The Fifth Gospel(149)

            But she places her hand on my arm and gives it a squeeze. That’s all. Her fingers slip away, touching mine as they drop. She lifts them in the air, saying good night.

            Tomorrow, I think.

            So soon.





CHAPTER 28





AT SEVEN THIRTY in the morning, I arrive outside the tribunal palace. Brother Samuel and the other pharmacists are watching Peter because Mignatto summoned me for an early meeting. He’s already here, waiting on a bench in the courtyard as I arrive, holding a paper that turns out to be a list of today’s deponents. Wordlessly he shows it to me. First will be Guido Canali, then two men I don’t recognize. The last name on the list is Simon’s.

            “Is he really coming?” I ask.

            “I don’t know. But this may be the tribunal’s last chance.” Mignatto turns to me, as if this is the reason for the meeting. “Father, it’s possible the trial will end today.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “When Archbishop Nowak disallowed testimony about the exhibit, it became impossible for the judges to establish motive. And without the security-camera footage, it may be impossible for them to establish opportunity.”

            “You’re saying Simon could go free?”

            “The judges are giving the promoter of justice latitude to propose new witnesses, but if nothing changes, the tribunal could find insufficient grounds to continue. The charge would be dropped.”

            “That’s fantastic.”

            He places a hand on my arm. “The reason I’m telling you this is that I decided to submit Nogara’s phone into evidence. The tribunal needed a voice sample for forensic comparison with the message left on your brother’s answering machine at the embassy, and the voice mail greeting on Nogara’s phone gave me a window to introduce it. My hope is that the judges decided to listen to the messages your brother left Nogara at Castel Gandolfo. Still, I have to condemn in the strongest terms your development of evidence this way. We’re fortunate the law forbids procurators to testify, or else you’d have to answer very difficult questions. I don’t know who gave the phone to you, but I need to emphasize again that, for your brother’s sake, you must not let this be repeated if the trial continues beyond today.”

            “Yes, Monsignor.”

            He relaxes. “I’ve filed a petition to have Father Simon placed in your uncle’s custody. I don’t know whether they’ll honor it. In any case, I don’t see how his testimony can do the prosecution much good, since he refuses to speak.”

            Mignatto takes back the list and fidgets with the locks on his briefcase before slipping the paper inside.

            I put an arm around him and say, “Monsignor, thank you.”

            He gives me a careful pat on the back. “Don’t thank me. Thank him.”

            In the distance, approaching the Palace of the Tribunal, is Archbishop Nowak. We watch in silence as the gendarmes admit him, then close the doors again.



* * *



            JUST BEFORE EIGHT, THE courtroom opens again to admit the rest of us. On the hour, the judges enter together from the side door of their chambers. Without ado, one says, “Officer, please call the first witness.”

            Guido is admitted into the aula. He arrives in a black suit with a gray shirt and silver necktie, a bulging gold watch on his wrist. Only his leathery skin reveals him as a farmhand. The notary rises so that Guido can take both oaths before identifying himself as Guido Francesco Andreo Donato Canali, the only man in Rome with more names than the pope.

            “You were present at Castel Gandolfo,” the presiding judge asks, “on the night Ugolino Nogara was killed?”