Dead Bishops Don't Lie, page 25
“And we know that Gladio’s trademark was the creation of false flags.”
“Like the Pistis Sophia letter.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Are other prelates involved?”
“A trial might answer those questions.”
The Holy Father walked back to where Legnano was standing and stared at him, “Monsignor I cannot begin to foresee the consequences of giving Volpe and Fiore to the Italian authorities.”
“Holy Father, I think the consequences of not doing so are even worse.”
“When does Interpol want an answer?”
“Right now. They’re waiting at the entrance.”
“Impossible. Tell them they will get their answer tomorrow morning. I have to meet with Volpe and Fiore. And with our lawyers.”
“I understand, Your Holiness.”
The pope took Legnano by the arm and started towards the door. “May the Holy Spirit give us courage, and the strength to get through this, Legnano.”
“Yes, Your Holiness.”
Legnano walked back to the Saint Anne entrance. As he approached, he could see journalists and photographers milling about, waiting, as the Swiss Guards stood in an orderly phalanx, contrasting with the mix of Dulac’s and Guadagni’s men.
Legnano took Dulac aside. “His Holiness requests until tomorrow afternoon, before giving his decision. He has to meet with the prelates and with his inner council. He also has to seek legal advice.”
“That’s a long time. I can’t guarantee there won’t be a leak,” replied Dulac.
“At least give us until tomorrow morning, then.”
“That’s more feasible. I can accept that. Give me your word that Volpe and Fiore won’t leave the Vatican.”
“You have my word.”
Chapter 72
The Alfas drove slowly away, to the gesticulations and cries of the journalists.
“Unfair!”
“Irresponsible, the people must know.”
“At least tell us what it’s about. Why didn’t you get what you wanted?”
The policemen had been well prepared. No comment was the unified reply.
Entering the hotel, Dulac and his men, followed by three persistent journalists, sat down at the bar and ordered drinks. As one of them tried to engage Dulac in conversation, he turned away and gazed into empty space, lost in his thoughts.
* * *
The next morning, Dulac rose at six a.m. and knocked on Lescop’s door. “Meet you downstairs, the cars will be here at seven.”
As they sat down in the Alfa, Dulac had a sense of foreboding. He tried to imagine the Holy See’s options. Will the Vatican bluff its way out of this, as it tried to do in the sex cases? Under the policy of deniability of Chimera, will the Vatican discredit Volpe, and deny his authority to bind it? Difficult, since he’s Secretary of State, ranking immediately under the pope.
They approached once again the steps of the entrance adjacent to Saint Peter’s Basilica, and Dulac could see an even larger phalanx of Swiss Guards, in colorful contrast with the grayness of the day. Not a good sign, he thought. How ironic. The local police protecting murder suspects from arrest. Only in the Vatican.
The unlikely assembly formed again, as some journalists mixed with Dulac’s and Guadagni’s men. Half an hour went by. Still no sign of Legnano. Dulac paced back and forth, lighting Gitane after Gitane. Finally, exasperated, he signaled to the senior Swiss Guard.
“Can you see what’s holding up Cardinal Legnano?”
The Swiss officer left in the direction of Legnano’s office.
Suddenly, Legnano appeared, walking beside Fiore, whose sullen expression immediately caught Dulac’s attention. Dulac looked at Guadagni, and both knew the odds had just gotten a whole lot better.
“Good morning, Monsignor Legnano, Monsignor Fiore,” said Dulac, feeling exhilarated. “Where is Cardinal Volpe?”
“The Swiss Guard is getting him. He probably didn’t sleep well,” replied a somber Legnano.
Dulac knew he had won.
At that moment, a Swiss Guard erupted from behind one of the columns and took Legnano aside.
Legnano signaled Dulac and Guadagni. “Come, something is wrong. Volpe won’t answer. His door is locked.”
They followed the Swiss Guards and walked briskly towards Volpe’s apartment.
“Cardinal Volpe?” shouted the senior Swiss Guard as he knocked. No answer. Legnano nodded to the Swiss Guards to break down the door. Three of them lunged in unison and the door broke open.
Dressed in his night shirt, Cardinal Volpe lay askew, immobile in his uncovered bed, eyes glazed, mouth agape.
