‘$600 million?’ said Fouquet. ‘That’s almost double—’
‘Cardinal, de Ségur knows you can’t negotiate,’ said Dulac. ‘He could have asked for the moon and gotten it.’
‘What do we do now?’ asked Sforza to the cardinals.
‘You prepare the payment and await their instructions,’ said Dulac.
‘What about Interpol?’ said Sforza.
‘I’m sure we’re trying to trace that transmission as we speak. I’ll let you know as soon as I have something,’ said Dulac.
‘We will meet in the Segnatura room at 1 p.m. this afternoon,’ said Legnano.
After a speedy gnocchi lunch at Cantabile’s, Dulac, in his taxi on the way back to the Vatican, had just gotten off the phone with Harris when his cell rang again. It was Guadagni.
‘We have confirmation that the ear’s DNA matches the Pope’s.’
‘Great,’ said Dulac, not overly enthused to hear what he already knew.
‘Also, de Ségur is starting to slip. We decoded their encryptions and went through their firewalls and have a fix on the transmission: it came from a small town outside of Benghazi.’
‘Just a minute.’ Dulac got out of the taxi and headed for the Sant’Anna entrance, phone in hand. ‘Yes. I’ve gotten the same info from our Lyon office. I’ve just finished talking to Harris.’
‘So what’s the plan?’
‘We don’t know what de Ségur intends to do. If, of course, the Vatican pays him.’
‘They have no choice. What does Harris think?’ said Guadagni.
‘In anticipation that the Vatican will pay the $600 million before 2 p.m. today and de Ségur delivers his side of the bargain and leaves the Pope and Bruscetti in Libya, Harris has spoken with the French and German foreign affairs ministers. He says we have a problem. If Ali al Kargali Kargali gets wind that the Pope is in Libya, you can be sure the crafty Colonel won’t just let us walk in and rescue the Pope. That bastard de Ségur knows this.’
‘So by going to Benghazi, he’s bought himself time and protection.’
‘Exactly. That’s probably why the second transmission was easy to break into.’ ‘But what about the French interests there?’ said Guadagni.
‘Not enough. Nor are the German,’ said Dulac.
‘Kargali would look like a hero to the Western world if he were to save the Pope.’
‘Correct.’
‘I don’t follow,’ said Guadagni.
‘I suggest to you that his Muslim friends wouldn’t appreciate him going that far. As a serious candidate for the directorship of the Arab League, he won’t want to alienate half of Islam. Once Kargali becomes aware that the Pope is sitting in his backyard, he’ll have the hottest diplomatic potato under the Arab sun. There is no way of knowing what Kargali will do. He’s about as predictable as tomorrow’s stock market.’
‘We could go in sub rosa, and when—’
‘—when we screw up, we’ll have a dead pope, de Ségur will be gone and to top it off we’ll have a diplomatic row with the Libyans.’
Dulac nodded to the Swiss Guards, standing at the entrance to the Segnatura room.
‘Hmm. Any ideas?’ Guadagni continued.
‘I have to ring off.’ Dulac flipped his phone shut.
The prelates were talking excitedly when Dulac entered the Segnatura and sat down. ‘Your Eminences, we have their position. They’re twenty miles south-east of Benghazi, near a small town called Suluq. The General Secretary is awaiting your instructions.’
‘Our instructions?’ said Legnano, looking perplexed.
‘Harris wants to know if you want to risk alerting the Libyans.’
‘Why not?’
‘Your Eminences, if we contact the Libyans, consider that the Libyans might move in, the kidnappers could panic and kill the Pope. Or, the Libyans could botch the job and in a skirmish, the Pope gets killed, or the Libyans secure the perimeter and save the Pope. Fine, but now you have to bargain with Kargali for the return of the Pope.’
‘I see. And what are the alternatives, Mr Dulac?’ asked Legnano, his confidence visibly shaken.
‘Better a devil you know than one you don’t.’
‘What makes you so sure de Ségur isn’t, how you say, in bed with Kargali?’ asked Legnano.
‘De Ségur informing the unpredictable, grandstanding colonel and risk losing control over his precious asset? I doubt it,’ said Dulac.
‘I see,’ said Legnano, shooting occasional glances at the prelates. ‘But what guarantees do we have they won’t kill him anyway?’
‘Other than de Ségur being labeled a stupid, senseless, psychopathic killer, none.’
‘Not very reassuring, Mr Dulac,’ said Legnano.
‘I’ve been wrong before.’ Dulac felt the painful memory resurfacing. He wasn’t going to make that mistake twice. No suggestions this time.
At that moment, a prelate dressed in a black cassock rushed in and handed an envelope to Fouquet. He tore open the envelope and read the letter. ‘Your Eminences, we have just received their payment instructions.’
‘Are the wire transfers ready?’ asked Legnano to Sforza.
‘Yes. I will give final directions to the Treasury,’ said Sforza. ‘For those amounts, I need the written confirmation of two members of the Curia. Please sign here, Cardinal Signorelli, Cardinal Legnano.’
