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Part one-3

Klaus on the other hand cannot be older than thirty-five. He is a bit taller and even more athletic. He doesn’t look Italian. He has short, fawn-coloured hair and stubble. His grey eyes seem surprisingly cheerful, although his face is focused and serious.

Both of them look as if they weren’t priests at all and have just dressed up in cassocks.

The archbishop turns to them.

‘I would like you to accompany our friend on his way to the Monastery. The situation has become so serious that your knowledge and experience may prove necessary.’

‘Let us hope they won’t,’ Davide answers in a serious voice.

Until now, whenever there was a need to take documents or data carriers to the safe in the Monastery I was accompanied only by Casemiro. Never before has the archbishop granted me bodyguards.

‘It is my hope too that there will be no need for us to use your skills,’ the hierarch said. ‘However we cannot allow for even the slightest negligence.’

Invited by the archbishops’ gesture, Davide and Klaus sit on chairs prepared by Casemiro. They move quickly, precisely and resiliently; they look as if they sat around for just a second, watchful, ready to spring into action at any moment. The hierarch himself took his place behind the desk, scanning the documents with his eyes.

‘We adopted the shoaling strategy as you asked, Your Excellency. We are ready,’ Davide says.

I feel confused.

‘The shoaling strategy?’

‘Yes, Giuseppe, that is our best option,’ the archbishop sighed, as if he was still analysing his choice. ‘The shoaling strategy..., in other words the needle in the haystack strategy. We will distract our enemies, should they want to intercept the flash drive somewhere on the way.’

‘When do we start?’

‘Right away. Are you ready, Giuseppe?’ the archbishop asks me.

‘I am ready, Your Excellency.’

‘Splendid. You have to keep in mind at all times how important the task is,’ this time he addresses everyone. ‘We cannot make any mistakes. I am fully aware that you know your roles perfectly and that it would be inconsiderate of me to ask maximal concentration and involvement of you.’

For a moment he hesitates, considers his next words. He continues.

‘I am relying upon you completely, my friends. I trust you will return safe and sound.’

‘With God’s help, nothing can hurt us,’ Davide replies. The archbishop nods gravely.

He gets up first and we follow suit. I take out my mobile phone, turned off long ago, pursuant to the safety procedure, and put it on the desk. It cannot be tracked on the way.

Archbishop Lucka bids us farewell. Once again he puts on that theatrical, almost genuine smile.

‘Godspeed, my friends.’

We are headed towards the exit. I still feel that shiver-inducing stare and I don’t know anymore who is watching – the history trapped within these walls, God Almighty or archbishop Lucka’s enemies.

1.4We are walking along the building’s corridors. Davide and Klaus’s heavy shoes strike an even, fast rhythm. I am one step behind them. Straight as an arrow, with heads up high and muscles flexed rhythmically under the cassocks, they really differ from the stereotypical Italian priest.

I am not convinced they have in fact been consecrated. Despite having served archbishop Lucka for a long time and therefore having seen a lot, it is easier to imagine them in the army rather than celebrating Mass.

We go a floor down. None of the priests and lay administrative workers we pass pay any attention to us. The building and its occupants are preoccupied with their own matters and nothing suggests that an ominous intrigue just began. We are passing rooms from which we can hear conversation chatter, tapping of computer keyboards, printers humming and coffee being brewed. An everyday office symphony.

I find it hard to keep up with Davide and Klaus. They rush straight ahead like pre-programmed robots; I have the feeling that quite soon I will be out of breath.

The next flight of stairs leads us to the basement. It is much cooler down here. We take the short corridor and come to a stop in front of the doors leading to the underground garage, protected by a combination lock. Davide enters the combination on the touchpad, there is a quiet electronic beep and the door opens.

In the garage there are ten black G-class Mercedes cars with privacy glass, parked at even intervals. The bodies glisten in the halogen lamp light. There is some movement, it turns out we are not alone in the garage. Some of the cars already hold a driver and two passengers, some others are being boarded. We greet each other with a nod; there is no time for pleasantries.

We also get into one of the cars. All of them are brand new; it’s the luxurious W463 version. I recognise the characteristic body line, although I never considered myself an automotive expert. All I know is that they are solid, durable and dependable off-road cars and have been manufactured for many years.

I don’t know why I think that, but this seems a choice archbishop Lucka would make.

Davide takes the driver’s seat, Klaus sits next to him. I take the seat at the back and automatically fasten my seatbelt.

Our car is parked in the second row, we cannot move before the car in front of us drives out. We do not have to wait long. The black cars, one by one, start their engines and enter the driveway.

I am impressed by how smoothly it is all happening. Obviously I had no doubts that the action would be carefully planned by archbishop Lucka, but only when seeing this precisely tuned mechanism in motion do I feel completely reassured. There is no room for coincidence here.

