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“How long until your Inspector Diaz arrives?” Father Davis asked.
Vitari checked his watch. “A couple of hours.” All they had to do was sit tight all night and wait for Catalina Diaz to call once she’d landed in Nice, a thirty-minute drive away.
The priest went back to checking the street. “I didn’t know the Vatican sent priests undercover.” Vitari kept his voice low, meant for Francis only.
Francis had been watching the American too, keeping him in the corner of his eye. “Neither did I.”
As much as Vitari didn’t trust the American, they also needed all the help they could get. Toni would have turned the entire Battaglia against him, accusing Vitari of Giancarlo’s assassination. He knew they had the drive, and he’d do anything to destroy it.
“Thanks for nothing, Papa,” Vitari muttered. “Leaving your shit show behind.”
Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.
Giancarlo had kept Toni close while gathering evidence, knowing the net was closing. Whatever his intentions, he’d likely known the scandal would be the end of them. But he’d waited too long.
“You should get some rest,” Vitari told Francis, noticing how he fought to keep his eyes open.
Francis settled in a tattered old chair, hugged his knees to his chest, and fell asleep in minutes. Vitari remained at the flimsy fold-out table, watching him.
Sal had been too close to killing him. When Vitari had been cuffed to those pipes, when he’d made the call and Francis had answered, only for Sal to attack him… Vitari had heard it all and almost torn himself apart trying to get free off the cuffs. He’d thought… He’d thought Sal had killed him.
“The Vatican has been watching Francis since the DeSica murdered the prostitute in St. Mary’s churchyard,” Father Davis said, keeping his voice low so as not to wake him.
“Where do you fit in all this, huh?” Vitari asked, slumping back in the chair. “How does a priest lie his way into the Battaglia.”
Davis arched an eyebrow at Francis.
“He’s different, he didn’t want any of this,” Vitari said. “But you sought it out. You wanted in.”
“Your mother, an Angelini, fifth-generation Vatican family. The Vatican failed you. I was sent to right that wrong.”
At least they were acknowledging it now. “They dismissed her as a runaway, then covered it up.”
“They didn’t investigate,” Davis corrected. “Wrongly assuming she was a runaway.”
“She was gunned down less than ten miles from St. Peter’s and the Vatican didn’t give a shit.”
“We didn’t know,” Davis said. “We didn’t look. But her father, your grandfather, never gave up asking. Pope John Paul refused to take the matter further, but after his death, Pope Benedict looked into the case, finding nothing. Then, after his death, our Blessed Father Pope Francis saw the failures of the past. He is working for reform within the Catholic Church. I’m here because of him, trying to right past mistakes the Church has made.”
“That’s a long fucking list, Father. He’d have more luck turning an elephant into a unicorn.”
Davis smiled. “He gathered a few priests with certain skill sets and put us on your mother’s case, and others like it. There was a time when the Church and the Mafia were tightly intertwined. It’s not something the Vatican is proud of, for obvious reasons. It’s not as bad as that today, but there’s work to be done.”
Vatican reform. Vitari would be impressed, if he was naïve enough to believe it. “Certain skill sets?”
“I wasn’t always a priest.” Father Davis smiled.
“No shit.” Vitari laughed, remembering Sal telling him how Father Davis did lines of coke off naked women. “Found God and changed your ways, huh?”
“I did. My wife was killed in a drive-by shooting in Phoenix.” Davis held his gaze, barely hiding the veiled anguish from his eyes.
Vitari sighed. Father Davis appeared to be sincere, and he was invested. “Francis doesn’t much like you and he has good instincts.” He glanced at Francis, still sleeping.
“I used him, but it was necessary. I regret it. But look at it from my perspective. A dead prostitute in his churchyard, then two dead gang members. He vanishes, taken or on the run. He reappears in Spain, apparently unharmed. The Vatican is already watching Montague closely due to his personal ties with Giancarlo. Francis is Montague’s protégé. Then Francis goes missing again, and rumors are he’s in Venezuela with L’ Angello della Morte, Don Giancarlo’s son.” Davis spread his hands. “From the outside, Francis is in this up to his neck.”
Vitari could see how it might have looked. But if anyone knew Francis, they’d know he wasn’t a bad guy. “He didn’t want any of it.”
“I’m beginning to understand that. He’s… not at all what I was expecting.”
