could say anything in front of the Archbishop.’
‘I know exactly what this is about: you’re going to tell me we’ve lost a cardinal.’
‘On the contrary, Dean, we appear to have acquired one.’ The Irishman gave a nervous giggle.
‘Is that meant to be a joke?’
‘No, Eminence.’ O’Malley became sombre. ‘I mean it literally: another cardinal has just turned up.’
‘How is that possible? Did we leave someone off the list?’
‘No, his name was never on our list. He says he was created
in pectore
.’
Lomeli felt as if he had walked into an invisible wall. He came briefly to a halt in the middle of the lobby. ‘He has to be an impostor, surely?’
‘That was my reaction, Eminence. But Archbishop Mandorff has spoken to him. And he thinks not.’
Lomeli hurried over to Mandorff. ‘What’s this I’m hearing?’
Behind the reception desk, a couple of nuns busied themselves at their computers, pretending not to listen.
‘His name is Vincent Benítez, Eminence. He’s the Archbishop of Baghdad.’
‘Baghdad? I wasn’t aware we had an archbishop in such a place. Is he an Iraqi?’
‘Hardly! He’s a Filipino. The Holy Father appointed him last year.’
‘Yes, now I think I do remember.’ He had a vague memory of a photograph in a magazine. A Catholic prelate standing in the burnt-out skeleton of a church. Was he really now a cardinal?
Mandorff said, ‘You of all people must have been aware of his elevation?’
‘I am not. You look surprised.’
‘Well, I assumed if he’d been made a cardinal, the Holy Father would have notified the Dean of the College.’
‘Not necessarily. If you recall, he completely revised the canon law on
in pectore
appointments shortly before he died.’
Lomeli tried to sound unconcerned, although in truth he felt this latest slight even more acutely than the rest.
In pectore
(‘in the heart’) was the ancient provision under which a Pope could create acardinal without revealing his name, even to his closest associates: apart from the beneficiary, God alone would know. In all his years in the Curia, Lomeli had only ever heard of one case of a cardinal created
in pectore
, whose name was never made public, even after the Pope’s death. That had been in 2003, under the papacy of John Paul II. To this day no one knew who the man was – the assumption had always been that he was Chinese, and that he had had to remain anonymous to avoid persecution. Presumably the same considerations of safety might well apply to the Church’s senior representative in Baghdad. Was that it?
He was aware of Mandorff still staring at him. The German was perspiring freely in the heat. The chandelier gleamed on his watery bald skull. Lomeli said, ‘But I’m sure the Holy Father wouldn’t have made such a sensitive decision without at least consulting the Secretary of State. Ray, would you be so kind as to find Cardinal Bellini, and ask him to join us?’ As O’Malley left, he turned back to Mandorff. ‘And you think he’s genuinely a cardinal?’
‘He has a letter of appointment from the late Pope addressed to the archdiocese of Baghdad, which they kept secret at the Holy Father’s request. He has a seal of office. Look for yourself.’ He showed the package of documents to Lomeli. ‘And he
is
an archbishop, fulfilling a mission in one of the most dangerous places in the world. I cannot think why he would forge his credentials, can you?’
‘I suppose not.’ The papers certainly looked authentic to Lomeli. He returned them. ‘Where is he now?’
‘I asked him to wait in the back office.’
Mandorff conducted Lomeli behind the reception desk. Through the glass wall he could see a slender figure sitting on an orange plastic chair in the corner, between a printing machine and boxes of copying paper. He was dressed in a plain black cassock. His headwas bare, no skullcap. He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his rosary in his hands, looking down and
‘I know exactly what this is about: you’re going to tell me we’ve lost a cardinal.’
‘On the contrary, Dean, we appear to have acquired one.’ The Irishman gave a nervous giggle.
‘Is that meant to be a joke?’
‘No, Eminence.’ O’Malley became sombre. ‘I mean it literally: another cardinal has just turned up.’
‘How is that possible? Did we leave someone off the list?’
‘No, his name was never on our list. He says he was created
in pectore
.’
Lomeli felt as if he had walked into an invisible wall. He came briefly to a halt in the middle of the lobby. ‘He has to be an impostor, surely?’
‘That was my reaction, Eminence. But Archbishop Mandorff has spoken to him. And he thinks not.’
Lomeli hurried over to Mandorff. ‘What’s this I’m hearing?’
Behind the reception desk, a couple of nuns busied themselves at their computers, pretending not to listen.
‘His name is Vincent Benítez, Eminence. He’s the Archbishop of Baghdad.’
‘Baghdad? I wasn’t aware we had an archbishop in such a place. Is he an Iraqi?’
‘Hardly! He’s a Filipino. The Holy Father appointed him last year.’
‘Yes, now I think I do remember.’ He had a vague memory of a photograph in a magazine. A Catholic prelate standing in the burnt-out skeleton of a church. Was he really now a cardinal?
Mandorff said, ‘You of all people must have been aware of his elevation?’
‘I am not. You look surprised.’
‘Well, I assumed if he’d been made a cardinal, the Holy Father would have notified the Dean of the College.’
‘Not necessarily. If you recall, he completely revised the canon law on
in pectore
appointments shortly before he died.’
Lomeli tried to sound unconcerned, although in truth he felt this latest slight even more acutely than the rest.
In pectore
(‘in the heart’) was the ancient provision under which a Pope could create acardinal without revealing his name, even to his closest associates: apart from the beneficiary, God alone would know. In all his years in the Curia, Lomeli had only ever heard of one case of a cardinal created
in pectore
, whose name was never made public, even after the Pope’s death. That had been in 2003, under the papacy of John Paul II. To this day no one knew who the man was – the assumption had always been that he was Chinese, and that he had had to remain anonymous to avoid persecution. Presumably the same considerations of safety might well apply to the Church’s senior representative in Baghdad. Was that it?
He was aware of Mandorff still staring at him. The German was perspiring freely in the heat. The chandelier gleamed on his watery bald skull. Lomeli said, ‘But I’m sure the Holy Father wouldn’t have made such a sensitive decision without at least consulting the Secretary of State. Ray, would you be so kind as to find Cardinal Bellini, and ask him to join us?’ As O’Malley left, he turned back to Mandorff. ‘And you think he’s genuinely a cardinal?’
‘He has a letter of appointment from the late Pope addressed to the archdiocese of Baghdad, which they kept secret at the Holy Father’s request. He has a seal of office. Look for yourself.’ He showed the package of documents to Lomeli. ‘And he
is
an archbishop, fulfilling a mission in one of the most dangerous places in the world. I cannot think why he would forge his credentials, can you?’
‘I suppose not.’ The papers certainly looked authentic to Lomeli. He returned them. ‘Where is he now?’
‘I asked him to wait in the back office.’
Mandorff conducted Lomeli behind the reception desk. Through the glass wall he could see a slender figure sitting on an orange plastic chair in the corner, between a printing machine and boxes of copying paper. He was dressed in a plain black cassock. His headwas bare, no skullcap. He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his rosary in his hands, looking down and
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