The Second Messiah

Ryan recognized Angelo Butoni at once. He was one of the young detectives with the security office, and Butoni waved when he saw Ryan roll down the window.

“Monsignor Ryan, always a pleasure to see you.”

“Angelo, it’s yourself. Keeping busy, I hope?”

Butoni raised his eyes in mock despair. “As always. You’ll be glad to know we’ve improved the security patrols, just as you ordered.”

Ryan smiled. “No trouble to you Angelo, me boy, and that’s the truth of it. Keep up the good work.”

One of the Swiss Guards lifted the barrier and Ryan’s Mercedes passed into the Vatican.

22

Cardinal Umberto Cassini was seated behind the ornate desk made of dark Brazilian mahogany in his office overlooking St. Peter’s Square, working through some papers, when the floor-to-ceiling oak doors opened softly and a young prelate in a black soutane appeared. “Monsignor Ryan has arrived, Your Eminence.”

Cassini looked tired as he threw down his eighteen-karat-gold pen on his desk blotter. “Good. Then let’s not keep the man waiting. Send him in.”

The prelate bowed and withdrew.

Cassini stepped over to a bookshelf behind him. He pressed on a red leather-bound book, there was a soft click, and the entire shelf swung open on hinges. A short hallway was revealed behind the bookcase. Cassini pulled a string and a light sprang on.

A stone spiral stairway led up and down, part of the maze of ancient stairways and tunnels that honeycombed the Vatican. In a recess was Cassini’s private safe with an electronic keypad. He punched in the code and the safe door opened.

Inside was a brown leather briefcase with an elaborate security chain. He removed the briefcase and lay it on his desk, then crossed to the open French windows and looked out over a stone balcony.

Since he had presided over the election of the new pope, life had been hectic indeed, so many pressing things on his mind, and Cassini anxiously fingered the cross around his neck. He turned back as the door opened and Sean Ryan entered.

He looked younger than his fifty years, with a boxer’s broken nose and a rugged physique, and he smiled as he stepped into the room. Cassini was aware of a man of considerable, hearty charm. But he also knew that behind the charm lurked a brain as sharp as a stiletto and a temperament that didn’t suffer fools gladly, traits that had served Ryan well as head of the Security Office.

Cassini came in from the balcony as Ryan crossed the room, knelt, and kissed the cardinal’s ring. “Your Eminence.”

“Sean, thanks for coming so promptly. There’s coffee on the table if you want some.”

Ryan got to his feet. “No, thanks. I’m still a tea man myself, Your Eminence. The Romans may have conquered half the world but they still haven’t mastered the art of a good cup of tea.”

Cassini gestured for Ryan to sit in one of the red leather wingback chairs opposite. “No doubt you’re wondering why I asked to see you.”

As Ryan looked across, he saw dark rings underneath Cassini’s eyes, as if the man had been up half the night. He also couldn’t fail to notice the bookshelf ajar, the secret passageway beyond, and the brown leather security briefcase lying on Cassini’s desk.

As head of security Ryan had offered Cassini advice on the choice of safe he had installed many years ago, but not its location behind the hidden bookshelf—that had been Cassini’s choice. Ryan knew that the little Sicilian cardinal seemed to take great enjoyment flitting between various floors and offices using the Vatican’s maze of secret passageways, as if he were a child playing at some elaborate game of hide-and-seek.

“It had crossed my mind,” Ryan suggested.

Cassini pushed the bookshelf with his hand and it floated back into place with hardly a sound, except a tiny click to register that it had locked in place. “Before we get down to business, there’s something I must ask of you.”

“Your Eminence?”

“The conversation we are about to have, and what I am about to show you, must remain totally confidential. That is of the utmost importance. I think you’ll understand why afterward.”

“Of course, as Your Eminence wishes.”

Cassini nervously fingered the cross around his neck, glanced at the locked briefcase, and sighed. “Good. You are aware that the Holy Father has made known his intentions in regard to the future course the church must take, and in particular his plan to make public all files held in the Vatican Secret Archives.”

Ryan nodded. The word had spread like wildfire, and nothing else was being whispered about in the Vatican’s offices and corridors. “A brave step, Your Eminence.”

From his desk, Cassini picked up a beautifully made letter opener with a silver blade. The bone handle was hand-carved from deer antler, a gift from the last pope. Inscribed on the gleaming blade were words Cassini treasured: “With great affection, to a loyal and dutiful servant of God.”