“Mio Dio,” exclaimed Legnano, as the guard felt for a pulse and shook his head.
Cardinal Eugenio Volpe, Secretary of State of the Vatican, descendent of Alfonso II, Duke of Ferrara, in turn descendent of Lorenzo di Medici named the Magnificent, was dead.
Chapter 73
The evening edition of the Corriere Della Sera’s headlines roared in red letters: “Archbishop Paolo Fiore held for questioning in deaths of Archbishops Salvador and Conti.”
The Vatican today waved the diplomatic immunity of Archbishop Fiore, in relation to the deaths of Archbishops Salvador and Conti. Comments from Inspectors Thierry Dulac of Interpol and Guadagni of Rome were brief: We are looking for possible motives, including financial issues related to the Vatican bank. Monsignor Fiore has been relieved of his duties related to the financial committee of the bank, pending the results of the investigation. Fiore is under house arrest at the Vatican, awaiting his preliminary inquiry.
At Legnano’s plea and insistence, Dulac and Guadagni had agreed to let the Vatican make its own coroner’s inquest as to the exact cause of Volpe’s death. The Vatican would also choose the date of the announcement, after the autopsy report.
* * *
Summoned by Harris to report back to head office the next day, Dulac flew to Paris the following morning and caught the 11:45 train to Lyon. The rest of the investigation had to be picked up quickly.
“Congratulations, your team handled that well yesterday,” said Harris, sitting in his chair before a weary but content Dulac. “Now I’m going to tell you something that will surprise you. Please don’t take this personally, but you’ve been removed from the case.”
“Excuse me?” said Dulac, incredulous.
“In the interest of national security.”
“Really? I thought national security had been served rather well yesterday.”
“That’s not the point. The President wants to postpone any further activity until after the elections. He thinks the risk of public disclosure will endanger the electoral process itself.”
“And let the trail go cold. No thanks.”
“It’s not your choice, Dulac,” the General Secretary’s voice growing firmer under the challenge of his subaltern.
Dulac’s every fiber revolted at Harris’s obvious buckling under political pressure, against the essential principles of Interpol. To bring it up now would mean all-out war with the GS. He bit his tongue.
“I’ll see what my friend at Le Figaro thinks of this,” said Dulac.
“Don’t be a bloody fool. They’ve already prepared total deniability of the document as a false flag planted by the Islamists. They’re building up their case as we speak.”
Dulac was shaken. He hadn’t expected such a quick response. Obviously, the creative minds of the French government and Chimera hadn’t been idle.
“And de Ségur?” he asked.
“De Ségur is nowhere to be found. According to his secretary, he was last seen at his office, late last night. The Paris police searched his house. The Italians have his yacht in custody.”
“Will you press charges?” said Dulac.
“We’re still evaluating the evidence. Lescop will take over your functions in the case. Please hand over all documents you may have in your personal possession. That, by the way, includes the Chimera document.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Don’t play games Dulac. You have access to it.”
“Actually, I don’t. But he does.”
“Lescop?”
“Yes.” Dulac could feel the slow impact of the decision permeating his mind and body down to the marrow. I don’t believe it. I’m bloody well being fired. It felt all the more unjust that he’d broken the toughest case of his career. He wasn’t about to help this Judas turn the sword in his wound. “You have everything here.”
Dulac rose and walked out.
* * *
As he left the bar, the evening air clung tightly to his clogged nostrils, his eyes watering from the smoke-filled room. He hailed a taxi.
After extricating himself from the taxi, Dulac tripped on the first stair of the apartment’s staircase and barely managed not to fall. I’m completely stiff, just like in Montpelier. He rang the bell insistently, and Karen buzzed him in.
“I’ve been fired, bloody fired,” he yelled, stumbling up the stairs, as she stood in the doorway.
“What for?”
“Politics. The elections. I’m in the way. Volpe is dead. Those bastards let de Ségur get away. He’s too close to the President and the Minister of the Interior.” He threw off his jacket and sprawled onto the sofa. “How ‘bout a scotch?”
“Maybe you’ve had enough.”
“You’re probably right. Half a scotch?” he said, measuring with his thumb and forefinger in front of a semi-closed eye.
Karen smiled and prepared the drink.
