He settled into one of the armchairs.
“I suppose it is too much to hope that you’ve come to return the stolen property. Yet, as it’s said, ‘Hope springs eternal in the human breast.’”
“I didn’t catch your name, Your Grace, the last time we met,” Serov said.
“Dietl, Franz Dietl . . . No comment about the stolen property?”
“I can only hope,” Cronley said, “that you weren’t holding your breath in anticipation of getting Odessa’s money returned.”
The archbishop chuckled.
“So, what did you want to talk about?”
“We wanted to talk to the cardinal,” Serov said.
“His Eminence, sadly, is not available at this time.”
“Pity,” Cohen said. “I was hoping to put his mind at rest. But since he’s occupied, there’s no point in this meeting. We’ve already talked to you. You have our number if His Eminence can ever find a few minutes for us.”
“Enough!” Serov snapped. “Hassburger, if you don’t come out from behind those panels right now and stop this bullshit, I will be forced to conclude that you’re not interested at all in solving our mutual problem.”
“You can’t talk to . . . His Emin—” the archbishop began and then cut himself off.
There was no response from behind the panels.
“Let’s go,” Cronley said, and stood up.
Serov and Cohen rose and followed him to the door through which they had entered the room. They had almost reached it when there was a fresh voice.
“I’m willing to listen to what you have to say.”
Cronley had seen Cardinal von Hassburger only once before and then only at a distance. He had not been favorably impressed. And now that he saw him up close, he was even less impressed.
The cardinal was, with the exception of his red skullcap, dressed in a cassock identical to Archbishop Dietl’s. He was not quite as tall as Dietl, and nowhere near as heavy, but his eyes were something else. They were large and clear and piercing.
The cardinal, Cronley quickly decided, was no dummy.
“I warned Dietl,” the cardinal began, “that you had no intention of returning our money.”
“You mean Odessa’s money?” Cohen challenged.
“The money in question,” the cardinal said.
“And you were right,” Cohen said. “Snatched from the hands of the evil and now in the hands of the righteous.”
“Actually, you snatched it from our hand.”
“If the glove fits, wear it,” Serov said.
“You must be Serov,” the cardinal said.
“General Ivan Serov at your service, Cardinal.”
“I suppose I’m expected to say something like this,” the cardinal said, “but it is true: I have a busy schedule. Can we get to the point?”
Cohen said, “We have come, Your Eminence, to enlist the Holy Mother Church in a righteous war against some very evil sons of bitches.”
“And who would they be?”