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The priest recognized the voice, but couldn’t put it with a face.
    “This is Romano.” He tried not to sound guilty, but the call reminded him he had left the Vatican without permission.
    “ Colonelo Del Carlo of the GIS,” the authoritative voice said.
    The priest stuffed his toiletries into the backpack.
    “Father, are you there?”
    Romano trotted up the stairs. “Sorry, Colonelo , the reception is bad. Give me a moment.” Back at his small table, the waiter had already served the cola and water. The priest finished half the tall glass of water in two hurried gulps. “Yes, Colonelo , I’m here.”
    “Father, I need to meet with you right away.”
    “I’m sorry, Colonelo . It’s not possible. I’m,” the priest hesitated, “out of town.”
    “I hate to insist, but I have evidence Father Mackey was killed deliberately.”
    Romano didn’t reply.
    “Did you hear me, Father?”
    “I’m listening.”
    “Crime scene investigators found a handwritten note in the assassin’s car, in Latin.” This was the first time Del Carlo used assassin and the word made the priest shudder. “I’m not an expert, Father, but when I was a boy, Mass was celebrated in Latin and I took a few years in high school. I remembered enough to recognize one of the words in the note, Beatus , the same as the title in the Psalter, no?”
    “It’s the same, Colonelo .”
    “I must examine the book immediately. Can you bring it to headquarters?”
    “Impossible. As I said, I’m out of town. I left a Psalter in the antiquities section of the Library in Father Mackey’s brown briefcase.” Father Romano closed his eyes at the quasi-lie. “I’m sure one of the archivists can help you.”
    “Father, I need to see you. Where are you?”
    “I’ll be back soon and we can meet.” Father Romano had no idea when he would return, but was certain he couldn’t go home without learning the secret Giovanni’s Psalter hid.
    “I should tell you that I’ve spoken with Cardinal Keller, and he’s anxious to meet with you as well.”
    Romano bristled.
    Del Carlo continued to probe. “When I spoke with the cardinal, I sensed he didn’t know where you were, either.”
    “I’ll telephone when I get back to the Vatican,” Romano said. He pressed the end call button and switched the cell phone to off . Now there was no doubt that Del Carlo suspected him of knowing more than he had revealed and the Grand Inquisitor was searching for him too. He was well and truly in the soup.
    The waiter set a small basket of sliced baguette on the table with the plate of roast chicken and fries. “Drink some Coke, Father. Cola is good for an upset stomach, although I hate the stuff. It reminds me of the syrup doctors mixed with medicine when I was a boy. Makes me shudder, but my children love it.” The waiter tried to be friendly, but got no response and retreated.
    Romano shut his eyes, trying to close his mind to the last two days. His hasty and unauthorized departure would bring consequences. He had stolen a book, one he was charged to protect. Of course, many books in the Archives hadn’t even been catalogued. No one would be the wiser if he chose to keep his indiscretion a secret. But his vows of obedience required him to admit what he had done, and not only in the confessional. Perhaps if he returned to Rome and made a clean breast of it?
    Then Romano had Del Carlo to consider. The Curia in Rome might protect him from the colonel, but neither Del Carlo nor Keller would get the Psalter back until he discovered what Giovanni had hidden. He might be denounced yet again, and the Inquisitor could fire him from his job and end his career. They would not, however, take the knowledge that lay beneath the lines of the Beatus Psalm , not this time. No one would grind him into submission until he finished the task he had come to Paris to do. He opened his eyes and took a sip of Cola. His appetite returned in a wave, and he poked his fork into a bunch of