The Omega scroll

BOOK FOUR
1990
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Milano

A llegra was quietly confident. She had gained her Masters with Distinction and enjoyed some notable successes assisting Professor Rosselli researching archaeological DNA. The Professor had persuaded her to take her doctorate and the moment of truth had arrived. It was now two months since she’d handed in her doctoral thesis and it seemed that a little piece of her had gone with it. Three long years of painstaking research. She had been confident during the two hour grilling by the Examination Board, although Professor Rosselli had not looked at her when she left, so she was in a bit of a quandary as to how the oral exam might have gone. When she went over her responses, she realised that perhaps a different emphasis might have been given to the mitochondrial DNA, or to the links to dendrochronology, but it was too late for that and she knocked on Professor Rosselli’s door.

‘ Avanti! S’accomodi.’

Allegra had grown used to the smell of the Professor’s pipe and it no longer bothered her, which was just as well. Somewhere in amongst the smoke and the piles of books on philosophy and science there was a desk and a person. Her mentor had his back to her, busy at the smaller computer at his side desk, trademark white hair as untidy as ever, smoke spiralling above it. He swivelled back behind his main desk to face her, a look of puzzlement in his normally mischievous eyes.

‘Sit down, Allegra, he said, offering her the old ‘Captain’s Chair’ that leaned lopsidedly in front of the academic chaos on his desk.

‘So, how do you think your doctoral thesis might have been received by the Board?’ Rosselli was frowning now.

Allegra felt a small twinge of doubt. ‘I gave it my best shot, Antonio,’ she said.

‘Hmm,’ he responded with uncharacteristic haughtiness, and Allegra’s doubts gained ground.

Professor Rosselli rummaged in what passed for an in-tray, retrieving a letter from the pile, his quizzical look more evident now. ‘In your case the Board have reached an interesting conclusion, Dr Bassetti.’

Allegra braced herself for bad news.

‘You seem nervous?’

‘I am a bit.’

‘Not happy with the title?’

‘Of my thesis?’ she asked, puzzled now.

‘Doctor?’

Allegra looked at him uncomprehendingly and then realised what he’d called her. Her hand went to her mouth.

‘Oh. You mean I’ve been accepted?’

‘If you have a fault that needs correction, young lady,’ Professor Rosselli said, his frown replaced by a broad smile, his old eyes dancing with delight at the success of his subterfuge, ‘it is that you underestimate your abilities. You are confident enough on the outside, but I would like to see more from within.’ Professor Rosselli glanced at the letter.

‘The Board was unanimous. We thought it was one of the most outstanding doctoral theses on DNA that we have seen for a very long time. The Vatican will turn itself inside out to discredit your work, but we particularly liked your linkages to carbon dating and the Dead Sea Scrolls. Your theory that some of these scrolls date from around the time of Christ will no doubt stir up a hornet’s nest. My congratulations. An amazing piece of work, Dr Bassetti. I think the title suits you.’

‘I’ll try and get used to it,’ Allegra replied, her feelings a mixture of relief and exhilaration.

‘We intend to publish it widely, if that’s all right with you.’

‘I would take it as a compliment, Antonio.’

‘Good, because I am under some pressure from church groups to justify my views on the usefulness of scientific techniques in dating archaeological artefacts such as the Dead Sea Scrolls. I would like you to give a lecture on carbon dating, primarily for our students, but one that will also be open to the public. We’ve already put out some feelers and a lot of people want to come, including one group from the Buffett Evangelical Centre for Christ. As you might gather, they’re fundamentalist Christian and they want equal time to present proof from the Bible that the Earth is only a few thousand years old and that carbon dating is fatally flawed.’

Allegra rolled her eyes.

‘Don’t worry, I’m not about to let a scientific discussion be taken over by a bunch of fruit loops. I’ve given them a polite no to equal time, although of course they’re entitled to their wacky views and I’ve told them they are welcome to come.’

‘And are they?’ Allegra asked, suddenly concerned that she was being dragged back into a world of dogma from which she had long freed herself.

‘Welcome? On a par with your mother-in-law announcing she’s coming to live with you. Will they come? On a par with the sun rising tomorrow. They’re talking about sending one or two of their heavies over from their Atlanta headquarters, but you needn’t worry. I’ll be there to chair so they won’t be able to hijack question time.’

Allegra breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Are you sure you shouldn’t be giving this lecture, Antonio?’

The old maestro could have given the lecture with practised ease but he knew that the beautiful young woman on his staff possessed a very fine mind, and he was determined she should be given the opportunity to stretch her wings. Outside the University of Milano Dr Allegra Bassetti was still unknown but Rosselli knew that would change.

‘I could,’ he said, ‘but I won’t be here for ever. Sooner or later someone has to be around to take the place of old badgers like me. Besides, you’re just as qualified and a little easier on the eye. They can put up with me for the other half of the lecture, one which I have named “The lost civilisation of the Essenes, DNA and the Omega Scroll”.’

