Lomeli took her seat. On the screen was an email from the superioress herself, dated 3 October – two weeks before the Holy Father died, he noted – marked ‘In Confidence’ and reporting the immediate transfer to Rome of Sister Shanumi Iwaro of the Oko community in Ondo province, Nigeria. My dear Agnes, between us both, and not for public consumption, I would be grateful if you could take particular care of our sister, as her presence has been requested by the Prefect of the Congregation for the Evangelisation of Peoples, His Eminence Cardinal Tremblay.
After saying goodnight to Sister Agnes, Lomeli retraced his steps and returned to the dining room. He queued for coffee and carried it into the lobby. There he sat in one of the overstuffed crimson armchairs with his back to the reception desk and waited and watched. Ah, he thought, but he was something, this Cardinal Tremblay! A North American who was not an American, a French-speaker who was not a Frenchman, a doctrinal liberal who was also a social conservative (or was it the other way round?), a champion of the Third World and the epitome of the First – how foolishly Lomeli had underestimated him! Already he noticed the Canadian did not have to fetch his own coffee any more – Sabbadin collected it on his behalf – and then the Archbishop of Milan accompanied Tremblay over to a group of Italian cardinals, who deferred to him at once, widening their circle to admit him.
Lomeli sipped his coffee and bided his time. He wanted there to be no witnesses to what he needed to do.
Occasionally a cardinal would come over to speak to him, and he would smile up at them and exchange a few pleasantries – nothing in his face betrayed the agitation in his mind – but he found that if he did not stand, they soon took the hint and moved away. One by one they began making their way up to bed.
It was almost 11 p.m. and most of the Conclave had retired for the evening when Tremblay finally ended his conversation with the Italians. He raised his hand in what could almost have been interpreted as a benediction. Several of the cardinals bowed slightly. He turned away, smiling to himself, and walked towards the stairs. Immediately Lomeli tried to intercept him. There was a moment of near-comedy as he discovered his legs had stiffened and he could barely get up from his chair. But after a struggle he managed to rise and limped on stiff legs in pursuit. He caught the Canadian just as he put his foot on the bottom step of the staircase.
‘Your Eminence – a word, if I may?’
Tremblay was still smiling. He exuded benignity. ‘Hello, Dean. I was just on my way to bed.’
‘It really won’t take a moment. Come.’
The smile remained, but a wariness appeared in Tremblay’s eyes. Nevertheless, when Lomeli gestured to him to follow, he did – the length of the lobby, around the corner and into the chapel. The annexe was deserted and in semi-darkness. Behind the toughened glass, the spotlit Vatican wall glowed greenish-blue, like an opera set for a midnight assignation, or a murder. The only other illumination came from the lamps above the altar. Lomeli crossed himself. Tremblay did the same. ‘This is mysterious,’ the Canadian said. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s quite simple. I want you to withdraw your name from the next ballot.’
Tremblay peered at him, still apparently amused rather than alarmed. ‘Are you feeling all right, Jacopo?’
‘I’m sorry, but you are not the right man to be Pope.’
‘That may be your opinion. Forty of our colleagues disagree.’
‘Only because they don’t know you as I do.’
Tremblay shook his head. ‘This is very sad. I have always valued your level-headed wisdom. But ever since we entered the Conclave, you seem to have become quite disturbed. I shall pray for you.’
‘I think you would do better to save your prayers for your own soul. I know four things about you, Your Eminence, that our colleagues don’t. First, I know there was some kind of report into your activities. Second, I know that the Holy Father raised the matter with you only hours before he died. Third, I know that he dismissed you from all your posts. And fourth, I now know why.’
In the bluish half-light, Tremblay’s face seemed suddenly stupefied. He looked as if he had been struck a heavy blow on the back of the head. He sat down quickly on the nearest chair. He said nothing for a while, just stared straight ahead, at the crucifix suspended above the altar.
Lomeli took the seat directly behind him. He leaned forward and spoke quietly into Tremblay’s ear. ‘You are a good man, Joe, I’m sure of it. You wish to serve God to the fullness of your abilities. Unfortunately, you believe those abilities are equal to the papacy, and I have to tell you they are not. I am speaking as a friend.’
Tremblay kept his back to him. ‘A friend!’ he muttered bitterly and derisively.
‘Yes, truly. But I am also the Dean of the College, and as such, I have responsibilities. For me not to act on what I know would be a mortal sin.’
Tremblay’s voice was hollow. ‘And what exactly is it you know that isn’t mere gossip?’
‘That somehow – I assume through your contacts with our missions in Africa – you discovered the story of Cardinal Adeyemi’s grave surrender to temptation thirty years ago, and arranged for the woman involved to be brought to Rome.’
Tremblay didn’t move at first. When at last he did turn round, he was frowning, as if trying to remember something. ‘How do you know about her?’
‘Never mind that. What matters is that you brought her to Rome with the express intention of destroying Adeyemi’s chances of becoming Pope.’
‘I deny that accusation absolutely.’
Lomeli held up a warning finger. ‘Think carefully before you speak, Your Eminence. We are in a consecrated place.’
‘You can bring me a Bible to swear on if you like. I still deny it.’
‘Let me be clear: you deny asking the superioress of the Daughters of Charity to transfer one of her sisters to Rome?’
‘No. I asked her. But not on my own behalf.’
‘On whose behalf, then?’
‘The Holy Father’s.’
Lomeli drew back in disbelief. ‘To save your candidacy you would libel the Holy Father in his own chapel?’
‘It isn’t libel, it’s the truth. The Holy Father gave me the name of a sister in Africa and asked me, as Prefect for the Evangelisation of Peoples, to make a private request to the Daughters of Charity to bring her to Rome. I asked no questions. I merely obliged him.’
‘That is very hard to believe.’
‘Well it’s true, and quite frankly, I’m shocked that you should think otherwise.’ He stood. All his old self-assurance had returned. Now he looked down on Lomeli. ‘I shall pretend this conversation never took place.’
Lomeli pushed himself up on to his feet. It took an effort to keep the anger out of his voice. ‘Unfortunately, it has taken place, and unless you indicate tomorrow that you no longer wish to be considered for the papacy, I shall make it known to the Conclave that the Holy Father’s last official act was to dismiss you for attempting to blackmail a colleague.’
‘And with what proof will you back up this ridiculous assertion?’ Tremblay spread his hands. ‘There is none.’ He took a step closer to Lomeli. ‘May I advise you, Jacopo – and I, too, am speaking here as a friend – not to repeat such malicious allegations to our colleagues? Your own ambition has not gone unnoticed. It might be seen as a tactic to blacken the name of another rival. It could even have entirely the opposite effect to the one you intend. Remember how the traditionalists tried to destroy Cardinal Montini in ’63? Two days later he was Pope!’