Father Thomas Moynihan crossed left leg over right and let his wide-brimmed black felt hat balance on his knee. The walk from his office within the walls of the Vatican to the Antico Café Ruschena was a mere 1,500 metres, yet even on this late day in March, the Italian sun still possessed considerable strength. The walk brought colour to his cheeks and a sheen of perspiration to his brow.
Across the street, the leaves of the plane trees lining the roadway shone in varying shades of green. Thankfully, the restaurant’s façade blocked the late-afternoon sun and bathed their table in shadows.
This afternoon’s appointment sat next to him, perusing both the menu and the scantily dressed young ladies passing by on the street. Both men faced the river walk running alongside the Tiber. The river hidden from sight, but the occasional rumble of a diesel engine from a passing barge kept them in tune to its presence.
The elderly waiter stood poised, pencil in hand, to take down their orders. Across from Thomas the tall, thin, man with slicked-back black hair and a pencil-thin moustache ordered a cappuccino and biscotti before handing the waiter his menu.
Father Thomas ordered the same a moment before his mobile phone began vibrating in his inside coat pocket. A quick look at the display told him it wasn’t the Irishman calling again, but his brother.
He rose from the table and for privacy walked away a few steps.
William! How is my brother doing?
Not so well, I had a call just now from Eamonn Mahoney.
Thomas glanced back at the man sitting at the table and took a few more steps.
Did you hear me?
I did, William. I did. What did he want?
He’s got it into his head you’re trying to kill him. I know it sounds crazy, but tell me it isn’t true, Thomas.
William, of course not. We’ve enjoyed some successful business dealings, but I believe those have now come to a conclusion. I don’t anticipate any further contact with the man.
It was true, Dominic Previti advised him earlier in the week it would be best for all concerned to terminate his association with Eamonn. He’d contacted the lawyer several weeks earlier to look into a possible leak based on the information passed along by William. Dominic’s recommendation being all he needed. Thomas not requiring further clarification.
Of course, he lamented, the loss of revenue was a shame. But fate still smiled upon him; it would soon be replaced tenfold courtesy of the man sitting at the table behind him.
Thomas watched a group of young schoolchildren walk hand-in-hand along the footpath and smiled at the young female teacher leading the procession.
What else did Mahoney have to say?
He wants you to call off the dogs, Thomas. Or he’d set his own upon me, then share certain business dealings with the press. He’s got powerful friends over here, Thomas. And if anything happens to him they’ll…
William’s voice continued to rise in pitch as he explained to his brother the situation.
He theorised – Dominic – it has to be, taking matters to the extreme. Now he questioned if he’d unwittingly placed his brother in danger.
William cut the connection.
Thomas stared blankly at his mobile before walking back to the dark-haired man at the table sliding a small sliver of biscotti into his mouth.
Is everything okay, Father?
Yes, yes, just some family business.
The waiter brought his coffee and Thomas stirred in a spoonful of sugar. He sipped his cappuccino before continuing.
He placed Dominic Previti’s business card on the table. It was quickly scooped up by the dark-haired man.
As well as speaking to him about another matter of a more personal nature, he reminded himself.
The grin from the dark-haired man revealed a rotten stump where a once healthy incisor resided. His name was Thiago Miele, a government functionary for the State of Rio de Janeiro. In his role with the Vatican Bank, Thomas didn’t expect to enjoy working with everyone he came in contact. But the man across from him left a particularly bad taste in his mouth – much like the rotten stump.
Thomas felt the tickle of a small amount of foam from his cappuccino collect at the corner of his mouth. Lifting the serviette lying beside his plate, he wiped it away, then wiped the image of the blackened tooth from his mind.
Tell me again about your role in the preparations for the upcoming Olympics.