Free The 731 Legacy by Lynn Sholes

imagine how much this has upset me."

    "Has there been any word? Please tell me he's safe."

    "At this point we don't have much information, but we have nothing to indicate that he is not."

    "Thank God."

    "Yes. Thank God. As you can imagine, this is not something the Holy See deals with every day. We are proceeding cautiously."

    "So whatcan you tell me?"

    "The official release of information to the press is virtually cut off at this point. I can't discuss any of the details. But believe me, I fully understand the personal relationship you have with John and I sympathize. I realize you are here both because of that relationship and in the role of a network correspondent. This must be painful for you, not knowing anything more than the crumbs of information already in the press. To be honest, I don't know much more myself."

    "But you believe John is all right?"

    "We are keeping the faith," Montiagro said.

    "I understand you can't talk to me on the record. But, Excellency, I'm here to help any way I can. Perhaps there's something I can do to assist. I'm willing to try anything."

    The archbishop seemed to consider her offer. Then he said, "There are few organizations in the world more secretive and downright paranoid than the Holy See. The reasons go back centuries. But suffice it to say, bringing an outsider like you into the middle of this would be unprecedented." He smiled.
    "But not impossible. After all, you do have a reputation around here for getting things done."

    "Archbishop," the receptionist said as she placed the phone down, "the cardinal will see you now."

    Montiagro stood and gave the woman an acknowledging wave. As he picked up his briefcase, he said to Cotten, "Give me a few moments. Let me respectfully remind His Eminence that he's kept you waiting too long."

    ***

    40

    When Cotten was ushered into the inner office, she was greeted by a man she guessed to be in his mid-seventies—tall with a long, narrow face, and shortcropped gray hair. His eyelids sagged and dark puffy pockets underscored his eyes. Unlike Montiagro whose appearance, except for the Roman collar, was basic black business suit, the prelate was dressed in the traditional attire of his office—a simar which resembled a regular black cassock but with a short shoulder cape attached that reminded Cotten of Sherlock Homes. There was also a wide sash called afascia that he wore high up on his sternum, and a skullcap called azucchetto. The sash and skullcap had a kind of moiré pattern that gave the material a 3-D effect. John had once explained to Cotten all about the traditional garb of the clergy and told her the unusual material was called watered silk. A simple pectoral cross hung on a gold chain around the man's neck. The buttons and piping on the cassock along with the sash and skullcap were scarlet, designating the rank of cardinal.

    "Your Eminence, may I present Cotten Stone," Archbishop Montiagro said as she walked across the sprawling Oriental rug and came to stand before a massive, ornately carved desk.

    The cardinal came around the desk with an outstretched hand.

    Montiagro continued, looking at Cotten. "May I introduce Cardinal Giovanni Fazio, the Secretary of State to His Holiness."

    "It's an honor," Cotten said shaking his hand.

    "My dear Ms. Stone," Fazio said. "I was privileged to be in attendance in the Great Hall of Constantine on that glorious day when you presented the Cup of Christ to the Universal Church. I know what you did in order to rescue our most precious relic from the grasp of darkness. In my seventy-three years of service to God, I have never come face-to-face with pure evil as you did. I am sincerely blessed to be in your presence."

    For a moment, Cotten was speechless. It was incredible anyone, much less a man of this stature in the Church, would feelblessed to be in her presence.
    "Thank you," she finally managed to say.

    "Please," Cardinal Fazio said, motioning to a grouping of chairs off to the