The Fifth Gospel

By Carlo Santi

A commando steals an ancient manuscript from the archive of the Vatican Library: a Gospel. The Church would crumble under the weight of the truth of that Gospel; for this reason, the Pope charges Tommaso Santini, the “Solver”, with the task of retrieving the manuscript at all costs. Santini will clash with a millenarian enemy of the Church, a ruthless and powerful organisation called “The Twilight”.  

• Language: English
• Publisher: Babelcube Inc.
• Release date: Dec 17, 2019
• ISBN: 9781071507445

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Notes

Original title

IL QUINTO VANGELO

RESERVED LITERARY COPYRIGHT

All rights reserved. It is forbidden to reproduce this work, even partially. Therefore, no excerpt of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or with any means without the preventive and explicit authorisation of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events narrated in this work are creations of the author’s imagination or they have been used with a fictional intent. Any resemblance to real people, dead or alive, or to existing events and places is to be considered a mere coincidence.

To my children,

Denny & Nicolas

1

First day

Vatican City, 3:00am

At this time all the streets were deserted, save for a few latecomers returning from a night out at the club or out drinking with their friends. A torrential rain poured; so much that you couldn’t see anything except for the lightning which illuminated the sky every so often. Loud claps of thunder, one after the other, followed by flashes of lightning; a sign that the thunderstorm would be strongest in that area.

The perfect night for horror.

The men of the commando moved assuredly through the extensive corridors, leading to the most magnificent of treasures, recognised by all witnesses as unique, whose value was as immeasurable as it was mysterious: the Vatican Apostolic Library.

The keeper on duty, Vice Prefect Monsignor Paolini, was focused on his work: studying and archiving new, important documents. Two guards fell almost simultaneously without a sound. Only their halberds produced an imperceptible thud, but they were hastily grabbed and laid on the ground by the two men of the commando before they could hit the floor. Inside the archive one could hear a pin drop, and the attentive ears of the vice prefect heard the noise through the intercom, which he never turned off. This was his way of connecting with the outside world. All keepers were ordered never to open the doors. That is, before a complex security measure was put in place whereby the doors, armoured with a thick steel plate in excess of 60 centimetres, could only be operated using a computerised mechanism. Only the control centre of the gendarmerie[1] could activate it. Alarmed, he called the guards through the intercom: he received no answer.

Monsignor Paolini picked up the phone, but once again, nothing. Before he could understand what was happening, he began to feel faint and nauseous, vomiting on the floor. He then dropped to the ground, feeling life depart from his old and fatigued body. He had, however, the chance of catching a glimpse of his assassins’ looks. A man with a gas mask covering his mouth approached him. Paolini knew those eyes, yet couldn’t match them with a face, his mind far too hazy. What made him tremble in fear was the manuscript that the mysterious man held in his hands.

No! Not that one!. Paolini felt death coming for him. He gathered his very last morsels of energy: You can’t touch...that...book...y-you don’t get what could happen... but...no...

Monsignor Paolini died there and then.

7:00am

Such a colossal number of visitors to the Vatican was unusual. The recent beatification of Pope Giovanni Paolo II brought Catholics to pay their respects to the pontiff, who had passed away a few years earlier. He had been the representation of many of humankind’s milestones. Queueing for hours, every believer anticipated the moment of prayer, leaving a flower on his tomb; perhaps even a generous offering that any good Christian would have given to the good cause of the Catholic Church.  After over two hours, a child and his mother arrived at the tomb of the blessed man. The neighbouring tombstone had been shifted slightly from its original place, revealing a dark crevice. The child pointed this out to his mother who then uttered a muffled scream, one hand covering her mouth. One of the keepers called security on his radio, who insisted that the visitors be removed from the building. They began to protest boisterously, unsure as to why they had been evacuated in the first place. Their uproar was futile. Meanwhile, in San Pietro Square as well as inside the basilica, the crowd was rapidly multiplying. Due to the vast number of visitors, security had cordoned off the entire cathedral. The mother and child set forth to discover what had gone on, for the tombstone was neither in its proper place nor was it sealed correctly. A worker of the Vatican pried it open, astonished. They were shocked by this macabre discovery: at the feet of the ancient Pope lay the lifeless body of Monsignor Paolini, the Vice Prefect of the Vatican Apostolic Library.

