Free Magnificat by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

Leonie Purcell when his other contacts were unable to help. He suspected the Cardinal would not approve. He also realized that the request was little more than an excuse to talk to Leonie.
    “Chasing the scent, are you?” Leonie inquired with a little sharpness.
    “Well, what else am I do to, Madame Ambassadress?” He had not meant to challenge her that way, but the question came out before he could stop it. “I’ve been a journalist for a quarter of a century. It’s what I know how to do.” There were other things he wanted to say to her, but not when his words were being bounced from satellite to satellite with who-knows-whom listening.
    “And you do it well,” said Leonie, falling into the same tone. “I will admit that your hunches have turned out occasionally. All right; who is this person you think might have information?”
    “I’ll fax you the information on your machine. Within the hour.” He did not like the fax machine much better than he liked the telephone, but he had more security devices on it to warn him if his signals were being received by anyone other than the person for whom they were intended, or so the manufacturers promised. “Make note of the region—Szechwan Province, near the city of Hongya—and if there is any way for you to discover this chap, let me know at once.”
    She did not speak for a couple of seconds, which seemed to Willie to be years. “And what will you do in return?” It was as palpable as a gauntlet flung at his feet.
    Willie sighed and raised his eyes toward the ceiling, astonished. He had not anticipated she would want to resume their affair. “You’re right. I’m…obliged to you. May seventh and eighth, without bells on, for a movie of your choice.” He told himself it was an innocuous reply, but was unable to be convinced, for to him their code seemed clumsy and obvious.
    If Leonie shared his apprehension, she concealed it well. “Victoria Station, tea time. I’ll confirm in two weeks and we’ll go on from there.”
    “All right,” said Willie, committing himself to meet her in Hawaii in seven weeks—if possible—to spend a week alone with her.
    “Excellent. I’ll look forward to it.” So far she had maintained her brisk, efficient manner, but now she faltered, as if she might want to say something more. When she did, it was not what he expected. “When you send the fax, make sure the register is good.”
    “Be glad to,” said Willie, amazed that she would caution him against spies at his end, here in Rome. “Let me know if there’s any problem when it arrives,” he added, giving her the warning for her end as well. He wanted to continue talking with her, to keep her on the phone for the pleasure of hearing her voice. Instead, he made himself say, “Well, until May, then. Thank you very much, Leonie. I’ll try to arrange for premiere tickets.”
    “Oh, thank you,” she said softly. “I do love premieres.”
    Which, Willie Foot thought as he put down the receiver, is how you say I love you when you’re resuming an affair with a married noblewoman, and an Ambassador to boot. He looked out his tall windows, seeing the gaudy enormity of Rome, wishing only for a little more time with Leonie Purcell. “You’re forty-seven years old, chum,” he said to himself. “You ought to know better than this.” Then he went into the larger of two bedrooms which served as his office, searched through the chaos of papers on his desk, and started up his fax machine.
    * * *
    Cardinal Cadini summoned up all his world-class charm to thank Martin Bell for his assistance. “I am sure you have done more than anyone expected, or had the right to expect. If it weren’t essential to preserve our—the Church’s—confidentiality , I would never have asked you to attempt so incredible a.… The task was next to impossible when it was set and I know it may take a long time to locate this man, assuming he is still alive and our information about him