The Omega Factor(64)

He nodded. “He’s a grown man now and had Father Tallard killed. He’s using the fact that Tallard told me everything, in the confessional, about his past sexual deviancies, as blackmail on me and the church. He’s the one who sent the video to me.”

“What does he want?”

“I don’t know. I met with him earlier and learned little. Right now, he just wants DNA tests.”

They were standing off to themselves. No one within twenty meters. He sensed that Fuentes had maneuvered him here on purpose, wanting this conversation in public. Perhaps as a way to further assert control since, after all, what could he do in opposition? Walk away? Get angry? Raise his voice? Create a scene? Hardly.

“This supposed son of yours knows of les Vautours?”

“Apparently so.”

“Do you have any idea how?”

He shook his head. “Today was the first time I’ve seen him in over thirty years. I probed, but he offered nothing.”

“I would like to speak to him.”

“He’s also Cathar.”

That brought a momentary reaction to the stone face. “So he hates you and the church?”

“Apparently.”

“There is no doubt?” Fuentes asked. “He is your son?”

“His mother confronted me with that fact long ago. I knew then that she was telling the truth.”

“Where is she?”

“He told me she was dead. I have not seen her in a long time.”

“How many women were there?”

No sense lying. “Quite a few. But none ever presented a problem, save for her.”

“And your son now has your DNA.”

He shrugged. “No one witnessed what we did but the two of us. Deniability still exists. But I doubt all he wants is to establish parentage. He had a man killed just to gain my attention. He’s after something else. Something bigger.”

“That’s quite obvious. Any idea what?”

“Probably to expose me as a lying, cheating hypocrite and the church as the protector of sexual predators.”

“My thoughts exactly. Double revenge. But the mention of the Vultures? That’s the puzzling part of this.”

He realized that he would not be the first cardinal with a questionable past. Truth be told, most of them harbored more than one secret. But the problem was more acute. He wasn’t a cardinal.

Not yet.

“The Pontifical Commission for Sacred Archaeology was created to watch over and protect the ancient cemeteries beneath St. Peter’s Basilica,” Fuentes said. “That is our primary obligation. But we also have a duty to safeguard the oldest memories of the first Christian centuries, wherever that might be. That grants me a fair amount of latitude. Do you play golf?”

He shook his head.

“A shame. It’s a wonderful game. Quite relaxing. There are out-of-bounds markers all along the course defined by white stakes. Places you cannot venture without a penalty stroke. The commission’s markers are spaced out too, but quite wide, offering plenty of room for me to play.”

He was a bit frustrated with all the hedging. “Eminence, I’ve been painfully honest with you. Could you extend me the same courtesy?”

Fuentes smiled. “Since 1852, only nine men have headed the pontifical commission. The tenure for each was long. All competent individuals who performed their job with skill and dedication. I was appointed by the last pope and kept in the job by the current one. With your help, Archbishop, we are going to finally solve a mystery that has plagued the church for a long, long time.”

Now he was intrigued.

Fuentes motioned. “Let’s walk and enjoy this marvelous evening. Along the way, in return for your honesty, I’ll tell you something that few on this earth know.”





Chapter 41



Kelsey was unsure what to make of all that was happening. Her emotions had spanned a wide spectrum. First anger toward her prioress, then amazement, distrust, confusion, and finally curiosity. The comment What if Pius XII was wrong had definitely intrigued her. Which had surely been its purpose. But her superior had declined to elaborate any further, saying that they were needed across town and all would be explained then.

“And pack your things,” the prioress said. “You won’t be returning.”

They’d both left the apartment and headed out on the streets. She wanted to call Nick and tell him she was leaving but the prioress had insisted that she surrender her phone. She’d first donned the dark-green smock that all the sisters of Saint-Luke wore, but her prioress had told her to change back into street clothes. She rarely wore her habit while on assignment. It was just easier to look like everyone else than to explain her presence. But she’d thought the assignment over, time to re-don her uniform.

“Where are we going?” she asked, a bit irritated at the silence.

“Sister, somewhere along the way you’ve lost sight of the fact that I’m your superior. I don’t have to explain myself.”

“You lost my unquestioned allegiance when you lied to me.”

“I never lied. I simply withheld the entire story. And, by the way, you lied too. I asked if there were copies of those images and you said no.”

“There were no copies. Just my original file.”