2

9:30am

A car struggled through the large crowd. The skills of the driver as well as the siren urged people to make way. The car finally stopped before the main staircase of the basilica without a hitch along the way. Suddenly the driver stepped out of the car and opened the door for Tommaso Santini, who subsequently emerged from the vehicle. He was a large, tall man: over six feet two inches tall. His eyes resembled ice; they complemented the 50-year-old’s greying hair. He owed his perfect level of fitness to his passion for sports. In the basilica, only the security of the Holy See and the Italian Police remained, the latter offering support and collaboration on-demand by the Vatican, as stipulated through international arrangements. The believers gathered in San Pietro Square, despite speakers forcefully iterating that there would in fact be no mass that morning, and that no visitors were to be admitted into the basilica. Despite the unusual situation, no one made any complaints or commented on the disruption. Every other part of the city, including the Vatican Museum, was accessible. This way, visitors could still satisfy their needs for Christian tourism despite the incident.

Santini passed the first few checkpoints, but he was stopped soon after passing the main door whose path led to the central nave of the basilica. Everything resembled a crime scene: police and gendarmerie were dotted all around, the men of both the Vatican Security and the Italian Forensics analysed each and every millimetre of the basilica, searching for clues. A strange atmosphere pervaded the basilica. The worldwide centre of Christianity had never been so desolate, especially on this all-important day, when great attendance was expected due to the beatification of Pope Giovanni Paolo II.

A policeman approached Santini, asking for his documents. He produced them, distracted. The officer studied the picture; it didn’t look much like its owner. The name was as impersonal as it could be for an Italian: Mario Rossi, like John Smith from America. What puzzled the policeman most was the acronym of the organisation with which Mario Rossi reportedly was involved: the IHRC.

Mister Rossi, began the officer, this document doesn’t indicate that you are permitted to enter, and this area is off-limits for anyone except the police and the Vatican Security. Here it says that you are part of the IHRC. I do apologise, but I cannot say I’m familiar with this agency.

It stands for Investigation for the Holy Roman Church, the translation could be more precise, officer. replied Mr. Rossi, You can call General Inspector Wolfang of the Vatican Gendarmerie. I have no need to explain my title to you as we are on my state’s soil.

The policeman repeatedly shuffled the documents in his hands, unsure of which actions to take next. He had intended to call for assistance on his radio, but was stopped by Inspector General Wolfang himself, who had been following the scene from afar.

In a strong German accent, he addressed Santini: We’ve been waiting for you, Tom. Officer, let him in.

They exchanged a firm handshake.

What’s happened, Aaron? enquired Santini, You made me come here in public, against protocol, with the risk of blowing my cover.

I know! answered Wolfang, signalling that Santini should remain quiet while they walk along the nave. It’s an emergency, my friend, an extraordinary one. You know I must ask for the direct approval of His Holiness in order to lead any murder investigation on the Vatican’s soil, and it was he who asked me to call you. I had no choice.

A homicide in the Vatican?! Said a perplexed Santini. Why did the Pope request my presence, with all these people around? He knows what my position is, and to be completely honest, I’m not totally convinced this is a great idea.

He wants you to be there, and he wants me there as well. I would also like to remind you that we are not to question the word of the Pope. By the way, continued the German man, what’s the deal with this IHRC?

Ah! I only have that ID with me and the only thing that sprung to mind was to make up a fake investigation agency for the Vatican. It usually works. I couldn’t tell him who I am, you know.

Wolfang chuckled with a grimace. Of course not! But what exactly does the acronym stand for?

Institution for Higher Research of the Community. I couldn’t possibly have explained the acronym in any other way. It seems to have worked, though.

Wolfang let loose a wild laughter Ha-ha-ha! It didn’t work at all, he was about to call for backup!

