Quart nodded. "Yes, Eminence. But the diocese of Seville has an ordinary: the archbishop. What are my instructions with regard to him?"

Iwaszkiewicz linked his hands beneath his gold cross and looked at his thumbnails. "We are all brothers in Christ. Good relations, cooperation even, would be desirable. Once there, however, you will have a dispensation from your vow of obedience. The nunciature of Madrid and the local archbishopric have received instructions."

Quart turned to Spada. "Perhaps His Eminence is unaware," he said, "that I don't enjoy the sympathies of the archbishop of Seville…"

Two years ago, a disagreement over security measures during the Pope's visit to the Andalusian capital had caused a confrontation between Quart and His Grace Aquilino Corvo, archbishop of Seville.

"We know of your problems with Monsignor Corvo," said Iwaszkiewicz. "But the archbishop is a man of the Church. He will be capable of putting the higher good before his personal dislikes."

"We're all part of the Church of Peter," said Spada, and Quart realised that although Iwaszkiewicz was a dangerous player on the team, the IEA was in a strong position in this case. Help me to keep it that way, said his superior's expression.

"The archbishop of Seville has been informed, out of courtesy," said the Pole. "But you have full rein to obtain the information you need, and you may use whatever means you think necessary."

"Legitimate means, of course," said Spada.

Quart forced himself not to smile.

Iwaszkiewicz was watching them both. "That's right," he said after a moment. "Legitimate means, of course." He touched his eyebrow with a finger, as if to say, Take care with your little schoolboy games. One slip, and I'll get you both.

"You must remember, Father Quart," the cardinal went on, "that the purpose of your mission is only to gather information. You are to remain strictly neutral. Later, depending on what you discover, we'll determine how to proceed. For the time being, whatever you find, you must avoid any publicity or scandal. With God's help, of course." He paused to look at the fresco of the Tyrrhenian Sea and moved his head from side to side as if reading some secret message there. "Remember that nowadays the truth doesn't always set us free. I refer to the truth that is made public."

Imperiously, abruptly, he held out the hand that wore the ring. He stared at Quart with a taut mouth and dark, menacing eyes. But Quart was the kind of soldier who chose his own master, so he waited a second longer than necessary before dropping on one knee to kiss the ruby ring. The cardinal raised his hand and slowly made the sign of the Cross over him, which seemed more of a threat than a blessing. Then he left the room.

Quart breathed out and stood up, brushing the trouser leg he'd knelt on. He looked enquiringly at Spada.

"What do you think?" asked the director of the IEA. He'd picked up the paperknifc again and was smiling anxiously at the door through which Iwaszkiewicz had left.

"Officially or unofficially, Monsignor?"

"Unofficially."

"I wouldn't have wanted to fall into his hands two or three hundred years ago," said Quart.

Spada's smile widened. "Why not?" he asked.

"He seems a very hard man."

"Hard?" The archbishop glanced again at the door, and Quart saw the smile disappear slowly from his lips. "If it wasn't being uncharitable towards a brother in Christ, 'I'd say His Eminence was an absolute bastard."

Together they walked down the stone steps that led to the Via del Belvedere, where Monsignor Spada's official car was waiting. The archbishop had an appointment with Cavalleggeri and Sons, near where Quart lived. For a couple of centuries the Cavalleggeri had been tailors to the entire upper echelons of the Curia, including the Pope. The workshop was on the Via Sistina, near the Piazza di Spagna, and the archbishop offered Quart a lift. They drove out through St. Anne's Gate, and through the misted car windows they saw the Swiss Guards standing to attention as they passed. Quart smiled, amused – Spada wasn't popular with the Swiss in the Vatican. An IEA investigation into alleged cases of homosexuality in the Guard had resulted in half a dozen dismissals. And just to pass the time, the archbishop also occasionally dreamed up perverse schemes to test internal security. Such as slipping one of his agents into the Vatican palace, dressed as a member of the public and carrying a phial of mock sulphuric acid intended for the fresco of the Crucifixion of St. Peter in the Pauline Chapel. The intruder had himself photographed standing on a bench in front of the painting, grinning from ear to ear. Spada delivered the photo, together with a rather teasing note, to the colonel of the Swiss Guard. That was six weeks ago, and heads were still rolling.

"He's been called Vespers," said Spada.

The car turned right and then left after passing under the arches of the Porta Angelica. Quart stared at the chauffeur, who was separated from them by a glass partition.

"Is that all the information you have about him?"

"He could be a priest. And he has access to a computer with a modem."

"Age?"

"Unknown."

"Your Reverence isn't giving me much to go on." "I'm telling you what I know."

The Fiat made its way through the traffic on the Via della Conciliazione. The rain had stopped, and the sky was clearing slowly towards the east, over the Pincio Gardens. Quart adjusted the crease in his trousers and looked at his watch even though he didn't particularly care what time it was.

"What's going on in Seville?"

Spada took a few moments to answer. He was staring absendy at the street. "There's a baroque church, Our Lady of the Tears. It's old, small, dilapidated. It was being restored, but the money ran out. It seems it's situated in an area of great historical importance, Santa Cruz."

"I know Santa Cruz. It's the old Jewish quarter, rebuilt at the turn of the century. Very near the cathedral and the archbishop's palace." Quart frowned at the thought of Monsignor Corvo. "A lovely district."

"It must be, because the threat of the church falling into ruin and the halting of the work have stirred up rather passionate feelings. The city council wants to expropriate the site, and an aristocratic Andalusian family with links to one of the banks has also dug out age-old rights of some sort."

They passed die Casde of Sant'Angelo, and the Fiat moved along the Lungotevere towards the Ponte Umberto I. Quart glanced at the dun-coloured walls which he felt symbolised the worldly side of the Church he served. He pictured Clement VII gathering up his cassock, running to take refuge there while Charles V's soldiers plundered Rome. Memento mori. Remember you must die.

"What about the archbishop of Seville? I'm surprised he's not involved."

The director of the IEA was looking at the grey waters of the Tiber through the rain-spattered window. "He's an interested party, so they don't trust him here. Our good Monsignor Corvo is trying to do some speculating of his own. His concern is, of course, only for the material benefit of Our Holy Mother the Church. Meanwhile, Our Lady of the Tears is falling to bits and nobody's repairing her. It seems she's worth more demolished than standing."

"Does the church have a priest?"

At this the archbishop sighed. "Yes, astonishingly. There's a fairly elderly priest in charge there. Apparendy he's a difficult character and, according to our information, all his appeals have been ignored by our good friend Corvo. Any suspicions about Vespers must point to him or his assistant, a young priest who's about to be transferred to another diocese." Spada smiled reluctantly. "It wouldn't be unreasonable to suspect that one of the two priests or both were responsible for this rather original method of reaching the Holy Father."