The Order (Gabriel Allon #20) - Daniel Silva Page 0,9
importance. He was hoping you were free for lunch tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“Rome.”
Gabriel made no reply.
“It’s an hour away by plane. You’ll be back in Venice in time for dinner.”
“Will I?”
“Judging by the archbishop’s tone of voice, I rather doubt it. He’s expecting you at one o’clock at Piperno. He says you’re familiar with it.”
“It rings a distant bell.”
“He’d like you to come alone. And don’t worry about your wife and children. I’ll take very good care of them during your absence.”
“Absence?” It was not the word Gabriel would have chosen to describe a daylong excursion to the Eternal City.
The general was staring at the television again. “Look at those princes of the Church, all robed in red.”
“The color symbolizes the blood of Christ.”
Ferrari’s good eye blinked with surprise. “How on earth did you know that?”
“I’ve spent the better part of my life restoring Christian art. It’s safe to assume I know more about the history and teachings of the Church than most Catholics.”
“Including me.” The general’s gaze returned to the screen. “Who do you suppose it will be?”
“They say Navarro is already ordering new furniture for the appartamento.”
“Yes,” said the general, nodding thoughtfully. “That’s what they say.”
4
MURANO, VENICE
PLEASE TELL ME YOU’RE JOKING.”
“Trust me, it wasn’t my idea.”
“Do you know how much time and effort it took to arrange this trip? I had to meet with the prime minister, for heaven’s sake.”
“And for that,” said Gabriel solemnly, “I am deeply and eternally sorry.”
They were seated at the back of a small restaurant in Murano. Gabriel had waited until they had finished their entrées before telling Chiara of his plans to travel to Rome in the morning. Admittedly, his motives were selfish. The restaurant, which specialized in fish, was among his favorites in Venice.
“It’s just one day, Chiara.”
“Even you don’t believe that.”
“No, but it was worth a try.”
Chiara raised a wineglass toward her lips. The last of her pinot grigio burned with the pale fire of reflected candlelight. “Why weren’t you invited to the funeral?”
“Apparently, Cardinal Albanese couldn’t find a spare seat for me in the whole of St. Peter’s Square.”
“He was the one who found the body, wasn’t he?”
“In the private chapel,” said Gabriel.
“Do you really think it happened that way?”
“Are you suggesting the Vatican Press Office might have issued an inaccurate bollettino?”
“You and Luigi collaborated on quite a few misleading statements over the years.”
“But our motives were always pure.”
Chiara placed her wineglass on the bone-white tablecloth and rotated it slowly. “Why do you suppose he wants to see you?”
“It can’t be good.”
“What did General Ferrari say?”
“As little as possible.”
“How unlike him.”
“He might have mentioned that it had something to do with the selection of the next supreme pontiff of the Roman Catholic Church.”
The wineglass went still. “The conclave?”
“He didn’t go into specifics.”
Gabriel nudged his phone to life and checked the time. He had been forced at long last to part company with his beloved BlackBerry Key2. His new device was an Israeli-made Solaris, customized to his unique specifications. Larger and heavier than a typical smartphone, it had been built to withstand remote attack from the world’s most sophisticated hackers, including the American NSA and Israel’s Unit 8200. All of Gabriel’s senior officers carried one, as did Chiara. It was her second. Raphael had tossed her first Solaris from the terrace of their apartment in Jerusalem. For all its inviolability, the device had not been designed to survive a fall of three floors and a collision with a limestone walkway.
“It’s late,” he said. “We should rescue your parents.”
“We don’t have to rush. They love having the children around. If it were up to them, we would never leave Venice.”
“King Saul Boulevard might notice my absence.”
“The prime minister, too.” She was silent for a moment. “I must admit, I’m not looking forward to going home. I’ve enjoyed having you to myself.”
“I only have two years left on my term.”
“Two years and one month. But who’s counting?”
“Has it been terrible?”
She made a face. “I never wanted to play the role of the complaining wife. You know the type, don’t you, Gabriel? They’re so annoying, those women.”
“We always knew it would be difficult.”
“Yes,” she said vaguely.
“If you need help …”
“Help?”
“An extra pair of hands around the house.”
She frowned. “I can manage quite well on my own, thank you. I just miss you, that’s all.”
“Two years will go by in the blink of an eye.”
“And you promise you won’t let them talk you into a second term?”