Part 1 (1/2)

Day of Confession.

by Allan Folsom.

Prologue.

Rome. Sunday, June 28.

TODAY HE CALLED HIMSELF S S AND LOOKED startlingly like Miguel Valera, the thirty-seven-year-old Spaniard spinning in a light, drug-induced sleep across the room. The apartment they were in was nothing, just two rooms with a tiny kitchen and bath, the fifth floor up from the street. The furnis.h.i.+ngs were worn and inexpensive, common in a place rented by the week. The most prominent pieces were the faded velvet couch on which the Spaniard reclined and the small drop leaf table under the front window, where AND LOOKED startlingly like Miguel Valera, the thirty-seven-year-old Spaniard spinning in a light, drug-induced sleep across the room. The apartment they were in was nothing, just two rooms with a tiny kitchen and bath, the fifth floor up from the street. The furnis.h.i.+ngs were worn and inexpensive, common in a place rented by the week. The most prominent pieces were the faded velvet couch on which the Spaniard reclined and the small drop leaf table under the front window, where S S stood looking out. stood looking out.

So the apartment was nothing. What sold it was the view-the green of the Piazza San Giovanni and across it, the imposing medieval Basilica of St. John in the Lateran, the Cathedral of Rome and ”mother of all churches,” founded by the Emperor Constantine in the year 313. Today the view from the window was even better than its promise. Inside the basilica, Giacomo Pecci, Pope Leo XIV, was celebrating ma.s.s on his seventy-fifth birthday, and an enormous crowd overflowed the piazza, making it seem as if all Rome were celebrating with him.

Running a hand through his dyed-black hair, S S glanced at Valera. In ten minutes his eyes would open. In twenty he would be alert and functional. Abruptly glanced at Valera. In ten minutes his eyes would open. In twenty he would be alert and functional. Abruptly S S turned and let his gaze fall on an ancient black-and-white television in the corner. On its screen was a live broadcast from the ma.s.s inside the basilica. turned and let his gaze fall on an ancient black-and-white television in the corner. On its screen was a live broadcast from the ma.s.s inside the basilica.

The pope, in white liturgical vestments, watched the faces of the wors.h.i.+pers in front of him as he spoke, his eyes meeting theirs energetically, hopefully, spiritually. He loved and they loved in return, and it seemed to give him a youthful renewal despite his age and slowly declining health.

Now the television cameras cut away, finding familiar faces of politicians, celebrities, and business leaders among those inside the packed basilica. Then the cameras moved on, fixing briefly on five clergymen seated behind the pontiff. These were his longtime advisers. His uomini di fiducia uomini di fiducia. Men of trust. As a group, probably the most influential authority within the Roman Catholic Church.

- Cardinal Umberto Palestrina, 62. A Naples street urchin and orphan become Vatican secretariat of state. Enormously popular within the Church and carried in the same high regard by the secular international diplomatic community. Ma.s.sive physically, six foot seven and 270 pounds.

- Rosario Parma, 67. Cardinal vicar of Rome, tall, severe, conservative prelate from Florence in whose diocese and church the ma.s.s was being celebrated.

- Cardinal Joseph Matadi, 57, prefect of the Congregation of Bishops. Native of Zaire. Broad shouldered, jovial, widely traveled, multilingual, diplomatically astute.

- Monsignor Fabio Capizzi, 62, director general of the Vatican Bank. Native of Milan. Graduate of Oxford and Yale, self-made millionaire before joining the seminary at age thirty.

- Cardinal Nicola Marsciano, 60, eldest son of a Tuscan farmer, educated in Switzerland and Rome, president of the Administration of the Patrimony of the Apostolic See; as such, chief overseer of the Vatican's investments.

CLICK.

