One of the first changes made by the newly elected Pope Francis was to move his formal rooms away from the traditional locale of the Apostolic Palace to a more austere location across Vatican City. Many saw the move as one of the first signs of a more circumspect reign, of a need to get closer to the people. Others, with a more cynical eye, presumed it was to remove himself from the stench emanating from the offices of the Institute for the Works of Religion.
Established in 1942 by Pope Pius XII, the Institute for the Works of Religion (IOR) – or better known as the Vatican Bank – ostensibly handled the vast financial empire of the Catholic Church. The IOR oversees more than €5 billion in assets for its 15,000 institutional and individual clients.
Until 2013, the figure was closer to 19,000, then the walls began to crumble, though this was hardly unchartered territory. The IOR emerged from the Second World War with its wealth intact; albeit due to some very shady dealings with the Nazis. Later, in the 1980s, the democracies of the West politely turned away when the IOR, with CIA involvement, helped fund the solidarity movement in Poland and the Contra rebels in Nicaragua. However, the worldwide financial crisis of 2008 opened Pandora’s Box and exposed the IOR once again to the world’s harsh glare. Not the least of which was its role in the wholesale laundering of money.
Money laundering was nothing new for the IOR having, lamentably, not learnt its lesson from 1982 and its murky dealings with Milan’s Banco Ambrosiano. The IOR, the largest shareholder in the Milanese bank, used it as a conduit to funnel funds to various anti-communist causes around the globe. However, this proved to be one of the lesser of Banco Ambrosiano’s misdeeds. During an audit in 1982 over $1.2 billion could not be accounted for. Criminal charges soon followed which included, amongst others, the Milanese bank’s chairman, Roberto Calvi.
In the ensuing political scandal caused by the bank’s failure, caught short was one extremely influential customer. The exact amount the Sicilian Mafia lost in the fiasco was never fully revealed. The Chairman, Roberto Calvi, may have been able to give an approximate answer; however, using a fake passport he promptly disappeared.
Rumour has it the Sicilian Mafia was the first to track him down. Calvi was discovered two weeks after his disappearance hanging from the scaffolding under Blackfriars Bridge in London. The cause of death, initially ruled a suicide, later amended to murder.
In 2010, after €23 million in assets were seized from the IOR by Italian magistrates for continual and systemic violations of money laundering regulations, decades of malfeasance finally caught the Holy See’s attention and brought about a rash of reform measures at the beleaguered institution.
Father Thomas Moynihan was one of the new breed at the IOR. Brought in under the new leadership, and determined not to fall into the same traps befalling his predecessors. Thomas, educated at Trinity College in Dublin, later followed in the footsteps of his older brother, William, and entered the priesthood. His background in finance dovetailed perfectly with the needs of the IOR, and he’d more than distinguished himself over the past two years.
Thomas locked his desk drawer, logged off from his computer terminal and pushed away from his desk. He glanced briefly at his Bulova watch, realising he needed to hurry if he wasn’t to be late for his 1:00 appointment. Tall, athletically built, with thick black hair and piercing blue eyes, Thomas was forever drawing furtive glances from the women of Rome. Not immune to the attention, he still wasn’t quite sure if the clerical collar added to or subtracted from the attraction.
He exited the bank’s offices using the private hallway leading to the elevator installed by Pope John-Paul II to reach his third-floor rooms. From there, it was but a short walk past the Swiss guards manning the gates of the Via di Porta Angelica. The 16th-century gates formed part of the Leonine Wall separating the city state from the streets of Rome. Thomas smiled and saluted the Guards, his briefcase swinging from his left hand as he passed. He continued along the Borgo Pio making his way east, the busy thoroughfare bursting with tourists. Winding his way through the congested Roman streets, he soon reached the expansive Parco Adriano. Thomas continued through the park to his south-east and crossed the 2nd-century Sant’Angelo Bridge over the Tiber. He reached his destination, the Piazza Lancelotti, a few minutes later.