They approached the staircase which led to the Vatican Tombs, and Wolfang stopped to take his friend by the arm, whispering into his ear: From this moment on, you are part of the gendarmerie. Make up a name, something common that doesn’t bring attention. You should avoid Mario Rossi, it’s simply unbelievable, and please, don’t fuck things up, okay? Half of the Italian Police is here, as are some Italian Magistrates.

Santini was sceptical. We are under our own jurisdiction here, why all this external intervention? We can manage by ourselves; we both know it. Tell them that we are taking care of things and to get lost.

No, Tom. replied Wolfang. The Vatican Law asserts that cases of homicide are to be handled by the Italian Magistracy. We have less than 800 citizens under our jurisdiction, which does not extend to homicide. This is the third murder in the whole history of the state inflicted on an important figure, and therefore arouses external suspicion. We must co-operate with the Italian investigations to ensure they don’t snoop around too much. If they think that the person who committed the murder may be someone inside the Vatican they’ll settle here forever. The State Secretary has already made me understand very well that it’s best to avoid this.

I understood the message, loud and clear. he answered.

The two men began to climb down the stairs. At the end of the staircase was the tombstone in question, at the beginning of the corridor. There were at least 20 police officers there. gendarmerie and forensics, fixated on snapping photographs of the crime scene, looking for clues. Directly in front of the gravestone, two people discussed passionately. Santini recognised one of the two: the Commissioner Giorgio Ayala, the Italian police officer in charge of interacting with the Vatican Gendarmerie. The other was a magistrate, a woman. It was she who intrigued Santini the most. Short, black hair matching her skirt; short enough to reveal her stunning legs. She wore mid-length stilettos, contributing to her alluring sexiness. He immediately came to his senses, realising that he was, in fact, standing in a holy place. He managed to expel these peculiar ideas that had hijacked his mind for a moment.

Wolfang introduced Tom to the two people: This is the Commissioner Giorgio Ayala of the Roman Police Headquarters, and this is Doctor Sonia Casoni, Deputy Prosecutor for the Court in Rome. He is...

Giovanni Rana, of the Vatican Gendarmerie, interrupted Santini, nice to meet you.

He moved begrudgingly, bidding them a courteous goodbye, then took his friend by the arm. He pulled Santini aside and interrogated him forcefully:

What the hell are you doing?

I don’t understand!, answered Santini.

What do you mean you don’t understand?, Wolfang bellowed, infuriated. Don’t you know that Giovanni Rana is the guy from the tortellini advert?

Of course I know, replied Santini, looking as innocent as he could, you told me to use a pseudonym, and Giovanni Rana seemed a good choice to avoid arousing suspicion he reiterated sarcastically.

Oh, really? Bravo! I guess no one would notice that you have the same name as a famous tortellini manufacturer! Don’t be a dick and leave fake names to the big boys!

They returned to the conversation while Commissioner Ayala had gone to give orders to his men.

Wolfang dominated the conversation: The body was found at around 9am, after a child and his mother noticed that the gravestone had moved. We immediately isolated the area and, opening the tomb, we found this mess.

The well-conserved body of the old Pope was in the classical position: the hands were in the shape of a cross and they were encircled by a golden necklace with an ancient crucifix dotted with precious stones. Near the feet of the holy man, the equally eminent Monsignor Angelo Paolini was lying on his side in the foetal position. The two bodies fit comfortably in the large grave, as it was long enough to hold them both, especially considering the short height of the two men. They almost looked as if they were sleeping: one was well preserved due to the embalming process, and the other didn’t present any signs or wounds. The rosy complexion of the Monsignor could mean that the rigor mortis had not yet begun, but it could also simply be due to the dry, cold air of the tomb. In order to learn his cause of death, an autopsy needed to be performed. The Church loathed when the Italian State performed autopsies on its members, and Santini knew that the Vatican would strongly oppose it.

His Eminence died somewhere else. continued Wolfang, pointing to a dark sign on the upper part of the face, This bruise shows that he hit the floor with the right part of his face, while now he is lying on his left, tidy and wearing clean clothes.

Any traces of the aggressors?