The gloved hand of S S turned off the television, and he stepped again to the table in front of the window. Behind him Miguel Valera coughed and moved involuntarily on the sofa. turned off the television, and he stepped again to the table in front of the window. Behind him Miguel Valera coughed and moved involuntarily on the sofa. S S glanced at him, then looked back out the window. Police barricades had been set up to keep the crowd from the cobblestones directly in front of the basilica, and now mounted police on horseback took up positions on either side of its bronze central entrance gate. Behind them and to the left, out of sight of the crowd, glanced at him, then looked back out the window. Police barricades had been set up to keep the crowd from the cobblestones directly in front of the basilica, and now mounted police on horseback took up positions on either side of its bronze central entrance gate. Behind them and to the left, out of sight of the crowd, S S could see a dozen dark blue vans. In front of them stood a phalanx of riot police, also out of sight, but ready if needed. Abruptly four dark Lancias, unmarked cars of the Polizia di Stato, the police force protecting the pope and his cardinals outside the Vatican, pulled up and stopped at the foot of the basilica's steps, waiting to take the pope and his cardinals back to the Vatican. could see a dozen dark blue vans. In front of them stood a phalanx of riot police, also out of sight, but ready if needed. Abruptly four dark Lancias, unmarked cars of the Polizia di Stato, the police force protecting the pope and his cardinals outside the Vatican, pulled up and stopped at the foot of the basilica's steps, waiting to take the pope and his cardinals back to the Vatican.

Suddenly the bronze gates swung open and there was a roar from the crowd. At the same time seemingly every church bell in Rome began to ring. For a moment nothing happened. Then, above the din of the bells, S S heard a second roar as the pope appeared, the white of his ca.s.sock standing out clearly against a sea of red as his men of trust walked close behind him-the group surrounded tightly by security men wearing black suits and sungla.s.ses. heard a second roar as the pope appeared, the white of his ca.s.sock standing out clearly against a sea of red as his men of trust walked close behind him-the group surrounded tightly by security men wearing black suits and sungla.s.ses.

Valera groaned, his eyes flickered, and he tried to roll over. S S glanced at him, but only for an instant. Then he turned and lifted something covered with an ordinary bath towel from the shadows beside the window. Setting it on the table, he took away the towel and put his eye to the scope of a Finnish sniper rifle. Instantly his view of the basilica magnified a hundredfold. In the same moment, Cardinal Palestrina stepped forward and fully into its circular frame, its crosshairs meeting directly over his broad grin. glanced at him, but only for an instant. Then he turned and lifted something covered with an ordinary bath towel from the shadows beside the window. Setting it on the table, he took away the towel and put his eye to the scope of a Finnish sniper rifle. Instantly his view of the basilica magnified a hundredfold. In the same moment, Cardinal Palestrina stepped forward and fully into its circular frame, its crosshairs meeting directly over his broad grin. S S took a breath and held it, letting his gloved forefinger ease against the trigger. took a breath and held it, letting his gloved forefinger ease against the trigger.

Abruptly Palestrina stepped aside, and the rifle's scope came tight on Cardinal Marsciano's chest. S S heard Valera grunt behind him. Ignoring him, he swung the rifle left through a blur of cardinal red until he saw the white of Leo XIV's ca.s.sock. A split second later the crosshairs centered between his heard Valera grunt behind him. Ignoring him, he swung the rifle left through a blur of cardinal red until he saw the white of Leo XIV's ca.s.sock. A split second later the crosshairs centered between his eyes eyes just above the bridge of his nose. just above the bridge of his nose.

Behind him Valera yelled something out loud. Again, S S ignored him. His finger tightened against the trigger as the pope lurched forward, past a security man, smiling and waving at the crowd. Then, abruptly, ignored him. His finger tightened against the trigger as the pope lurched forward, past a security man, smiling and waving at the crowd. Then, abruptly, S S swung the rifle right, bringing the mesh of crosshairs full on the gold pectoral cross of Rosario Parma, the cardinal vicar of Rome. swung the rifle right, bringing the mesh of crosshairs full on the gold pectoral cross of Rosario Parma, the cardinal vicar of Rome. S S gave no expression, simply squeezed the trigger three times in rapid succession, rocking the room with thundering discharge and, two hundred yards away, showering Pope Leo XIV, Giacomo Pecci, and those around him with the blood of a man of trust. gave no expression, simply squeezed the trigger three times in rapid succession, rocking the room with thundering discharge and, two hundred yards away, showering Pope Leo XIV, Giacomo Pecci, and those around him with the blood of a man of trust.

