"These are photos from the few caras around the city. They were gotten from videos, so they are not the best.
Take a look and tell if you can glean any extra information."
Taking the pictures Chiara pulled from inside a folder, I began flipping through them, carefully studying each one.
"This should be from the airport," I tapped on the second image.
"Yeah, she ca here from Switzerland under a false identity, Gia Mondreas.
We tried tracing her movent in Switzerland, but other than stepping into the airport over there, there’s nothing."
I silently flipped through a few more images, stopping at one quite familiar.
"Isn’t this Bella Italia?"
"Yeah, apparently she was a custor."
"Normal people don’t go to your Cafe."
"Yeah, I know," Chiara rubbed her forehead. "But you can’t expect to begin tracking every new face that cos in and has a heavy al."
"True," I had to agree.
"From her appearance in my Cafe though, I was able to track what hotel she stayed in, but her room’s a dead end, no sign that she ever stepped into it."
I kept going through the images until I reached one showing the female ritualist walking, a crowd around her.
"Is this in the hotel?"
"Yes."
"What hotel did she stay in?"
"Fabrizo Le Man. Why?"
"These people, they look familiar. I saw most of them here at the Vatican."
"Yeah, Fabrizo Le Man was a hot spot for many of the guests for the Papal Summit. It caters best to non-Italians who step into the capital.
The best place for soone like her to hide."
My index finger traced over the photo, going past images, stopping at one that had the side profile of a female.
"Kitty," I tapped on her image.
"Anything suspicious about her?"
"Lazarus. He’s a part of her group. I, together with Kitty, spied on him fucking one of your nuns in the Vatican."
"My nuns?"
"Yeah, the chubby one you sent to pick from the Cafe that evening."
"Oh."
"Why didn’t you inform of that?"
"When I found out over 70% of the Vatican does not keep to the chaste vows they made, I didn’t see much problem with what she did.
Though I must inform you that their sex involves the creation and sharing of energy."
Chiara’s mind had begun working overti after my revelation, but when she heard the latter part of my words, her shoulders sagged.
"What is it?"
"What you just ntioned is a unique type of cultivation.
The current Pope and those before him have forbidden it, tried to stamp it out of existence, but it’s more resilient than a roach.
In recent tis, it’s gained strong support in the papacy and gradually within the dark organisations around the world.
It’s one of the major reasons for the moral decay within the Vatican.
To think it’s also gaining ground within the Pope’s own faction."
"Well, if it’s so hard to stamp out, the benefits must be wild."
The curiosity I felt within bled out from my lips, and Chiara’s eyes snapped to .
"It’s sothing that starts with a smile but ends with agony untold, a silent viper."
"Hmm."
I humd with understanding, nodding my head, but Chiara accurately saw the curiosity burning within and snapped her fingers.
"Go to the next image."
"What of Lazarus?"
"He’s not the only guest of the summit caught with a nun during the week and worse, doing what they were doing," Chiara said with so sha.
"Also, he’s already returned to London, so checking on him will be difficult."
"I see."
I went through the rest of the photos, not able to co up with sothing substantial. You saddled yourself with one hell of a team.
At the sign of trouble, they all fled and abandoned you.
"Still trying to get to stay in Italy?"
"No, I’m just warning you to be careful."
"Sure, thanks."
"How is your arm?"
It had been a day since my visit to the underground of the Cattolica del Sacro Cuore.
No way I would see the hospital building and then not be able to find out where I had been.
With machines reminiscent of what I had seen in Sade’s parents’ house, I put my stump in so kind of incubator and, over the span of three days, watched as it was slowly regrown.
The new, soft, baby-like arm connected to the much older mature stump was a very worrying sight to see in the first hours.
Being fed nutrients while my DNA within was continuously coded and decoded, it matured to match the size and look of my original arm, though the durability was another thing.
At the mont, I had on a sling, my right arm put in a cast and hanging from a string placed around my neck.
Before I left the underground facility, several tis I had been warned not to undo the cast and to let my bones and flesh harden, nine months being the required ti fra.
"There are the random stings and aches, but all is good. I can feel my arm and wiggle my fingers."
"That’s good.
I know you’re hard-headed, but at least listen to the doctor’s orders. Keep on the cast."
"I’ll do my best."
Seeing Chiara let out a helpless sigh, I stood up from the blue couch I had been sitting on and walked close to the window behind.
"It’s ti for to leave," I said, pride leaking into my tone.
"Admiring your new jet?" Chiara stepped beside , looking at the black construct on the runway a few distances below us.
"This one isn’t new; it was gotten off the market.
I have an order for a customised one on the way, though."
"I don’t think I needed to hear that last part."
"You do.
I want you to reconsider your choice of handling from Italy. There is so much fun to be had in the US."
"My answer remains the sa.
But lest I forget, Niamh tells Prisca has been asking about you. Seems you made a big impact on her.
She will be disheartened to hear you left without telling her goodbye."
"You don’t have to worry, I’m not such a villain."
Chiara was unsure what I ant by my words, but the next second, she watched with as a limousine pulled up to the side of the steaming jet, a familiar designer stepping out of the vehicle with her head stuck up high.
"Every morning I pray that you be a blessing to the papacy."
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