Testa begins parting the drapes. Sunlight slopes in from the south. The north windows suddenly give way to tiny balconies overlooking the private courtyard below.
“Follow me, Father,” he says.
The monsignor leads me into a hallway surrounded by doors, then opens them one by one. Every corridor leads to a new one, branching in a new direction. The floor plan is so disorienting that Simon could be in a room I don’t even see.
“Where is he?” I say.
Testa shows me the dining room and kitchen. The chapel and sacristy. Even Testa’s own bedroom. He is making a point. Simon isn’t here.
I demand to see Cardinal Boia’s own bedroom.
“That’s out of the question,” Testa says.
Yet I feel Boia there, hovering in the doorway again.
“Do what Father Andreou asks,” he says.
It’s hopeless. Any place they’re willing to show me, Simon won’t be. “I know he’s here,” I say. “I talked to the driver who brought him to your private elevator.”
Suddenly Boia turns. For the first time, in his eyes, there is a ferocious sharpness. I’ve made a mistake. I just don’t know what it is.
“Come here, Father,” he says, stepping onto one of the small balconies overlooking the courtyard. He points and says, “Do you see that?”
On the far side of the courtyard, near the arched entry, is what appears to be a chimney leading from the ground to the roof.
“That,” Boia says, “is the elevator shaft. Now follow me.”
We circle the halls until we approach the entrance again. “Do you notice anything?” he says, pointing to the inner wall.
There’s no door here. No elevator.
Cardinal Boia snorts like a bull. “The elevator goes only one place. So now you know who has your brother.”
* * *
WHEN HE LEADS ME back to the negotiating table, I hear him order Testa to have the nuns bring us something to drink. Something to eat. I see him put a hand on my chair, not quite pulling it out for me, but making a small gesture of hospitality. I sense a softening in his voice when he tells me I have it all wrong. He knows he doesn’t have to bully me anymore. The facts are doing that enough.
“Did you really think he was innocent in all this?” Boia says.
“I know he’s innocent.”
His Eminence smiles thinly. “I didn’t mean your brother.” He points upward. “I meant him.”
“Why would the Holy Father put my brother under house arrest?”
“Because he can’t risk a scandal with so many important guests in town, and I’m sure he thought your brother would break down and tell him the truth in private.”
I shake my head. “The Holy Father must’ve put Simon under house arrest to keep him away from you. From the trial you opened against him.”
“If this were a trial I had opened,” Cardinal Boia says acidly, “you can be sure the witnesses wouldn’t be forbidden to testify about Nogara’s exhibit. Punishing your brother means much less to me than knowing what Nogara was hiding.”
I gape at him. “How do you know witnesses were forbidden to testify about the exhibit?”
He ignores me. “The Holy Father opened the trial because he wants to know if your brother killed Nogara. But he won’t let them discuss the exhibit because he doesn’t want me to know his plans for tonight. He’s been so busy keeping the secret from me that he doesn’t realize Nogara was keeping a secret from him.”