Part 19 (1/2)

There was a sudden pause-and then another voice came on.

”This is Father Bardoni. I work for the cardinal. What can I do for you?”

”Monsignor Grayson at Georgetown School of Law was kind enough to give me the cardinal's number before I left. He said that if I should need help, His Eminence would be more than willing to give it.”

HARRY WAITED ON THE BENCH until he saw Father Bardoni come down the steps and start down the block toward him. Getting up, he walked slowly toward a large fountain and the crowd cl.u.s.tered around it, people vainly attempting to escape the oppressive heat and humidity of this July Sunday afternoon. Harry was simply one among them, a priest, young and bearded, doing the same.

Looking back, he watched the young, tall priest with the dark, curly hair cross into the park. He walked casually, as if he were out for a stroll. Yet Harry could see him looking in his direction, trying to find him in the crowd around the fountain. It was the manner of a man not wanting to draw attention to himself or what he was doing, of someone on the spot and uncomfortable. Still, he was coming, and that was enough to tell Harry he'd been right. Danny was alive. And Marsciano knew where he was.

54.

HARRY STOOD WATCHING, HALF HIDDEN BY the children splas.h.i.+ng in the fountain in front of him, letting Father Bardoni find him in the crowd. Finally he did.

”You look different...” Father Bardoni came up to stand next to him, his eyes not on Harry but on the children shrieking and splas.h.i.+ng in the fountain. Harry was indeed thinner, the beard helped, and so did the priest's clothing and the black beret angled over his forehead.

”I want to meet with His Eminence.”

Both men talked quietly, watching the children, smiling when appropriate, enjoying their antics.

”I'm afraid that's not possible.”

”Why?”

”It just is.... His schedule is full...”

Harry turned to look at him. ”Bulls.h.i.+t.”

Father Bardoni let his eyes wander past Harry. ”On the hill behind you, Mr. Addison, are several carabinieri carabinieri on horse patrol. A little closer and to your right are two more on motorcycles.” His eyes came back to Harry. ”You are one of the two most wanted men in Italy.... By simply moving toward the police and waving my arms.... Do you understand?” on horse patrol. A little closer and to your right are two more on motorcycles.” His eyes came back to Harry. ”You are one of the two most wanted men in Italy.... By simply moving toward the police and waving my arms.... Do you understand?”

”My brother is alive, Father. And His Eminence knows where he is. Now, either he can take me to him himself, or we can call the police over here and let them convince him to do the same thing...”

Father Bardoni studied Harry carefully, then his gaze caught a man in a blue s.h.i.+rt on the far side of the fountain watching them.

”Perhaps we should go for a walk...”

HARRY SAW THE MAN as they left, moving out of the crowd, following them at a distance as they crossed an open gra.s.sy area and started down a paved walkway through the park.

”Who is he?” Harry pressed. ”The man in the blue s.h.i.+rt.”

Father Bardoni took his gla.s.ses off, rubbed them on his sleeve, then put them back on. Without them, he seemed stronger and more physical, and the thought crossed Harry's mind that he didn't need them at all, that they were there for effect in an attempt to soften his appearance. That maybe he was more like a bodyguard than a personal secretary. Or, if not that, a man much more involved with what was going on than he seemed to be.

”Mr. Addison-” Father Bardoni glanced over his shoulder. The man in the blue s.h.i.+rt was still following them. Abruptly he stopped. Deliberately letting the man catch up. ”He works for Farel,” he said quietly.

The man was up to them, nodding as he pa.s.sed. ”Buon giorno.”

”Buon giorno, ”Father Bardoni said in return.

Father Bardoni watched him go, then looked to Harry. ”You have no idea what's going on, or what you are getting into.”

”Why don't you tell me?”

Father Bardoni glanced after the man in the blue s.h.i.+rt. He was still walking up the path, moving away. Once again he took off his gla.s.ses and turned back to Harry.

”I will speak with the cardinal, Mr. Addison,” Father Bardoni acquiesced for the moment. ”I will tell him you wish to meet with him.”

”It's more than a wish, Father.”

Father Bardoni hesitated, as if he were judging Harry's determination, then slid the gla.s.ses back on. ”Where are you staying?” he asked. ”How can we get in touch with you?”

”I'm not sure, Father. It's best I get in touch with you.”

At the end of the pathway, the man in the blue s.h.i.+rt stopped and glanced back. When he did, he saw the two priests shake hands and then Father Bardoni turn and walk off, going back the way he had come. The other priest, the one in the black beret, watched him go, then, taking another path, walked away.

55.

CASTELLETTI TOOK A CIGARETTE FROM A pack on the table in front of him and started to light it. Then he saw Roscani staring at him.

”You want me to go outside?”

”No.”

Abruptly Roscani took a bite out of a carrot stick. ”Finish what you were saying,” he said, then, glancing at Scala, turned to stare at the bulletin board on the wall next to the window.

They were in Roscani's office, their jackets off, sleeves rolled up, talking over the din of the air conditioner. The detectives bringing Roscani current on their separate investigations.

Castelletti had traced the numbers on the Harry Addison videoca.s.sette and found it had been bought at a store on Via Frattina, which was little more than a five-minute walk from the Hotel Ha.s.sler and the American's room.

Scala, looking for the source of the bandage seen on Addison's forehead in the video, had canva.s.sed every street within a half-mile circ.u.mference of the site where Pio had been slain. In that area were twenty-seven physicians and three clinics. None had treated anyone matching Harry Addison's description the afternoon or evening of the murder. Furthermore, Roscani's request to have the video's image computer enhanced to get a more detailed look at the wallpaper behind Addison had proved a failure. There was simply not enough detail to find a clear pattern for a manufacturing source.

Crunching on his carrot, trying to ignore the sweet nicotine smell of Castelletti's cigarette, Roscani listened to it all. They had done their work and found nothing they could use; it was part of the game. Of far more interest was the bulletin board and the 3 5 cards listing the names of twenty-three of the twenty-four victims of the bombing of the a.s.sisi bus. Beside them were photographs, some recent, some old, collected from family archives, mostly of the mutilated dead.

Roscani, like Scala and Castelletti, had looked at the photos a hundred times. Saw them while falling asleep, while shaving, while driving. If Father Daniel was alive, whom had he replaced? Which one of the twenty-three others?