The Octopus at the Vatican

# 1 - the Mafia and the future Pope Paul VI

1957 - Palermo

It was in the suite of New York boss Gambino, at Palm Palace.

"We're going to triple our heroin sales! Let him in!"

Sindona stepped forward and kissed his hand.

"Good morning, Don Carlo, thanks for receiving me."

The other exclaimed in Sicilian dialect:

"You're clearly working wonders to turn our funds into outstanding capital."

"Thank you, Don Carlo, I'm flattered answered Sindona, also in Sicilian."

His was from Messina, they understood each other, they moved in the same circles.

Lucky Luciano, dressed in a light suit was having a drink just a bit further away. The latest capo of Capi, maybe still the current one, no-one knew, looked like a retired dentist. Two bodyguards in dark suits stood nearby.

Carlo Gambino was a small man, with dark black hair combed backwards and dark eyes. Born in Palermo, he had emigrated to the United States during the fascist era and had climbed to the top of the crime fraternity. Initially as killer for godfathers, later as killer of godfathers. A classic CV, not unlike the one of the dentist nearby, organizer of this Italo-American gangster's high gathering.

Michele Sindona, the mob manager, was slim and elegant; he had done well at school. Whereas Gambino could hardly read or write. But he knew how to kill and how to have others killed. Which he had just inflicted on his boss while he was taking a shave in the Sheraton. And then, two weeks later, to his partner. As these things got known, he was shown more respect than his educational pathway would have warranted.

"We are going to take our business to the next level", said Gambino. "We are going to shore up our financial sector. I want to trust you with this very important task for our family. Do you agree? And if so, how do you think we should set it up?"

This was an offer that no-one could turn down. And Sindona was very keen to say yes.

He went on:

"The more important the sums of money, the more complex and expensive the recycling. When we wash $100,000, we only get $80,000. The ratio falls to 70% for a million dollars. For a hundred million dollars, it won't exceed 60%."

Luciano was listening. Unlike Gambino, he knew all about these ratios. He looked at Gambino and nodded.

"Good, you're hired", said Gambino to Sindona. "You'll give back 60 cents, as white as snow, for every dollar we entrust you with. The other 40% are your fees and salary. They have nothing to do with me. You do as you wish. Your only commitment will be to change 100 underground to 60 on the surface. You OK with that?"

"Yes, Don, it's simple and generous. One question: do you want a delay between the entrance at 100 and the refund at 60?"

Gambino looked at Luciano who gave him an evasive glance.

"How long would you give it", Gambino asked Sindona?

"Between six and twenty-four months depending on the complexity of the work. This time delay ensures an inscrutable and secure laundering.

Gambino glanced again at Luciano who had lit a cigarette and didn't seem to be with them anymore. As he listened to everything, it meant approval.

"OK. You're the family's financial manager now. See Don Rosario about the details. Giulio, you can tell him to come in. Silvio, bring the champagne!"

Rosario entered, as they were preparing the flutes.

Smiling, Gambino said: "it's done. Thank you for introducing Michele. He'll do an excellent job. We agreed on a 60% lump sum. OK with you?"

Rosario Di Maggio was head of the Passo di Rigano family and one of the most influential godfathers in Palermo, but Gambino was his superior. So, it was fine with him. If he had said 40%, it would still have been fine for him.

1960 - Milano

Milan's archbishop, Giovanni Montini was feeling low. He'd been moping for six years in his position, albeit the most prestigious in Italy. That swine Pie XII had gotten rid of him, by making him Bishop there. But Montini wanted to become pope, not Bishop of Milan! He had served Pie XII in Rome for more than ten years. He had seen at close hand what power meant. He wanted it. And he found it difficult to conceal it. When Pie XII had died two years previously, he still hadn't been appointed cardinal. And this stood on his way to Saint Peter's throne. Angelo Roncalli had stolen his place, under the name of John XXIII; a good man who had promoted him right away.

Nevertheless, the finally appointed Cardinal Montini still champed at the bit. Building churches and blessing nurseries didn't have the same cachet as being God's representative on earth. He was already 63 years old. His last chance would come when Pope John, already 80, died. He had to be ready. Maintain his networks.

Thank goodness, he had his personal secretary, Father Pasquale Macchi, to lift his spirits when he felt low. At 37, he was like a son to him. Even more than that. He picked up his phone.

"Hello, Mr. Sindona, could we meet?"

"Of course, your Eminence, as soon as you like."

Michele Sindona met Cardinal Montini at the archbishopric. Their faces were alike. Thin with prominent and fine noses, and intense sunken eyes. Montini wanted to open a nursing home for deprived people. He didn't have the funds and the banks wouldn't lend.

"How much money do you need for that charity, Eminence", asked the Cosa Nostra financier?

"Two and a half million dollars", said the prelate.

"I'll see what I can do. You'll get an answer in a few days."

His mind was made up. Montini could become pope. I'll dip into my slush funds. If he becomes pope, this gamble will pay off. If not, it can still be useful to be the friend of Milan's Cardinal-archbishop.

Ten days later, the cash was credited to the archbishop's account. It was a loan from a foreign bank, without interest, of unlimited duration and with no depreciation.

"Alleluia", cried out Montini, "God is showing his choice for his next vicar!"