For all he knew, the priest could still be in Switzerland. What order does he belong to? I don’t know. And I have only the professor’s word that he was Roman.
He took a sip of his drink.
There was a late-afternoon plane to Washington. I’m going to be on it, Robert decided. I give up. The thought galled him. Out, not with a bang, but with a whimper. It was time to leave.
“Il conto, per favore.”
“Si, signore.”
Robert’s eyes swept idly around the piazza. Across from the café, a bus was loading passengers. In the line were two priests. Robert watched as the passengers paid their fares and moved toward the back of the bus. When the priests reached the conductor, they smiled at him and took their seats without paying.
“Your check, signore,” the waiter said.
Robert didn’t even hear him. His mind was racing. Here, in the heart of the Catholic church, priests had certain privileges. It was possible, just possible…
The offices of Swissair are located at 10 Via Po, five minutes from the Via Veneto. Robert was greeted by a man behind the counter.
“May I see the manager, please?”
“I am the manager. Can I help you?”
Robert flashed an identification card. “Michael Hudson. Interpol.”
“What can I do for you, Mr. Hudson?”
“Some international carriers are complaining about illegal price discounting in Europe—in Rome, particularly. According to international convention—”
“Excuse me, Mr. Hudson, but Swissair does not give discounts. Everyone pays the posted fares.”
“Everyone?”
“With the exception of employees of the airline, of course.”
“Don’t you have a discount for priests?”
“No. On this airline, they pay full fare.”
On this airline. “Thank you for your time.” And Robert was gone.
His next stop—and his last hope—was Alitalia. “Illegal discounts?” The manager was staring at Robert, puzzled. “We give discounts only to our employees.”
“Don’t you give discounts to priests?”
The manager’s face brightened. “Ah, that, yes. But that is not illegal. We have arrangements with the Catholic church.”
Robert’s heart soared. “So, if a priest wanted to fly from Rome, say, to Switzerland, he would use this airline?”
“Well, it would be cheaper for him. Yes.”
Robert said, “In order to bring our computers up-to-date, it would be helpful if you could tell me how many priests have flown to Switzerland in the past two weeks. You would have a record of that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, of course. For tax purposes.”
“I would really appreciate that information.”
“You wish to know how many priests have flown to Switzerland in the past two weeks?”
“Yes. Zurich or Geneva.”
“Just a moment. I will talk to our computers.”
Five minutes later, the manager returned with a computer printout. “There was only one priest who flew Alitalia to Switzerland in the past two weeks.” He consulted the printout. “He left Rome on the seventh and flew to Zurich. His return flight was booked for two days ago.”
Robert took a deep breath. “His name?”
“Father Romero Patrini.”
“His address?”
He looked down at the paper again. “He lives in Orvieto. If you need any further—” He looked up.
Robert was gone.
Chapter Twenty-five
Day Seven
Orvieto, Italy
He stopped the car on a hairpin bend on route S-71, and there across the valley, high on a rise of volcanic rock, was a breathtaking view of the city. It was an ancient Etruscan center with a world-famous cathedral, half a dozen churches, and a priest who had witnessed the crash of a UFO.
The town was untouched by time, with cobblestone streets and lovely old buildings, and an open-air market where farmers came to sell their fresh vegetables and chickens.
Robert found a parking place in the Piazza del Duomo. He crossed to the cathedral and went inside. The enormous interior was deserted, except for an elderly priest who was just leaving the altar.
“Excuse me, Father,” Robert said. “I’m looking for a priest from this town who was in Switzerland last week. Perhaps you—”
The priest drew back, his face hostile. “I cannot discuss this.”
Robert looked at him in surprise. “I don’t understand. I just want to find—”
“He is not of this church. He is from the Church of San Giovenale.” And the priest hurried past Robert. Why is he so unfriendly?