bok 1604366439 by Unknown

bok 1604366439 by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Format: epub


Hotel Raphael

Largo Febo,

Thursday, 7 April 2005, 2.45 p.m.

‘Saint Ambrogio Residence.’

‘Good afternoon. I’d like to speak with Cardinal Robayra,’ said

the young journalist in her very worst Italian.

The voice on the other end of the phone was slightly flustered.

‘May I ask to whom I’m speaking?’

It wasn’t much – the speaker’s tone hardly changed; but it was

enough to send a signal to the journalist.

Andrea Otero had spent four years working at El Globo – four

years in which she’d blazed a trail through third-rate press rooms,

interviewed C-list celebrities and written stories for the back page.

She’d been twenty-four years old when she joined El Globo, and

she’d only got there because of her connections. She had started off

working for the culture pages, but the editor there had never taken

her seriously. She had moved on to the society pages, whose editor

had never trusted her. Now she’d taken up residence in the international pages, whose editor didn’t think she was up to the job. But

she was. It wasn’t all about grades, or the courses you’d taken. There

was also common sense, intuition, the journalist’s nose for a story;

and if Andrea Otero had even a tenth of what she thought she had

in terms of these qualities, she’d be a journalist worthy of a Pulitzer.

She didn’t lack confidence in herself, in her five foot eight inches

of height, in her angelic features, her blonde hair or her blue eyes.

Behind these features was a woman of resolve and intelligence. So

when her colleague who was to cover the death of the Pope tripped

on the stairs of her apartment building – on the way out to the cab that was supposed to take her to the airport – and ended up with a broken leg, Andrea hadn’t baulked at her boss’s proposal that she go instead. She’d caught the plane with only moments to spare, a

laptop her only luggage.

Happily the streets around her hotel in the Piazza Navona were

full of little stores selling the basic necessities. So Andrea Otero purchased several serviceable outfits and some underwear, along with a

mobile phone, all of which she naturally charged to the newspaper.

The last item was what she was using to call the Saint Ambrogio

Residence in order to set up an interview with papal candidate

Cardinal Robayra.

‘This is Andrea Otero, of El Globo. The cardinal promised me an

interview today, but he’s not answering his mobile phone. Would

you be so kind as to put me through to his room, please.’ ‘Signorina Otero, I’m sorry to say we cannot put you through to

his room because the cardinal hasn’t arrived.’

‘And when will he arrive?’

‘He isn’t coming.’

‘He’s staying somewhere else?’

‘I don’t think so. I mean, I suppose he will.’

‘And to whom am I speaking?’

‘I have to go.’

The dialling tone on the other end of the line told her two things:

the conversation was over, and the person she had spoken with was

exceptionally nervous. Also, she had been lying – Andrea was sure

of that. She was too much of a liar herself not to recognise someone

in her own class.

There was no time to lose. It didn’t



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