Chapter 51

           BBCreporterGuntherGlickstaredatthecellphoneinhishandfortensecondsbeforehefinallyhungup.

           ChinitaMacristudiedhimfromthebackofthevan."Whathappened?Whowasthat?"

           Glickturned,feelinglikeachildwhohadjustreceivedaChristmasgifthefearedwasnotreallyforhim."Ijustgotatip.Something’sgoingoninsidetheVatican."

           "It’scalledconclave,"Chinitasaid."Helluvatip."

           "No,somethingelse."Somethingbig.Hewonderedifthestorythecallerhadjusttoldhimcouldpossiblybetrue.Glickfeltashamedwhenherealizedhewasprayingitwas."WhatifItoldyoufourcardinalshavebeenkidnappedandaregoingtobemurderedatdifferentchurchestonight."

           "I’dsayyou’rebeinghazedbysomeoneattheofficewithasicksenseofhumor."

           "WhatifItoldyouweweregoingtobegiventheexactlocationofthefirstmurder?"

           "I’dwanttoknowwhothehellyoujusttalkedto."

           "Hedidn’tsay."

           "Perhapsbecausehe’sfullofshit?"

           GlickhadcometoexpectMacri’scynicism,butwhatshewasforgettingwasthatliarsandlunaticshadbeenGlick’sbusinessforalmostadecadeattheBritishTattler.Thiscallerhadbeenneither.Thismanhadbeencoldlysane.Logical.Iwillcallyoujustbeforeeight,themanhadsaid,andtellyouwherethefirstkillingwilloccur.Theimagesyourecordwillmakeyoufamous.WhenGlickhaddemandedwhythecallerwasgivinghimthisinformation,theanswerhadbeenasicyastheman’sMideasternaccent.Themediaistherightarmofanarchy.

           "Hetoldmesomethingelsetoo,"Glicksaid