None! replied the magistrate, her voice steady, with clear intent to regain control of the investigation from the two men. We had the forensics checking the whole basilica, inside and out. We didn’t find anything, apart from the traces left by at least a million pairs of shoes. It’s not easy to find something useful in a place like this. Whoever pulled this off knew exactly what they were doing. I guess this place is never completely deserted? I don’t understand how they got in without being seen, nor how he died, nor where.

Not here!, declared Santini. They didn’t kill him here, but they brought him here. Apparently, they also had to walk a lot.

What do you mean? enquired Wolfang.

His Eminence was an academic, a scientist, he continued, he was completely in love with his job. He was one of the keepers of the Vatican Library.

He stopped to think for a moment, then he asked: Where is the librarian?

Wolfang replied that he imagined he was, as usual, at the library archives. The librarians’ duties included few occasions to leave the perimeter of their sectors, and they almost always lived in the archives. All three of the keepers had their bedrooms in that area. The oath they swore did not allow them to discuss their job with anyone. Only the Librarian of the Holy Roman See, Cardinal Joseph Mhouza, was allowed to have external relations.

Let’s trace him down, we have to inspect the Library! was the immediate request of Doctor Casoni.

This is not possible. rectified Wolfang. In order to enter the archives, one requires the direct authorisation of the Pope Himself, then the Commission’s, as well as the librarians’. You must also wear particular clothes, due to the extremely rarefied air and the conditions of the place in general, or you risk contamination.

Well, I guess now there are circumstances to cast aside these rules, at least for the time being remarked Santini, pointing at the body of the vice prefect.

I understand your rules and your laws, Mr Wolfang, but we face the homicide of an eminent member of your state, and the jurisdiction of the case belongs to the Italian State. I could ask for a permit to inspect... The magistrate could not finish his sentence before being interrupted.

Don’t make me laugh, Doctor! exclaimed Wolfang, looking as furious as Hitler himself. The Vatican State is sovereign on its own soil and no mandate will be granted, especially not to enter such an important place!

Calm down, Aaron! The doctor is right. interrupted Santini, diffusing the tension in the air. We have to find out if Monsignor Paolini was in the library, what he did, and where he went. We need to track Paolini’s movements in his last few hours. Let’s call the librarian, he’ll be able to help us obtain the necessary authorisations, without breaking rules. These are exceptional circumstances, as you said, and we need information. In order to do so, addressing the magistrate, he added: no mandate will be necessary.

Wolfang became placid and approved the plan, looking more as if he were obeying an order than following his own free will. He held the radio next to his mouth and gave orders in an incomprehensible language. Someone, on the other end, answered in German.

The magistrate looked bewildered. Santini clarified the situation. He is German! The gendarmerie and the Swiss Guard only speak German. However, if one is talking to a Monsignor, to a cardinal or to the Pope, one must use Latin. It’s the rule!

Casoni seemed not to care about that brief lecture, but she smiled at him for the first time since their acquaintance. Santini knew that his size and looks were chilling, not to mention his icy-white eyes, which gave him a spectral and reticent look. Therefore, he took this smile as a deep sign of empathy. Still, the name he chose, Giovanni Rana, sounded false, mocking. He was sure she did not like that.

Almost as if she had read the workings of his mind, the magistrate asked him:

Your name is very well known, Mr Rana. Do you also have business in the food industry?

Ha-ha-ha! Nothing slips past you, does it? He answered, smiling with more teeth than he thought he owned, as if he had been caught red-handed, embroiled in some sort of petty mischief. I should have known that you can’t lie to the Italian Magistrate!

Santini looked Wolfang in the eyes and laughed. He continued: My real name is Tommaso Santini and I am... No! I cannot tell you this, I am sorry. I didn’t want to lie to you, but the General Inspector told me to give a pseudonym.

Wolfang gave Santini a glance which was just short of burning him alive, and added I do apologise, Doctor. My colleague is rather odd, for want of a better word. However, this will have to be enough. As everyone says: it’s a matter of national security!

