The Confessor

after crushing the Red Brigades that his word was like Gospel inside the Italian government. What Casagrande wants, Casagrande gets. The organs of Italian state security were now virtual arms of the Vatican, and Achille Bartoletti was one of his most important projects. The nuggets of Vatican intrigue that Casagrande tossed him were like pure gold. They were often used to impress and entertain his superiors, just like the private audiences with the Pope and the front-row tickets to the Christmas Midnight Mass in St. Peter's.
    But Casagrande offered more than just Curial gossip. The Vatican possessed one of the largest and most effective intelligence services in the world. Casagrande often picked up things that escaped the notice of Bartoletti and his service. For example, it was Casagrande who learned that a network of Tunisian terrorists in Florence was planning to attack American tourists over the Easter holiday. The information was forwarded to Bartoletti, and an alert was promptly issued. No American suffered so much as a scratch, and Bartoletti earned powerful friends in the American CIA and even the White House.
    Eventually, over coffee, Casagrande brought the conversation round to the topic he cared about most--the Israeli named Ehud Landau who had gone to Munich claiming to be the brother of Benjamin Stern. The Israeli who had visited the Convent of the Sacred Heart in Brenzone, and who had shaken Casagrande's surveillance men as though he were brushing crumbs from the white tablecloth at L'Eau Vive.
    "I have a serious problem, Achille, and I need your help."
    Bartoletti took note of Casagrande's somber tone and set his coffee cup back in its saucer. Had it not been for Casagrande's patronage and support, Bartoletti would still be a mid-level apparatchik instead of the director of Italy's intelligence service. He was in no position to refuse a request from Casagrande, no matter what the circumstances. Still, Casagrande approached the matter with delicacy and respect. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass his most important protege by making crass demands on their relationship.
    "You know that you can count on my support and loyalty, General,"
    Bartoletti said. "If you or the Vatican are in some sort of trouble, I will do anything I can to help."
    Casagrande reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and produced a photograph, which he placed on the table and turned so Bartoletti could see it properly. Bartoletti picked up the photo and held it near the flame of the candle for a better view.
    "Who is he?"
    "We're not sure. He's been known to use the name Ehud Landau on occasion."
    "Ehud? Israeli?"
    Casagrande nodded.
    "What's the problem?" Bartoletti asked, his eyes still on the photo.
    "We believe he's intent on killing the Pope."
    Bartoletti looked up sharply. "An assassin?"
    Casagrande nodded slowly. "We've seen him a few times in St. Peter's, acting strangely during the Wednesday general audiences. He's also been present at other papal appearances, in Italy and abroad. We believe he attended an outdoor papal Mass in Madrid last month with the intention of killing the Holy Father."
    Bartoletti held up the photo between his first two fingers and turned it so the image was facing Casagrande. "Where did you get this?"
    Casagrande explained that one of his men had spotted the assassin in the Basilica a week earlier and had snapped the photograph outside in the square. It was a lie, of course. The picture had been taken by Axel Weiss in Munich, but Achille Bartoletti did not need to know that.
    "We've received several threatening letters over the past few weeks--letters we believe were written by this man. We believe he
    constitutes a serious threat to the Holy Father's life. Obviously, we would like to find him before he gets an opportunity to make good on his threats."
    "I'll create a task force first thing in the morning," Bartoletti said.
    "Quietly, Achille. The last thing this pope wants is a public assassination scare so early in his papacy."
    "You may rest assured that the hunt for this man will be conducted so silently it might seem that you yourself were in command."
    Casagrande dipped his head, acknowledging the compliment from his young protege. With an almost imperceptible flick of his wrist, he signaled for the check. Just then the hostess who had greeted Casagrande at the beginning of the evening walked to the center of the dining room with a microphone in her hand. Bowing her head,