His next stop – and his last hope – was Alitalia. “Illegal discounts?” The manager was staring at Robert, puzzled. “We give discounts only to our employees.”
“Don’t you give discounts to priests?”
The manager’s face brightened. “Ah, that, yes. But that is not illegal. We have arrangements with the Catholic Church.”
Robert’s heart soared. “So, if a priest wanted to fly from Rome, say – to Switzerland, he would use this airline?”
“Well, it would be cheaper for him. Yes.”
Robert said, “In order to bring our computers up-to-date, it would be helpful if you could tell me how many priests have flown to Switzerland in the past two weeks. You would have a record of that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, of course. For tax purposes.”
“I would really appreciate that information.”
“You wish to know how many priests have flown to Switzerland in the past two weeks?”
“Yes. Zurich or Geneva.”
“Just a moment. I will talk to our computers.”
Five minutes later, the manager returned with a computer printout. “There was only one priest who flew Alitalia to Switzerland in the past two weeks.” He consulted the printout. “He left Rome on the seventh, and flew to Zurich. His return flight was booked for two days ago.”
Robert took a deep breath. “His name?”
“Father Romero Patrini.”
“His address?”
He looked down at the paper again. “He lives in Orvieto. If you need any further …” He looked up.
Robert was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Day Seven
Orvieto, Italy
He stopped the car on a hairpin bend on Route S-71, and there across the valley, high on a rise of volcanic rock, was a breathtaking view of the city. It was an ancient Etruscan centre, with a world-famous cathedral, and half a dozen churches, and a priest who had witnessed the crash of a UFO.
The town was untouched by time, with cobblestone streets and lovely old buildings, and an open-air market where farmers came to sell their fresh vegetables and chickens.
Robert found a parking place in the Piazza del Duomo, across from the cathedral, and went inside. The enormous interior was deserted except for an elderly priest who was just leaving the altar.
“Excuse me, Father,” Robert said. “I’m looking for a priest from this town who was in Switzerland last week. Perhaps you …”
The priest drew back, his face hostile. “I cannot discuss this.”
Robert looked at him in surprise. “I don’t understand. I just want to find …”
“He is not of this church. He is from the church of San Gioven-ale.” And the priest hurried past Robert. Why was he so unfriendly?
The church of San Giovenale was in the Quartiere Vecchio, a colourful area with medieval towers and churches. A young priest was tending the garden next to it. He looked up as Robert approached.
“Buon giorno, signore.”
“Good morning. I’m looking for a priest who was in Switzerland last week. He …”
“Yes, yes. Poor Father Patrini. It was a terrible, terrible thing that happened to him.”
“I don’t understand. What terrible thing?”
“Seeing the devil’s chariot. It was more than he could stand. The poor man had a nervous breakdown.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Robert said. “Where is he now? I would like to talk to him.”
“He’s in the hospital near the Piazza di San Patrizin, but I doubt if the doctors will allow anyone to see him.”
Robert stood there, troubled. A man suffering a nervous breakdown was not going to be much help. “I see. Thank you very much.”
The hospital was an unpretentious one-storey building, near the outskirts of the city. He parked the car and walked into the small lobby. There was a nurse behind the reception desk.
“Good morning,” Robert said. “I would like to see Father Patrini.”
“Mi scusi, ma … that is impossible. He cannot speak with anyone.”
Robert was determined not to be stopped now. He had to follow up the lead Professor Schmidt had given him. “You don’t understand,” Robert said smoothly. “Father Patrini asked to see me. I’ve come to Orvieto at his request.”
“He asked to see you?”
“Yes. He wrote to me in America. I’ve come all this way just to see him.”
The nurse hesitated. “I do not know what to say. He is very ill. Molto.”
“I’m sure it would cheer him up to see me.”
“The doctor is not here …” She made a decision. “Very well. You may go into his room, signore, but you may only stay a few minutes.”
“That’s all I’ll need,” Robert said.
“This way, per piacere.”
They walked down a short corridor with small, neat rooms on either side. The nurse led Robert to one of the doors.
“Only a few minutes, signore.”
“Grazie.”
Robert entered the little room. The man in the bed looked like a pale shadow lying on the white sheets. Robert approached him and said softly, “Father …”
The priest turned to look up at him and Robert had never seen such agony in a man’s eyes.
“Father, my name is …”
He grabbed Robert’s arm. “Help me,” the priest mumbled. “You must help me. My faith is gone. All my life I have preached of God and the Holy Spirit and now I know that there is no God. There is only the devil and he has come for us …”