I smirked. “Who’s copying whom now?”
“We’re the fathers of the Fifth Republic. We will usher in the new Renaissance. The old will join the new. You and I are on the same side, Luca.”
“It doesn’t feel that way,” I barked. “Not when I have the Roman Emperor breathing down my neck and President Bianchi threatening a trade war with France. All because you decided to spit on their holy ground with your thievery.”
“We can easily launch our own trade war against them in retaliation.”
“Let’s leave politics to the government, shall we?” I snapped. “We need to return every item that you stole to the Vatican.”
Father Marcus straightened like my words were absurd. “I can’t return something that never belonged to them.”
“Constantine said he wants every piece returned—and the heads of those who took them. He already knows you’re behind this because it’s not exactly hard to figure out who had the motive.”
“We respect the Fifth Republic. We honor the code. We violated no rule that the French Emperors and President Martin imposed. You should be protecting us—not persecuting us.”
“Then I guess we need to amend the law and include that none shall provoke wars with allies.” It hadn’t crossed our minds before because no one seemed stupid enough to do it. “My hands are tied, Marcus.”
“Father Marcus.”
I almost rolled my eyes. “Priests are called father because they’re spiritual leaders. There’s nothing spiritual about what you do.”
“I disagree. France is the greatest country this world has ever seen?—”
“We fucked up pretty bad during World War II, in case you forgot.”
He turned quiet.
“We have to return the pieces.”
“And should I cut off my own head, or did you bring an axe?” he sneered.
“I won’t be handing over any heads. Gonna try something else first. But I need those pieces if I want to negotiate in good faith.”
His hands came together in his sleeves, and that stubborn gaze filled his eyes.
“It’s not worth your life, Father.”
He took a slow breath then stepped away.
“Perhaps once the relationship is mended, we can offer to purchase the items that you want.”
“The Pope will never agree.”
“Everything has a price.”
“Men of God have a different currency.”
“I will try my best to negotiate something for those pieces,” I said. “But right now, we’ve got to focus on you and the others behind this theft keeping their heads. We’ve got a deal?”
He looked away, staring at a statue in one corner of the elaborate room, the treasury of heirlooms, keepsakes of history all hoarded and hidden from the people of the Republic. “Yes…we have a deal.”
Every piece that was stolen was packed in the shipping truck, which then began its long drive to Rome. Without traffic, it was a fourteen-hour drive, so I would fly out tomorrow and meet Constantine before the exchange was made.
By the time I got home, it was almost dawn.
Aliénor was asleep in my bed, swallowed by the sheets, making herself right at home like sleeping without me was no problem.
I took a quick shower and got into bed beside her, moving slowly so I wouldn’t wake her up when my weight shifted the mattress. But it was enough to stir her, and she turned and opened her eyes to look at me.
