“Nestov went to see Abu Rashid,” the Russian barber explained, “in Jerusalem. We needed to confirm the veracity of the visions.”

“And were they real?” Sarah and Phelps asked, avid with curiosity.

“We think so.”

“You think so? You’re not certain?” Sarah’s professional side awakened. Wrap up the interview.

“We never saw each other after he went to Israel. We spoke on the phone. We know he met Abu Rashid and was disturbed by him.”

“In what way?” Another question from Sarah.

Ivanovsky ignored her and continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

“He spoke about the visions. About London. A woman in London.”

Sarah swallowed saliva. She had to put her hands on the table to stop a slight trembling.

“What woman was that?” Rafael inquired. He didn’t want to lose momentum.

“The name he gave was Sarah Monteiro,” he revealed under pressure. It was an uncomfortable subject for the barber.

“And what did that woman have?” Rafael pursued.

“He said she was keeping a secret that would answer our questions.”

Ivanovsky lowered his eyes, thinking about that moment.

They talked as if Sarah weren’t there.

“And what are your questions?”

Ivanovsky turned around in his seat. “The main question is how did we get to this situation? Who were our enemies, and what part did they play in the whole disaster?”

“The answer is yourselves,” Rafael answered provocatively. “You can’t blame your enemies for your own faults.”

“We had our faults, sure. Serious ones. More than anyone could imagine, but our enemies played the main role in the fall of our regime. And your pope was in it up to his eyeballs.”

“Which one?”

“The pope at that time. He didn’t care whether communism lasted as long as national socialism was avenged.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rafael protested. “Benedict the Sixteenth loved Hitler’s policies like a rat loves laboratory experiments.”

“I have my doubts.”

“I have my doubts about this democracy you’re living in today,” Rafael answered.

“Don’t we all. But, do you know what I say?” The question was rhetorical. He didn’t wait for a reply. He answered his own question right away. “We’ve adopted the following phase of democracy. That of hidden totalitarianism. An illusory democracy that doesn’t even exist. It just seems to.”

“I don’t question that. That’s obviously the road you’re taking. Don’t forget I know no other regime than a totalitarian one.”

“Ah, yes. How could I forget. The clergy is stuck in the Middle Ages. It suits you.”

“Putin is no daisy, either.”

“I have no comment. He’s my president.”

“Did Abu Rashid say anything else?”

It was better to avoid provocations. Let’s not get off track.

“He said the temptation was great, but Nestov shouldn’t go to London under any pretext. He would not return-”

“Alive.” Sarah completed his sentence, astonished.

Ivanovsky shut his eyes.

“Rafael knows we’re pragmatic men.”

“Of course.”

“Rationalizations. If we have a clue, we don’t think twice. Besides, it wasn’t really a threat, more a suggestion.”

“What is certain is that Rashid was right. We don’t know if it was coincidence or certainty.”

Silence settled over the room as an homage to Nestov’s soul and respect for the Muslim’s prophetic gift.

“I don’t believe the prophet was referring to the secret that marked the end of the communist regime,” Rafael declared after a little.

“No?” The Russian was amazed.

“No.”

“What are we talking about then?”

“Of the total rehabilitation of the old Soviet Union in relation to planning and executing the attempted assassination in 1981,” the Italian recited.

“We know what we did and didn’t do.”

“But the world doesn’t. Seventy percent of Catholics believe that you, the Bulgarians, Poles, and East Germans were responsible for the failed attempt. And the Italian Mitrokhin commission didn’t help.”

“That commission was a farce. Mitrokhin was a fraud,” the barber grumbled.

“But it has a voice. The doubt will always persist.”

“And the secret ends the doubts?”

“It ends them. But even with all the proof in the world, doubts will always exist.”

“That’s like everything.”

“In any case, don’t forget you gave orders to the Poles to do away with him.”

“I don’t know that.”

“Naturally. Twenty-five frustrated attempts are reason enough for not knowing. Tell me something. Have you heard of a man named Nestor?”

Ivanovsky thought for a few moments.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever known anyone by that name.”

“He was a KGB agent,” Rafael observed, half closing his eyes, waiting for a reply.

Ivanovsky shook his head no.

“I’ve never heard of him. I’ll have to look in the personnel files.”

Rafael took another sip of cold tea. “To summarize, Mitrokhin deceived them with a trick by giving a date you didn’t know how to get out of. You know someone tried to kill the pope, which would have been a big favor for you if the attempt had come off, but they failed, and, worse than that, you got the blame. You don’t have any idea who planned the attack of ’eighty-one, do you?” Rafael spoke too rapidly.

“We have some suspects.”

“Who?”

“Personnel in the pay of the CIA, Italians, Muslims.”

“Cold, cold, cold, my friend. They were all terrified, but they didn’t have time.”

“But our major suspect is someone inside the Vatican,” Ivanovsky suggested.

“As simple as that.” Rafael struck the table with the palm of his hand, sanctioning the Russian’s answer.

“You should be the first to deny it,” Ivanovsky argued.

“Then I deny it,” Rafael said. “How do you come into the story now?”

“How do you come in?”

“By chance.”

“Same with us.”

“Who were you watching?” Rafael tried a different approach.

“We watch everyone.”

Bad. The conversation was better, Sarah thought. It’s one thing to confide actions and information from the past, another to describe the situation of the present.

“I’ll ask you something else. Why did you kill the English couple and CIA man in Amsterdam?”

To Sarah those words were like a punch in the stomach. Were they the ones who killed her friends in cold blood? She couldn’t believe it.

“We haven’t killed anyone in Amsterdam recently,” the Russian said. “Why?

“They had a CD with interesting information, obtained and held by the KGB until ’ninety-one and afterwards by your excellencies who inherited the file.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, barber. We were doing so well… It’s natural to have your enemies and allies under constant surveillance. The Holy See does also. Everyone does. What’s curious is you’ve kept an organization like Opus Dei under your watchful gaze. That’s what isn’t normal.”

Sarah calmed her inner hurricane. But doubt remained. His saying they didn’t do it could be true or not.

Ivanovsky swallowed hard.

“We used the woman to demonstrate we were on top of things. We gave her the disc with intelligence about what happened to the girls, but we didn’t kill the couple.” He thought about whether to continue.

There was something that made him trust the Italian, and, really, his instincts had never let him down. Ivanovskys had always had an innate talent for choosing the winning side in history.

“Their murder only shows one thing…” He hesitated again.

“That you were being spied on or that whoever alerted you to the problem didn’t speak to you alone.”

“Don’t make stuff up.”

“I’m not,” Rafael ventured firmly. He had already figured out the whole web, or, at least, part of it. “Who put you on the trail of Opus Dei?”

“That information is confidential.”

“Everything we’ve said is confidential.”

The vacillating expression on the Russian’s face made clear his inner conflict between duty and continuing. His confidence in Rafael gained ground.