The Secret of Fatima (24 page)

That morning after Mass in St. Peter's Chapel, Kevin strolled along the stone path, inhaling the scent of pine of early summer. The Vatican gardens were a peaceful refuge, a sanctuary removed from the deafening traffic. But the quiet was interrupted by a ring from his cell, a tune from the Grateful Dead.

“Hello, Toby.”

“Hi, buddy. I owe you some thanks.” Toby's tone was sarcastic.

“Really?”

“So, it happens I'm in Rome, staying at a fine hotel down the street, thank you very much—arrived this morning—it's all on Uncle Sam's dime. Thanks, buddy.” Kevin detected something was wrong.

“Okay, where's the punch line?”

“Tell you when I see you.”

“When is that?”

“How about right now?”

Kevin was as eager to hear what Toby had to say.

“Fine. Need directions?”

“Not really. Turn to your right.”

Kevin turned quickly to see his friend walking along the garden's pebble path about one hundred yards away, phone to his ear, waving at him. Same old Toby. Same old CIA.

As he approached, Toby was grinning. He looked all of his forty-four years. The lines around his eyes had deepened.

Toby ran his fingers through his uncombed sandy hair. He was wearing a battle-worn brown sports jacket and casual slacks.

“Can't believe you're here,” said Kevin, slapping him on the back. “Good to see you, Toby.”

“Well, I'm surprised, too, if you want to know the truth.”

“My apartment is just around the corner,” Kevin said. “C'mon.”

“It's nice here,” Toby said.

“And convenient,” added Kevin.

Kevin unlocked the door. They stepped into the apartment.

“Not bad,” Toby commented, looking around. “If this fulfills your Church vow of poverty, I can't wait to see chastity.”

Kevin smiled. “When your expense account runs out, you can stay here, too,” Kevin said as they settled in the living room.

“Thanks.” Toby made himself comfortable reaching into his jacket pocket for some papers. “To begin, old buddy, let me tell you that the White House is one of the reasons I'm here—and I should add that's how I got to fly business class, thank you.”

“The White House?”

“You're the first one who tipped them off to the Israeli attack on Iran. Now it's heating up again. They want to know what's next—or at least, what your sources are telling you is next.”

“I don't have any sources, Toby.” Kevin thought for a moment, then added, “Well, actually I have one, I guess.” Kevin trusted Toby and explained what had happened since they'd last spoken. The conversation that followed was mostly about Sister Mary Catherine and her role with Opus Mundi. Kevin omitted the part about the striptease.

“Can I talk to her?” Toby asked.

“No. She'll only talk to me.”

“When do you see her next?”

“This afternoon. She's low-level, Toby. I doubt she knows much.”

Toby grimaced. “Still, we'll take anything at this point. The Israelis are trigger-happy and we don't think we can control them. Unless some deal is worked out soon, we might be in a very hot war.”

“She's been through a lot, Toby, so don't get your hopes up. How long are you staying?”

“It's up to me. If I'm finding out good intel, then I'll stay a bit.”

“Great. You might be here for the announcement of a new pope. The rules changed, so we expect a proclamation any time now. It's quite an event.”

“The announcement of a new pope here in Rome? That's history. You have pull to get us good seats?”

“Like on the fifty-yard line? Not a stadium event, Toby.”

“Whatever you can do,” said Toby. “Sounds like it might be interesting.”

“You want something to drink or eat?” asked Kevin.

“Sure.”

“OK, I'll be right back.” Kevin went into the kitchen and quickly returned with two Peroni beer bottles and a plate of cheese and crackers.

“Thanks, Kev,” said Toby, removing his jacket and throwing it over the back of the couch. “This jetlag has me all messed up. I'm starving.”

Both men grabbed some cheese and crackers and chugged some beer.

Kevin clicked the flat screen on. The breaking news coverage switched back and forth between the crowd in St. Peter's Square and the White House, where negotiations so far were averting a major war in the Middle East.

Toby finished his beer and flipped through the papers he'd taken from his jacket pocket. “One more thing, Kevin,” he said. “Do you know a Jimmy Stein?”

