Page 119 of The Medici Return

The sharp crack of the Beretta splintered the stillness.

He fired again.

Both shots neat holes to the chest.

Dewberry was thrown back, groaning in pain, still holding the heavy weapon. Cotton stood and sent the third round into the head.

Dewberry’s lifeless body crumbled to the carpet.

Cotton entered the room and kicked the rifle clear of Dewberry’s loosened grasp. He kept the gun aimed. Ready. But no more shots were needed. Dewberry was dead. He stepped to the openwindow and stared out at the piazza. Most of the people had fled. Casaburi’s violated body lay lifeless, face down. Richter and Stefano were about fifty feet away, slowly coming to their feet.

Stefano tossed him a thumbs-up.

All good.

Apparently, any shots at the cardinal had missed.

Ascolani? Nowhere to be seen.

No matter.

They knew where to find him.

CHAPTER 79

VATICANCITY

FRIDAY, JULY4

11:14A.M.

JASON ENTERED THEAPOSTOLICPALACE AND WALKED STRAIGHT TOthe second floor and the offices of the Secretariat of State. He’d not called ahead or made an appointment. No need. He’d come on authority of the pope himself as his personal representative.

He’d traveled yesterday from Florence back to Rome and was there when the Swiss Guard briefed the pope. Father Giumenta had accompanied him, and together they explained all that had happened. He owed his life to the young priest. No question. Using information that Cardinal Stamm had unearthed, inquiries were made to other cardinals, some of whom confirmed that Ascolani had made improper overtures to them attempting to influence their votes in any upcoming conclave. That was strictly forbidden by canon law. With the combined testimony it had been easy for the pope to order Ascolani’s immediate removal.

“I am truly sorry,” the pope said to him. “For all that happened to you. I was given false information, which I trusted and relied upon. That was my mistake. Can you forgive me?”

He could understand how it happened. The Vatican secretary of state was more like a prime minister than a foreign representative. The job came with myriad responsibilities that included supervising the Curia, drafting papal documents, writing speeches,organizing ceremonial rites, regulating access to the pope, choosing people to be promoted to official posts, managing church money, and making countless other operating decisions without consulting anyone. The job was a gatekeeper by which everyone had to pass before seeing the pope. The opportunities for abuse were endless, and Ascolani had taken full advantage.

“Consider it forgotten,” he told the pope, “if you will grant me one small thing.”

And his old friend had gladly complied.

He informed one of the assistants in the outer office that he had come to see Cardinal Ascolani. That had brought an immediate rebuke, the clerk saying that the secretary of state was busy, with no time to speak to anyone.

“I am here on order of the pope,” he made clear. “And you may check with the papal secretary to verify.”

And with that he brushed past and opened the door to the private office. The space, like Ascolani’s apartment, was a monument to extravagance. The walls were Italian marble dotted with priceless Botticelli paintings depicting the life of Moses. Ascolani sat behind an impressive ornamental desk, his face impassive in a high-backed gilded chair, dressed in a plain black cassock.

Jason stopped before the desk.

The clerk had followed him inside. “I am sorry, Eminence. But he just barged in.”

“It is okay,” Ascolani said. “You may go.”

The clerk left, closing the door.

“We have two problems,” Jason said, mimicking what Ascolani had told him a few days ago in the Vatican Gardens. He pointed a finger. “More accurately,youhave two problems.”

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