Authors: John Gordon Davis
The Secretary of State was ashen, but in control of himself. ‘Well, spit it out, Englishman!’
Morgan held up two fingers. ‘We need to know two things.’
He was not sure whether the man was acting, but now the cardinal was all attention.
‘Number one. If the cardinals of the Church were convened tomorrow, what are your chances of being elected pope?’
Cardinal Gunter stared at him. Then he cleared his throat and said:
‘When is it to be?’
‘What?’
The cardinal said: ‘The murder of Pope John Paul II.’
A knot came into Morgan’s gut. ‘There is no need for you to know.’
The cardinal sat back slowly in his chair. He looked unnerved again.
‘I don’t know what my chances of election are.’
‘We want a realistic answer, not a modest one.’
The cardinal shook his head harassedly.
‘No idea. These things are not canvassed in advance.’
‘We consider that you’d be a strong candidate. Do you agree?’
The cardinal blinked. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, think about it. Add up the votes you think likely. We want an answer the day after tomorrow.’
The cardinal nodded, agitated. ‘I’ll think about it.’ He leaned forward. ‘But I
must
know when.’
Morgan stared back at him. ‘Why?’
‘So I can prepare.’
‘Prepare what?’
The cardinal waved a hand. ‘Myself. My thoughts. My department. It would be a grave mistake to go at this like a bull at a gate.’
Morgan felt sick. Because he knew now the man would have to die. He tried to say it coldly: ‘You’ll be told what you need to know when you need to know it.’
The cardinal sat back in his chair. His pale face was wooden. ‘And the other thing?’
Morgan pulled out the list of names he had compiled from Klaus Barbie’s tape. It was a newly written list, without the passwords.
‘Somewhere in the Vatican there is a computer which lists all your priests, all over the world?’
The cardinal blinked. ‘Yes.’
‘Showing where they are now. Their rank. Their histories, how they’ve progressed since joining the Church.’
‘Yes.’
‘And we can punch in these names,’ he tapped the list, ‘and the computer will print it out for us?’
‘Yes. Though I don’t know how to work the machine myself.’ He held out his hand, for the list.
Morgan did not give it to him. ‘There must be somebody available who knows how to work it?’
The cardinal glanced distractedly at his watch. ‘At this hour?’
‘Instruct your secretary to find somebody, please.’
The cardinal held out his hand again. ‘Who are these people?’
Morgan said grimly, ‘People we trained as agents and planted into the Church decades ago, as we did you. We want an update on them.’ He added: ‘We know who’s done what, but we want an internal assessment of them.’
Cardinal Gunter was staring at him. Then he blinked.
‘I see. Of course.’
‘And assuming that our assessment accords with your computer, you will summon them to Rome. And fire them.’
Cardinal Gunter’s eyes widened a fraction. ‘
Fire
them? Why?’
Morgan said deliberately: ‘Those are the orders, Cardinal. But if you must know, we suspect a weak link in the chain. And we’ve got what we want, and we think that too many cooks may spoil the broth.’
‘But there are procedures for this sort of thing –’
‘Procedures be damned! You’re the Secretary of State! You summon them to Rome on the next aeroplane. You haul them up on the carpet, one at a time. They do not know that you are one of them. You tell them that you have incontrovertible proof that they are Russian-trained agents. You say their passwords to them, which I will supply you with. They will know the game is up, as you did. You demand their resignations forthwith. They’ll go, without a fight, I promise you.’
‘But some of them may protest innocence! They may have found God.’ He changed it: ‘May imagine they have found God …’
Morgan gave a smile he did not feel. ‘Occupational hazard, we’ve found.’
‘But if they have found God, they may insist on their legal rights’ trial by our ecclesiastical court!’
‘Rubbish! If they’ve found God, they’ll get out gracefully to save harming the Church with a scandal. And any who don’t go gracefully, we will deal with.’
Pieter Gunter sat back in his chair. He cleared his throat.
‘Very well.’ He held out his hand again, for the list. ‘I doubtless know some of them.’
Morgan kept the list. ‘Call in your secretary and tell him you want the computer operator on the job.’
The cardinal said: ‘The operator will find it strange if we’re standing over him as he works the machine.’
