Luke reflected on how fast things changed.
He’d gone from hanging in the air to drenched in the Mediterranean, then thrown into a dungeon, attacked by the police, and now he was inside an apartment located in the heart of Valletta, led there by the head of Vatican intelligence and accompanied by an agent for Maltese security. He wasn’t sure who, if anyone, he should listen to, much less trust. Laura Price had gone from telling him to get as far away as he could to seemingly now working with the enemy.
“We’re near the old Inquisitor’s Palace,” Spagna said. “What a job that must have been. Appointed by the pope, sent here to eliminate heresy and all things contrary to the Catholic faith. His word was absolute. That’s a position I would have relished.”
Luke surveyed the tiny apartment. Only three rooms, brightened by cheerful curtains, the furniture all a bit too large. No photos, candy dishes, or knickknacks. Nothing personal. No one lived here, at least not on a long-term basis. He’d been in enough safe houses so far during his time with the Magellan Billet to know the look.
“This place one of yours?”
Spagna nodded. “Our people use it.”
When they’d arrived he’d noticed an oddity out front, engraved into the eroding stone lintel above a set of shuttered windows. An eye sandwiched between two axes. Spagna had explained that it noted who’d lived in the building long ago.
The executioner.
No coincidence that the holder of that unenviable office lived near the Inquisitor’s Palace.
Luke heard a vibration and watched as Spagna found a phone in his pocket, stepping outside to take the call.
“You want to tell me what’s happening here,” he asked Laura.
“Spagna told me that he was aware of Cardinal Gallo’s presence on the island and that he had the situation under control.”
“And you bought that?”
“He called my boss once we were in the car and I was ordered to cooperate. I’m betting your boss is going to tell you the same thing.”
Except that his phone had been conveniently destroyed, making that difficult to determine. “You still have your phone?”
She shook her head. “Spagna took it.”
No surprise.
“So we’re isolated, with the pope’s spy out there controlling the information flow. This is not good. On many levels.”
He stepped over to the windows, parted the curtains, and glanced down at the deserted street two floors below.
Spagna returned and closed the door behind him. “First, let’s be clear. Either of you can leave anytime you want.”
“Then why corral us?” Luke asked.
“As you saw, the locals have a different opinion of you.”
“Thanks to you.”
Spagna nodded. “Sadly for you, that’s true. I would prefer not to involve any of my assets. I have a chaotic situation at the moment that is extremely time-sensitive, and most of my people are readying the Vatican for a conclave.”
Luke asked, “What’s happening with Cotton Malone?”
“That was the subject of the call I just received. It seems Mr. Malone has extricated himself from danger. Your Ms. Nelle is with him now, as is the temporary head of the Hospitallers.”
He was definitely being sucked into something bigger. That was obvious. And he had to keep going, no matter the risks. Some would call that foolish. He called it doing his job.
“My man Chatterjee has been with Cardinal Gallo for the past two hours,” Spagna said. “I wanted the cardinal contained to give us time to deal with a more pressing problem.”
Luke could hardly wait to hear.
“Listen up, this is your intel briefing. Books and movies love to show Christians being fed to lions. A little ridiculous, if you ask me. Yes, persecutions happened. No question. But seventeen hundred years ago Christians were finally in the right place, at the right time. Still, they had a problem. Their new religion had fractured into a hundred pieces, so many versions of Christianity, each fighting with the other. Constantine the Great saw the political potential of that new religion, but only if those factions could be united. So he called the Council of Nicaea and summoned bishops from all over the empire.”
Luke had heard those words—Council of Nicaea—before, but knew little to nothing about their importance.
“The bishops came to Asia Minor,” Spagna said. “Nobody really knows how many. Maybe three hundred. Some say more. It was the first great Christian council and they were deeply divided over Christ’s divinity. One group said the Son had been begotten from the Father with no separate beginning. The other argued the Son had been created from nothing with his own beginning. Sounds silly to us. Who cares? He was Christ, for Christ’s sake. But it was a big deal to them. And during the summer of 325, those bishops debated that point into the ground. Constantine himself presided over the sessions. In the end they came to a consensus, with the emperor’s approval, that the Son came from the Father, equal to the Father. They created a creed that said that, and all but two bishops agreed. Those two were excommunicated and banished. They then decided the rest of what true Christians should believe. Things like when Easter would be celebrated, how priests would act, how the church would be organized. Everything contrary to that was deemed heretical, unworthy of belief. And so began the Catholic Church, as we know it today.”
“And this has what to do with what’s happening now?” Laura asked.
Luke was beginning to like her directness.
“It has everything to do with now,” Spagna said. “Once the council ended, Constantine invited all of the bishops to his palace for a grand banquet. Officially, the dinner was to celebrate his twentieth anniversary as emperor. But it became much more. From the precious few accounts that have survived, we know the bishops left that night with gifts for themselves and money for their churches. But they also executed a document. Signed by all, including the emperor himself. That document has a name. The Constitutum Constantini. Constantine’s Gift. It stayed with the emperor until his death in 337. Eventually it came into the pope’s possession, but he lost it. Then during the Middle Ages the Knights of Rhodes, who eventually became the Knights of Malta, obtained it. It became one of three documents they venerated and protected. Their Nostra Trinità. Our Trinity. Napoleon invaded Malta looking for it, but never found a thing. It all seemed forgotten, until the 1930s, when Mussolini searched again.”
“Why would any of that matter now?” Luke asked. “It’s so old.”
“I assure you, the Constitutum Constantini still matters. Perhaps today more than ever. Cardinal Gallo understands its significance. I understand its significance. That’s why we have to find it first.”
“We?” Laura asked.
“I have assurances from both of your superiors that you’re mine for the next few days.”
“I think I’ll wait on that one until I hear it from my boss,” Luke said.
Spagna frowned. “Are you always so difficult?”
“Just to people I don’t like.”
“We just met, Mr. Daniels. How could you possibly know if you like me or not?”
“My mama used to say that she didn’t need to wallow with the pigs to know it stunk in the pen.”
Spagna smiled. “Sounds like an intelligent woman.”
“The smartest I’ve ever known. I’d say it stinks here, too.”
“Regardless of your personal feelings,” Spagna said, “we have a job to do. But first, some things have to play out in Italy.”
Luke shook his head. More gobbledygook. “I’m assuming you don’t plan to explain yourself.”
Spagna smiled, pointed a finger, and said, “That’s where you’re wrong.”