Casoni made a grimace as if to say, what better way to arouse my curiosity than national security? She went to reply when the radio once again began speaking in German.

They found the librarian and the Prefect. asserted Wolfang, mumbling. They are in their room... They are dead too!

3

What a curious feeling of powerlessness!

This thought tormented Santini for the whole path which led from the tombs of the Popes to the library. A labyrinth of corridors, dozens of doors to open, hundreds of metres to walk, people going back and forth. Why kill the keepers? Why all three and, most importantly, why two of them in their bedrooms and the other inside the Pope’s tomb? What is the connection between the tomb, that place, and the Pope? And why was Monsignor Paolini in a foetal position? The librarian of the Holy Roman Church and the Prefect of the Vatican Library were found dead, both of them in their beds, in uninteresting positions, without evidence of struggle. They were surprised and murdered in their sleep. The three keepers of the Archive had been killed at the same moment, probably for the same reason, by the same murderer or murderers. The only distinguishing characteristic was that for one of them the modus operandi had been different. The Vatican Apostolic Library was founded on these three important figures, who had to be autonomous. The librarian of the Holy Roman Church, the Cardinal Joseph Mhouza, was the supreme responsible of the archive. He was a man of outstanding cultural knowledge, a prince of the Church. He responded solely to the Pope. Well, like everyone else since the Church is an absolute monarchy. Even the United Nations, while they recognise and respect the status of the Vatican, did not permit it in some commissions as it was antidemocratic, and it didn’t recognise religious freedom on its soil. Even then, the librarian was powerful not only inside the church, as he was the holder of universal knowledge, the sole keeper of an unimaginable width of education; the only and respected protector of an incredible treasure. The prefect, Professor Anthony Glamour, wasn’t a follower of the Church, but he was a bright and charming professor from the University of Cambridge who distinguished himself among the scientific community for his expertise. The position of prefect, as a rule, was the only concession that the Church would guarantee to the scientific community. His duty was to assist the librarian in his research, studying solely the material that the librarian would allow him to read. In fact, the Church only shared information if and when it wished to share it. As a matter of fact, the Church wouldn’t even share said information with everyone, but just with those who proved exceptional knowledge and satisfied certain criteria, especially for what concerned their faith. For these reasons, each time there was need for a prefect, the scientific community offered a candidate, and the librarian decided whether or not to confirm the nomination after a number of academic and religious checks. After a severe scrutiny, the librarian finally decided whether the candidate was apt for the role and established the duration of his position. The prefect also had to swear a series of complicated oaths and promise never to use the knowledge he was given for anything but pacifist and scientific reasons. Finally, his role was also to liaise between the Church and the scientific community. The real assistant of the librarian, however, was the Vice Prefect, the now deceased Monsignor Paolini. All of them were extremely peaceful people. Why, then? The forensics had ascertained the cause of death to be carbon-monoxide poisoning. Experts had found great amounts of gas within these rooms, thus proving the nature of these deaths: they were murders! The bodies had been moved to the mortuary of the Vatican Hospital. This would have been available to the police for further investigation under the condition discussed during the meeting with the Secretary of State of the Vatican, Cardinal Federico Oppini. With the exception of the library, the whole of the Vatican had been opened once again to the public, which would bring a flock of people, blocked by the pen the police and the security had erected around the basilica. No one was informed of what had happened, and they would have only learned about it through the night’s newscast. Its prominence in the media would be significant because this kind of multiple murder had never before happened in the Vatican. The police and the Vatican security would later explain to the journalists how they were co-operating to find the murderers. No one had, however, thought of checking the interiors of the archive in the Vatican Library.

4

Vatican City, 11:30am

The Secretary of the Vatican State, Cardinal Federico Oppini, summoned Wolfang, Santini, Doctor Casoni and Commissioner Ayala. While the latter two waited patiently to be met, the two investigators of the Vatican State were invited in immediately.

