He bristles. “I already told you this.”
“Told me what?”
“That I can’t talk about what happened.”
I throw my head back. I’ve forgotten. Another oath.
“I told the lawyer, too,” he says. “I won’t answer questions about that in court.”
“Break the oath. Tell the judges the truth.”
Suddenly his voice bubbles with anger. “The lawyer and I settled this, and I’m not here to rehash it with you.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because those were my orders.”
A chill goes through me. “What are you talking about?”
“Cardinal Boia called me today. He knows I’m in town.”
“How is that possible?”
“Your lawyer put my name on some document.”
“Did His Eminence threaten you?”
“No. Just gave me a little reminder. And then asked how he could get to you.”
My pulse is hammering. “What do you mean?”
“He says you shouted at him today. At his windows.”
“I was just trying to—”
“Get his attention? Well, it worked.”
“What are you telling me?”
“His Eminence wants to meet with you.”
I nervously glance around me. “Right now?”
Michael snorts. “Tomorrow morning before the trial reopens. Seven thirty at his apartments.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. But for your sake, I hope it goes better than my meeting in the airport.”
CHAPTER 31
I STAMMER A FEW more questions, but Michael has no answers. Cardinal Boia’s name has a weird effect on him. He begins to fill the silence with praise for his boss. Boia the great man. The defender of tradition. Then his party line: reunion with the Orthodox would weaken our Church, dilute what it means to be Catholic, make the pope nothing more than another one of their patriarchs. Michael’s irrationality is returning.
I feel clammy. The chill of the air penetrates under my skin. Finally I say, “I’ve heard enough, Michael. I’m leaving.”
I feel him watching me as I go. If I knew any other way out of this basilica at night, I would take it. As I walk home, I keep one hand on my mobile phone. More than once I think of calling Mignatto. But I know what he would say. Not to listen to Michael. Not to meet with Boia.
I collect Peter from the pharmacists’ apartment. He’s still wide awake. Rarely have I seen him so eager to leave Brother Samuel.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask, slipping the new key into our new lock.
He’s almost skipping. “Can we call Mamma?”
“Peter, not tonight.”
He frowns. He must think I’m teasing him. After a whole day of separation, I wouldn’t really refuse him the one thing he’s been hoping for.
“There’s something we need to talk about,” I say instead.
And then I send him down the hall to wash his face and brush his teeth, telling him to meet me back in his bedroom. He looks anxious. But he obeys.