The Devil Will Come by Glenn Cooper

Author:Glenn Cooper [Cooper, Glenn]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781409036890
Publisher: Arrow
Published: 2011-11-04T10:27:06+00:00

EIGHTEEN

MICHELANGELO’S SISTINE CHAPEL WAS not created for hordes of tourists craning their necks and strobing the chamber with their digital flashes.

It was created for this.

Sealed and empty, it was grandly silent and expectant, evenly and naturally lit from the high windows which lined the chapel from their position just below the painted ceiling.

Rows of brown-velvet-topped tables were carefully laid out on either side of the chapel, facing each other, each table with a simple white card bearing a cardinal’s name.

There was a sound of an ancient key in an ancient lock and a heavy door groaned open. Then a sound of sniffing and claws scratching on the mosaic floor.

The Alsatian dog strained at its leash, its ears erect and eager, its tail wagging with purpose. Its handler from the security contractor Gruppo BRM let it do its job. It went straight for the nearest table, sniffed at the floor-length velvet drape and poked its large black and brown head underneath.

The dog resurfaced, its tail in the same state of readiness. It strained for the next table down the line.

Hackel motioned to his man, Glauser, who seemed overjoyed that he’d been given a plain-clothes assignment for the Conclave, a black suit cut with enough room to conceal a modified Heckler & Koch submachine gun. ‘Bring in the electronics team to start sweeping behind the dog.’

Glauser nodded and went to fetch the bug sweepers.

When they were done with the chapel, the security detail proceeded en masse to the small adjoining rooms including the Room of Tears – where the new Pope would briefly contemplate his fate alone – the Vestments Room and on down to the basement rooms where they completed the sweep.

In the courtyard behind the chapel, Hackel watched the Gruppo BRM people packing up their gear and loading the dog into a van. Glauser approached him and said, ‘From this point on, I’ll double the guard and maintain the highest level of sterility.’

Hackel pointed a finger at him and growled, ‘You make sure of that.’

Elisabetta had the apartment to herself. She’d returned there after mass at Santa Maria in Trastevere and the day stretched out oddly in front of her. She wasn’t at all used to unstructured time but she wasn’t going to turn on the television, was she?

First she spent an hour on her father’s computer researching Lumbubashi and the Republic of Congo. Such a poor country, she thought. So many needs. But despite the poverty, the children on the Order’s website seemed so cheerful and fresh-faced. That, at least, buoyed her spirits.

She sighed and rose. The light streaming through the windows accentuated the dust on the furniture. Unlike her father’s cleaning lady, she could move his books and papers with impunity and dust and polish under surfaces that hadn’t been tended for years.

Elisabetta went to her bedroom, slipped off her shoes and then her robes. The drawers of her old dresser were swollen with humidity and it took several determined tugs to open them. She hadn’t looked at her clothes in years and the sight of her old jeans and sweaters brought back a torrent of memories.

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