Papal decree

56

No office in the world could compare in size and sumptuousness to Tarcisio’s, with the exception of the pontifical apartments. Not even the Oval Office was in the same league.

Tarcisio occupied a chair that resembled a throne behind his solid, antique desk.

Adolph sat down on the other side in a smaller, less luxurious, but equally comfortable chair. The difference in size was not accidental. It served to show whoever sat in it the superiority in rank and power of the person on the other side of the desk. The secretary of state was the most powerful man in the world, except for the pope. He was responsible for an empire of incalculable value, influential throughout the civilized world and in parts less civilized according to the standards set by the civilized. All his power was exercised without weapons or an army, and this was extraordinary in a world in which order was imposed by military might. Tarcisio never tired of telling how Pope Pacelli, during World War II, ordered his Swiss Guard to go unarmed, so that no accidental shot would create an international crisis with the Germans. History testifies that Hitler in all his power, capable of the most execrable massacres, master of the world, or at least pretending to be, with all his military might, never permitted a single German soldier to cross the defenseless Vatican border into Saint Peter’s Square. It wouldn’t have taken half an hour to capture the Supreme Pontiff and to occupy the Vatican state, but as Pius XII said, My army is not of this world. Hitler never had the courage to test this assertion.

Adolph smiled cynically. He adjusted his glasses and waited for Tarcisio to begin their meeting as usual. Outside, rain continued to fall in a constant torrent, the sky blackened with heavy clouds, and the wind keened in the windows. Adolph and his cynical smile.

‘I wonder if you have anything to say to me before we begin,’ Tarcisio began in a serious tone, his duty in the best interests of the church.

Adolph felt superior to Tarcisio, as if the secretary of state did not deserve the distinctions he received. ‘Not that I know of.’

Tarcisio took off his glasses and began to clean the lenses with a velvet cloth. ‘Cut the bullshit. We know everything.’

‘About what, Your Eminence?’ Adolph said, showing no surprise.

‘Ernesto Aragones, Yaman Zafer, Sigfried Hamal, Ursino. Who’s next? Joseph Ratzinger?’ The secretary showed his anger.

‘Should I know those names, Your Eminence?’ Adolph asked with the same smile on his lips.

‘If you want to continue lying, that’s up to you, Adolph. I’ll only say the following, we know everything.’

Tarcisio finished cleaning his glasses and put them back on.

Neither one said anything for a few moments. Seconds, minutes, a tense silence.

‘We were always the right arm of the church,’ the superior general finally said bitterly. ‘Our methods were never questioned.’

‘Well, when you interfere in matters of the church and kill innocent people and dedicated servants within our own walls, we have to begin to question, don’t you think?’ Tarcisio argued.

‘Not when we’re dealing with traitors.’ He raised his voice and dropped his cool attitude, revealing the true Adolph under the cynicism.

‘I’m ordering you to stop what you’re doing immediately,’ Tarcisio demanded. He received a harsh laugh in reply.

‘We’re the guardians of the church,’ Adolph asserted, half laughing. ‘Don’t give us orders.’

Tarcisio got up suddenly, leaning on the desk. ‘Don’t defy me, Adolph. Guardians of what? Of some bones that could belong to anyone and some documents that, with all due respect, could have been forged by Loyola?’

‘I disagree,’ Adolph warned. ‘Everything was analyzed scientifically. Everything is proved.’

‘It that right? Then you have until tomorrow to show me those results.’

‘I told you not to give me orders,’ Adolph repeated.

‘Do you want to know what I think?’ Tarcisio didn’t wait for his reply. ‘I think everything was a fraud. I don’t believe that Loyola brought back the bones of Christ.’

‘But you believe in the Gospel of Jesus,’ Adolph argued.

‘Because it in fact exists and was proved genuine. Scientifically dated, and I can show you the results. Whether it is the Gospel of Jesus or not, we’ll never know. As far as I’m concerned, He died on the cross, and everything else is fiction.’

‘In any case, there’s nothing you can do. This operation can’t be stopped. Tonight the gospel will be in our power,’ Adolph informed him again, cynically.

‘You’re deceived.’

‘You might be in the larger chair, but that doesn’t give you superior insight. Tonight the documents will be in the possession of the Society of Jesus, and then I shall communicate our demands to you,’ Adolph said sarcastically.

‘Why later and not now?’ the secretary asked.

‘Haven’t you understood me?’ Adolph was angry.

‘On the contrary. I understand you. But we’re going to do things differently.’

He pressed the button of the telephone on top of his desk, and in less time than it takes to say God, the doors of the office opened to admit Cardinal William, talking on a phone with two Swiss Guards at the ready.

‘What does this mean?’ Adolph asked in astonishment.

‘Yes, yes,’ William responded to the person on the other end of the line. ‘Just a minute. I’m going to transfer you.’

The prefect pressed a button on the phone and handed it to Tarcisio.

‘Is it on speakerphone?’ the secretary asked.

William nodded yes.

‘Good afternoon,’ Tarcisio said.

‘Good afternoon, Your Eminence,’ Jacopo’s voice replied.

‘Do you have any news for me?’

‘Everything went as planned. The church is in possession of Ben Isaac’s documents.’

‘Would you mind repeating that? I have someone here who didn’t quite hear,’ Tarcisio said, looking an incredulous Adolph in the eye.

‘The church is in possession of Ben Isaac’s documents,’ Jacopo repeated.

‘Thank you. We’ll talk later.’ He hung up without taking his eyes off the superior general of the Society of Jesus.

He wanted to laugh in Adolph’s face, but the moment demanded seriousness. For the first time in a long time, Tarcisio felt good. ‘You’re too late, Adolph. Later I’ll communicate my demands. Now get out of my presence.’