* * *
The next morning found Dulac in the foulest of moods. He drank the remaining pot of coffee, trying to cleanse the poison that throbbed, double-time, in his breast. He felt exhausted but relieved. I need to get away, far away from all this. The GS is bluffing about Chimera, I’ll see Jean. No, that would definitely put an end to my career, or what’s left of it. Let the storm pass.
“So what now?” asked Karen.
“Fiore will go to trial. That bastard, de Ségur, I swear I’ll get him. Right now, I’m going home to massacre some Brahms.”
As Dulac melted into the amorphous crowd walking to work, he questioned his own significance. They went on to their secretaries, coworkers, coffee breaks, board meetings, malaises, and heart attacks, ignorant of his efforts, oblivious to his fight. He felt he should tell them. He sat down at one of the bistros. After three coffees and two croissants, he thought, is it really so important that they know?
* * *
A week later, after trying unsuccessfully to drown his self-pity in a mixture of Glenlivet and Brahms, he called Karen. “How about a mountain trek in Canada? I hear they have great walking trails in the Rockies.”
“Sounds great. When?”
“I’ll clean things up at the office. How about next week?”
“I’ll see if I can shift my classes.”
Chapter 74
As the Airbus lumbered down Charles de Gaulle’s tarmac into taxiing position, Karen gently squeezed Dulac’s hands briefly and gave him a quick smile before picking up her glass and downing the last of her orange juice.
Dulac clasped the seat belt shut and sensed the slow tightening of his muscles preparing his body for takeoff. He felt happy. The happiest he had felt in a long, long time.
Epilogue
London, Daily Messenger, September 21, 2005:
Lady Sarah Litman, Marchioness of Dorset, former member of the board of directors of Miranda Group, is serving a six-month sentence in London after pleading guilty of attempting to smuggle 5.1M USD into Italy. Kostas Stephanopoulos, the captain of the vessel involved in the smuggling, is serving his three-year sentence in Naples, as are two of his crew members.
Although sources say the Miranda Group may have been used to channel the illicit funds, no legal action has been taken against the Group at this time. However, Interpol has issued a red flag warrant for Hugues de Ségur, ex-president and CEO, in relation to the assassinations of Archbishops Salvador and Conti. His whereabouts remain unknown.
Rome, Corriere Della Sera, November 2, 2005:
After an explosive trial in Rome lasting two months, Archbishop Paolo Fiore has been found guilty of accessory to murder in the Salvador and Conti case. Says he falsified letter under South American mafia instructions, blaming Pistis Sophia sect . He awaits sentencing.
Paris, Le Canard Enchainé, November 29, 2005:
Following the discovery by freelance journalist Jean Vinet of Chimera, an underground paramilitary organization, Severine Pontet-Dubuisson, France’s recently elected first woman president, has promised a parliamentary investigation into Chimera. Rumors point towards the participation of the ex-Minister of State. Pierre Bétancourt.
Moscow, Pravda, January 30, 2006 edition:
Victor Oleyev, recently convicted mafia boss, is serving his 20-year sentence in Irkutsk for the murders of Sergei Vasiliev, Olga Fedova, and Andre Dessault, and his role in the murders of Archbishops Salvador and Conti. His seized assets, including his helicopter and house in Rubliovka, have been sold to help pay his unpaid taxes for the years 1991 to 2003. An unfinished painting portraying him as Henry VIII fetched 55,000 rubles at Christie’s of Moscow last month.
Rome, Corriere Della Sera, May 3, 2005:
Cardinal Eugenio Volpe, Secretary of State of the Vatican, has died in his sleep of an apparent heart attack, said the Vatican in its newspaper, L’Osservatore Romano, this morning. He had no previous history of heart ailments. The Holy See has named Cardinal Giuseppe Legnano to replace him.
* * *
Acknowledgments
I will forever be indebted to my wife Louise, without whose love, support and encouragement in times of turmoil I would never have finished this novel. I am also indebted to Patricia Vollstaedt, Jane Giffen and Harold Wilson, for reading and commenting my early manuscripts and pointing out errors, exaggerations or incongruities therein. I bear the entire responsibility for any that remain. I appreciate the encouragement received from Jennifer Neri, Janet Black and many others too numerous to name. Finally I’d like to thank Karen Dunn-Skinner for her inspired and meticulous editing.
