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shot in front of St. Peter’s in 1981. So, what’s the connection?”
    Drotti didn’t respond. He knew more, but wouldn’t reveal it to Kevin just yet.
    â€œAnd now you guys think a secret group within the church is trying to kill this current pope?”
    Drotti nodded, his brows furrowed. “Opus Mundi believes the current Church leadership, meaning the pope, is leading us to hell—literally. They’re out to kill the false messiahs.” Drotti looked to the sky, pointing his finger. “And they’re taking their fanaticism from their reading of the scriptures!”
    â€œWill they try again—to kill the pope, I mean?” Kevin asked.
    â€œHere’s what I’m worried about,” Drotti responded. “The current pope is rumored to be making an announcement in the next few days that’ll mandate a major change in Catholic doctrine. It’ll incense the conservatives.”
    â€œDo you know what he’s going to say?” Kevin asked.
    â€œI have an idea, yes, but I’m going to keep it to myself.”
    â€œSure,” said Kevin. “But if it could help us with our job in this, let me know.”
    â€œI will,” said Drotti.
    The men strolled quietly for a few minutes, until they came upon Villa Domenica.
    Kevin took his key from his pocket. “Max, please don’t plan anything for me Thursday or Friday. I’ll have visitors in town.”
    â€œYour lady friend?” Drotti smiled.
    â€œJust visitors, OK?” said Kevin, irritated. Drotti seemed to know everything about him.
    â€œWe don’t have much time to figure this out, Kevin,” said Drotti.
    â€œDon’t worry,” said Kevin, “I’ll be working all the time. I have resources. If you don’t mind, I’ll need a little privacy.”
    Drotti nodded. “Sure. You have my number. Oh, and the cardinal’s.”
    â€œThanks,” said Kevin. “I appreciate it. And thanks for everything.”
    â€œNo problem. I’ll have everything on your list delivered tomorrow. Have a good night, Kevin.” With that, Drotti turned, leaving Kevin alone for the evening.
    Once inside the executive suite, Kevin noticed right away that his laptop was open and the screen on. Who’d been using it? He was sure he’d closed it before leaving. What the hell? He approached the desk and sat down. He looked at the screen. A message scrolled across the screen in large, black letters. The message: GO HOME.
    A threat? Had someone from Colombo been here? Opus Mundi? Maybe they’re playing hardball , Kevin thought. No matter. It’s one game I know how to play, too .
    Kevin opened the refrigerator and grabbed a Peroni. Plopping in the leather chair, his mind was scrambled by what Cardinal Porter had told him. And now, the laptop with a message.
    Often Kevin prayed to God and Jesus and Mary. He decided to ask them all about his new assignment and the quandary of the church. What’s the mission at hand? To save the Church? To save the pope? Uncover a menacing secret society within the Church? Eliminate the would-be assassins? Or could it be something else, something even more portentous and earth-shattering?
    As Kevin gulped down a deliciously cold slug of beer, his mind drifted to Katie. How about giving all this up and leading a normal life ? With his advanced education, he could get a job in finance or consulting. New York would be an interesting place to live. And kids? As a result of a bad case of chicken pox at a young age, Kevin knew Katie couldn’t have kids.
    What? Wake up! What are you thinking, knucklehead? He couldn’t leave the Church. In his head, a chorus of angelic voices were blaring, powerful and demanding. The idea of breaking his vows was unthinkable. Okay, everybody. Calm down. I’m not leaving the Church .
    Kevin sat up, alert. He hoped someday, somehow, to find the key to silencing this tug of war in his