The Malta Exchange (Cotton Malone 14)
He approached the stairs, his host two steps beyond.
“By the way,” he said, “what’s your position with the knights?”
“I have several titles, one of which involves providing security for the organization. I help make sure everyone and everything stays safe.”
The words were delivered with a confidence that came from being dressed in a shirt and tie. But they made sense. He assumed an outfit as large as the Hospitallers had a need for security.
They climbed the stairs.
He heard the distinctive thump of rotors beating through air.
A helicopter. Close by and coming closer.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Your transportation.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Luke climbed out of the guva.
Laura followed him, also using the rope. He caught her ease of technique and the fact that she barely needed a second breath from the effort. His original assessment seemed correct. She was in terrific shape.
He saw he was standing in an underground chamber, the walls more rough stone, the floor dank earth. Bright bulbs enclosed within metal cages lined the low ceiling and hurt his eyes. A door led out to a lit passageway beyond.
“These tunnels are from the knights,” she said. “They burrowed like groundhogs under the city. They were mainly for water delivery and sanitation. But they also served as a way to move men and weapons around unnoticed. Miles of them still exist. During World War II the Maltese hid from the German bombers down here. Some are cleared and easy to get to. Others, not so much. This complex, and the guva, are known only to the government.”
She started for the exit. The tunnel beyond seemed to go on forever. He didn’t move. She stopped and turned back toward him, noticing his hesitation.
“You know what I want,” he said to her.
She stood her ground. “I wouldn’t press things. I’m not happy about having a partner. This does not involve the Americans in any way.”
“Except for the fact that I’m now in on this.”
“Only because Stephanie Nelle sent you here. Now my boss says you’re to stay in.”
“From what I hear, you don’t take orders all that well.”
“I do my job.”
Something wasn’t making sense. “Why did you call Stephanie in the first place?”
“To tell her that you were an idiot. Vatican intelligence made you the minute you hit this island.”
“Why didn’t you just say that to her?”
She shrugged. “I can take a hint. She clearly did not want my help. So I didn’t offer anything.”
“Did the Entity know I was coming here?”
“If it’ll make you feel better, yes, they did.”
She had an intensity in her eyes, a shade of brown that came close to blackness. She also had a wonderful square jaw that suggested tenacity.
Which he liked.
“Look,” she said. “Contrary to what the faithful think, a conclave is not run by the Holy Spirit. Nothing from heaven comes down and inspires those old men on how to vote. The church was created by men and is run by men. It’s men who will elect the pope. That means things can go wrong. Our focus is Kastor Gallo, the kappillan from Malta.”
He smirked. “I don’t speak Maltese spy language.”
“A priest, who went on to become a bishop, a cardinal, then a total pain in the ass. He’s caused a lot of problems, made a lot of enemies. Now he’s making a play for the papacy.”
“Who wants to stop him?”
“Hell if I know. It only matters to me because my boss says it does. Our problem is that Kastor Gallo is a lot of things, but he’s not stupid. Unfortunately, you are. And thanks to you, he now knows he’s being watched.”
She was right. He’d definitely screwed things up by being made, and she was obviously pissed. He would be, too, if the roles were reversed. So he decided to lighten things up. “It’s not all that bad. Who knows, you might learn something from this joint operation.”
She shook her head. “Like how to be caught listening in on a conversation?”
“You don’t back off, do you?”
“No, I don’t. I have a job to do, and the clock is ticking. Right now we have to get ahead of Gallo.” She shook her head. “I was supposed to observe and report. Simple and easy. But now, thanks to your interference, we have to change things up. I have less than one day left to deliver. And unlike you, I always deliver.”
Her voice came low and throaty and strangely erotic. But it also held an odd quality, like she was trying to earn the trust of a small dog only to strangle it once she held it in her arms.
No matter.
He decided to quit pushing.
“For the record,” he said, “the
re are a zillion people out there on the streets of Valletta. I had no way of knowing the Entity was on me.”
“Your problem is you don’t know the players. A little local knowledge goes a long way. I’m assuming that’s why they now want us together.”
“All you had to do was say that to Stephanie in the first place.”
She tossed him a grin. “Okay. I’ll give you that one. But I was hoping to leave you out there on the water.”
Finally. The truth.
Which made sense.
He glanced around. “How do we get out of here?”
“Down that tunnel is a staircase up.”
“Then what?”
“We have an appointment to keep.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Kastor continued to read.
Spagna had apparently been thorough with his investigation, especially with regard to the tradition known as Peter’s Pence.
The alms of St. Peter were donations made directly to Rome, rather than to local parishes. It started back in the 9th century when the English king Alfred collected a pence from landowners as financial support for the pope. The practice eventually spread across Europe before fading with the Reformation. Pius IX, in 1871, brought it back but changed its purpose. No longer was the money solely for the pope’s exclusive use—now it was spent to help the poor worldwide. The collection was taken each year, in all churches, on the feast of Saints Peter and Paul. Nobody outside the curia really knew exactly how much was acquired annually.
Except Spagna.
There is a serious and continual problem with the Peter’s Pence collections. Currently, the annual total is between €200 and €250 million. Last year, the Holy Father called on each Catholic to be a witness of charity. He encouraged them to “open your eyes and see the misery of the world, the wounds of our brothers and sisters who are denied their dignity, and let us recognize that we are compelled to heed their cry for help.” According to the Vatican’s own website, the Peter’s Pence collection “unites us in solidarity to the Holy See and its works of charity to those in need. Your generosity allows the pope to respond to our suffering brothers and sisters.” Nothing could be further from the truth. Over the course of the past five years, 78% of what was collected through Peter’s Pence has been used to fund budgetary deficits within the Holy See. These deficits were the direct result of the waste, fraud, and abuse, as is detailed in this summary report. A select group of cardinals are privy to both the false advertising and the misappropriation of Peter’s Pence. No less than four cardinals are involved in the deception.