124
André K. Baby, Dead Bishops Don't Lie
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“Like the Pistis Sophia letter.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Are other prelates involved?”
“A trial might answer those questions.”
The Holy Father walked back to where Legnano was standing and stared at him, “Monsignor I cannot begin to foresee the consequences of giving Volpe and Fiore to the Italian authorities.”
“Holy Father, I think the consequences of not doing so are even worse.”
“When does Interpol want an answer?”
“Right now. They’re waiting at the entrance.”
“Impossible. Tell them they will get their answer tomorrow morning. I have to meet with Volpe and Fiore. And with our lawyers.”
“I understand, Your Holiness.”
The pope took Legnano by the arm and started towards the door. “May the Holy Spirit give us courage, and the strength to get through this, Legnano.”
“Yes, Your Holiness.”
Legnano walked back to the Saint Anne entrance. As he approached, he could see journalists and photographers milling about, waiting, as the Swiss Guards stood in an orderly phalanx, contrasting with the mix of Dulac’s and Guadagni’s men.
Legnano took Dulac aside. “His Holiness requests until tomorrow afternoon, before giving his decision. He has to meet with the prelates and with his inner council. He also has to seek legal advice.”
“That’s a long time. I can’t guarantee there won’t be a leak,” replied Dulac.
“At least give us until tomorrow morning, then.”
“That’s more feasible. I can accept that. Give me your word that Volpe and Fiore won’t leave the Vatican.”
“You have my word.”
Chapter 72
The Alfas drove slowly away, to the gesticulations and cries of the journalists.
“Unfair!”
“Irresponsible, the people must know.”
“At least tell us what it’s about. Why didn’t you get what you wanted?”
The policemen had been well prepared. No comment was the unified reply.
Entering the hotel, Dulac and his men, followed by three persistent journalists, sat down at the bar and ordered drinks. As one of them tried to engage Dulac in conversation, he turned away and gazed into empty space, lost in his thoughts.
* * *
The next morning, Dulac rose at six a.m. and knocked on Lescop’s door. “Meet you downstairs, the cars will be here at seven.”
As they sat down in the Alfa, Dulac had a sense of foreboding. He tried to imagine the Holy See’s options. Will the Vatican bluff its way out of this, as it tried to do in the sex cases? Under the policy of deniability of Chimera, will the Vatican discredit Volpe, and deny his authority to bind it? Difficult, since he’s Secretary of State, ranking immediately under the pope.
They approached once again the steps of the entrance adjacent to Saint Peter’s Basilica, and Dulac could see an even larger phalanx of Swiss Guards, in colorful contrast with the grayness of the day. Not a good sign, he thought. How ironic. The local police protecting murder suspects from arrest. Only in the Vatican.
The unlikely assembly formed again, as some journalists mixed with Dulac’s and Guadagni’s men. Half an hour went by. Still no sign of Legnano. Dulac paced back and forth, lighting Gitane after Gitane. Finally, exasperated, he signaled to the senior Swiss Guard.
“Can you see what’s holding up Cardinal Legnano?”
The Swiss officer left in the direction of Legnano’s office.
Suddenly, Legnano appeared, walking beside Fiore, whose sullen expression immediately caught Dulac’s attention. Dulac looked at Guadagni, and both knew the odds had just gotten a whole lot better.
“Good morning, Monsignor Legnano, Monsignor Fiore,” said Dulac, feeling exhilarated. “Where is Cardinal Volpe?”
“The Swiss Guard is getting him. He probably didn’t sleep well,” replied a somber Legnano.
Dulac knew he had won.
At that moment, a Swiss Guard erupted from behind one of the columns and took Legnano aside.
Legnano signaled Dulac and Guadagni. “Come, something is wrong. Volpe won’t answer. His door is locked.”
They followed the Swiss Guards and walked briskly towards Volpe’s apartment.
“Cardinal Volpe?” shouted the senior Swiss Guard as he knocked. No answer. Legnano nodded to the Swiss Guards to break down the door. Three of them lunged in unison and the door broke open.
Dressed in his night shirt, Cardinal Volpe lay askew, immobile in his uncovered bed, eyes glazed, mouth agape.
“Mio Dio,” exclaimed Legnano, as the guard felt for a pulse and shook his head.