Casoni and the commissioner knew very well that they were in foreign territory, where their jurisdiction was limited. The Vatican was a place whose rituals and ceremonies they often did not understand, these felt incomprehensible to them. Their need to wait was not unexpected, considering that the Secretary of State would certainly prefer to consult his own men before the foreign ones, as the General Inspector of the gendarmerie loved to call them. In the meanwhile, the magistrate had found a way to keep herself busy: contemplating the small circular room, whose walls were covered with rich paintings and tapestries. The vaulted ceiling presented a painting of the Creation which could render any art fanatic breathless. She only awakened from her awe when the huge doors opened, revealing another room, just as decorated and embellished with art as the one in which she previously stood.

The Swiss guards moved their halberds mechanically, allowing the Secretary of State’s assistant to come forth. His Eminence is waiting for you, and I apologise for the delay. Please follow me.

They entered the room where Santini, Wolfang and the Secretary of State sat comfortably in luxurious armchairs around an oval table. Casoni immediately noticed their positions: sitting to the right of Cardinal Oppini was Santini, while Wolfang was sitting at the opposite side of the table. They were asked to sit next to Wolfang. This was obviously a hierarchical organisation. Casoni thought her first impression had to be right: Santini was more than a simple member of the security. Ayala, Wolfang and she had to answer to Santini and the Cardinal Oppini, who represented supreme authority in the room. The latter pair discussed, whispering in Latin. The magistrate thought she understood some of the words, but to her what seemed the strangest was their discussing as if they were equals; as peers. However, the Secretary of State was a cardinal, a Prince of the Church, only lower in grade than the Pope, and Santini certainly didn’t look much like a cardinal. On the contrary, she remembered the way he had looked at her legs before. So he can’t be a priest either. Then who is he? thought Casoni. Her instinctive curiosity was piqued, and she motioned to ask Wolfang, but he didn’t allow her time to utter a single word, having already understood the nature of her question by the look on her face.

I have already told you, Doctor! It’s a matter of national security!. He had refused to answer her question, but she made a mental note to find out later.

Cardinal Oppini skipped the greetings and talked directly to the group of three sitting at the opposite side of the table.

I am extremely sorry for the inconvenience, he started calmly, with an unforgiving tone, not allowing any contradiction, but I have the duty of informing you of what is going on. I spoke to the President of the Republic, to the Home Secretary and to the Italian First Minister. They all assured me that both the Italian Magistracy and the Police will have to work alongside our own forces in the investigations, but you will not be allowed to enter any area within the Vatican State. That will be the role of the gendarmerie and of the Swiss Guard. Only they will be allowed to share information with Doctor Casoni and her staff. The criminal procedure is within the Vatican State’s jurisdiction, while the penal procedure is within the Italian State’s. What must be clear, however, is that the Vatican is a sovereign country with its own rules and laws which must be respected.

I’ll have to receive further instructions from my superiors, Your Eminence, started Doctor Casoni irreverently, but this decision may negatively influence the investigation which, frankly, is my responsibility.

We’ll see, Doctor, we’ll see said Oppini, as if he hadn’t any intention of giving too much consideration to her thoughts. Meanwhile, please report to General Inspector Wolfang, while you, Inspector, will know very well whom to report to. Now, other important duties await me. I thank you for your co-operation. The Secretary of State whispered something to Santini, and his assistant rushed to help him get up from the chair, as if he had read his mind. He left the room without a single word.

I thought we were here to discuss the situation. said Doctor Casoni, Instead it seemed to me that His Eminence was more concerned with encouraging us to stay away from the investigation.

Let’s go to my office. offered Wolfang, after getting up and encouraging the others to follow him.

Casoni and Ayala followed him in the long corridors of the Vatican, whispering comments and complaints, up to the gendarmerie, which was positioned just outside the walls of the state. It was a rule that any military force must not have their headquarters inside the state’s limits, with the exception of the Swiss Guard, since they are the personal guards of the Pope and the Cardinals. As stipulated through international agreements, the Police and the Carabinieri[2]were only allowed into the Vatican for duties related to supervision and surveillance, but any other military body could not roam around without the gendarmerie’s supervision, despite being nonetheless considered a military body. While it had wide jurisdiction, its headquarters still needed to be outside of the state’s limits. The duty of actively patrolling the state was, instead, was the task of the Swiss Guard. Meanwhile Santini had left the group with such an unlikely excuse that it hadn’t fooled anyone. The magistrate’s thoughts on him were of a completely different character, so she did not give much thought to his excuse.

