The Church of San Giovenale was in the Quartiere Vecchio, a colorful area with medieval towers and churches. A young priest was tending the garden next to it. He looked up as Robert approached.
“Buon giorno, signore.”
“Good morning. I’m looking for one of the priests who was in Switzerland last week. He—”
“Yes, yes. Poor Father Patrini. It was a terrible, terrible thing that happened to him.”
“I don’t understand. What terrible thing?”
“Seeing the devil’s chariot. It was more than he could stand. The poor man had a nervous breakdown.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Robert said. “Where is he now? I would like to talk to him.”
“He’s in the hospital near the Piazza di San Patrizio, but I doubt if the doctors will allow anyone to see him.”
Robert stood there, troubled. A man suffering a nervous breakdown was not going to be much help. “I see. Thank you very much.”
The hospital was an unpretentious one-story building near the outskirts of the city. He parked the car and walked into the small lobby. There was a nurse behind the reception desk.
“Good morning,” Robert said. “I would like to see Father Patrini.”
“Mi scusi, ma—that is impossible. He cannot speak with anyone.”
Robert was determined not to be stopped now. He had to follow up the lead Professor Schmidt had given him. “You don’t understand,” Robert said smoothly. “Father Patrini asked to see me. I’ve come to Orvieto at his request.”
“He asked to see you?”
“Yes. He wrote to me in America. I’ve come all this way just to see him.”
The nurse hesitated. “I do not know what to say. He is very ill. Molto.”
“I’m sure it would cheer him up to see me.”
“The doctor is not here—” She made a decision. “Very well. You may go into his room, signore, but you may only stay a few minutes.”
“That’s all I’ll need,” Robert said.
“This way, per piacere.”
They walked down a short corridor with small, neat rooms on either side. The nurse led Robert to one of the doors.
“Only a few minutes, signore.”
“Grazie.”
Robert entered the little room. The man in the bed looked like a pale shadow lying on the white sheets. Robert approached him and said softly, “Father—”
The priest turned to look up at him, and Robert had never seen such agony in a man’s eyes.
“Father, my name is—”
He grabbed Robert’s arm. “Help me,” the priest mumbled. “You must help me. My faith is gone. All my life I have preached of God and the Holy Spirit, and now I know that there is no God. There is only the devil, and he has come for us—”
“Father, if you—”
“I saw it with my own eyes. There were two of them in the devil’s chariot, but, oh, there will be more! Others will come! Wait and see. We are all doomed to hell.”
“Father—listen to me. What you saw was not the devil. It was a space vehicle that—”
The priest let go of Robert and looked at him with sudden clarity. “Who are you? What do you want?”
Robert said, “I’m a friend. I came here to ask you about the bus trip you took in Switzerland.”
“The bus. I wish I had never gone near it.” The priest was becoming agitated again.
Robert hated to press him, but he had no choice.
“You sat next to a man on that bus. A Texan. You had a long conversation with him, remember?”
“A conversation. The Texan. Yes, I remember.”
“Did he mention where he lived in Texas?”
“Yes, I remember him. He was from America.”
“Yes. From Texas. Did he tell you where his home was?”
“Yes, yes. He told me.”
“Where, Father? Where is his home?”
“Texas. He talked of Texas.”
Robert nodded encouragingly. “That’s right.”
“I saw them with my own eyes. I wish God had blinded me. I—”
“Father—the man from Texas. Did he say where he was from? Did he mention a name?”
“Texas, yes. The Ponderosa.”
Robert tried again. “That’s on television. This was a real man. He sat next to you on—”
The priest was becoming delirious again. “They’re coming! Armageddon is here. The Bible lies! It is the devil who will invade the earth.” He was shouting loudly now. “Look out! Look out! I can see them!”