The Last Cato Read Free Page B

you.”
    Monsignor Tournier, with the confidence of those who know that their good looks smooth all of life’s difficulties, serenely rose from his chair. Without looking, he extended his hand toward the stern soldier, who then handed him a bulky dossier in a black file. My stomach turned, and for a moment I thought that whatever I’d done, it must have been terrible. I was convinced I’d be dismissed from my position that very day.
    “Sister Ottavia.” His voice was grave and nasal, and he didn’t look at me as he spoke. “In this folder you will find photographs that are… how should we describe them… unusual? Yes, without a doubt, unusual. Before you examine them, we must warn you they show the body of a recently deceased man, an Ethiopian whose identity we’re not sure of yet. You will observe that these are enlargements of certain sections of the cadaver.”
    “Perhaps it would be advisable to ask Sister Ottavia if she will be able to work with such disagreeable material.” His Eminence Carlo Colli, the vicar of Rome, interjected for the first time. He looked at me with paternal concern and continued. “That poor, unfortunate man, Sister, died in a painful accident and was completely disfigured. It’s quite unsettling to look upon those images. Do you think you can tolerate it? If not, just tell us.”
    I was paralyzed. Deep down, I had the feeling I was the wrong person for the task.
    “Excuse me, Eminences,” I stammered. “Wouldn’t it be more appropriate to consult a forensic pathologist? I don’t understand how I can be of use.”
    “You will see, Sister,” Tournier cut me short, taking back the floor. He began a slow stroll within the circle of listeners. “The man in the photographs was implicated in a serious crime against the Catholic Church, as well as against all other Christian churches. We are very sorry, but we cannot give you any more details. What we want is for you, with the greatest discretion possible, to study certain symbols, strange scars that were discovered on his body when his clothes were removed for the autopsy. Scarifications, I believe, is the correct word for this type of, how should we put it, tattoo ritual or tribal marks. It seems that certain ancient cultures had a custom of decorating the body with ceremonial wounds.” He opened the folder and glanced at the photographs, “Those on this poor, unfortunate man are quite odd. They depict Greek letters, crosses, and other images that are equally… artistic? Yes, without a doubt, artistic.”
    “What Monsignor is trying to say,” His Eminence the secretary of state interrupted with a warm smile, “is that you must analyze all those symbols, study them, and give us the most complete, exact interpretation possible. Of course, you can use all the resources of Classified Archives and any other services the Vatican has at its disposal.”
    “In any case, Dr. Salina can count on my complete support,” declared the prefect of the archive, watching for the approval of those present.
    “We thank you for the offer, Guglielmo,” emphasized His Eminence. “But although Sister Ottavia usually reports to you, this time it will be different. Please do not take offense, but as of right now, and until the report is finished, she will report directly to the secretary of state.”
    “Don’t worry, Reverend Father,” Monsignor Tournier added smoothly, with an elegant wave of unconcern. “Sister Ottavia will have at her disposal the inestimable cooperation of Captain Kaspar Glauser-Röist, here present. He is a member of the Swiss Guard and one of His Holiness’s most valuable agents in the service of the Court of the Sacred Roman Rota. He is the one who took these photographs and is in charge of the investigation in progress.”
    “Eminences…” It was my trembling voice. The four prelates and the soldier turned to look at me. “Eminences,” I repeated with all the humility I was capable of. “I am infinitely grateful