Page 113 of No Stone Unturned

He looked at Lazo with disgust. “I’malreadyan excellent asset to the Vatican. But you did get one thing right, Cardinal.” He clapped a hand on Lazo’s shoulder. The gesture was seemingly harmless, but his thumb rested near a particularly vulnerable spot on the cardinal’s windpipe. “I’m good at violence. Very good. You, perhaps more than most, know what I’m capable of doing, and I’m just looking for an excuse with you, so don’t push me. Are we clear?”

The cardinal’s eyes narrowed with hate, but he didn’t answer. Slash pressed his thumb down. He wasn’t against using the threat of violence if it served a purpose. “I asked if we’re clear.”

Fear crossed the cardinal’s face at the pressure. “Y-yes. We’re clear.”

“Good. Then we’re done here.” Slash lifted his hand. “I don’t ever want to see you again. Be grateful you have a retirement to enjoy, because I assure you, that wasn’t my first choice.”

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Lexi

I looked up worriedly from my laptop as Slash walked in. “How did it go?” I asked.

He pressed a kiss on the top of my head. “Excellent. Lazo is finished.” He looked over my shoulder with interest. “What are you doing?”

I tapped on some keys. “A little research of my own. I’ve found something interesting in my research about Father Armando. Mayor Colella told us he and the pope met at the seminary in Salerno. But did you knowhowthey met?”

Slash thought for a moment. “I think the Holy Father had been assigned to teach a class, and Emilio was one of his students.”

“Correct. Father Armando was one of the Holy Father’s star pupils. They later served on several committees together and became friends. I think the Holy Father was a mentor figure for him.”

“That would explain why Emilio was the first new cardinal the Holy Father elevated after becoming pope,” Slash said.

“It would. Do you happen to know how old Father Armando was when he became a priest?”

Slash looked at me, clearly puzzled by my line of questioning. “Not exactly. He was young. He told me he knew he wanted to be a priest by the time he was sixteen.”

I pulled up a file on my laptop. “Slash, take a look at this photo I found online. Father Armando looks so young in this photo. What doessanto triomean?” I angled my laptop toward Slash so he could see it.

“It means holy trio.”

He stared at the photo of three young men dressed in black cassocks and laughing. “That’s definitely Father Armando on the left, and the Holy Father on the right, but who’s that?” He tapped on a young, handsome, dark-haired man who stood between the other two, his face in a wide smile, his arms thrown around the shoulders of his friends.

He didn’t see it, but I did. I swallowed hard. I’d seen that smile on the man in the middle before...on Slash and somewhere else.

“Do you know who he is?” I asked quietly.

Slash looked at me for a long moment before sitting down on the bed, sliding my laptop onto his lap. “Not yet, but I will.”

When we arrived in Genoa, it was nearly nine o’clock at night. Slash drove to the apartment and found a parking space about four blocks from Father Armando’s apartment. We followed a young man into the complex and found ourselves standing in front of Father Armando’s door, looking at each other.

“Do you really want to do this?” I asked Slash. “We stopped Lazo. We don’t have to go any further.”

He pressed his mouth together, his jaw visibly tensing. After a moment, he raised a fist to the door and knocked once.

Father Armando answered a few moments later, looking exhausted. The age lines around his mouth and eyes had carved deeply into his skin. His thick black hair looked grayer than it had been just a few days prior. This situation hadn’t been easy on any of us.

“Nicolo. Lexi,” he said, sweeping out an arm. “I’ve been expecting you. Please, come in.”

We crossed the threshold and he ushered us toward the living room couch. Slash and I perched next to each other, our knees touching. Father Armando joined us, choosing a chair directly across from us. For an awkward minute, we sat there looking at each other, and a strained silence enveloped the room as we all waited for someone to speak. I certainly wasn’t going to say anything, so I kept quiet, trying to remain calm for Slash’s sake.

Slash spoke first. “The Holy Father said you had answers for me.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small leather pouch the pope had given him, tossing it onto the coffee table. “Do you know what this means?”

For a moment, we all stared at the pouch as if it would detonate. Maybe it would. But instead of vaporizing us, it would blow up what we knew of our lives.

Anguish crossed the priest’s face. Apparently, the pouch triggered a strong reaction. “Nicolo, first, I want you to know how deeply sorry I am. For everything.”

“I know.” Dark smudges of exhaustion were visible beneath Slash’s eyes, but his jaw remained set in grim determination. “Let’s just do this, okay?”

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