Page 38 of The Medici Return

But the Pazzis did become one of the leading noble families and gained power and wealth through banking, placing them in direct competition with the Medicis. They also managed to wrestle control of the papacy’s finances from the Medicis. The Pazzis were alarmed by the absolute authority the Medicis wielded over Florence, a sentiment shared by others. The plot to kill Lorenzo and his brother was designed to end that control. But it exploded into failure, the participants too bound to their own ideas and not able to see reality.

A majority of Florence was loyal to the Medici.

In the end the failed Pazzi Conspiracy served only to strengthen the Medicis’ control over Florence, as they used the opportunityto rid themselves of their most dangerous enemies. They ruled, barely challenged, for centuries, controlling all offices and appointments, their bank woven into the city’s existence. The Pazzis never recovered.

And the Medicis never stopped hating them.

Except one.

CHAPTER 25

ROME, ITALY

TUESDAY, JULY1

2:40A.M.

COTTON WALKED THE NEARLY DESERTED STREETS, HEADING FOR THEaddress he’d been provided. Stephanie had again supplied him with fast transportation from Koblenz by authorizing a quick charter flight. He’d reconned the train station on the off chance that the other man he’d seen might surface, but no such luck. Whoever took out that woman was a pro, moving in fast, getting the job done, then disappearing. He was still perplexed as to why. Best guess? His appearance on the train had something to do with it. Which meant the man knew his identity. There was clearly a leak within the Swiss Guard that had alerted outsiders to every single thing they were doing. But who? And why? Stephanie had assured him that she would pass everything along to the right people within the Vatican. His concern now was Cardinal Richter, a man who may indeed have a target on his back.

But from who? And why?

He’d landed at a small commercial airport just outside of Rome. A private car service had been waiting and had taken him into the city. Thankfully, he’d managed a power nap on the flight and was now rested, ready to go. There’d even been some food. His destination, though, was a bit of a surprise. An acquaintance. Someone he’d dealt with a little while back. The former head of the Entity, Charles Cardinal Stamm.

Stephanie had told him that the current pope had made a change at the head of Vatican intelligence. Stamm had served many and was way past the age of eighty, which disqualified him from actively participating in any future conclaves. Forced to retire? That had to have been brutal for a guy accustomed to being in charge.

“Apparently, Richter and Stamm are old friends,” Stephanie said. “Richter went straight to him. Cardinal Stamm is the one who gave my name to the Swiss Guard, so he’s aware of what’s happening. But he now tells me there is more to the story.”

“Care to share?”

“Stamm asked that he be the one to tell you.”

He found the address and the wooden apartment door, its peeling blue paint casting a tired look. It was answered not by Stamm but by a younger man. Late fifties. Thick, tawny hair. Square, tensed jaw. Blue eyes. Compressed lips. And a faint, almost weak smile from either exhaustion or anxiety.

“Jason Richter,” the man said in English, extending a hand, which he shook. Richter was dressed in street clothes, nothing at all suggesting that he was a prince of the church. “You must be Cotton Malone. I have heard all about you.”

He smiled. “Just cruel and vicious lies put out by my enemies to discredit me.”

“Chas said you would say something like that.”

He caught the familiar “Chas,” which was what Stamm’s friends called him, himself included. “And where is the cardinal?”

“Right in here,” Stamm called out.

Together, he and Richter walked back to a cozy den, dimly lit, where Stamm sat in a high-backed upholstered chair. The cardinal looked the same as at their previous dealings and, like Richter, was dressed casually. Nothing pretentious about him. Much like the Entity itself, which worked under an umbrella of total deniability, never venturing far from the shadows but always getting the job done.

Stamm motioned for him to sit. “We meet again. Under equally difficult circumstances.”

He and Richter sat in their own chairs.

“Though this time,” Stamm said, “I am no longer head of the Entity. The pope thought it was time for me to take a rest.”

“Maybe it was?”

“I could say the same for you.”

Touché. “Okay, point made.”

“Did you really see a bag full of cash in the Dillenburg residence?” Richter asked.

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