Simone gave Ignatius a look that didn’t mask her loathing for the man but she remained silent.
‘Actually, I didn’t volunteer; Mother Superior chose me,’ said the nun with disarming honesty.
Simone smiled at the girl, suddenly very glad that she would be giving her nothing more harmful than salt water. It was impossible not to like her.
‘What would you like me to do?’
‘I need to examine you first,’ said Simone. ‘Perhaps Dom Ignatius would leave us alone?’ She desperately needed a few minutes alone with the girl.
Ignatius looked as if he was about to refuse.
‘I have to assess muscle to fat ratio on her body in order to determine dosage,’ lied Simone.
‘Two minutes.’
As soon as the door clicked shut, Simone gripped the girl by the shoulders and said, ‘Listen to me! We are both in grave danger. That man is not really a priest; he’s a criminal wanted by the police all over Europe. Is there any way we can get out of here without him knowing?’
The nun’s eyes opened like saucers. ‘I don’t understand...’
There’s no time to explain. ‘Is there a way out?’
‘I don’t think so, Madame. There is only one door and it was locked behind me.’
Simone wrung her hands in frustration. She gripped the girl again and said, ‘Then you must do exactly as I say if either of us is to leave here alive! Do you understand?’
The girl looked terrified
‘I will have to give you an injection but it’s harmless and will have no effect on you at all. Dom Ignatius will not know that. You must pretend to be sleepy and answer any questions you are asked in a sleepy voice. Do you understand?’
The girl said, ‘I think so...’
Simone wondered if she was taking in anything at all. ‘You must pretend to be someone else, a girl who lived in the past. Make up a name, any name. Do it now! Tell me!’
The girl looked about her. ‘Maria,’ she said.
‘Maria who?’
‘Maria... Portelli.’
‘Good. Keep your eyes closed and make up the answers. If things get difficult, talk rubbish. If at any time I should pinch your arm like this...’ Simone demonstrated. ‘Pretend to pass out. Do you understand?’
‘No,’ answered the nun truthfully, ‘But I trust you, Madame, I’ll do as you ask.’
‘Good girl, as soon as you’re back with the sisters you must call the police. Understood?’
Simone heard Ignatius return and pretended to be helping the nun rearrange her habit when the door opened.
‘It’s time. Let’s get started.’
‘Would you lie down here please, Sister,’ said Simone in a pleasant but deliberately formal way. Her eyes sought Noni’s as she swung her legs up on the table. All she saw there was innocence and bemusement but at least she wasn’t saying anything to Ignatius.
Simone set up the delivery apparatus and inserted a needle in Noni’s arm, apologising for the discomfort and seeking eye contact again to see whether or not she was going to play along. She noticed the girl’s skin was parchment white and unblemished. She could not have been more than eighteen years old.
Simone opened the delivery valve. ‘Just relax,’ she said quietly, ‘Let your mind go blank. Relax completely.’
To Simone’s relief the girl closed her eyes. She pretended to be making adjustments to the flow for the next minute or so before saying to Ignatius, ‘I think she’s ready.’
Ignatius, his eyes full of anticipation, stepped forward. ‘Who are you, girl?’ he asked.
‘Maria...’ replied the nun sleepily.
Simone offered up silent thanks.
‘Maria who?’
‘Maria Portelli.’
‘Where do you live, Maria?’
‘... Marsaxlokk.’
‘What do you do there, Maria?’
‘... Help my mother.’
‘What year is it?’
Silence.
‘What year is it?’ Ignatius repeated.
‘Nineteen ninety-seven...’
Ignatius looked cold and hard at Simone and then stood back from the table. Simone pinched Noni and she let her head fall to the side. ‘She’s passed out completely,’ said Simone. ‘I don’t think we got rid of all the contaminating substance. She’s going to need proper medical help. Perhaps the sisters could call...’
Ignatius ignored her. The nun’s answer had made him suspicious. He snapped open one of the vials, wet his finger and put it to his lips. Without saying anything he approached the table and slapped Noni hard across the face. The nun let out a scream and scrambled off the table to take refuge in Simone’s arms.
‘Are all the vials like this?’ snapped Ignatius.
‘Yes,’ said Simone defiantly but inside she was so afraid that she felt nauseous.
Ignatius brought up the back of his hand in a sweeping arc and caught Simone on the left cheek bone. The force of the blow was sufficient to throw both her and Noni across the room where they ended up in a heap on the floor. Noni was sobbing, Simone holding the side of her face and trying to clear her head.
Ignatius stood over the pair of them, his right hand nervously fingering his cheek, lips twitching. Simone could sense the anger in him. She could feel it in the air; smell it; almost touch it. She had difficulty breathing as she waited for the explosion of violence she knew must come. Noni sensed it too. She closed her eyes and started praying out loud, clinging ever more tightly to Simone.
The awful moment was interrupted when the door opened and Stroud stood there, looking absurdly pleased with himself. ‘I have the information we need,’ he announced.
A look of disbelief appeared on Ignatius’s face. ‘You found a plan of the governor’s house?’ he said, sounding incredulous.
‘No, but I came across something just as good. As you rightly said, the old cathedral was destroyed by an earthquake so there wasn’t much information about that and there was none at all about the governor’s house but, when the builders were preparing the foundations for the new cathedral, they came across an old well shaft...’
Scepticism seemed to evaporate from Ignatius. The anger that had shone in his eyes was replaced with excitement. ‘Go on,’ he said.
‘And it caused big problems,’ said Stroud. ‘The workers found a skeleton lodged in the shaft and saw it as some kind of omen. They downed tools and refused to go anywhere near it. All building work came to a halt.’
‘So what happened?’
‘The architect, a man named Lorenzo Gafa, called in the Church in the shape of Bishop Palmieri to break the impasse. Palmieri declared the well to be a hallowed grave and read the burial service over it. After that, they just closed up the opening and built on top of it. The site of the shaft is marked here on Gafa’s plan of the new cathedral.’ Stroud showed Ignatius the photocopy of the plan he had made at the records office.
‘Brilliant,’ said Ignatius, who seemed to have forgotten all about the women for the moment. ‘Absolutely brilliant. And do you know what? I can tell you who the skeleton belonged to.’
Stroud looked at him in disbelief.
‘Think, man,’ whispered Ignatius. ‘James of Caesarea.’
‘My God,’ murmured Stroud. ‘That’s why he couldn’t tell us any more about his return to the house of Publius. He died there. You took him right up to the point of his death!’
‘What’s been going on here?’ asked Stroud, acknowledging for the first time that Simone and Noni, were in the room. They were still huddling together.
Ignatius didn’t reply at first: he was preoccupied with the cathedral plan, using a ruler to take measurements and making notes on a small pad. After a long pause, the question finally registered and he said, ‘They’ve been making fools of us — making salt water. The sister knows too much. Give them something to keep them quiet and lock them up in the cellars. We’ll take care of them all later.’