‘Too bad. Make up a story. Or better still, tell him to mind his own business.’ He stood up. His legs felt shaky. ‘Let’s get on with it.’
The cardinal pressed a button. A few moments later the corner door opened. A priest of about Morgan’s age entered. The cardinal said:
‘I want to show my friend our central computer. We’re trying to trace a distant relative of his. If the office is closed, have it opened up, please. And find somebody who understands the machine.’
An hour later they returned to Cardinal Gunter’s apartment in the papal palace with two copies of the computer’s printout. Morgan pulled his chair up to the desk, and spread his copy on it. He said:
‘Sit down and we’ll go through the list together, and you tell me about them, anything significant that is not on the printout.’
The cardinal remained standing. ‘And then?’
‘Then you will summon them to Rome. By telephone. You will get their resignations.’ He tapped the printout. ‘Seven of them are already deceased, so that only leaves ten. And those ten are all in Europe, so they’ll be here tomorrow night at the latest.’
‘And then?’ There was an edge to the man’s voice.
‘Then,’ Morgan said grimly, ‘the night after that you will meet me at a place I will specify. You will bring with you
photocopies of their resignations, on official Vatican stationery, plus your official acceptance, signed by you.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Yes. I have further instructions for you but I’ll tell you after we’ve been through the printout.’
Cardinal Pieter Gunter looked at him a long hard moment; then he said:
‘Well, I have some instructions for
you
, Englishman! …’ He glared, then pointed at the door theatrically. ‘Get out! … Get out of here and tell your masters that I serve only God!’
Morgan was absolutely taken by surprise.
Cardinal Gunter glared, then snatched up his copy of the computer’s printout and shook it with malicious pleasure: ‘I’ve got what I’ve wanted to know for forty years!
Thank
you, Englishman. You’ve served your purpose, now get out! And never darken the doors of the Vatican again!’
Morgan stared. Incredulous relief was welling up inside him. He could hardly believe this. He
daren’t
believe this … ‘Are you trying to tell me? –’
‘I’m telling you loud and clear to tell your masters in the Kremlin that I am not one of their agents, nor have I ever been!’
God, this was too good to be true! If this was true all his troubles were over. He leant forward and lifted his finger at the man: ‘But you asked me when the Pope was going to be murdered! You asked for time to prepare yourself …’
‘Of course, you fool! I wanted to know the details of your plot so I could foil it! But I’ll talk to you no more! Leave this moment or I’ll call the guards.’
Morgan slumped back in his chair.
‘Oh thank God,’ he whispered. The cardinal’s hand moved to the button on his desk, and Morgan said urgently: ‘For Christ’s sake, Cardinal, if you don’t talk to me you soon
will
be talking to the KGB – and MI6 and the CIA!’
The cardinal looked at him, his hand poised on the button. Morgan shook his head urgently: ‘Father, I am
not
a KGB agent – nor a British or American agent! But I
do
have the evidence about you – and about the others on this printout. I am the only person in the
world
who has the evidence and I’ve come to try to do something about it, to save the Church!’
The cardinal’s face was a mask.
‘You’re not KGB?’
‘
No
.’
Then who are you?’
‘An ordinary Englishman! But I have the evidence about you.’
The man’s eyes did not flicker. ‘What evidence are you talking about?’
Morgan leant forward earnestly. ‘A microfilm of a KGB file, stolen by a Nazi agent in Russia during the Second World War.’
The man stared. ‘And how do you come to possess it?’
‘That’s too long a story for now! The bottom line is “The elk is not only a Siberian creature”.’ He held out his hands. ‘How the hell would I know that if I didn’t possess the evidence?’ He pointed at the printout: ‘How would I know about these other agents?’ He held out his hands. ‘I’m here to try to
save
the Church, not to harm it!’
‘You’ve said you’re armed. Why do you come into this holy city with a gun if you mean no harm?’
‘Because I’m trying to stay alive from other people who want the evidence!’
‘Who?’
Morgan controlled his impatience. He had nothing to lose by answering questions now. ‘The KGB and the British.’
Surprise crossed the cardinal’s face. ‘Why should the British want to kill you, Englishman?’