Cardinal Eugenio Volpe, Secretary of State of the Vatican, descendent of Alfonso II, Duke of Ferrara, in turn descendent of Lorenzo di Medici named the Magnificent, was dead.
Chapter 73
The evening edition of the Corriere Della Sera’s headlines roared in red letters: “Archbishop Paolo Fiore held for questioning in deaths of Archbishops Salvador and Conti.”
The Vatican today waved the diplomatic immunity of Archbishop Fiore, in relation to the deaths of Archbishops Salvador and Conti. Comments from Inspectors Thierry Dulac of Interpol and Guadagni of Rome were brief: We are looking for possible motives, including financial issues related to the Vatican bank. Monsignor Fiore has been relieved of his duties related to the financial committee of the bank, pending the results of the investigation. Fiore is under house arrest at the Vatican, awaiting his preliminary inquiry.
At Legnano’s plea and insistence, Dulac and Guadagni had agreed to let the Vatican make its own coroner’s inquest as to the exact cause of Volpe’s death. The Vatican would also choose the date of the announcement, after the autopsy report.
* * *
Summoned by Harris to report back to head office the next day, Dulac flew to Paris the following morning and caught the 11:45 train to Lyon. The rest of the investigation had to be picked up quickly.
“Congratulations, your team handled that well yesterday,” said Harris, sitting in his chair before a weary but content Dulac. “Now I’m going to tell you something that will surprise you. Please don’t take this personally, but you’ve been removed from the case.”
“Excuse me?” said Dulac, incredulous.
“In the interest of national security.”
“Really? I thought national security had been served rather well yesterday.”
“That’s not the point. The President wants to postpone any further activity until after the elections. He thinks the risk of public disclosure will endanger the electoral process itself.”
“And let the trail go cold. No thanks.”
“It’s not your choice, Dulac,” the General Secretary’s voice growing firmer under the challenge of his subaltern.
Dulac’s every fiber revolted at Harris’s obvious buckling under political pressure, against the essential principles of Interpol. To bring it up now would mean all-out war with the GS. He bit his tongue.
“I’ll see what my friend at Le Figaro thinks of this,” said Dulac.
“Don’t be a bloody fool. They’ve already prepared total deniability of the document as a false flag planted by the Islamists. They’re building up their case as we speak.”
Dulac was shaken. He hadn’t expected such a quick response. Obviously, the creative minds of the French government and Chimera hadn’t been idle.
“And de Ségur?” he asked.
“De Ségur is nowhere to be found. According to his secretary, he was last seen at his office, late last night. The Paris police searched his house. The Italians have his yacht in custody.”
“Will you press charges?” said Dulac.
“We’re still evaluating the evidence. Lescop will take over your functions in the case. Please hand over all documents you may have in your personal possession. That, by the way, includes the Chimera document.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Don’t play games Dulac. You have access to it.”
“Actually, I don’t. But he does.”
“Lescop?”
“Yes.” Dulac could feel the slow impact of the decision permeating his mind and body down to the marrow. I don’t believe it. I’m bloody well being fired. It felt all the more unjust that he’d broken the toughest case of his career. He wasn’t about to help this Judas turn the sword in his wound. “You have everything here.”
Dulac rose and walked out.
* * *
As he left the bar, the evening air clung tightly to his clogged nostrils, his eyes watering from the smoke-filled room. He hailed a taxi.
After extricating himself from the taxi, Dulac tripped on the first stair of the apartment’s staircase and barely managed not to fall. I’m completely stiff, just like in Montpelier. He rang the bell insistently, and Karen buzzed him in.
“I’ve been fired, bloody fired,” he yelled, stumbling up the stairs, as she stood in the doorway.
“What for?”
“Politics. The elections. I’m in the way. Volpe is dead. Those bastards let de Ségur get away. He’s too close to the President and the Minister of the Interior.” He threw off his jacket and sprawled onto the sofa. “How ‘bout a scotch?”
“Maybe you’ve had enough.”
“You’re probably right. Half a scotch?” he said, measuring with his thumb and forefinger in front of a semi-closed eye.
Karen smiled and prepared the drink.
