The Fifth Gospel(180)
On the legal pad before me, I write a note—I need to call my uncle—and slide it over to Mignatto.
Lucio was with Simon in the museums that day. If Simon took down the photo enlargement, then Lucio must have an idea where he put it.
Mignatto hisses something that sounds like, It’s too late. I glance around the courtroom, wondering if Lucio might be in attendance, but the only spectator is Archbishop Nowak.
We rise for the entrance of the three judges, then the notary administers the oaths. Michael takes them officiously, as if the rest of us are amateurs and he’s the only one here who’s been to the Olympics of protocol.
“Please identify yourself to the tribunal,” the presiding judge asks.
“Father Michael Black, auditor first class in the Second Section.”
The tribunal approaches him deferentially. “Thank you, Father,” the presiding judge says, “for agreeing to travel here from Turkey. The tribunal notes your efforts.”
Michael nods. On his face is the reserved geniality that Secretariat priests are famous for. Imperturbable. Aristocratic. He makes a surprisingly effective witness.
“Father,” the judge says, “did you know the deceased, Doctor Nogara?”
“I did.”
“Were you in personal contact with him before he was killed?”
Michael nods. “A couple times Nogara drove ten hours from Edessa to Ankara to see Father Andreou at the nunciature. Both times, Andreou was off on one of his trips, so I made a point of getting to know Nogara myself.”
As he says this, Mignatto glances back toward Nowak, waiting to see if he’ll object to this mention of Simon’s trips. So far, nothing.
“Were Nogara and Father Andreou on good terms?”
Michael makes a sour face. “That’s complicated, Monsignor.”
“Why?”
“I’ll be honest with you. Nogara was a pain in the neck. He clung to Andreou like a tick. My impression is that when Simon saved him from—”
“Father Andreou,” the judge says, correcting him.
“When Father Andreou saved him from drinking himself to death, Nogara got very dependent on him.”
“You seem to have a positive view of Father Andreou.”
“I wouldn’t say that. I have very mixed views. But he’s a special kind of priest. And when people see the things he can do, they put certain expectations on him. Which, unfortunately, he encourages. In my opinion that’s a bad recipe.”
The judges smell blood. Michael is circling something, putting a good face on a situation he won’t quite describe. Mignatto jots a note and submits it to one of the judges, who immediately reads it aloud.
“What were the expectations placed on Father Andreou in this situation?”
Michael turns his head a few degrees before he answers. A sidelong glance at Archbishop Nowak.
“Well,” he says, “Father Andreou was working for someone who—”
Nowak lifts a hand in the air. “No,” he says.
Michael goes silent.
The judges look chastened. After a moment’s silence, one of them says, “Did Doctor Nogara ever say anything to you that would suggest Father Simon Andreou was pressuring him not to discuss a discovery he had made?”