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CONTENTS
For Fermin and Alex, always,
and for my friends, the best you could ever dream of
RAIN WAS FALLING ALL OVER ROME WHEN THE TAXI STOPPED at St. Peters Square. It was ten oclock in the morning.
The passenger paid the fare, told the driver to keep the change, and tucked a newspaper under his arm. He was lean and well tailored in an obviously expensive suit, his white hair combed carefully back, his resolute demeanor that of a person accustomed to giving orders. He headed straight for the first entry point, where visitors were inspected to make sure they entered the basilica properly dressedno shorts, no miniskirts, no cleavage.
Inside the cathedral, the man rushed past Michelangelos Pietthe only work of art among the vast Vatican treasures that had ever moved himwithout a glance. He paused for a second, orienting himself, then walked toward the confessionals, where priests from an array of countries listened in their native languages to the faithful who came from around the world to visit the Holy See.
He approached a confessional whose sign indicated that the priest heard confessions in Italian, and he stood, leaning against a column, waiting impatiently for the communicant already inside to finish. As soon as he saw the velvet curtain open and a man step out, he moved purposefully toward the confessional.
The priest coughed quietly, ready for the new communicant to begin confession.
Mi benedica, Padre, perch ho peccato.
What is it you wish to confess, my son?
Not a past sin, Father, but a sin I am about to commit. He leaned toward the priest and smoothed the lapel of his suit jacket. I intend to kill a man, he said. May God forgive me.
With that the man stood, rushed from the confessional, and disappeared among the hordes of tourists crowding the basilica. It took the priest a few moments to recover from his shock.
The stunned cleric stepped out of the confessional and picked up a crumpled newspaper lying on the floor. He glanced at the headlinesROSTROPOVICH CONCERT IN MILAN; DINOSAUR MOVIE A BLOCKBUSTER HIT; ARCHAEOLOGICAL CONFERENCE IN ROMEand scanned the text below the last, where something had been marked:with world-renowned professors and archaeologists in attendance: Clonay, Miller, Schmidt, Arzaba, Polonoski, Tannenberg. The final name was circled in red: Tannenberg.
Another man had approached the confessional and was asking insistently, Father, Fatherare you all right?
Yes, yesno, Im sorry, Im notexcuse me
The priest folded the newspaper and, his gaze abstracted, walked away, leaving his latest supplicant openmouthed and unshriven.
Id like to speak with Signora Barreda, please.
May I say whos calling?
Dottore Cipriani.
One moment, Dottore.
The old man ran his hand over his hair and was suddenly seized with claustrophobia; the room was too small. He forced himself to take a deep breath while his eyes ran over the objects that had surrounded him for these last forty years. On his desk sat a picture frame with two photographs: one, now sepia-colored with age, of his parents, and the other of his three children. On the mantel was a photo of his grandchildren. Across the room a couch and a pair of wing chairs were softly illuminated by a floor lamp with a cream-colored shade. The rooms walls were lined with mahogany bookshelves containing hundreds of books; Persian rugs covered the floor; the entire room smelled of pipe tobacco. This was his office, he was at home: He had to get control of himself.
Carlo!
Mercedes, weve found him!
Oh, CarloMy God! What are you saying?
The womans voice was filled with dreadand expectation.
Get on the Internet and look in the Italian newspapers, any of themthe Culture pages. His names right there! The intensity in his voice matched hers.
Are you sure its him? There are thousands of Tannenbergs around the world, Carlo.
But not thousands in the upper echelons of the archaeological field. The article is about an upcoming conference in Rome.
Mercedes was breathless. And convinced. Yes, of course, yes. Then heAll right, then. Well do it. At last! Tell me youre not having second thoughts.
He looked at the picture of his parents. No, never. And you arent either, I see. Neither will Hans and Bruno, Im sure. He fingered the buttons on his telephone. We need to meet. Ill call them now.
Do you want to come to Barcelona? Mercedes asked. I have room for us all.
It doesnt matter where. Ill call you backI want to talk to Hans and Bruno now.
Wait, Carlois it really him? We have to be sure. Have him put under surveillance, no matter what it costs. If you want me to, Ill wire a transfer now. We cannot lose him again.
Ill see to it immediately. We wont lose him, Mercedes. Dont worry. Ill call you back as soon as I can.
Call me on my cell phone, then. Im going to the airport. Im taking the first plane to Rome. I cant just sit here; I need to
Mercedes, dont move until I call you. We cant make any mistakes. He wont escape nowtrust me.
He hung up, feeling the same anxiety hed sensed in Mercedes. He suspected that in two hours shed be calling him from Fiumicino Airport. She was a woman incapable of sitting and waiting for anything, much less this.
He dialed a number in Bonn and waited, tapping his fingers impatiently on the desk, for someone to answer.
Hello?
Professor Hausser, please.
Whos calling?
Carlo Cipriani.
Carlo! Its Berta! How are you? the woman responded delightedly.
Berta, dear, how nice to hear you! How are you? And your husband and children?
Were all fine, thank youdying to see you. Its been three years, Carlo! Father talks about you as if you were here yesterday.
Oh, Berta, Id love to see you all again as wellyou know you have an open invitation to stay with me in Rome. Carlo paused and lowered his voice, allowing the urgency he felt to come through. Listen, is your father in?
Yes, Ill put him on now. Are you all right?
Yes, my dear, Im fine. I just wanted to speak to your father a moment.
Here he is. Take care, Carlo.
Ciao, bella.
The rich baritone of Hans Hausser came on the line within seconds. Carlo
Hans! Hes alive!
There was a long silence. Then Hans finally spoke.
Where is he?
Here, in Rome. I found him by accident, reading the newspaper. Look, go online right now and read any Italian newspaper, the Culture section. Youll see for yourself.
Carlos explanation was accompanied by a series of rapid keyboard clicks on the other end of the phone. Ill hire an agency to keep him under surveillance, Carlo added. Theyll follow him anywhere he goes, even if he leaves Rome. We all have to meet. I just called Mercedes, and Ill call Bruno now.
Im coming to Rome.
Im not sure its a good idea for us to be seen together here. Perhaps somewhere else
Why not? Hes there and we have to do it. Were going to do it. Finally.
I know, and we will. Ill do it myself if I have to. Or well find someone to do it for us. Ive thought about this moment my entire life, Hanshow it will happen, how it will feel. My conscience is at peace, but I wonder if it will remain that way.
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