Rafael was watching Sarah’s reaction.

“Gelli was done in by that scumbag, what’s-his-name, Pecorelli. The Gellis dug their grave when they let the lodge’s membership list fall into that journalist’s hands.

“The judges started asking questions, and old man Gelli needed to hide out in Uruguay.

“Along came the current leadership of the lodge,” Rafael went on. “They distanced themselves from Gelli and got busy trying to get the organization back on track. Those years involved a lot of work. They had to amend the Constitution, reorganize the judiciary and the university, and influence certain men, particularly Craxi, Andreotti, and Bisaglia. It didn’t much matter what party they belonged to. The crucial factor was getting them to ‘collaborate,’ even without knowing they were doing so. Reporters, in general, were on board. They liked money,” he concluded.

The lodge was now a collection of shadow figures that nobody could uncover. It was a fantasy of conspiracy addicts, an irrational urban legend, an organization that inspired terror only among solitary investigators on the Internet. They did not exist. And nonexistence was highly recommended for someone trying to carry out a plan like his.

Sarah began to realize that the organization had grown and continued to extend its networks worldwide. Even in the Vatican, where the P2 was called the Ecclesia Lodge. When Pope John Paul I died suddenly, the lodge included numerous members carrying out their duties in the palaces of the Holy See.

“In those years, Rome was the best place in the world. Archbishop Marcinkus was involved in the finances, and everything he touched turned to gold,” Rafael continued. “Of course the investments were in pornography, contraceptives, and other businesses ill suited to the image of the Church. But the funds Marcinkus invested in arms factories, political subversion, bribes, blackmail, and money laundering proved much more productive in the long run.”

“I don’t know if you’re trying to tell me the truth or terrify me,” Sarah remarked, then fell silent.

Sarah was deep in thought, and Rafael retreated into his own reflections. A peaceful quiet ensued between them.

The flight attendant offered the snacks tray to both of them. They ate silently, buried in their thoughts.

“What I need now is a shower.” Sarah twisted in her seat, trying to wake up her numbed arms and legs.

“We can arrange that,” Rafael assured her. “When we land, we’ll take care of it.”

“Is that a promise?” she asked, half smiling.

“No. I never make promises. But I do keep my word.”

They were silent a few moments longer. The noise of the plane’s engines drowned out the other passengers’ conversations. Sarah turned to him again.

“Do you think my father’s all right?”

“Yes. Don’t worry.” His voice was so assured that she believed him.

“What I’m afraid of now is having them catch us at the airport,” Sarah said.

“You can relax. That’s not going to happen.”

“How can you be sure?”

“It’s one of the advantages of my position. We may have half the world after us, but we know how they think. We’re always one step ahead. And what matters for us is to keep going like that. We have to keep the initiative.”

“And how do they think?”

“The first thing they’re going to do is clear the scene of the shooting and the street where I threw the tear gas.”

Somehow Rafael’s voice inexplicably calmed Sarah. To her it was a killer’s voice, the voice of a man without scruples, but its effect was reassuring.

“What will we do after talking to my father?”

“We’ll see. We’ve got to go step by step.”

“You’re always holding back information.”

“That’s true. But in this case I don’t have much more to tell you. The objective is to have you reunite with your father. That’s basic. Then we’ll see what to do next.”

“But isn’t there a risk that when we arrive in Lisbon, they’ll have photos of us in some paper? It’s possible the authorities will be looking for us.”

“Definitely not. It’s in their interest for us to go through unnoticed. Their objective is to see us six feet under. Besides, as long as we have the list, no one’s going to let us appear in the papers. If they did that, they’d lose everything.”

I hope you’re not wrong, Sarah thought.

“How did Firenzi get my address?” she asked herself out loud. “Of course, considering my father belonged to the organization, I can see why they knew my home address. What I can’t figure out is why he wrote to me.”

Rafael didn’t even seem to react to her. Once more he brought his hand to the wounded arm.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes,” he answered, massaging the area softly. Hours before, he’d bandaged it in the bathroom on the train, and the pain had eased somewhat. But now it was bothering him again, badly.

“Do you need anything? Can I help you?”

“No, thanks, I’ll be fine,” Rafael replied.

As they circled the airport, flying over the northern part of Sarah’s native land, she felt a renewed anguish suffocating her.

“Do you know the man who broke into my house?”

“Yes.”

Rafael kept silent again, just staring out the small window.

“Who was it?” Sarah insisted.

“It was an American Secret Service agent. Actually he was a Czech-born naturalized American, though that’s irrelevant. But other people connected with you have died recently. There was a Spanish priest named Felipe Aragón, and an Argentinian one, Pablo Rincón. Both of them received information concerning John Paul I’s papers.”

“Papers like mine?”

“On the night he died, the pope had various papers with him. The list that you got is only part of it.” Rafael seemed to want to talk.

“And they also received papers?”

“Probably, but they had worse luck than you. Father Pablo couldn’t manage to get away. And unfortunately, Father Felipe died of a heart attack at almost the same time.”

“If Father Pablo received any papers, then they must be in the P2’s hands now. If, on the other hand, he received only an indication, let’s say, as to the whereabouts of the remaining documents, the P2 could also have obtained that information before killing him,” Sarah reasoned.

“That may be, I don’t know. Your father might be able to clear all of this up for us.”

“How can you be acting like that, making decisions without sufficient information?”

“In my work, we’re all small cogs in a big wheel. What counts is for us to know our part and perform effectively. As for the whole puzzle, only its inventor knows.”

“And you aren’t curious?”

“Curiosity is very dangerous.”

The plane completed its approach, and moments later landed smoothly.

“We have just landed at Portela Airport in Lisbon,” the flight attendant announced, and repeated the usual litany.

“At least they didn’t attack us with missiles midflight,” Sarah joked, trying to shake off the gripping tension.