‘Your Eminences, we are all in agreement to pay?’ said Legnano, eyeing the prelates one by one. They nodded.
‘Fine.’ Legnano and Signorelli approached the table and Sforza offered them a pen. ‘Mr Dulac,’ said Legnano as he signed the document, ‘tell the General Secretary not to inform the Libyans.’
‘Yes, your Eminence,’ said Dulac. He had a sickening feeling that somehow the Libyans knew already. He rose, walked to the far end of the room and phoned Harris.
‘They want us to stay silent. Don’t inform the Libyans.’
‘They’ll have a hell of a mess if Kargali finds out,’ said Harris.
‘They have one now anyway,’ said Dulac.
‘How do they think they’ll get the Pope out?’
‘We haven’t discussed that issue yet. Surely the Italian SWAT team needs a bit of exercise,’ said Dulac.
‘SISMI? Ha! They couldn’t rescue a dozing cat off a low-lying tree branch. Anyway, there’s nothing more you can do. Get back to Lyon. I want a complete update tomorrow morning,’ Harris said, his tone peremptory.
‘But we’re waiting for word from de Ségur. He’s about to receive the money.’
‘If that’s the case and de Ségur keeps his end of the bargain, you’ll have plenty of time for the rest of the investigation.’
‘I still have some—’
‘Here, Dulac. Tomorrow morning.’ The line went dead.
Dulac grabbed a cab back to the hotel and went to the front desk. He had a message from Karen. ‘Staying in room 347. Call me if you dare.’
Dulac grabbed the hotel’s intercom. ‘Bonjour, it’s me.’
‘Who?’
‘All right, I know. I should’ve called before.’
‘Before what? It’s been barely a week.’
‘I’m sorry. I’ve been rather busy.’
‘And I haven’t? You’re damn lucky I have an appointment with my doctoral student here tomorrow.’
‘How about a drink downstairs?’
‘Now?’
‘Why not?’
‘You don’t give a girl much notice.’
Karen preceded Dulac towards the discreet corner table, her square shoulders accentuated by her loose-fitting blue blouse. Dulac walked closely behind her, mesmerized by the alternate swinging of each of her firm, rounded buttocks, separately encased in her custom fitting beige pants. They sat down in the uncomfortable, art-déco chairs.
‘So how did the meeting with the cardinals go?’ she said.
‘Disastrously well,’ said Dulac, looking pensive.
‘I’m sure they didn’t teach you that at Oxford,’ she said, replacing the wayward strand of auburn hair behind her right ear.
Dulac looked at his watch. ‘That bastard de Ségur is now $600 million richer.’
‘So they had no other choice.’
‘Not really,’ said Dulac.
The waiter came over to their table. ‘Dry martini,’ said Karen.
‘Glenlivet on the rocks,’ said Dulac. The waiter left with their order and Dulac eyed Karen. ‘I won’t go into details, but there’s something else about the Pope’s past that’s related to his kidnapping.’
‘Other than the ransom?’
‘Yes. I’ll have to see Legnano again. I’m sure he knows a lot more than he’s telling me.’
‘Why would Legnano hide anything?’ said Karen, looking perplexed.
‘You are blissfully unaware of Vatican politics, my dear. Politics and their sacred code of silence. Getting information from a cardinal is like trying to pry open a safe with a screwdriver.’
As head of the intelligence section of the People’s Security Force in Libya, Ali El Gazzar el Kadaffa rarely had to face any moral dilemmas before making the decisions required by his office. Arguably the most powerful man in Libya after Kargali, Gazzar had worked hard to secure the trust of the wary colonel, and up till now, Gazzar’s loyalty to him had been unwavering, unquestionable.
However, that loyalty would now be put to the test: one of his intelligence officers had informed Gazzar that he’d deciphered the codes and broken through the firewalls disguising an astounding video conference. According to the officer, the provenance and content of the video showed that the Pope was being held in Suluq, a small town outside of Benghazi. Any man other than Gazzar would have been ecstatic. Bringing such news to the colonel would result in praise and financial reward.
But Ali El Gazzar had recently acquired a higher allegiance than the one he owed Kargali. Five years prior, Gazzar had married a Catholic woman and six months later had himself secretly converted to Catholicism, something he couldn’t afford to broadcast within Libya’s predominantly Islamic power structure. Gazzar hid his new religious allegiance meticulously. From all appearances, he was a devout Muslim, performing his daily incantations at the mosque as required by the Quran, yet all the while praying fervently for the repenting of his sins to his newly found savior, Jesus Christ.
Gazzar had to choose. If he failed to report the Pope’s presence in Libya and the colonel found out, Gazzar was a dead man. But if the Pope was whisked out of Libya and escaped before Gazzar had had a reasonable opportunity to determine his presence on Libyan soil, Gazzar would at worst be reprimanded, while saving the Pope from Kargali’s unpredictable clutches. Gazzar thought hard and fast. Two conditions were necessary for his plan to work: he had to get the Pope out of Libya within hours, and swear his young intelligence officer to secrecy. In meeting the second condition, he had an inbuilt guarantee. The young officer was his son.
He went to work on the first.