* * *
The next morning found Dulac in the foulest of moods. He drank the remaining pot of coffee, trying to cleanse the poison that throbbed, double-time, in his breast. He felt exhausted but relieved. I need to get away, far away from all this. The GS is bluffing about Chimera, I’ll see Jean. No, that would definitely put an end to my career, or what’s left of it. Let the storm pass.
“So what now?” asked Karen.
“Fiore will go to trial. That bastard, de Ségur, I swear I’ll get him. Right now, I’m going home to massacre some Brahms.”
As Dulac melted into the amorphous crowd walking to work, he questioned his own significance. They went on to their secretaries, coworkers, coffee breaks, board meetings, malaises, and heart attacks, ignorant of his efforts, oblivious to his fight. He felt he should tell them. He sat down at one of the bistros. After three coffees and two croissants, he thought, is it really so important that they know?
* * *
A week later, after trying unsuccessfully to drown his self-pity in a mixture of Glenlivet and Brahms, he called Karen. “How about a mountain trek in Canada? I hear they have great walking trails in the Rockies.”
“Sounds great. When?”
“I’ll clean things up at the office. How about next week?”
“I’ll see if I can shift my classes.”
Chapter 74
As the Airbus lumbered down Charles de Gaulle’s tarmac into taxiing position, Karen gently squeezed Dulac’s hands briefly and gave him a quick smile before picking up her glass and downing the last of her orange juice.
Dulac clasped the seat belt shut and sensed the slow tightening of his muscles preparing his body for takeoff. He felt happy. The happiest he had felt in a long, long time.
Epilogue
London, Daily Messenger, September 21, 2005:
Lady Sarah Litman, Marchioness of Dorset, former member of the board of directors of Miranda Group, is serving a six-month sentence in London after pleading guilty of attempting to smuggle 5.1M USD into Italy. Kostas Stephanopoulos, the captain of the vessel involved in the smuggling, is serving his three-year sentence in Naples, as are two of his crew members.
Although sources say the Miranda Group may have been used to channel the illicit funds, no legal action has been taken against the Group at this time. However, Interpol has issued a red flag warrant for Hugues de Ségur, ex-president and CEO, in relation to the assassinations of Archbishops Salvador and Conti. His whereabouts remain unknown.
Rome, Corriere Della Sera, November 2, 2005:
After an explosive trial in Rome lasting two months, Archbishop Paolo Fiore has been found guilty of accessory to murder in the Salvador and Conti case. Says he falsified letter under South American mafia instructions, blaming Pistis Sophia sect . He awaits sentencing.
Paris, Le Canard Enchainé, November 29, 2005:
Following the discovery by freelance journalist Jean Vinet of Chimera, an underground paramilitary organization, Severine Pontet-Dubuisson, France’s recently elected first woman president, has promised a parliamentary investigation into Chimera. Rumors point towards the participation of the ex-Minister of State. Pierre Bétancourt.
Moscow, Pravda, January 30, 2006 edition:
Victor Oleyev, recently convicted mafia boss, is serving his 20-year sentence in Irkutsk for the murders of Sergei Vasiliev, Olga Fedova, and Andre Dessault, and his role in the murders of Archbishops Salvador and Conti. His seized assets, including his helicopter and house in Rubliovka, have been sold to help pay his unpaid taxes for the years 1991 to 2003. An unfinished painting portraying him as Henry VIII fetched 55,000 rubles at Christie’s of Moscow last month.
Rome, Corriere Della Sera, May 3, 2005:
Cardinal Eugenio Volpe, Secretary of State of the Vatican, has died in his sleep of an apparent heart attack, said the Vatican in its newspaper, L’Osservatore Romano, this morning. He had no previous history of heart ailments. The Holy See has named Cardinal Giuseppe Legnano to replace him.
* * *
Acknowledgments
I will forever be indebted to my wife Louise, without whose love, support and encouragement in times of turmoil I would never have finished this novel. I am also indebted to Patricia Vollstaedt, Jane Giffen and Harold Wilson, for reading and commenting my early manuscripts and pointing out errors, exaggerations or incongruities therein. I bear the entire responsibility for any that remain. I appreciate the encouragement received from Jennifer Neri, Janet Black and many others too numerous to name. Finally I’d like to thank Karen Dunn-Skinner for her inspired and meticulous editing.
124
André K. Baby, Dead Bishops Don't Lie
