Roma
P etroni leaned his tall, thin frame back into his leather chair. Mission accomplished. The precedent for resignation was now out in the public domain; the softening-up process was under way. Now, as long as Cardinal Donelli, the journalist and the woman could be kept out of the equation and the Omega Scroll safely recovered, anything might be possible. After all, he reasoned with himself, it was not the first time his beloved Church had needed protection from those who might seek to question her authority. Which brought him to the reaction of the other cardinals and any possible questioning of his own authority. Seeking resignation was a risky strategy but the Holy Father might go on for quite a time yet, and with each passing year Petroni’s chances of getting his hands on the Keys to St Peter were correspondingly diminished. Younger cardinals were threatening to overtake him.
Cardinal Petroni unlocked the top drawer of his desk and took out a much-thumbed black leather book. Divided into sections for cardinals, archbishops and bishops, it showed their dates of retirements, dates of promotion and ages. Chances for further promotion were assessed under Petroni’s own system of stars, from a low of one to the more threatening four star rating and, in rare cases, five. Awarded according to competence, standing in the wider Church, mentors, age and a host of other factors that would have done justice to a bookmaker’s form guide. By his own reckoning Petroni had three main rivals.
The first two on his list had been given five stars. Cardinal Thuku, the charismatic leader from Kenya, and Cardinal Medici, the noted Liberation theologian from Ecuador. The strategy to defeat the two Third World candidates from Kenya and Ecuador would have to be carefully managed, he mused, but he’d already developed a suitable line: ‘In due course, there would certainly be a Pope chosen from one of the many Third World candidates, but perhaps not yet.’ Cardinal Petroni was reinforcing this line at every opportunity. Closer to home, Cardinal Giovanni Donelli, the recently installed Patriarch of Venice and the youngest of the College of Cardinals by several years, was now a clear and present danger. Originally Petroni had countered Donelli by quietly reminding his cardinal colleagues that a long Papacy carried enormous risks if the candidate didn’t turn out as expected, but Donelli’s investigation into the Vatican Bank’s sale of shares in a bank in the Veneto had forced a dramatic change in Petroni’s approach.
He and Giovanni Donelli had worked together once. In 1978 when Petroni had been an archbishop in the Vatican and Giovanni Donelli was private secretary to Pope John Paul I. Back then the ruthlessly ambitious Archbishop Petroni had identified the brilliant young priest as a potential threat and after John Paul I mysteriously died after only thirty-three days in office, Petroni had sidelined his young rival. As a result, Cardinal Petroni reasoned that Donelli would not be well enough known by others in the College of Cardinals and he had left his name circled in his black book as ‘B-list at best’. It had been a crucial mistake that would now be rectified.
Petroni took a deep breath. It was time to set the wheels of his own destiny in motion. He pushed the preset button for the Papal Physician.
‘Vincenzo. Come stai? ’
‘Bene, grazie, e tu?’
‘ Molto bene, grazie. I am arranging for the Curial Cardinals to meet in the Borgia Chamber tomorrow night. I think it is time they were given a frank assessment of the Papal condition.’ Cardinal Petroni came straight to the point. Small talk was not his long suit. ‘I would be grateful if you could provide such a briefing?’
‘But of course, Eminence.’ Professor Vincenzo Martines politely stuck with protocol. The Papal Physician had long ago concluded he had no desire to be on anything other than professional terms with the current Secretary of State.
‘ Eccellente. I will send a car at seven. That will give us time to, shall we say, plan our approach. Fino ad allora. Until then.’
The Papal Physician put down the phone and stared at it. For a long time now the Pope’s health had not been his only concern in the Vatican. Professor Martines was an eminent physician, but he also had an additional qualification in psychiatry. Not for the first time Professor Martines wondered whether the Cardinal Secretary of State was fit for high office. There was a long list of symptoms: egocentric and grandiose; deceitful and manipulative; a lack of remorse or guilt; shallow emotions; demanding automatic compliance with expectations; a need for excitement; and requiring excessive admiration. Martines wondered if his diagnosis was accurate, or was it something even deeper, even more sinister. Martines also wondered if there might have been problems in Petroni’s childhood. Had he been privy to the Cardinal’s private life, the Papal Physician’s innermost fears and diagnosis would have been confirmed.
On the other side of the Tiber Cardinal Petroni buzzed to summon his private secretary, Father Thomas. Having sown the seed of resignation, his planned meeting with the Curial Cardinals could not be delayed any longer. It would be important to catch them off guard. Almost immediately there was a knock on the heavy double doors of his office.
‘ Avanti.’
Father Andrew Thomas was a quiet man in his early thirties with a reputation for ruthless efficiency. ‘Yes, Eminence?’ he inquired.
‘How many of the Curial Cardinals are away from Rome?’
‘As far as I know, Eminence, all of them are here.’
‘ Eccellente. We will not require more than one briefing. I’ve asked Professor Martines to come and see me tomorrow night. Give each of the cardinals my compliments and ask them if they would join us in the Borgia Chamber at eight.’
‘Certainly, Eminence.’
‘Apologise for the inconvenience, Father Thomas, and tell them that the Papal Physician is providing a personal assessment on the Holy Father’s condition. Something that I note CCN has already done for us.’ Petroni smiled thinly. ‘I think you will find they will all want to be there.’
‘Certainly, Eminence. Will there be anything else?’
‘Just the usual, have the driver on stand-by to pick me up at nine this evening.’
‘Of course, Eminence.’ Father Thomas withdrew quietly and closed the double doors behind him, not questioning why such a senior member of the Curia ordered his car late every second Monday.