1.

Los Angeles. Thursday, July 2, 9:00 P.M.

THE VOICE ON THE ANSWERING MACHINE resonated with fear.

”Harry, it's your brother, Danny.... I... don't mean to call you like this... after so much time.... But... there's... no one else I can talk to.... I'm scared, Harry.... I don't know what to do... or... what will happen next. G.o.d help me. If you're there, please pick up-Harry, are you there?-I guess not.... I'll try to call you back.”

”Dammit.”

Harry Addison hung up the car phone, kept his hand on it, then picked it up again and pushed REDIAL REDIAL. He heard the digital tones as the numbers redialed automatically. Then there was silence, and then the measured ”buzz, buzz,” ”buzz, buzz” of the Italian phone system as the call rang through.

”Come on, Danny, answer...”

After the twelfth ring Harry set the receiver back in its cradle and looked off, the lights of oncoming traffic dancing over his face, making him lose track of where he was-in a limousine with his driver on a race to the airport to make the ten-o'clock red-eye to New York.

It was nine at night in L.A., six in the morning in Rome. Where would a priest be at six in the morning? An early ma.s.s? Maybe that's where he was and why he wasn't answering.

”Harry, it's your brother, Danny.... I'm scared.... I don't know what to do.... G.o.d help me.”

”Jesus Christ.” Harry felt helplessness and panic at the same time. Not a word or a note between them in years, and then there was Danny's voice on Harry's answering machine, jumping out suddenly among a string of others. And not just a voice, but someone in grave trouble.

Harry had heard a rustling as though Danny was starting to hang up, but then he had come back on the line and left his phone number, asking Harry to please call if he got in soon. For Harry, soon was moments ago, when he'd picked up the calls from his home machine. But Danny's call had come two hours earlier, at a little after seven California time, just after four in the morning in Rome-what the h.e.l.l had soon soon meant to him at that time of day? meant to him at that time of day?

Picking up the phone again, Harry dialed his law office in Beverly Hills. There had been an important partners' meeting. People might still be there.

”Joyce, it's Harry. Is Byron-?”

”He just left, Mr. Addison. You want me to try his car?”

”Please.”

Harry heard the static as Byron Willis's secretary tried to connect with his car phone.

”I'm sorry, he's not picking up. He said something about dinner. Should I leave word at the house?”

There was a blur of lights, and Harry felt the limo lean as the driver took the cloverleaf off the Ventura Freeway and accelerated into traffic on the San Diego, heading south toward LAX. Take it easy, he thought. Danny could be at ma.s.s or at work or out for a walk. Don't start driving yourself or other people crazy when you don't even know what's going on.

”No, never mind. I'm on my way to New York. I'll get him in the morning. Thanks.”

Clicking off, Harry hesitated, then tried Rome once more. He heard the same digital sounds, the same silence, and then the now-familiar ”buzz, buzz,” ”buzz, buzz” as the phone rang through. There was still no answer.

2.

Italy. Friday, July 3, 10:20 A.M A.M.

FATHER DANIEL ADDISON DOZED LIGHTLY in a window seat near the back of the tour bus, his senses purposefully concentrated on the soft whine of the diesel and hum of the tires as the coach moved north along the Autostrada toward a.s.sisi.

Dressed in civilian clothes, he had his clerical garments and toiletries in a small bag on the overhead rack above, his gla.s.ses and identification papers tucked into the inside pocket of the nylon windbreaker he wore over jeans and a short-sleeved s.h.i.+rt. Father Daniel was thirty-three and looked like a graduate student, an everyday tourist traveling alone. Which was what he wanted.