Page 105 of Skotos
“Have been withdrawn.” The Pope’s voice brooked no argument. “Mr. Barker was acting under Vatican authority in matters of Church security. Any inconvenience caused was entirely unintentional.”
At a gesture from the Pope, I stepped out of the cell, still feeling like I was trapped in some bizarre dream. Thomas moved to my side. I could see therelief in his eyes even as he struggled to maintain his professional composure. I knew how he felt. All I wanted—theonlything in the world in that moment—was to fall into his arms and never part again.
“Are you hurt?” he asked quietly.
“Just my pride. You?”
He shook his head. “No, I’m fine.”
“For once,” I said, unable to resist the easy jab.
He snorted, clearly caught off-guard.
The Pope was watching our exchange with what might have been amusement under any other circumstance.
I finally found my voice. “Your Holiness, what happened at the Vatican? The shooting—”
“Will be explained in due course,” he said. “But not here, where there are too many ears.”
He turned to the police sergeant, who was still hovering nearby like a penitent seeking absolution. “Sergeant, I trust this matter will remain confidential, yes? The security of the Holy See depends upon certain . . . discretions.”
“Sì, Santità!Of course! Absolutely!” The sergeant nodded so vigorously I worried his head might fall off. “No report will be filed. Nothing happened here. I have seen no Americans today, none, not even one, certainly not that one.”
“Excellent. Please add my name to the list of people you did not see in your station today.” ThePope smiled, and for a moment, a weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. “Your cooperation is most appreciated.”
As we strode through the police station, I couldn’t help but notice the effect the Pope’s presence had on everyone we passed. Hardened cops and cynical bureaucrats alike stepped aside with expressions of awe and reverence, crossing themselves as we walked by.
Some kneeled. Others bowed heads. A few reached out to touch his cassock.
All were silent.
It was like watching Moses part the Red Sea, except instead of water, it was Italian law enforcement bending to the will of the man in white.
We emerged into the late afternoon sunlight, where a small convoy of black cars waited at the curb. Swiss Guards in plain clothes stood at discrete intervals, their eyes constantly scanning the street for threats. Each wielded the menace of a snarl and an automatic weapon.
“Your Holiness,” I said as we approached the vehicles, “I have to ask, what you just did in there, the diplomatic intervention, was that legal?”
The Pope paused, one hand on the car door, and turned to me with a slight smile.
“Mr. Barker, I am the sovereign ruler of Vatican City, the spiritual leader of over four hundred million Catholics worldwide, and the direct successorto Saint Peter himself. God speaks to me, through me. I am His anointed on Earth.” His eyes twinkled. “When I need something to be legal, it generally is.”
Thomas snorted, then quickly covered it with a cough.
As we climbed into the car, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we’d just witnessed something that would have made Machiavelli himself applaud. The Pope had walked into a secular institution and essentially commanded them to release a prisoner—and they’d done it without question.
Well, with only a few questions. The sergeant had tried to object.
The Pope might wear robes and preach about turning the other cheek, but he understood power in ways that would have impressed any intelligence operative.
“Now,” the Pope said as the car pulled away from the station, “let us discuss what really happened today, and what we are going to do about my dear friend Cardinal Severan and his Order.”
50
Thomas
The Vatican’s corridors felt different, charged with an electric tension that made the marble walls seem to pulse with hidden energy. Swiss Guards stood at every intersection, hard-eyed soldiers whose hands never strayed far from their weapons. The usual quiet dignity of the Apostolic Palace had been replaced by the controlled urgency of a military command center.
Pope Pius XII stepped ahead of us with surprising speed, his white cassock billowing behind him, the wake of a majestic ship cutting through troubled waters. Monsignor Rinaldi flanked him on one side, while Will and I followed close behind.
