Page 18 of The Medici Return

“Eminence,” the priest said. “He wants to see you now.”

CHAPTER 10

ROME, ITALY

5:45P.M.

STEFANO CROSSED HIMSELF AND STARTED HIS PRAYER.

He’d been hailed a hero at the end of the match, the goal regarded as somewhat miraculous. One hop, then up and in. And maybe it had been. He was the only Catholic priest among the four Calcio Storico teams.

A status he liked.

The Greens’ victory would be toasted until the wee hours of tomorrow morning, but a summons from Rome had required that he travel south immediately. The instruction had come by secure text.

Return. Home Church. 6:00 p.m.

Since he’d specifically taken three days’ leave for the tournament, the summons had been both unexpected and troubling.

The Basilica di Santa Maria Maggiore sat outside the Vatican borders, technically part of Italy but owned by the Holy See, possessing the same immunity and political status as a foreign embassy. Its canopied high altar was reserved for use by the pope alone. A cardinal was always in charge of the site, overseeing assistant priests, a chapter of canons, along with Redemptorist, Dominican, and Franciscan friars.

He was kneeling in one of the empty pews, the building closed to visitors for the day. The solitude was welcomed. He had to comedown off the high from the match. The euphoria, the crowds cheering, his teammates congratulating was in many ways like a drug, stimulating, but also distracting. That was over now. It had to be forgotten. Back to work.

Quiet always helped with his thoughts.

As did St. Pius V.

Pope at a time in the sixteenth century when Protestantism first swept England, Scotland, Germany, Holland, and France. Talk about challenges. But he was a tough Dominican friar. A former grand inquisitor who standardized the Bible, formed the Holy League, and defeated the Ottoman Empire. He even had the audacity to forbid horse racing in St. Peter’s Square, which the people loved. In day-to-day life he was highly ascetic and wore a hair shirt beneath his white robe, that color becoming a standard for all the popes who came after. The church canonized him in 1712. Fourteen years before that his body had been placed within a sarcophagus here in the basilica. A flap of gilded bronze, showing the effigy of the pope in shallow relief, could be swung open, revealing the remains, behind glass, adorned in papal robes. And here it had rested for over three hundred years.

Stefano lifted his head and stared at the sarcophagus.

Today the gilded flap was down, concealing the body.

Pius V also left another mark. One that had endured right up to the present. As in any other nation, security within the Vatican had always been essential. Since the early 1500s the Swiss Guard had been its public face. But the most secret agency within the Holy See had been specifically chartered by Pius V. Its purpose? To end the life of Protestant Elizabeth I and support her cousin, the Catholic Mary, Queen of Scots, for the English throne. Though Pius failed in that mission, what he created had served popes through schisms, revolutions, dictators, persecutions, attacks, world wars, even assassination attempts. First called the Supreme Congregation for the Holy Inquisition of Heretical Error, then the much shorter Holy Alliance. In the twentieth century the name was changed to simplyL’Entitá, the Entity.

Its motto?

With the Cross and the Sword.

Never once had the Holy See ever acknowledged its existence, but it was the oldest and one of the best intelligence agencies in the world. A model of secrecy and efficiency.

And he was a part of it.

“Pardon me, Father,” a voice said behind him.

He turned his head but stayed on his knees.

Sergio Cardinal Ascolani stood in the center aisle.

Stefano immediately rose to his feet and smoothed out the folds in his black cassock. Not only was Ascolani the Vatican’s secretary of state, he was also the head of the Entity. Unusual, to say the least, for one man to occupy two high posts, but the current pope had seen no problem with such dual responsibilities.

“I appreciate your promptness to my summons,” Ascolani said, stepping into a row of pews and sitting. Stefano stayed standing, knowing his place.

“I watched the match,” Ascolani said.

He knew it had been televised across Italy.

“What a goal. That was quite a bold move.”

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