Central Rome, en route to Vatican City: 6:47 p.m.
Caterina Amato spat into the car phone of her S-Class Mercedes as her driver barreled through the evening traffic of the city. The man on the other end of the line had fast become the individual she despised most in the world. Amato was not someone accustomed to failure, and had never been one to allow it in those who worked for her.
“If you want to avoid a bullet in the back of the head the next time you let down your guard, Umberto,” she said to the thrice-failed assassin, “you’ll be at the entrance to the Apostolic Palace in ten minutes.”
“We’re already en route,” Umberto answered. “Maso’s got a slight wound in his arm but should be okay for the mission.”
“A wound?”
“He took a bullet from one of the guards during the exchange outside the wall. Only a scrape.”
Caterina’s instinctive reaction was immediate. He’s a dead horse. Shoot him in the temple and move on. But personnel was at a premium for what had to come next.
“Can he still fire a gun?”
“Of course.”
“Then bandage him up and get him fit for action. I’ve already called together as large a team as we can manage from D’Antonio’s men.” The side benefit of having the police deputy commissioner in her pocket was that every corrupt officer he had in his—which included marksmen, sharpshooters and incursion team members, all willing to do just about anything for the right price—was also at Amato’s disposal. She needed them tonight.
There was a slight delay before Umberto replied.
“What, precisely, is the change of plan?”
“Discrediting the pontiff is no longer on the cards,” Caterina answered. “We can’t pull it off, not like this.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Umberto answered. It was the first time in his life he’d ever directly countered his employer.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’ve already succeeded. Whether or not Trecchio and Fierro expose our involvement, the scandal alone will be sufficient to accomplish what you wanted. Even if the Pope is exonerated of responsibility, in this day and age it’s enough just to be involved in scandal to be mistrusted forever. You’ll still have ruined him.”
Caterina fumed. “I don’t pay you to think about these things,” she spat back. “I pay you to do what I tell you.” Her rage was well past anything that would be sated simply by tarnishing the papal reputation. And what would be the satisfaction in ruining the Pope, if her own company was ruined in the process? The object of war was not mutual destruction but to come out the winner.
Another silence. Umberto recognized he’d been put back in his place. “What are our new instructions?”
Caterina sank back into the cushion of her seat.
“We are taking things to their next logical step, Umberto. It turns out it may be possible to kill a pope after all.”