We set off. I notice that when the car moved, Klaus crossed himself and moved his lips to the words of a silent prayer.

We leave the garage and emerge into the warm afternoon. For a moment I squint my eyes before they get accustomed to the natural light.

I can see the cars in front of us take different directions. Davide makes a few seemingly random manoeuvres; he turns into narrower streets, until we reach Via Cola di Renzo. Ahead of us I can see one more of the archbishop Lucka’s cars, however it takes a turning soon after. We move toward the east, we are headed towards the river.

‘Where are we going?’ I ask.

Klaus looks at Davide, as if surprised by my not knowing.

‘To the Termini station,’ Davide answers. ‘We are going to take a train there.’

‘You probably usually went the whole way in the car,’ Klaus says. ‘I’m afraid that this time we can’t afford that. We will be covering our tracks as much as possible.’

‘So that’s the shoaling strategy, right?’ I ask. ‘Disperse as much as possible to fool the enemy?’

‘That’s right. – Each of the cars heads in a different direction. To the Ciamino and Fiumicino airports, to train stations and bus stations. One will go directly to the Monastery. Each car holds three people and a flash drive is carried in all of them. It’s just that nine of them are worthless and only yours is invaluable. That’s why we’ll disappear like a needle in a haystack. It would be difficult for the enemy to find us.’

Klaus adds:

‘It is the best strategy if you want to avoid confrontation and at the same time introduce some chaos and mislead the enemy. Otherwise we would have used the rhino strategy.’

‘The rhino strategy?’

‘You would have left for the Monastery in a heavily escorted armoured car. However today our enemies are conservatives within the Church hierarchy. So far they haven’t used force but we suspect that they are ready for that. Anyway, there are many groups unfavourable towards the Church. Not only the conservatives may try to intercept the flash drive. We want to avoid open combat. And even more so, a fire fight, God forbid. The risk is too great. Our intention is to get there unnoticed.’

‘But aren’t we risking much more that way? If it did come to the attack, we are far more exposed...’

‘The archbishop does not think that the enemies managed to set up an agent in his surroundings, he is absolutely sure of his people and furthermore he only shares his plans only with a very small group of people. And so the chances of the conservatives anticipating which car the flash drive is in are very slight. They would have to intercept all of them.’

Davide mumbles something to himself when a boy on a Vespa in front of us rapidly slows down. I can see Klaus getting tense, assessing the situation in a split second. The boy gets of the motorbike in front of a trattoria. Klaus, seeing that there was no threat, continues his speech.

‘We doubt that they have enough means to follow ten objects at one time, especially since there was no way they could expect such a swift move on our part. Had we set out in a convoy, it would have been a clear signal for them indicating where the target is. The journey to the Monastery only takes a quarter of an hour so they would have had a few hours to prepare an attack. The conservatives have a lot of power, Giuseppe. It would not be an exaggeration on my part if I said that they have quite an army at their disposal.’

‘Sometimes thicker armour does not increase the safety,’ I can see in the mirror that Davide is smiling. ‘A mountain eagle will catch a slow tortoise far easier than ten fast mice.’

I am quite convinced that the archbishop did indeed choose his best men. I do not know who Davide and Klaus are, but I am certain that they are every bit the professionals.

The Mercedes glides through sunlit Rome. The age-old tenement houses standing along the Via Cola di Renzo are basking in the warm beams of the sun. The roads aren’t particularly crowded and we don’t get stuck in any traffic jams. When we are waiting for the light to change, through the window of one of the countless restaurants I see young, careless people, laughing over wine. They weren’t rushing off anywhere. I think of myself like that from many years ago, about Editt and the many afternoons we spent, when I thought I knew perfectly well what course our life would take. I wonder when it was that I last saw her. I know for sure that she got married and has two children. God bless her, I hope she is happy.

We cross the Tiber via the Regina Margherita bridge. There are groups of tourists standing there, laughing, taking pictures. The river glistens with reflected sunlight.

We drive on. Soon after, Viale del Muro Corto surrounds us with lavish, dark greenery. We circumvent the Piazzale delle Canestre square and turn into Viale del Muro Torto. I know these streets like the back of my hand and yet I feel as if I am seeing them for the first time. We drive into a tunnel; after a moment in darkness we are covered by sunshine yet again. I wish I had my shades on me, they would certainly prove useful when we get out.

For a few more minutes I watch the Eternal City in silence through the window. I enjoy the sight of the building facades we are passing; I smile upon seeing bus number 310 with which I used to commute when visiting my late mother in her flat at Via Palestro. A thought comes through my mind – what if I never get the chance to see this most beautiful city again? I immediately try to forget about it.

Finally we reach our destination, at Piazza dei Cinquecento, the Termini train station. Davide parks the car and inserts a few euro in the parking meter. The car will be picked up in a few hours by the archbishop’s men.