Why would Toby ask about Jimmy Stein?

“Yeah, I know him. Well, sort of … I guess. Why are you asking?”

“He's attracted the agency's attention. We opened a monitor filing on you after your intel on the Israeli attack proved so accurate. It just means we keep an eye on anything and anyone you're involved in who might be interesting. This guy Stein has been doing research about you. He also filed a Freedom of Information request about your court-martial.”

“Son of a bitch!” Kevin blurted.

“Who is he?”

“Katie's new boyfriend. Why the hell would he be doing this?”

Toby shrugged. “Hold on. There's more.” Kevin stared at the papers on his lap. “There's something else Stein and your friend Katie have in common: That guy Maggio's company United something is a client of both Stein's investment firm and Katie's law firm.”

“I don't believe this! What do you make of it, Toby?”

“Beats me. His checking into you might mean he's working for someone who wants some dirt on you.”

“Opus Mundi?”

Toby shrugged. “Or maybe he's just a typically jealous dude who's wanting to know more about the guy who's had Katie's affection all these years.”

“I'm a priest, remember?”

“Yeah? I knew you before you did the priest thing.”

Kevin was struggling to keep a lid on his fury. His head was racing with questions.
Was this guy Stein using Katie to get at him for some reason? And should he tell her, or would she dismiss it coming from him as sour grapes? And what about this Maggio guy's company?
Whatever he told Katie, first he had to find out more about Jimmy Stein.

“Did you check Stein out, Toby?”

“Yeah. We found nothing unusual. But that doesn't mean much. He could be working for somebody we don't know.”

“Tax returns, employment? You guys have access to pretty much everything.”

“The FBI has that stuff and, yes, we checked. Like I told you—nothing.”

Kevin got up and put on his jacket. “I'm going to see Sister Mary Catherine. If you want, wait for me here.”

“Thanks. Hey, bud, remember the favor I asked you? It's important, Kev.”

Kevin nodded as he opened the door. “I know. I'll ask her to talk to you, but she's fragile. And very upset. Don't get your hopes up.”

“I know,” said Toby. “But try, will ya?”

“Sure, buddy.”

As soon as Kevin stepped out of his apartment he rang Katie at her office. They had a brief but tense conversation. Yes, she knew that Jimmy was acquainted with Maggio and his company, Consolidated Investors United. In fact, it was Jimmy who referred Katie when Maggio asked for a lawyer recommendation. He explained their personal relationship but Maggio didn't seem to mind. No, she had no idea why Jimmy might have been checking up on Kevin.

The conversation ended inconclusively, which meant badly. Kevin tried to put it out of his mind as he headed to the hospital.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Rome, Italy

When Kevin entered the room, Sister Mary Catherine was standing at the foot of the bed in nothing but her sheer hospital gown. With a big smile, she held out her arms to greet him. “Hi, Kevin! Look at the progress I've made.”

Kevin dodged the hug. He knew trouble when he saw it.

“Nice to see you, MC. You look good—all refreshed, ready to go.”

“Thanks. Gosh, I wish I could get out of here. Can I just leave? Dinner, maybe?”

“No. Let's sit and talk.”

MC puckered her lips and crawled back into bed. She definitely was not like any nun Kevin had ever encountered.

Kevin sat down beside her on the bed, making sure there was plenty of space between them. “Have you thought about our earlier conversations? Anything you can add that'd help us with Opus Mundi?”

“I've been thinking, Kevin. Stuff comes and goes.”

“I need some information about the connection with Israel.”

MC put her hand to her head. “All I know is they wanted to start a war. I don't know why.”

Kevin knew that much. She wasn't much help. “You'll be discharged soon, MC, and I'm trying to keep you out of jail because you're cooperating. I won't press charges against you, so it might work. But we can't forget that Opus Mundi already has made an attempt on your life. They might try again.”

“I don't want to die, Kevin,” she said, fixating on the door as if someone might burst in at any moment.

“I've arranged security. You'll be safe.”

“I don't think I want to be a nun anymore. I'm realizing I'm not nun material.”

