The Octopus at the Vatican

# 13 - the election

Albino Luciani had had such an insane day. It was all wrapped into a single day. The previous day's vote had only been a first test-round. But today was a cavalry charge. The first vote, then the second and finally the last one. And there he was, Pope! He had oddly thought about the repairs to his Lancia 2000. Who would bring it back to Venice? He was distraught, as if he had crashed and burned.

He had heard, in a deep fog:

"Do you accept?"

He mumbled:

"May God forgive you for what you've done to me."

The voice came back:

"Do you accept?"

He heard himself answering:

"I accept."

How idiotic! But what else could he do? The sin of pride, to deny the Holy Spirit's call?

"What name will you choose?"

"Mmm, John. . . Paul. John Paul I."

The cardinals were stunned by this choice. A double-barrelled name! Furthermore, no Supreme Pontiff had actually chosen a new given name for centuries. They were hopping around, congratulating themselves: what an amazing innovation, what a fertile imagination, what up-to-date boldness, what a message with those two Apostles! When he had, in fact, only opted for the names of the last two popes. That's all it was, it didn't mean anything in particular.

In the second round, he came in second place behind Tisi, but without enough votes to risk being elected. He prayed while his colleagues were having a nap.

"Oh! Lord! Don't do that to me, turn away from me, go to hell!"

But after his siesta, he was crushed by the third round as by a hippopotamus. He was really leading. As the votes got called out, he whispered,

"No, Lord, no Lord!"

He turned towards his neighbors.

"Please don't do this to me, please!"

Conservative Cardinal Siri's score had collapsed, Luciani was given 68 votes.

Come on, keep cool Albino! Let's see, 111 divided by 3 and multiplied by 2 makes 74. Plus one equals 75. Only 7 votes left before the disaster. What about lifting my cassock and showing my bum to the assembly, would that put them off?

He didn't know what to do. He remained totally still on his bench. The fourth vote began.

I can still refuse. But if I accept, I'll have to find a name. Oh God! Please help me, I've never thought of that. Let's see, John XXIII was a good man. John XXIV would be acceptable, it's simple. But all those figures: it's a bit dumb. We don't give children numbers: Sophie 1st, Sophie IInd, Sophie IIIrd. Gaspard 1st, Gaspard IInd, Gaspard IIIrd etc. What shambles in a family? I must innovate.

His name came up more and more.

Quick, be quick, you don't have lots of time left! John made me Bishop, Paul Cardinal. John Paul. Funny name.

At that very minute, he finally smiled, relieved and amused by that craziness. They all thought he was happy with his imminent election.

"Results! declared the Camerlengo: Cardinal Luciani 99 votes. Elected."

The following morning, he woke up completely groggy in the pontifical apartment. After breakfast and a terrible coffee, he started calling his friends to seek comfort. It was the last time he would be able to talk as a mere human being and not as God's Representative on earth. He told one of them, "I can't understand how I accepted. Last night I already regretted. But it was too late."

And to another one, "Just see what's happening to me!"

*

Vittorio Petri had mixed feelings. He was happy about the event, but he was losing his beloved Uncle. The day after the election he held back from contacting him. He could really imagine Albino in this maelstrom. But he had to speak to the pope. Not about their feelings. Nor about the Lancia.

On August 28th, he called the Secretariat of the Pontifical Council from his IOR internal number. Completely blocked. The pope was too busy, with a billion believers to cope with, just to see a simple Curia employee who pretended to be his nephew. And moreover, even if he were, he no longer had a family, his family now being the Catholics all over the world. Tired of this slop, he gave up after two unsuccessful attempts.

*

On August 29th, the new pope called him. Would he come and share dinner in the pontifical apartment? They had a nice time, full of warmth, as if Albino's status hadn't changed.

"How am I to address you now, Uncle? Holy Father?"

"Just as before, but try to avoid familiarity when if public. The Curia scrutinizes civility. Thousands of people are looking after me. I'm in the Vatican's net. I have already been forbidden to go for a walk in town, in my parish."

"Oh, the pope can be denied ...?"

"Well, they tell me it's impossible. It would start riots! It's like with the sedan chair. That thing where the pope sits, carried by men and exhibited in the crowd. I don't want it. Such a show of strength for trifles! At least I managed not to wear the three-story pie-shaped tiara. And to replace the crowning ceremony by a simple mass. Six hours saved. And symbolism closer to its origins."

"Centuries ago, well no, just five days ago you told me that you found the Church too wealthy."

"Of course, I remember."

"Does John Paul I agree on that point with Albino Luciani?"

"Of course, what are you getting at?"

"When we were cycling in Venice, you reminded me that I was held to professional secrecy. Well, I no longer am. I must tell the Chef what is cooking in his pots."

"Compelling logic. You're scaring me. I'm listening."

Vittorio explained how the Church's financial institutions operated, led by IOR. The Vatican was an organized crime money laundering machine. With sub-launderettes. The main one was Ambrosiano Bank, controlled by Roberto Calvi. He replaced Michele Sindona in 1974 as Cosa Nostra's banker when Sindona fled to the United States. Archbishop Paul Marcinkus, then IOR's Director and a few Vatican accomplices helped the machinery to operate at full capacity. Vittorio outlined this complex trafficking process to the pope.

"Why did you stay, he asked his nephew? Hadn't I recommended you walked away if you spotted dirty dealings?"

"I only recently understood the whole mechanism. It was well disguised! I did have suspicions before. Now I'm certain of it. It's dangerous to get involved. The rush of adrenaline makes me want to know more. It's such a huge deal! Paul VI was old and sick. Without wishing him dead — or let's say hoping for it as he covered everything up — I must admit I was hoping for a new pope who wouldn't accept all this, any longer. In whom I could have confided without risking being found drowned in the Tiber. I would never have guessed it could be you. We are so close to the Mafia, which doesn't have a good record on human rights. I've informed you, but be very prudent. Don't talk to anyone about it. You know nothing, you say nothing. If you take a decision, prepare your dismissals and hit them altogether, all at once. Excuse me, I'm losing my temper. You didn't ask me for advice. But I love you, so here it is. Take care, Uncle. If they get hold of information, they won't hold back."