“Why is he posing as a priest?” I asked.
“He is known as an ascetic. He believes in the purity of simplicity and thinks the ceremonial trappings and ceremony of the Church are a distraction from true worship,” Faduma replied. “He is a divisive figure, for that and other reasons.”
“Such as?”
“He is one of the directors of the Vatican Bank. He believes the Church should be more interventionist in the way it uses its assets. That it should tie investments to religious aims and political objectives.”
I realized I had misjudged the man, taking him for a junior priest because of his plain clothes and approachable manner.
“His supporters whisper his name whenever there is talk of who will become the next Pope,” Faduma revealed.
As I studied the photo of the man who had twice offered help and advice, I wondered if concern for my soul had motivated him to take an interest in me, or whether all along he had sought to manipulate and misdirect.
CHAPTER81
I STARTED TO replay my encounters with Father Vito but didn’t get far in my trawl because there was the loud and unmistakable sound of someone hitting the warehouse shutters.
Faduma and I were on our feet instantly and left the apartment. We crept downstairs into the disused and empty offices and I moved ahead into the warehouse itself, picked my way around the stacks of boxes, and climbed a loading platform that gave me access to the high letterbox windows overlooking the main entrance.
My thundering heartbeat eased and the tension melted away when I saw Justine, Sci, and Mo-bot standing outside with Valentina.
“Let them in,” I said to Faduma, and she hurried over to the small roll shutter, unlocked it, and opened it.
My colleagues stepped inside, their relief to see me palpable. Valentina followed them and closed the shutter behind her.
I jumped off the loading platform and went over to Justine, who threw her arms around me. We kissed and I didn’t care that we had company. I was just so relieved to see her and hold her in my arms again, I was reluctant to let go.
“Okay. That’s enough,” Mo-bot said. “We’ll cut you love birds some slack, but this is a professional outfit and we’ve got work to do.”
Justine and I parted, and I saw Faduma and Valentina grinning at Mo-bot’s intervention.
“It’s so good to see you,” I told Justine before turning to Mo-bot and Sci. “All of you. Let’s go upstairs.”
I took them into the apartment above the offices. Mo-bot squeaked with delight when she saw her laptop.
“I thought I’d lost my baby,” she said, as though speaking to a cherished pet.
“You nearly did. A member of Propaganda Tre was in the apartment downloading the hard drives. He had a program set up to wipe them, but I managed to stop him.”
“I owe you, Jack,” Mo-bot said, sitting at her machine.
Sci crouched to check the contents of the holdall I’d managed to retrieve.
“You got our gear,” he said. “Well, most of it anyway. Good work, boss.”
He had a way of saying “boss” that made it sound as though he was praising a junior.
“We’ve lost all the feeds,” Mo-bot said, retrieving the surveillance footage that showed Milan Verde and the other members of the Dark Fates destroying the concealed cameras. “They must have swept the place to discover them all, which makes them more sophisticated than your average street gang.”
“We have enough gear left to get eyes and ears on them again,” Sci responded, gesturing at the holdall. “I want to know what they’re hiding.”
“A meeting with Christian Altmer for one thing,” I revealed. “It’s on the surveillance footage about four hours before they destroyed the cameras. We’d never have known if they’d succeeded in wiping the machines.”
“Altmer again,” Justine remarked.
“Looks like you were right about him,” I replied. “I’m meeting him later.”
“And walking into a trap,” Faduma said unhelpfully.