Allegra felt a chill. The Omega Scroll. The speculation had died down long ago and other than a passing reference Professor Rosselli hadn’t brought it up. Why now, she wondered.

‘Do you think that’s wise, Antonio. The Omega Scroll seems to be the Essene’s version of the curse of the Pharaohs.’

‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘I’m convinced Professor Fiorini was murdered, but I’m equally convinced that was because he was about to link the Vatican to the Omega Scroll.’

‘You spoke to him before he disappeared?’

‘Only a brief phone call. He didn’t want to say too much over the phone but he told me he had some exciting news about the Omega Scroll. He disappeared before we could talk.’

‘Why are you including it in your lecture?’

‘Firstly, I’m not going to mention the Vatican and secondly, my friend Professor Kaufmann, who I would like you to meet one day, has unearthed some interesting links between DNA and the Essenes. Don’t worry, I doubt the Vatican will show the slightest interest.’

Cardinal Lorenzo Petroni saw the last but one of his dinner guests to the door. The Minister for Finance, the editor of the influential Milano Finanza and Milano’s Il Capo di Guardia di Finanza. The guest list for dinner had also included three merchant bankers and the CEO of Cologne Constructions, one of Europe’s largest property developers. Petroni’s remaining guest, Giorgio Felici, was enjoying a Remy Martin Louis XIII Cognac by the fire in the Cardinal’s study.

‘ Allora, I think that went fairly well, Giorgio?’ Petroni said on his return.

‘Some useful contacts, Lorenzo, for when you become Cardinal Secretary of State, non e vero?’

Lorenzo Petroni eyed the little Sicilian without expression. Giorgio Felici had his uses, and when Petroni had last been at the helm of the Vatican Bank he had persuaded the Holy Father that he should appoint Giorgio Felici as his financial adviser. The Pope had agreed and the Vatican award of ‘Gentleman of His Holiness’ had been promptly bestowed on the merchant banker from Milano. In the years that he’d been out of the Vatican as Cardinal Archbishop of Milano, Petroni had come to regret the arrangement intensely. The Vatican Bank holdings had become so large that Felici had acquired direct access to the Papal Apartments. Petroni had been trying to find a way to restore his own control and have Felici report through him, and now, he reflected with more than a little satisfaction, that could be done. The previous day, His Holiness had announced that Cardinal Lorenzo Petroni would take over as the Vatican’s Cardinal Secretary of State. Petroni had received the news calmly. It was, he thought, part of the natural progression and he was finally within striking distance of his ultimate goal. The Pope, Petroni had noted, kept a gruelling schedule and his health seemed unusually robust, but time would tell.

‘When do you plan to take up your appointment?’ Giorgio asked.

‘I leave for Rome next Tuesday.’

‘Perhaps it is not a moment too soon, Lorenzo.’

‘Oh?’ Petroni replied off-handedly, but he was instantly alert.

‘The new Director of the Bank, Monsignor Pasquale Garibaldi, will need to be replaced.’

Petroni’s expression gave nothing away. When Garibaldi had been first mooted as a candidate he had tried to have his appointment stopped. Garibaldi had a reputation for scrupulous honesty and transparency.

‘Monsignor Garibaldi has confided in me that he has found some irregularities in the accounts. It seems he may have twigged to our double invoicing scheme,’ Giorgio Felici said quietly.

Petroni felt his pulse quicken but he said nothing. An earlier scheme had come perilously close to landing Petroni in gaol, but after the death of Pope John Paul I, Felici and Petroni had resurrected the scheme. Petroni had retained control of the Vatican Bank, and he had not been able to resist the thrill of millions of dollars pouring into the Papal coffers through a subsidiary bank that was jointly owned by Felici and the Vatican. Thousands of false and artificially low invoices from Felici’s trading companies were sent to the Tax Office through the Bank of Italy. The false invoices attracted much less tax and the difference on the real invoices would be paid in cash by the receiving companies overseas and channelled back to Felici and the Vatican Bank. For the scheme to succeed the necessary bribes were being paid to government officials, but the Vatican Bank also had to be watertight.

‘I have told Monsignor Garibaldi he is to continue his investigation, and that I am very keen for the Vatican Bank to overcome its earlier, shall we say, difficulties and that he is to report directly to me. I have bought us some time, but he will need to be dealt with quickly.’ Giorgio’s smile was humourless.

‘You can leave that problem with me,’ Petroni said, irritated by the Sicilian’s superior manner. ‘In the meantime, there is a more pressing issue. Professor Antonio Rosselli is planning to give a lecture next week on the Omega Scroll. I have an advance copy of the text.’

‘Not provided by him,’ Felici observed with a touch of sarcasm.

‘You are not the only one who is well connected in Milano, Georgio,’ Petroni replied. ‘It is not only his lecture. I have received word that Rosselli has been in contact with an Israeli mathematician and as a result, Rosselli’s investigation into the Omega Scroll is gathering pace. Rosselli has to be stopped.’