5

The Pope had inherited his position from one of the greatest Popes ever known in the history of the Church: Pope John Paul II, Karol Józef Wojtyla. Pope John Paul III had chosen the name in honour of his two predecessors, and to give a sense of continuity in the pontifical work accomplished previously. From the beginning, he proved to be a great shepherd for his flock and point of reference for governors and the worldwide religious community alike. This Pope would advance the Church in several aspects, modernising the concepts of Catholicism and religion, helping the weak and the neglected; helping overcome the dark times that the world was experiencing.

The 80-year-old Pope was apprehensive to see Santini. Thus, he had him summoned, without considering the strict protocol that he himself had carefully respected up to that point. He knew very well that the true position of Santini had to be a secret between the two of them, the Secretary of State and the General Inspector. It was a risk, but the media’s interest for those horrible murders was of such a magnitude that any precaution would have been superfluous. At the same time, he knew he was exposing a particular secret to the media. However, he promised himself to find a solution for this particular issue once he had the time.

As unusual as it seemed, no one contradicted the Pope when he requested Santini to come visit him in his personal residence. When he saw Santini approaching, he waited no longer, walking towards him in order to greet him. Santini knelt in such a reverential manner that the Pope immediately took his hands, inviting him to get up, as he believed that in similar circumstances it would have been up to him to kneel, considering what he was about to ask him.

My friend, started the Pope, do not kneel in front of me, I cannot accept it.

The Swiss Guards closed the door of the residence, having received orders to let nobody in. Even at the age of 80, the Pope was healthy and energetic. Due to this, he was happy to offer his guest a glass of red wine, a rich Nero d’Avola. Alcohol content: 14 percent. He opened the bottle himself which surprised Santini, who regarded it as an infringement of the protocol, as that was the nuns’ duty, who assisted him with anything, from eating to opening a bottle of wine. The Pope was, however, firm in his desire to be alone with Santini.

As I was saying, Tommaso, he continued, what I will request from you is something I never thought I would be asking you.

Santini tasted the wine in small sips; he needed food, not alcohol.

He calmly replied: Your Holiness, nothing you could request from me could ever be contradicted, or even questioned.

Yes, yes! I know that. answered the Pope, moving his hand as though he were swatting a fly. Please let us avoid these pleasantries which are quite inappropriate considering this moment. Tell me of the keepers, what do you think?

The Pope listened intently to the recounting of Santini: the finding of the vice prefect’s body in Pope Pius X’s tomb, the death of the librarian and the Prefect with the carbon monoxide. He also communicated his suspects: one or more assassins that knew the structure of the entire Vatican State, and therefore the necessary existence of at least a mole or even some accomplices who were well informed about the security inside the area and had easy access to the inside. However, Santini was completely sure that the starting point of the investigation had to be the archives. They wouldn’t have killed the keepers if that had not been their true goal. The Pope had finished his wine and was about to pour himself another glass.

You are right, Tommaso, agreed the Pope, their objective was the archive, and they found what they were looking for!.

Santini was in a state of shock. The Pope seemed to know everything about it, and seemed to be a lot more well informed than him, and all the investigators working on the case during those hours.

Santini’s question was a rhetorical one: You know everything, don’t you?

No!, answered the Pope. I don’t know who it could’ve been, but I know the reason behind the murders. They stole a manuscript, a very ancient one at that. It was extremely rare, but most importantly, it was secret.

He paused as if he were busy trying to ward off some dark thoughts. He started again: The murderers killed a guard outside, as well as two Swiss Guards at the entrance of the archive, the ones who were supposed to relieve them found them dead.

Santini unintentionally interrupted the Pope: But nobody came to tell us!

Shut up! erupted the now unsettled Pope. "I ordered not to spread the news. I don’t want this to be public, nor do I wish everyone to know how defenceless the Church is from criminal attacks".

