Read Online The Guardian by Robbie Cheuvront and Erik Reed - Free Book Online Page A

place here on a somewhat regular basis were not the kinds of things that a prominent cardinal should be associated with.
    The house was used for regular get-togethers. Many of the rich, prominent, definitely
not
Catholic community of Rome found themselves here on most weekends drinking and partying. It was more or less an extremely upper-crust, high-end, invitation-only nightclub. Cardinal Wickham found that he could make a substantial amount of money leasing out his place to these people who would rather have anonymity than be associated with the everyday nightclub scene. These people, different ones from time to time, would rent the house for two, sometimes three days a week. The usual going rate was five thousand dollars. That also included a cleanup fee.
    Today was one of those days. A “client” had just left. There would be a get-together tonight. The arrangements had been made over the phone several weeks ago. Today was payday. The client, an attractive brunette in her late fifties, showed up, paid the bill, got the keys, and left just as quickly as she came. She extended an invitation to him and promised him more fun than he had probably ever had in his entire life. He politely declined, although a night of old-fashioned, worldly fun sounded good to him right now. He thanked the woman and showed her out. He apologized for the hurry, but he was expecting more guests any minute.
    The first of his guests had just walked through the archway that led into the dining room where he now sat. The younger, gray-haired man said nothing as he entered. He simply walked into the room and took a seat, the same one he usually took at these meetings.
    “Good day, Joseph,” said Cardinal Wickham.
    “Hello, Louis,” Cardinal Joseph McCoy answered. “Who was the hottie in the Porsche that I passed on the way in here? One of your extracurricular activities, I assume?”
    Cardinal Wickham dismissed this with a wave of the hand. “Not that it’s any of your business who I visit or spend my time with, but no. Not this one.”
    “Too bad,” said Joseph. “She was pretty easy to look at.”
    “So, Joseph, how are things in the archives?” Cardinal Wickham smiled as he said this.
    “Enchanting.” He scowled. “Where is everyone else? I have other things to do today.”
    “Books to shelve? Manuscripts to catalog?” It was nasty to tease the younger man like this, but it was so entertaining to see the red flush of anger darken his face.
    Joseph was a very prominent, highly respected cardinal at the Vatican and had spent the last three years of his life stuck in the Vatican library. He was by no means a historian. Nor did he have a love for books or the Dewey decimal system, for that matter. He simply was the newest man in the order, and that’s where Wickham had stuck him.
    Joseph glowered at his superior but didn’t respond. Wickham flicked his fingers in the direction of the door. It was no fun if they didn’t take the bait. “They’ll be here. Don’t worry.” He checked his watch. It was only twelve thirty, six thirty in the United States. Jonathan should be taking care of some business right about now. “Besides, Joseph, once again you are early. You’re always early. I don’t particularly have a problem with that. But you really must stop complaining about no one else being here when you show up thirty minutes before you’re even supposed to be here.”
    “Why don’t you like me?”
    “I’m sorry, Joseph, I don’t know what you mean.”
    “It’s not a hard question. Why don’t you like me?”
    It was like talking to a petulant schoolgirl. “Joseph, my brother, it’s not that I don’t like you. I do. If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be here. It’s just that … well … you whine a lot.”
    “Whine? What do you mean, I whine?”
    “There! That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You’re whining. Right now.”
    “I hardly see how asking a question or two is whining.”
    “Call it whatever you want.