Papal decree

19

The helicopter shook as it headed into the side wind. The pilot was accustomed to these conditions, and chose a route farther to the north to avoid fighting the wind. The call had come from the Voyager of the Seas, a cruise ship sailing along the coast between Livorno and Corsica.

It happened sometimes, someone more critically ill than the ship’s clinic could handle or disagreements that had to be resolved by the police. In this case it was a couple who urgently needed to get to Fiumicino. They were alarmed, but spoke a language the pilot didn’t understand. It sounded Arabic, but he couldn’t say. Hebrew is difficult for anyone. They hadn’t explained the urgency, nor did they have to. Must be some millionaire who needed to close a business deal, spoiling the vacation of his wife — or his lover, since she looked younger than he.

Ben Isaac secured himself as well as he could. Myriam clung to the seat and looked at the instrument panel countless times. No father should have to see something like this. His son, little Ben, tied up, bloody, with tape over his mouth and a blindfold covering his eyes. He was holding up a white sign with Hebrew letters written in black:

THE STATUS QUO IS OVER. AWAIT INSTRUCTIONS.

But she didn’t care about the sign or what it said. Only that the boy she had given birth to was suffering, helpless, with no one, without protection, without his mother. She had tears of worry on her face, and kept looking at his image.

‘What is it they want, Ben?’

‘I don’t know, Myr,’ Ben Isaac answered, keeping his voice under control.

‘Money? Pay them, Ben. Pay whatever they want.’

Below they began to see lights from the coastal towns. They were nearing the peninsula.

Ben Isaac looked out the window just as a light rain began to strike the glass. In his worst nightmares he had never imagined such a scenario. Had they kidnapped little Ben to blackmail him? He knew exactly what they wanted, but who were they? How did they find the information? Only a leak could have started all this, and there were not many who could have informed when those involved were so few. He had failed in the most important duty of his existence — protecting his family. Just as he had failed Magda in another life, long ago, in his forgotten past.

The pilot radioed his position to the control tower and followed instructions for landing. A few minutes later they put down on the assigned runway. A van waited to take the passengers to a plane Ben Isaac had leased while still on board the ship.

As soon as they settled into the van, his cell phone rang. It showed his son’s number. Ben looked anxiously and turned the screen to his wife, who suddenly snatched the phone from his hands and answered.

‘Ben? Ben?’ she cried desperately with tears running down her face. She listened a few moments and closed her eyes. Moments later she held out the phone to Ben. ‘It’s for you.’

Her husband took the phone and lifted it, reluctantly, to his ear. ‘Ben Isaac,’ he answered. He said nothing more. He just listened. Probably as he was ordered to do. Myriam looked at him in suspense. No reaction, no interjection. Nothing. Total silence. The one-sided conversation lasted a few seconds. Ben Isaac hung up, and Myriam, instead of bombarding him with questions, made only one observation. ‘Don’t hide anything from me, Ben.’

The van stopped next to a Learjet 60 XR that was ready to board them. An attendant waited next to the steps to help Myriam and Ben climb into the plane.

‘Welcome,’ she greeted them with a brightly enameled smile.

The interior of the jet was a luxury they had become accustomed to, but even if they weren’t used to it, they wouldn’t have noticed. They were stopped in their tracks by the sight of a cardinal, accompanied by a young woman, seated comfortably in the cabin.

‘You’re a difficult man to find, Ben Isaac,’ the cardinal observed.

‘I was never hiding.’

‘Sit down.’ William gestured toward the seats. ‘Make yourselves at home.’