‘That will attract a lot of heat, Lorenzo,’ Felici said. ‘It’s likely to focus attention back on the Vatican and the death of Pope John Paul I, and that might be awkward.’

‘These things are always temporary, Giorgio, and as Secretary of State I will be well positioned to handle any upstarts from the media. Rosselli’s theories are one thing, but connecting them with the Omega Scroll is quite another. The Holy Church must be protected, and I suggest you leave the theology to me. You do your job, and I’ll do mine.’

Felici smiled.

‘It will be expensive,’ he said, not caring too much about the reasons behind Petroni’s burning desire to rid himself of the troublesome Professor at Ca’ Granda. Felici’s voice held a faint hint of admiration for a cold-blooded ruthlessness that matched his own.

The same day that Lorenzo Petroni took up his appointment as Cardinal Secretary of State, Giorgio Felici dressed in a pair of dirty overalls and a paint-spattered cap and headed for the University of Milano. The students and faculty at Ca’ Granda took no notice as he walked into the grounds through the rear car park and up some narrow steps that led past the Faculty of Philosophy towards the main quadrangles. Felici had memorised the map of the university grounds and he made his way unerringly down the corridor that housed the offices of Professor Rosselli and Dr Bassetti. Satisfied, he made his way across to the faculty theatre where Bassetti’s and Rosselli’s lectures were scheduled to be held. Given the choice he decided on the theatre. The office block was too confined whereas the external fire escape from the mezzanine floor that housed the theatre projection facilities provided direct access to the car park below. The locks on the doors to the projector room were standard and Giorgio’s third key fitted perfectly.

Roma

The Holy Father’s first meeting with his new Secretary of State had gone well until Petroni was surprised and annoyed over a trivial matter exercising the Holy Father’s mind.

‘I understand that Father Donelli is presently serving in the Middle East, Lorenzo.’

‘A most promising priest, Holiness. He was sent there to broaden his experience.’

‘How long has he been there?’ the Pope asked.

Lorenzo Petroni was on guard, but not quickly enough, and he instantly regretted the tactical slip of acknowledging the ability of the dangerously competent Donelli.

‘I’m not sure, Holiness,’ Petroni lied easily. ‘Perhaps eighteen months.’

‘I think you will find it is longer than that, if my sources are accurate.’

Inwardly Cardinal Petroni was fuming; outwardly he maintained his practised calm and said nothing, waiting for the old Pope’s next move. The first Vatican Council might have agreed in 1870 that the Holy Father was infallible but the new Cardinal Secretary of State was determined to curb the Holy Father’s power if it wasn’t being used correctly. When it suited Petroni there could be a degree of fallibility in the infallible.

‘More than five years, in fact,’ the old Pope said. ‘I’m not sure why we sent him to the Middle East for such a long period but I understand he’s been serving in a small village that is part Christian and part Muslim. We may be able to use, as you put it, his “broader experience” here in the Vatican.’

‘What did you have in mind, Holiness?’ Petroni asked warily.

‘The rise of Islam is an interesting phenomenon,’ the Pope replied enigmatically. ‘A very real threat to the true Faith. Perhaps it is time we had a closer look as to what our response to it might be, and to the other faiths, especially Judaism. It would seem that a man of Father Donelli’s talent and experience might be an excellent choice for such a task. Do you think you could find a position for him? As a bishop?’ His Holiness asked.

Petroni suppressed his anger. ‘I will look into it, Holiness. There are probably no positions immediately vacant but I’m sure a suitable appointment can be found over time.’ Lorenzo Petroni was far too adroit to make an outright refusal of the old Pope’s request. Far better to accede and give the impression that the request would be actioned.

The Pope had also been around Vatican politics for a long time and he was not about to be put off by his most senior bureaucrat.

‘We had hoped that we could do it more quickly than that. We are desirous of bringing the best available talent into the Vatican where it can be most effective. Islam is a very real threat and, as you pointed out at the beginning of our conversation, Father Donelli is a most promising priest. One day, Lorenzo, you and I will need to be replaced.’

Yes, Petroni thought, you have been Pope for a long time. Too long.

‘Of course, Holiness, but promotion?’ Petroni persisted. ‘There are many others with longer experience and greater claims? Such an early promotion might cause resentment, but more importantly I would be concerned that it might actually jeopardise Father Donelli’s career if we put too much responsibility on him before he is ready.’ Petroni maintained a look of polite concern. In the face of the stubborn old Pope’s pointed resort to the royal ‘we’, his mind went into tactical overdrive. He needed to appeal to the Pope’s sense of fairness and get him to change direction rather than appear to be resisting.

‘I have met Father Donelli and I’m sure he will handle an important policy area like inter-faith dialogue very well, and I would hardly term it an early promotion,’ the Pope added meaningfully.

‘Of course, Holiness.’

Comprehensively outmanoeuvred, the Secretary of State stormed back to his office, his lips compressed into a thin line of fury. Bishop Donelli would now need very careful watching.