Chapter 66

           ChinitaMacriwasmad.Shesatinthepassenger’sseatoftheBBCvanasitidledatacorneronViaTomacelli.GuntherGlickwascheckinghismapofRome,apparentlylost.Asshehadfeared,hismysterycallerhadphonedback,thistimewithinformation.

           "PiazzadelPopolo,"Glickinsisted."That’swhatwe’relookingfor.There’sachurchthere.Andinsideisproof."

           "Proof."Chinitastoppedpolishingthelensinherhandandturnedtohim."Proofthatacardinalhasbeenmurdered?"

           "That’swhathesaid."

           "Youbelieveeverythingyouhear?"Chinitawished,assheoftendid,thatshewastheoneincharge.Videographers,however,wereatthewhimofthecrazyreportersforwhomtheyshotfootage.IfGuntherGlickwantedtofollowafeeblephonetip,Macriwashisdogonaleash.

           Shelookedathim,sittingthereinthedriver’sseat,hisjawsetintently.Theman’sparents,shedecided,musthavebeenfrustratedcomedianstohavegivenhimanamelikeGuntherGlick.Nowondertheguyfeltlikehehadsomethingtoprove.Nonetheless,despitehisunfortunateappellativeandannoyingeagernesstomakeamark,Glickwassweet…charminginapasty,Briddish,unstrungsortofway.LikeHughGrantonlithium.

           "Shouldn’twebebackatSt.Peter’s?"Macrisaidaspatientlyaspossible."Wecancheckthismysterychurchoutlater.Conclavestartedanhourago.Whatifthecardinalscometoadecisionwhilewe’regone?"

           Glickdidnotseemtohear."Ithinkwegototheright,here."Hetiltedthemapandstudieditagain."Yes,ifItakearight…andthenanimmediateleft