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phone number you gave me. I never used it. Stay on the line.”
    Barbo dialed the number of the Hamas commander in the church.
    After three rings, someone picked up the receiver. “This is Cardinal Barbo, the secretary of state of the Vatican. Let me speak to your commander.” Barbo could hear several men arguing in Arabic. Finally a man who spoke English took the receiver.
    “What do you want?”
    “Time,” answered Barbo. “We are trying to convince the Israeli authorities to let all of you leave the country safely.”
    “The ultimatum stands.” The man's voice was as hard as flint. “The hostages are innocent pilgrims. They have done you no harm. Allah is a merciful God.”
    The speaker paused. Barbo heard him shout in Arabic to someone else in the church. The two men talked for several minutes. Finally the speaker returned to his conversation with Barbo. “Does this priest Finnergan work for you?”
    Barbo was taken aback by the question. “Yes, Archbishop Finnergan is our nuncio.”
    “I admire his courage. He risked his life for strangers. I will give you another day but no more. And no tricks from the Jews.”
    Barbo pushed the button to reconnect Vincent. “John, they'll hold off until noon tomorrow because of the courage Finnergan displayed in the church. Contact Washington and tell them theyhave more time to persuade Israel to change its mind and let all the terrorists go.”
    “I'll tell the president, but after Eilat I think we have run out of leverage.”

    “Gentlemen, Hamas will extend the deadline for another twenty-four hours.” There was loud applause from the nuncios when Barbo made the announcement. “That's the good news. The bad news is that the Israelis have withdrawn from negotiations because of Eilat. They're threatening to invade the church.”
    Archbishop Finnergan stood up. “Your Eminence, let me try to speak with the Israeli Prime Minister.”
    Goethals snapped at Finnergan. “With all due respect, Your Excellency, we can't be seen begging the Israelis.”
    “Goethals, I'd beg the devil if it meant saving the lives of innocent people.”
    “You're a diplomat, Archbishop Finnergan. We can't take sides.”
    Finnergan's eyes flashed with anger. “Go to hell with all your diplomatic niceties.”
    Goethals jumped up from his seat and glared at the Irish prelate. “Most Irishmen can tell a man to go to hell and still have him enjoy the journey. Somehow Archbishop Finnergan never inherited that skill. Whatever politeness he learned must have been in the back alleys of Belfast.”
    Barbo stood up from his chair slowly and deliberately as if to emphasize his impatience with the bickering in the room.
    “Archbishop Finnergan, call the Israelis. I'm expected at a reception in honor of the president of the republic at the Quirinal Palace. Archbishop Kennedy, will you chair the meeting in my absence?”
    “Of course, Your Eminence.”

    As Cardinal Barbo climbed the grand staircase of the Quirinal, steel-helmeted guards dressed in red and blue uniforms snapped to attention. After he had greeted the president of the republic and theItalian prime minister in the grand salon of the palace, Barbo saw Pietro Visconti coming toward him.
    “Could I have a moment with you, Eminenza?”
    “Of course, Signor Visconti.”
    “It is too noisy here. Perhaps we could step out on the balcony?”
    “As you wish, Pietro.”
    When they found a quiet spot on the terrace, Visconti handed Barbo an envelope. “Before I forget, one of my clients wishes to have Masses said in honor of his parents. I assume, Eminenza, you can make the necessary arrangements.”
    Barbo opened the envelope. “Of course I can, but this is too much, Pietro”
    “My client is a generous man. Use the rest to help the poor in Rome.”
    Barbo thanked Visconti and tucked the envelope in the pocket of his cassock.
    “Eminenza, I have been asked to approach the Church on a matter of some delicacy.”
    “My chief of staff, I'm