The Confessor

intelligent?"
    "Highly."
    "Educated?"
    "There is evidence to suggest that he studied theology briefly at the University of Fribourg before he was lured away by the call of leftist violence and terror. There is also evidence to suggest that he attended a novitiate in Zurich when he was a young man."
    "You mean to tell me this monster actually studied for the priesthood?" Cardinal Brindisi shook his head slowly. "I don't suppose he still considers himself a Catholic?"
    "The Leopard? I'm not sure he believes in anything but himself."
    "And now a man who once killed for the Communists works for Carlo Casagrande, the man who helped the Polish pope bring down the Evil Empire."
    "Politics, as they say, does make for strange bedfellows." Casagrande stood up. "Come, let's walk."
    They set out down a path lined with stone pine. The cardinal was taller than the security man by a narrow head. His vestments had the effect of softening his appearance. Dressed as he was now, in civilian clothing, Marco Brindisi was a hard, menacing figure. A man who instilled fear rather than trust.
    They sat on a bench overlooking the Piazza di Sienna Casagrande thought of his wife, of sitting with her in this very spot and watching the horses parade around the oval track. He could almost smell
    the strawberries on her hands. Angelina had loved to eat strawberries and drink spumanti in springtime in the Villa Borghese.
    Cardinal Brindisi shattered Casagrande's unsettling memory by raising the subject of the man known as Ehud Landau. The Vatican security man told the cardinal about Landau's visit to the Convent of the Sacred Heart in Brenzone.
    "My God," the cardinal murmured beneath his breath. "How did Mother Vincenza hold up?"
    "Apparently quite well. She told him the cover story we devised and saw him on his way. But the next morning, he returned to the convent and asked about Sister Regina."
    "Sister Regina! This is a disaster. How could he have known?"
    Casagrande shook his head. It was a question he had been asking himself since Mother Vincenza's second telephone call. How could he have known? Benjamin Stern's apartment had been thoroughly searched. Everything dealing with the convent had been removed and destroyed. Obviously, some piece of evidence had slipped through Casagrande's net and landed in the hands of his adversary from Israel.
    "Where is he now?" the cardinal asked.
    "I'm afraid I haven't a clue. I put a man on him in Brenzone, but he slipped away from him in Verona. He's obviously a trained professional. We haven't heard from him again since."
    "How do you plan to deal with him?"
    Casagrande turned his gaze from the ancient racetrack and looked into the pale eyes of the cardinal. "As secretary of state, you should be aware that the Security Office has identified a man it be-"eves is intent on assassinating the Holy Father."
    "So noted," the cardinal said formally. "What steps have you taken to make certain he does not succeed?"
    "I brought Achille Bartoletti into the picture, and he has responded as you might expect. A task force has been formed, and a round-the-clock search for this man is now underway."
    "I suppose that at some point the Holy Father will need to be told about this threat as well. Perhaps we can use this information to influence his decision about going to the ghetto next week."
    "My thoughts exactly," Casagrande said. "Is our business concluded?"
    "One more item, actually." The cardinal told Casagrande about the reporter from La Repubblica who was investigating the Holy Father's childhood. "Exposure of a Vatican deceit, even a harmless one, would not be a welcome development at this time. See if there's something you can do to put this meddlesome reporter in his place."
    "I'll work on it," Casagrande said. "What did you say to the Holy Father?"
    "I told him it might be helpful if he prepared a memorandum summarizing the unhappy details of his childhood."
    "How did he respond?"
    "He agreed, but I don't want to wait for him. I'd like you to pursue your own investigation. It's important that we learn the truth before it's printed in the pages of La Repubblica.'"
    "I'll put a man on it right away."
    "Very well," the cardinal said. "Now, I believe our business is concluded."
    "One of my men will be trailing you. At the right moment, the van will appear. It will take you back to the Vatican--unless you'd like to walk back to the Via Veneto. We could have a glass of rascati and watch Rome go by?"
    The cardinal