His tone now furious, he raised his voice. They stole from us, Tommaso; they stole from us in our very home and from the most well-guarded chest in the world, they stole a holy text, indispensable for Christianity and its balance. Do you want everyone to know this?

Following his outburst, the Pope fell on the armchair, regaining self-control.

"No, my friend, we will keep this piece of information for ourselves, we’ll keep the secret because not everything is lost yet. I am sure the thieves will want to use the content of that manuscript against the Church, and we must impede it at all costs, but without publicity. He sipped more wine and carried on. Your mission, Tommaso, is to get that manuscript back! You are going to rely on Wolfang, he will be your guardian angel in case you need to go out there, but only the two of us know the truth, and it’d better stay that way. Don’t tell anyone, especially Wolfang. You will only report to me, through the safe channel of communication you already know, and you are to bring me back the manuscript".

Santini knew the rules, but he needed clarification: What liberties can I take, Your Holiness?.

The Pope rose easily You will have a plenary indulgence, Tommaso! Whatever you need to do, do it! I am counting on you. Bring that manuscript to me, should you die in the process. This is the sacrifice I am asking from you, and I order you to accomplish your duty with any means you may judge necessary, no exceptions.

Santini stood, impassive, noticing how the eyes of the Pope were expressing not only determination, but fear.

The doctrine of the indulgence was an element of Christian faith put in place by the Catholic Church. It refers to the possibility of softening a punishment, the temporal punishment, if the sinner confessed and sincerely repented. The indulgence could be partial or plenary, it was ruled by the documents of Indulgentiarum Doctrina or the Manual of Indulgences. A plenary indulgence was (often controversially) given to noblemen and kings, after a copious payment to the Church, but this custom had disappeared early due to oppositions within the Church. However, indulgences still existed. Only the Pope or a delegate had the power to confer one, and never before the full repentance of the sinner. Not so long ago, the punishment involved self-fustigation or the usage of a cilice. Santini had already received two indulgences, and the punishment had never been so bad. The duty to inflict it was an elderly priest’s, Brother Pasquale, an agreeable Franciscan priest who lived in a small monastery in the Province of Padua. It was called Monastery of Monte della Madonna and it was located on the Euganean Hills. Brother Pasquale was also the spiritual support of Santini, his best friend and confidant. He knew all about Santini’s role and duties. He always welcomed him favourably, suffering himself from the punishment he inflicted, in the knowledge that although the Church may have forgiven his sins, his mind did not, and he would have to live with them forever. However, the old priest didn’t know that Santini’s greatest hatred was taking care of the monastery’s garden as a punishment; that was a real torment. He never had the courage to tell him because his company made him stronger both physically and mentally. Santini imagined the great lengths that the Pope likely had to go in order to ask help from someone like him: the Solver. No matter how necessary it was, to require the help of such a great figure meant that getting the manuscript back was fundamental. Santini was first dubbed ‘Solver’ by Pope John Paul I in 1978, leader of the Sanctum Consilium Solutionum, the Holy Council for the Solutions. The SCS was one of the most elusive ecclesiastical councils, founded by Pope Boniface I in the 5th century. He nominated the first Solver, and he in turn nominated the remainder of the council. From then on, among the secrets revealed to a Pope in the moment of nomination, the existence of both the Solver and the council was divulged. The duty of the council was to protect the interest of the Church through any possible means. To protect not just physically or through the military, but also the faith itself and its foundations; an extremely demanding and sensitive duty that was integral to the Pope, so that he could use the Solver for tasks not suitable for His Holiness. Santini was then a priest. A priest with no ecclesiastical duty, but nonetheless a priest. He couldn’t say Mass, but he could administer the Sacraments due to his abstinence. He couldn’t renounce the oath of secrecy he had sworn, of being faithful to the Pope and the Council, and he couldn’t abandon his position, or else he would be excommunicated. For these reasons, he would accomplish his duty, as usual. He was convinced not to ask too many questions by the determination and the preoccupation of the Pope, who was now the sole keeper of the secret of the manuscript, after the death of