Chapter Twenty-Four
"This is the lesson: never give in, never give in, never, never, never, never—in nothing, great or small, large or petty—never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never yield to force; never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy." – Winston Churchill, 1941
Ana frowned, mouth opening to scold Heinkel for her abrupt departure, but before she could begin, Heinkel blurted, "I have to go. Be back soon."
With that, she blended into the crowd once more, praying the older woman wouldn't be too angry when she returned. It seemed she had yet to discover Heinkel's note—otherwise, Ana would never have let her go so easily.
Not that it mattered if her foster mother knew of her plans—now, the situation had changed. For despite her desire to leave Rome as soon as possible, Heinkel had no choice but to tell Ana the truth; she owed her that much, at least. After seeing the concern in the older woman's eyes, the years' worth of unasked questions brimming there, Heinkel finally realized just how selfish she'd been.
She'd thought she was protecting her foster mother by keeping her in the dark, but this had only made Ana worry more. Every time Heinkel called, she presented a bright and cheerful facade to mask her true feelings: an act Heinkel could have easily seen through, if she hadn't been so consumed by her own emotions. While she was off playing hero, Ana was left wondering if her daughter was even alive. Shame filled her at the thought of her disgraceful behavior.
Still, guilty as it made her feel to leave without an explanation, there would be plenty of time for that later; right now, Heinkel had business to attend to. Pausing only to purchase a cup of espresso—she needed some serious caffeine after her visit to the Archives—the former Vatican agent headed for Rome's most luxurious hotel.
Time to pay Lorenzo a visit.
She had never been fond of Maxwell's uncle, but the man owed her a favor; and it was time to collect. Besides, Lorenzo never woke up before noon unless the Holy Father himself demanded it; and catching him off guard would make it more difficult for the wily cardinal to weasel his way out of the situation. (The old man was every bit as crafty as his erstwhile nephew.)
All too soon, Heinkel found herself standing outside the Hassler Roma: an ornate structure that hardly seemed appropriate for a clergyman's residence—even one so prestigious. Then again, the Church elite had never been known for their simple taste…
The doorman eyed her warily when she approached, though he did agree to deliver a message to the front desk. Heinkel knew better than to use her own name—the cardinal would surely turn her away—but there was an escort whose services he particularly enjoyed: a secret he had drunkenly let slip in her presence. For once, Heinkel was grateful for the man's licentious behavior. While she could have taken a less direct route, she wasn't in the mood for espionage—sneaking around wasn't nearly as much fun without Yumie.
As predicted, the doorman reappeared moments later with a disgruntled expression. "His Eminence will see you now." Heinkel thanked him, making sure to adjust her scarf before entering the building; avoiding others' pitying stares was well worth a few strange looks.
She made her way to Lorenzo's room without hesitation—Heinkel had been there more times than she cared to admit—feeling awkward amid the expensive wallpaper and plush carpet. This early in the morning, the halls were practically deserted; and the few people she encountered spared her no more than a passing glance—the staff were too well-trained to stare, the guests too self-absorbed.
Rounding the corner to the penthouse suite, Heinkel wasn't surprised to see a young friar standing guard outside. Judging from his expression, he'd clearly expected a more exciting assignment than protecting a lecherous old man from hangovers and the occasional overly enthusiastic stripper. (Lorenzo's attendants never lasted long.)
The priest was out cold before he knew what hit him; rifling through his pockets, Heinkel found the room's key card. Hopefully the guard wouldn't be fired for this—though he'd probably be better off if he were.
She let herself in, the door shutting soundlessly behind her. The room was a mess, clothes and beer bottles scattered all over the floor; the air reeked of tobacco, and there was a questionable stain on the carpet. A naked woman was sound asleep on one side of the bed, while the cardinal—fully clothed, thank God—leaned against the headboard. When the door opened, sending a sliver of light into the room, he squinted in Heinkel's direction but made no move to stand, lips curling in a lascivious smile.
"I've missed you, la mia bellezza."
Resisting the urge to retch, Heinkel replied, "I'm afraid I can't say the same."
She felt a twinge of satisfaction as Lorenzo's eyes widened, face paling as he confronted his unexpected visitor. "What are you doing here? Don't you know half the city is looking for you?"
She'd been in the man's presence for less than a minute, and already Heinkel was fighting the urge to strangle him. "I need a favor."
Lorenzo chuckled, but there was no humor in the sound. "With Enrico dead and Iscariot disbanded, you are nothing more than a traitor—how can you expect me to help you? I'd practically be signing my own death warrant."
Her patience exhausted, Heinkel pressed the barrel of her gun against his temple, finger twitching as she resisted the urge to blow the man's brains out right then and there. How dare he refuse her after she'd saved his pathetic life time and again, hidden his debauchery from the Vatican for Enrico's sake? She knew the Maxwell men were self-serving, but this was ridiculous.
"It wasn't a request."
Heinkel released the safety, remaining emotionless even as the cardinal's eyes filled with fear. It didn't matter that he was Maxwell's relative, or even a high-ranking Church official; this man deserved to die. Unfortunately, she couldn't rid the world of his odious presence just yet—not while she still needed him. Not that there was any reason for the cardinal to know that…
"Y-you can't do this!" Lorenzo stammered, eyes darting to his female companion, who slept on, oblivious to the confrontation occurring in front of her. "If you kill me, you'll never be forgiven."
"I'm a traitor, remember?" Heinkel's voice was flat. "No matter what I do, I'll never be welcomed back into the fold." The truth of those words made her chest ache.
"I'll speak to the Holy Father!" Lorenzo was trembling now, sweat beading on his brow. "I can ask him to pardon you—"
"Shut up!" Heinkel snapped, her voice louder than she'd intended; the stripper stirred but didn't wake. While the cardinal's offer was tempting, there was no sense in asking for the impossible; as one of the most prominent members of Section XIII, she was indelibly linked with Maxwell's betrayal: a transgression so vast not even the pope could overlook it (even had he wanted to). "I need to you keep an eye on someone."
