The Fifth Gospel(203)
The patriarch’s pale eyes flash. He smiles. Turning back to John Paul, he whispers his agreement. Then, to everyone in the chapel, the patriarch says, “In honor of this moment, let us pray in silence.”
No sooner has he spoken the words than I feel Leo’s hand on my arm again. This time it’s more insistent. He’s been biding his time to tell me something. I quickly follow him to the exit.
“We have Father Black in custody,” Leo says. “He says he needs to talk to you.”
EVEN AS I FOLLOW him, I’m in a dream. I feel myself moving, but my heart remains back there in the chapel. One thousand years: we are coming together again after one thousand years. Tonight, in heaven, there is a ticker-tape parade. Old popes lift their hands in blessing. Saints smile. Angels beat their wings. From now on, when people talk about the chapel that Michelangelo painted, they will remember John Paul in it, and the place where he rebuilt our Church.
Even if Mignatto’s right—even if Simon’s trial isn’t over yet—tonight my brother had a hand in history.
* * *
MICHAEL IS UNDER LOCKDOWN in the barracks.
“Why does he want to talk to me?” I ask.
“He says it’s about Simon.” Leo puts out a hand in warning. “But Alex, there’s something not right about that man. We brought him in earlier this week for starting a fight over a parking ticket. Be careful.”
A parking ticket. Probably the same one I found at the Casa alongside the books stolen from my apartment.
Leo leads me down a dank hallway. Toward the end, we stop. “Do you want me in there?” he asks.
I tell him I need to do this alone.
He unlocks the door, then pushes it slightly open.
The cell is the size of a closet. Michael sits on a bare mattress. I keep my distance.
“So,” he says, without looking up. “Are congratulations in order?”
I say nothing.
“This is wrong for our Church,” he continues. “You’ll see. Reunion is a mistake.”
“Did you kill him, Michael?”
He snorts.
I want to grab him by the cassock and shake him. Simon was right about him all along.
“Who were you sharing that room at the Casa with?” I say.
He ignores me. “You know, Nogara told me you abandoned him, the same way Simon did. You brothers are exactly the same. Agenda as long as my arm, and no loyalty to anyone but each other.”
I turn and start to leave.
“You two wouldn’t answer his phone calls,” Michael says quickly, “so he settled for me. That’s who I shared the room with.”
The bottle of Grappa Julia in the trash can. The calls to my apartment from a Casa phone number. The person who slept on the floor of Michael’s room that night was Ugo.
He pulls a cigarette from a pack, then realizes he has no lighter. He tears it in half and hurls it across the room. “Damn it!”
A cold sensation crawls up my spine. So Michael had no partner in this. He did everything alone.
“Why did you break into my apartment?” I say.
“You know why.”
“But Simon was at Castel Gandolfo. You must’ve seen him there.”