CHAPTER 6
A few days later, the 10 EU leaders and Antonio Puccini met in Giuseppe’s room again. “All right, gentlemen.” Puccini raised his hand for silence. “The purpose of this meeting is to decide how we will kill Pope Benedict. Are there any suggestions?”
For a long moment, no one spoke. Behind Giuseppe’s chair, the late-afternoon sun poured golden beams into the room, forming shadows at the leaders’ feet. At last, the Dutch leader stood up. “Suppose one of us shoots him with Giuseppe’s gun?”
The French leader shook his head as the Dutchman sat down. “Perhaps one of us could sneak into his bedroom and smother him with his pillow.”
Frowning, Giuseppe rose to his feet. “The methods proposed so far only require one man.” Clasping his hands behind his back, he scanned the assembled group. “It seems to me that, as we all want to get rid of Pope Benedict, we should all commit the act together.”
“What do you suggest, Giuseppe?” Leaning back in his unyielding metal chair, Puccini folded his hands in his lap as he gazed up at the Italian leader.
Giuseppe perched again on his own hard-backed chair. “As a student of Shakespeare and of Roman history, I’m reminded of the plot against Julius Caesar’s life, and the way it was carried out. I suggest we kill the pope in the same way.”
“By stabbing him to death?” The German leader raised his eyebrows.
Giuseppe nodded. “Yes. We will each take a knife and stab him over and over, till he has no hope of survival. Then we will leave him to die.” He smiled coldly.
Puccini rose to his feet. “Are the rest of you agreed, then? Do you wish to stab him to death?” All 10 leaders nodded. A satisfied smile slowly spread across Antonio’s face as he scanned theirs.
After a long moment, Puccini turned back to Giuseppe. “And Benito? Do you also wish to kill him?”
Half-turning to look out the window, Spadolini gazed at the stone wall framing the courtyard for a long moment. At last, he half-swiveled to face the others, then sighed. “No. I don’t want to kill the boy.” He looked up at Puccini. “What he did was wrong, and he deserves to be punished for it. Both boys do.” He sighed again. “But I don’t have the heart to kill Benito for it. His uncle is the real criminal, not Benito. But it means I’ll have to take him in when it’s over, as he won’t have anyone left to raise him when his uncle is dead.”
Puccini smiled coldly. “I am sure that will please the boy. From what I hear, Benito hates it here in Iraq, anyway.”
“Yes. He wants to go back to Rome.” Giuseppe snorted. “Well, he shall get his wish! And when we get there, I’m going to lay the law down to both boys about smoking marijuana, taking crack, or abusing any other kinds of drugs.” He clenched his fists in his lap as he spoke, flattening the tufts of the carpet underneath the toe of his shoes.
For a long moment, Puccini scanned the assembled group. He wasn’t surprised that Giuseppe had suggested the murder of Pope Benedict XVI, or that he had proposed a painful method of killing him. Puccini had been counting on that, ever since he had learned of the trouble the two boys were in. He fully meant to capitalize on the Italian leader’s fury towards Pope Benedict.
Antonio perched back on the edge of his chair; leaning forward, he cradled his hands in his lap. He scanned the group once more, looking from one leader to another.
“We will do it tomorrow night,” he said, “when the celebration has ended. Rest assured, gentlemen, no one will be more glad to see that arrogant man gone than me! He has tyrannized over us long enough.”
“But how are we going to lure him to his death?” The Portuguese leader frowned.
“Oh, that’ll be easy!” Giuseppe chuckled. “I just learned that he’s planning to call a meeting—it’s safe to assume he means to seek our help in ousting you, Antonio. One of us will tell him that we will be there, and that we will cooperate with his plans.” His eyes turned cold. “Will he be surprised when he learns what we’re going to cooperate in!”
Puccini stood up again, ending the meeting. “Then we will wait until Pope Benedict summons you. If you are right, Giuseppe, he will be doing that within the next two days. Meanwhile, let us go back to the celebration.”
Half an hour later, Pope Benedict found Tess and Gloria in the kitchen with Monica. All three were chopping vegetables for the chief cook, who intended to prepare an Italian dish as the main course for the leaders’ dinner. The chief cook was basting some beef. Tangy, meaty smells filled the kitchen, the pope noticed.
“I want you two to take a message to each of the leaders of the European Union.” He handed Tess five slips of paper, and another five to Gloria. “Give one to each of the leaders. I’m calling a meeting with the 10 leaders tomorrow night, when the celebration ends.”
Tess and Gloria exchanged glances, then nodded. “We will deliver them,” Tess said. The door swung shut behind her as she followed Gloria into the carpeted hallway.
Monica smiled down at the Caesar salad she was helping the assistant cook prepare, then sadness welled up in her heart. Please, Father, get through to the pope and his nephew before it’s too late! Sighing, she rested her fingertips on the smooth countertop, as she prayed silently for Pope Benedict and Benito.
An hour later, Tess rejoined the pope in his private study. “I’ve delivered your message, and they’ve all accepted. They will meet with you in the conference room at 10:00 tomorrow night.” She paused. “One of them said to tell you that they will discuss the terms with you, whatever that means.”
Pope Benedict nodded. “Thank you, Tess. You may go, now.”
Tess handed the pope a folded piece of paper. “One thing first. This is a list of the refreshments that will be served at the banquet tomorrow evening. Do they meet with your approval?”
Pope Benedict scanned the list, then smiled. “It does, indeed. Meet with the chief cook and tell him to prepare the foods tomorrow. Tonight, we are having spaghetti and Caesar salad.”
With a nod, Tess left the office. This is it, she thought, frowning. Tomorrow night, he will be killed. She glanced down at the brooch sparkling on her chest, then sighed. Father, tell us when to make our move!
The door behind her creaked open; Pope Benedict joined her in the hall. “Uh, Tess, before you return to the kitchen, I have a question about one of your colleagues.” With a frown, he folded his arms across his chest as he spoke.
Tess furrowed her eyebrows. “About which colleague?”
“About Gloria. The one you brought to help organize the celebration.” He shook his head. “Only this morning, she asked me how one man could possibly rule a whole world! Said it didn’t seem to her one man could possibly do it successfully.” He shook his head. "Then she said it seemed funny to her that it could be said that the world was under the rule of one man, when so many people were ruling it under him!" He bit his lower lip. “Forgive me, Tess, but Gloria appears to be unbelievably naďve. One would think she hadn’t been around that long!”
Tess smothered a chuckle. Although she wasn’t about to tell him, he had it exactly right. “Gloria may be naďve about some things, but she is one smart woman. You’ll not find another who learns more quickly than her, Pope Benedict.”
Pope Benedict dropped his hands at his side. “Well, she’s done an excellent job of helping to prepare the celebration—I’ll give her that. But she has some learning to do about the ways of people!” Shaking his head, he trudged off, his shoes making soft thuds as he strode down the carpeted hall.
Tess pursed her lip as a disapproving glare crept into her eyes. “So do you, Giovanni,” she said softly. “You have more to learn than you’ve ever realized!”
Monica joined her. Tess set her jaw. “Angel Girl, our time is running short. You’re going to have to act very soon.”
Clasping her hands in front of her waist, Monica nodded. “When?”
“Tomorrow. Tomorrow evening, to be exact. You will deliver God’s message to him then.”
Nodding acquiescence, Monica left. Tess vanished.
END OF CHAPTER 6