‘Are the crimes related? How did the other one die?’

‘A bullet in the back of the neck.’

Gavache sighed. ‘Is this a Jesuit practice?’ Sarcasm at a new level. ‘A priest, an archaeologist, a theologian,’ he said, speaking more to himself than to the others. ‘We know the archaeologist and theologian are related. The priest’s death differs in the modus operandi. Here I am with a priest and historian who keep the best information to themselves and sweet-talk me. Do you think we can trust them, Jean-Paul?’

‘I don’t know what to say, Inspector. Are you greedy?’

‘I’m greedy, Jean-Paul. Of course I’m greedy. I’d rather have a bag of candy in my hand than have them handed to me one at a time, or have to beg them to give me more.’

‘There’s your answer, Inspector.’

Their dialogue irritated Rafael and made Jacopo apprehensive.

‘Inspector Gavache, I’ve given you everything I have,’ Rafael offered, attempting an excuse. ‘I didn’t mention the crime in Jerusalem because I didn’t think it was related. As you yourself said, the modus operandi is different. It could have been the same murderer or not. I didn’t try to trick you. I hope you understand that. It’s been a terrible week for us.’

‘And I have two related deaths on French territory, in less than twenty-four hours, in the capital and the south. Do you think that’s easy?’ Gavache countered.

‘That’s not what I was trying to say,’ Rafael said, in his own defense. It wasn’t easy to argue with Gavache. Actually it was impossible. He’d never win this kind of argument. He decided to leave things the way they were.

Silence settled in again. Jean-Paul drove through the heart of downtown Paris. Perhaps because it was still before the morning rush hour, there was not much traffic, and it was easy to drive. Several minutes passed in a deafening silence that could have been counted out by a heavy ticktock. Ticktock. Ticktock. Ticktock.

Rafael recognized the street, Boulevard du Temple. Boulevard des Filles du Calvaire followed, farther along rue de Saint-Antoine.

‘Why did you ask help from the Vatican?’ Rafael asked.

Gavache didn’t answer at once. He looked ahead like Jean-Paul, turning over in his mind everything that had been said, the good and bad.

‘The Vatican was mentioned on your friend’s recording,’ he finally said. ‘But something else intrigued me even more.’

Rafael leaned against the seat in front. He was very attentive. ‘What?’

‘The murderer said the pope would pray for him. It could have been an innocent remark, but to me it means that your Jesuit did what he did on his orders.’

‘Are you crazy?’ Rafael exclaimed. ‘That doesn’t make sense.’

‘I’m only a layman. If you have a better explanation, I’m all ears,’ Gavache said ironically.

‘Does it make sense that the Holy Father would hire a murderer and later agree to help in the investigation of a crime he himself ordered?’

‘You know as well as I do that criminals sometimes testify in crimes they themselves perpetrated. It wouldn’t be the first time.’

‘What we have here is a Jesuit out of control… with his own personal agenda,’ Rafael compromised.

‘To whom do the Jesuits answer?’ Gavache asked.

‘To the superior general of the society,’ Rafael explained.

‘And to whom does the superior general answer?’

Rafael took longer to answer than he liked.

‘To the pope,’ Jacopo put in.

No one said anything further, except Jean-Paul, with a brusque ‘We’ve arrived,’ as he braked hard.

Gavache got out of the car and looked around. The others joined him.

‘Another church, Jean-Paul.’

‘Another church, Inspector,’ Jean-Paul repeated.

‘I hope you’re right,’ Gavache remarked to Rafael.

‘I do, too.’

And they climbed up the stairs toward the entrance.