Read Online The Parchment by Gerald T. McLaughlin - Free Book Online
Authors: Gerald T. McLaughlin
Ads: Link
you with your money laundering schemes?”
“You forget one thing, Eminenza. Money from what you contemptuously call laundering schemes already supports many Church programs. When it comes to accepting donations, some of your colleagues are less scrupulous than you are.”
Barbo slowly stood up from the table. Although angry, years of diplomatic training had taught the cardinal to mask his true feelings. “You will hear from me, Visconti.”
The cardinal turned and left the restaurant.
Detective Giorgio Cameri was annoyed with himself. He should never have volunteered to investigate the car accident on Via di San Marco. A routine car accident would normally have taken him fifteen minutes to investigate, but this accident was far from routine. Still something told him that this might become an important case. An American professor had been killed and another seriouslyinjured. Given that there was a vehicular homicide, Cameri knew it would be more prudent to return to his office to dictate the required reports than it would be to dictate them at home.
From the outset Cameri sensed that the theft of Michellini's briefcase was not the random act of petty thieves. Everything pointed to the work of professionals — the well-dressed assailants, the Alfa Romeo parked across the street, the quick getaway from the scene of the accident. What intrigued Cameri most about the case were Bielgard's dying words spoken to the doctor. Why did Biel-gard whisper the name of the Vatican secretary of state? He toyed with the idea of including Barbo's name in the accident report but thought better of it. A reference to a prominent Vatican official in a police report would be a red flag. The investigation would be taken away from him and become lost in the bureaucracy.
Cameri's office phone rang as he was completing his accident reports.
“Giorgio, this is Mario Esposito — the captain at La Cappella Sistina in Trastevere.”
“Eh, Mario.”
“Stop by for a drink on your way home. Something interesting happened tonight.”
“I'll be there.”
Since his earliest years on the Rome police force, Cameri had cultivated the friendship of wine stewards, waiters, and bartenders. He was always willing to help with a favor—fixing a parking ticket, keeping a son out of jail, stopping a too-ardent courtship of a daughter. Favors given led to favors returned. Over time Cameri built up an impressive network that kept him apprised of what was happening in the city.
Cameri left his office at almost 2 A.M . and took a taxi to La Capella Sistina.
“Mario, how's your beautiful daughter?”
“She's getting married. He's a nice boy. You know how much we are in your debt, Gio.” Mario poured Cameri some grappa.
“That's in the past, Mario. What happened here tonight?”
“You know Pietro Visconti?” Mario spoke sotto voce to the detective.
“What policeman doesn't? He knows everyone and has his finger in everything.”
“Well, tonight he met with Cardinal Francesco Barbo.”
“The Vatican secretary of state?”
“Yes, they sat over there at the corner table. The cardinal came late and spent about twenty minutes with Visconti. When they left, both were upset.”
“What makes you say that?”
“They left behind a three-hundred-euro bottle of Tignanello.”
Cameri walked up the flight of stairs to his apartment. Pouring himself another grappa, he turned on his computer and ran a Google search for the name “Francesco Barbo.” He stared at a picture of Barbo receiving his cardinal's biretta from Pope Benedict. Barbo's name had come up a second time tonight. Better than most of his colleagues, Cameri had good intuition. Tonight it told him that Visconti and Barbo were linked to the incident on Via di San Marco.
When he left La Capella Sistina, Barbo decided to walk back to the Vatican over the Janiculum Hill. Although it was late, he had a lot to think about.
Barbo was not naïve. He knew the release of the parchment would
“You forget one thing, Eminenza. Money from what you contemptuously call laundering schemes already supports many Church programs. When it comes to accepting donations, some of your colleagues are less scrupulous than you are.”
Barbo slowly stood up from the table. Although angry, years of diplomatic training had taught the cardinal to mask his true feelings. “You will hear from me, Visconti.”
The cardinal turned and left the restaurant.
Detective Giorgio Cameri was annoyed with himself. He should never have volunteered to investigate the car accident on Via di San Marco. A routine car accident would normally have taken him fifteen minutes to investigate, but this accident was far from routine. Still something told him that this might become an important case. An American professor had been killed and another seriouslyinjured. Given that there was a vehicular homicide, Cameri knew it would be more prudent to return to his office to dictate the required reports than it would be to dictate them at home.
From the outset Cameri sensed that the theft of Michellini's briefcase was not the random act of petty thieves. Everything pointed to the work of professionals — the well-dressed assailants, the Alfa Romeo parked across the street, the quick getaway from the scene of the accident. What intrigued Cameri most about the case were Bielgard's dying words spoken to the doctor. Why did Biel-gard whisper the name of the Vatican secretary of state? He toyed with the idea of including Barbo's name in the accident report but thought better of it. A reference to a prominent Vatican official in a police report would be a red flag. The investigation would be taken away from him and become lost in the bureaucracy.
Cameri's office phone rang as he was completing his accident reports.
“Giorgio, this is Mario Esposito — the captain at La Cappella Sistina in Trastevere.”
“Eh, Mario.”
“Stop by for a drink on your way home. Something interesting happened tonight.”
“I'll be there.”
Since his earliest years on the Rome police force, Cameri had cultivated the friendship of wine stewards, waiters, and bartenders. He was always willing to help with a favor—fixing a parking ticket, keeping a son out of jail, stopping a too-ardent courtship of a daughter. Favors given led to favors returned. Over time Cameri built up an impressive network that kept him apprised of what was happening in the city.
Cameri left his office at almost 2 A.M . and took a taxi to La Capella Sistina.
“Mario, how's your beautiful daughter?”
“She's getting married. He's a nice boy. You know how much we are in your debt, Gio.” Mario poured Cameri some grappa.
“That's in the past, Mario. What happened here tonight?”
“You know Pietro Visconti?” Mario spoke sotto voce to the detective.
“What policeman doesn't? He knows everyone and has his finger in everything.”
“Well, tonight he met with Cardinal Francesco Barbo.”
“The Vatican secretary of state?”
“Yes, they sat over there at the corner table. The cardinal came late and spent about twenty minutes with Visconti. When they left, both were upset.”
“What makes you say that?”
“They left behind a three-hundred-euro bottle of Tignanello.”
Cameri walked up the flight of stairs to his apartment. Pouring himself another grappa, he turned on his computer and ran a Google search for the name “Francesco Barbo.” He stared at a picture of Barbo receiving his cardinal's biretta from Pope Benedict. Barbo's name had come up a second time tonight. Better than most of his colleagues, Cameri had good intuition. Tonight it told him that Visconti and Barbo were linked to the incident on Via di San Marco.
When he left La Capella Sistina, Barbo decided to walk back to the Vatican over the Janiculum Hill. Although it was late, he had a lot to think about.
Barbo was not naïve. He knew the release of the parchment would
Similar Books
