The Confessor

storeroom. Gabriel had been cursed with a memory that allowed him to forget nothing. He could see Benjamin giving his camera to a pretty Belgian girl, feel Benjamin dragging him to the rail overlooking the river. He even remembered the last thing Benjamin had said before throwing his arm around Gabriel's neck.
    "Smile, you asshole."
    "This isn't funny, Beni."
    "Can you imagine the look on the old man's face if he saw us posing for a picture?"
    "He'll have your ass for this."
    "Don't worry. I'll burn it."
    Five minutes later, in the bathroom sink, Gabriel did just that.
    Detective Axel Weiss lived in Bogenhausen, a residential district of Munich on the opposite bank of the Isar. He did not go there. Instead, after dropping the Israeli at his hotel, he parked in the shadows on an adjacent street and watched the entrance of the Hotel Opera. Thirty minutes later, he dialed a number in Rome on his cellular phone.
    "This is the chief." The words were spoken in English with a pronounced Italian accent. It was always the same.
    "I think we may have a problem."
    "Tell me everything."
    The detective gave a careful recitation of the events of that afternoon and evening. He was experienced at communicating over open phone systems and was careful not to make any specific references. Besides, the man at the other end knew the specifics.
    "Do you have the resources to follow the subject?"
    "Yes, but if he's a professional--"
    "Do it," snapped the man in Rome. "And get a photograph."
    Then the connection went dead.
    5
    VATICAN CITY
    Cardinal Brendisi. How pleasant to see you." "Your Holiness."
    Cardinal Secretary of State Marco Brindisi bent over the proffered fisherman's ring. His lips did not linger long. He stood upright and stared directly into the Pope's eyes with a confidence bordering on insolence. Thin, with a pinched face and skin like parchment, Brindisi seemed suspended above the floor of the papal apartments. His cassock was handmade by the same tailor near the Piazza, della Minerva who made garments for the popes. The solid gold pectoral cross attested to the wealth and influence of his family and patrons. The glint of white light on the small, round spectacles concealed a pair of humorless pale-blue eyes.
    As secretary of state, Brindisi controlled the internal functions of the Vatican city-state along with its government-to-government relations with the rest of the world. He was in effect the Vatican's
    prime minister and the second most powerful man in the Roman Catholic Church. Despite his disappointing showing at the conclave, the doctrinaire cardinal maintained a carefully cultivated core of support within the Curia that provided him with a power base rivaling even the Pope's. Indeed, the Pope was not at all sure who would prevail in a showdown, himself or the taciturn cardinal.
    The two men had a regular lunch date every Friday. It was the part of the Pope's week he dreaded most. Some of his predecessors had relished the minutiae of Curial matters and had spent hours each day slaving over mountains of paperwork. During the reigns of Pius XII and Paul VI, the lights in the papal study had burned well past midnight. Lucchesi believed his time was better spent on spiritual matters and detested dealing with the day-to-day affairs of the Curia. Unfortunately, he did not yet have a secretary of state whom he trusted, which is why he never missed lunch with Cardinal Brindisi.
    They sat across from each other in the simple dining room in the papal apartments, the Pope clad in a white soutane and white zucchetto, the cardinal in a black cassock with a scarlet fascia and zucchetto. As always, Brindisi seemed disappointed with the food. This pleased His Holiness. The Pope knew Brindisi was a gourmand who enjoyed spending his evenings partaking of the gastronomic delights of L'Eau Vive. As a result he always asked his nuns to prepare something particularly offensive to the palate. Today the menu consisted of a consomme of indeterminate origin, followed by overdone veal and boiled potatoes. Brindisi pronounced the food "inspired" and made a brave show of it.
    For forty-five minutes, Brindisi held forth on a variety of Curial matters, each one more tedious than the last. A staff crisis in the Congregation for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments.
    A dustup in the Pontifical Council for the Pastoral Care of Migrants and Itinerant People. A report on the monthly meeting of the Vatican Bank officers. Allegations a