Morgan leant forward. ‘Because
they
know, that
I
know, that once upon a time you were trained by the KGB! In the hopes that one day they would have a pope as their agent! And the British – and Americans no doubt – want to use you
too.
They want you in
their
pocket. But they can’t pressurize you into doing anything for them
unless
they have the evidence in their hand … And I am the only man who knows where that is! And they want to get it from me! And then I think they’ll kill
me! In case I have made a copy of it and ruin everything for them by shouting it from the rooftops!’
The cardinal’s face was gaunt but his eyes were unflinching. He said quietly:
‘So if I am to believe you, you believe that you have bearded the most powerful KGB agent, and have uncovered the most monstrous plot ever hatched against Christendom? That I am a ruthless monster defrauding one third of mankind? –’ He forced a bleak smile and shook his head. He stood up wearily, and turned for the door. ‘This is ridiculous. Go!’
Morgan was astonished again. He could not believe this. The man knew he had the goods on him, or he wouldn’t be here! Yet he had suddenly decided to act. To bluff it out. And the incredulous relief that Morgan had felt was sliding away. This was the behaviour of a guilty man! Not a genuinely indignant man, or a penitent man. He cried:
‘For God’s sake listen to me! And I mean for
God’s
sake! This is not something you can bluster your way out of, using your high authority! For God’s sake get it into your head that I
possess
this evidence, and that everybody wants it! And at stake is not only my life but yours, because they’ll kill you when you don’t do their bidding, and if you
do
their bidding the other side will kill you! But that’s the least of it! Because what about your precious Catholic Church? It could come tumbling down in disgrace!’ He added angrily: ‘
If
that is precious to you.’
Cardinal Gunter was half-turned towards the door. Looking at him calculatingly.
‘What do you want from me? Money?’
Morgan’s heart sank further. A guilty man would make a deal.
‘Yes! One million pounds! For the microfilm. And I’ll keep my mouth shut. But I could sell this story to the press for a million pounds easily!’ The cardinal looked at him. Morgan went on: ‘It’s cheap! To preserve the continuity of two thousand years of religion! Isn’t that why Pope Pius made a deal with Hitler – preservation in exchange for Vatican neutrality? When he should have spoken up against the Nazis and their atrocities? One million pounds is laughably cheap compared to the millions of lives that were lost!’
Cardinal Gunter turned away. ‘Get out …’
Morgan closed his eyes in relief. But he still wasn’t sure. He wanted to shout it, but he made himself say it softly: ‘I don’t want money! I want
you
’ – he jabbed his finger – ‘to satisfy
me
’ – he tapped his chest ‘– that you are not and never will be a communist agent.’
The Secretary of State frowned scornfully. ‘I haven’t succeeded in doing that already?’
‘Not yet! You were doing a great job while you thought I was your KGB controller and tried to send me packing! But once you heard I’m not KGB you try to bluster it out and pretend something never happened. You’ve destroyed your credibility, Cardinal!’
‘Indeed? I was trying to establish yours.’
Morgan dearly wished he could believe that, ‘And in addition to satisfying me of your innocence, you must purge these other agents from the Church.’ He smacked the printout.
‘And when I’ve done that? Any other stipulations?’
Indeed there were. But Morgan was not going to tell him yet. He said: ‘Then … when I am satisfied with all that, I will destroy the evidence.’
Cardinal Gunter said scornfully: ‘When
you
are satisfied? A jury of one.’
Morgan cried, ‘Yes! And, unfortunately I’m more than that – I’m the prosecutor as well!’ He glared at the man: ‘It’s just so happened that onto my slender shoulders has descended the burden of deciding the fate of the Catholic Church! And the social stability of a huge part of the Western world!’ He shook his head at the man. ‘I don’t want this job! I’m not even a good Catholic! And I
certainly
don’t want to be running for my life from Russian and British and American hit-men! …’ He tapped his chest and leant forward: ‘But I’m stuck with the job, and I’m going to do it.’
Cardinal Gunter seemed to change again.
‘When you are satisfied, why won’t you hand this so-called evidence over to me?’
Morgan was incredulous. “‘So-called evidence”? Jesus Christ, you know the evidence is real or you wouldn’t be sitting here now talking to me! For Christ’s sake stop acting, man!’