“Ya think?” Kevin asked.
A new meaning for the word
“
understatement
,” he thought.

“I know you're making fun of me, Kevin. But I want to lead a good life and I got off to a bad start. I need your help, okay? As a mentor. Someone I can trust.”

Apparently, she was determined to keep him in her life. And even though she'd tried to do him in, he remained intrigued. “I'll help in any way I can, MC. Or I should say, in any appropriate way I can.”

MC smiled like a Cheshire cat. “Don't worry, Kevin. I know you're a priest through and through. And the word appropriate isn't lost on me.”
Tally one for feminine smarts
.

“OK then.” Kevin got up from the chair. “You've got my cell number. Call whenever you want.”

“Thanks.”

As Kevin got up from the bed, he leaned over to kiss her forehead, but then thought better of it. He proceeded to the door.

“Kevin, wait!” MC blurted, her arm waving. “There's something I forgot to tell you. It might have to do with the secret. You know, the secret of Fatima.”

Was this a ploy?

Kevin stopped and turned back to her. “What?”

MC frowned, rubbing her forehead with all the theatrical
sturm und drang
of a diva in the exit scene. “Once, when we were in a meeting, I overheard Visitor talking to a man. I think it was the one who attacked me. They didn't know I could hear them. The man told Visitor about a precious document in Seville. They talked about visiting the cathedral.”

“You overheard this?”

“They were speaking in Italian; I understood it.”

Kevin remembered the cell phone SIM cards he'd retrieved from the thugs who'd attacked Max and him on the way in from the airport. Several revealed calls to Spain, as did the SIM card taken from Ali, the teenager who'd snuck into his apartment.

“Think hard, MC. This could be important.”
But without the histrionics, please
.

“Oh my, I just can't recall any little 'ole thing right now.” She sounded as if she was rehearsing in a Tennessee Williams' play. She exhaled. “Maybe later.” She sighed. “Kevin, was this useful?” She looked at him, her eyes wide.

“Don't know yet, MC. Get some rest.”

But Kevin did know. Now he had a solid clue as to the location of the missing pages of the secret of Fatima.

Chapter Thirty-Three

The Sistine Chapel, Rome, Italy

As Kevin walked to his apartment, he heard footsteps at a distance behind him. Turning around, he saw Max running at full throttle toward him.

“Hey, what's the hurry, Max?”

“The announcement is coming today … this afternoon,” he said, catching up.

“How do you know?”

“A source in the kitchen. They've been told there'll be no more meals.”

“C'mon over to my place. I have a visitor from the U.S. We can watch together. And that's not all. I just got a hot tip on the secret.”

“Do tell,” Max said, panting for breath, struggling to keep up with Kevin.

The enormous number of people within the confines of the Vatican could be seen scurrying and scampering everywhere and nowhere, underscoring Max's notion that something big was about to happen. All eyes were fixed on the chimney above the Sistine Chapel.

“MC overheard something about Seville and the cathedral there. Visitor was involved and he and another man talked about an important document.”

“Hey, weren't some of the calls you traced from Spain?”

“Correct. And I gave those numbers to Toby Beck, my CIA friend who you're about to meet. I'll check to see if the numbers were from Seville.”

Inside the apartment, Kevin made introductions. Max and Toby shook hands.

“Nice to meet you, Father,” Toby said. “I've heard a lot about you.”

“Just call me Max, Toby. I take it you work in Washington?”

“For the government.” Toby smiled. “That can be anywhere, but yeah, mostly in Washington.”

Max nodded, sensing not to pry any further. It was pretty evident Kevin's friend didn't work for the Department of Commerce.

“Toby and I go way back. He's been a big help to me,” Kevin said.

“Yes, I know,” Max said.

Kevin opened a drawer in his desk and removed a piece of notepaper with the phone numbers. He opened his laptop and typed a search query for the origin of the numbers. After a couple of seconds, he mumbled, “Yep, they're Seville.”

Kevin rejoined the others, explaining to Toby and Max what he'd learned. “There's no proof that they were talking about the secret of Fatima,” he said. “But I think it's a valid lead.”