Thomas pressed the second intercom button from the top and was, within seconds, buzzed into the cramped foyer. As he climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, he heard a door open, and a familiar voice beckon him.
Father Thomas Moynihan smiled, entered the small flat they’d established as a safe meeting place and shook the hand of his countryman and client.
The flat was sparsely furnished, the walls bare. Motes of dust illuminated by a shaft of sunlight streaming in through the kitchen window danced in the musty air. No tenant resided here. More business office than bedsit. Eamonn wondered how many other benefactors of the Holy See were met by the elderly landlady downstairs, then slowly followed her stooped frame up the stairs to wait patiently for the priest?
Thomas laughed as he patted Eamonn on the shoulder.
He glanced at the three backpacks lying on the kitchen table.
It’s true. Not a lot, I’m afraid, but should be good for a miracle or two.
So how is my brother, William, back in frigid old Dublin? I understand his parish is doing particularly well these days.
Eamonn nodded and smiled.
He is. He is. You know we take care of our people, and it was he putting me in touch with you that has made it all possible.
You’re a smart man, Eamonn, and you know not to get greedy. Moving the money in as you do makes it a simple task for me.
Well, I must say, I did learn from your predecessor’s mistakes. Stupid bloody Scarano, what the hell was he thinking?
The man Eamonn referred to being Monsignor Nunzio Scarano. The infamous Monsignor arrested, along with two accomplices, in 2013 for attempting to smuggle €20 million across the Swiss border into Italy by private plane. Eamonn’s efforts over the past 14 months had grossed only a touch over €10 million but at far less risk.
You’re right Eamonn, but it is a thankless job with which we are tasked. The good works the Church does all over the world, if they are to continue, needs a steady cash flow.
Well, I’m glad our organization can do its part to help.
Aye. You, and let’s say, a few others, make a huge difference.
To put it mildly, Eamonn thought, he knew back in 2013 at the height of the purge going on within the Vatican Bank annual net profits fell to less than €3 million. Just a year later, the IOR reported a profit of over €69 million. Although he was a firm believer in the limitless power of the heavenly Father above, Eamonn found it hard to believe divine intervention accounted for that degree of success in their securities trading department.
Well, I must be getting along. I have a flight to catch.
When will I see you again?
Sometime in the new year. I’ll let the dust settle for a while, take a wee break for the holidays, then start planning the next operation.
Say hello to William, will you? Safe travels my friend. Your associates will see the deposit in their account within the next few days.
The two men shook hands at the door before Eamonn descended the stairs. Father Thomas Moynihan watched the back of his countryman drop out of sight before ducking back inside. He carefully wiped his prints from each surface he’d touched, then loaded the contents of one backpack into his empty briefcase and carried the other two, as well as the now empty one, in his other hand.
Thomas locked the flat then climbed the stairs to the top floor. Drawing another key, he unlocked the door and placed the backpacks in his bedroom closet. Eamonn, among others, had no need to know the priest lived in this same building. Just another added layer of security.
Fifteen minutes later, he walked back through the Porta Angelica, the briefcase in his left hand swinging back and forth with the motion of his arm. He waved to the Swiss Guards on duty. To them, just another priest coming back to work after a late lunch. The only danger for Father Thomas was on the off-chance of being searched by an overzealous Swiss Guard; however, a briefcase drew scant attention. And the guards were there to protect, not hassle, their paymasters.
Over the course of the next two days, he’d spirit the remaining cash into Vatican City in the same manner. Once safely within the ancient walls, the church being such a cash intensive business, the rest was child’s play: Firstly, he’d quietly deposit the money into the vault of the IOR. Then, as part of his job duties, both falsify and file the necessary paperwork to fulfil bank regulations. Lastly, came the disbursement of funds. Twenty per cent remained with the Church for use in the funding of worthy causes worldwide; the other 80% wired to a numbered account at a private bank in the Channel Islands. An account to which only one person within Sinn Fein had access.
Father Thomas Moynihan neither knew nor cared who that person was.