The Devil's Labyrinth

CHAPTER 60

THE MAYOR OF Boston stood on the stage and surveyed the activity taking place on the Common. Tomorrow was forecast to be as perfect as today, and with no rain for tonight, there were already a few people preparing to spend the night in the park, eating from picnic hampers and sleeping wrapped in blankets. If any parallels could be made between rock concerts and papal appearances, enough people to fill every available seat will have gathered in the Common before sunrise. By the time of the Mass, the trees to the left would be full of hundreds of people as well, each of them risking broken arms and legs for a better vantage point. So the Pontiff would be gazing out over a sea of people with a turquoise sky above and a background of swans swimming lazily in the lake behind.

But that was tomorrow; right now the mayor needed to focus on the present. And the present seemed to be going very well, all things considered: four speaker towers were up and fully functional, the fence around the perimeter of the seating area was in place, and workmen on the stage were assembling the backdrop — a curtain of deep purple, in front of which would stand the altar at which the Pope would celebrate the Mass. As the mayor watched, half a dozen more workmen appeared from somewhere behind the stage, dressed in uniforms he’d never seen before, but a moment later the chief of police appeared at the mayor’s elbow.

“Vatican security,” he said, nodding toward the uniformed workmen and perfectly reading the mayor’s puzzled expression. “They’re in charge of the Plexiglas, and they’re the only ones allowed to set it up. Grimaldi told me they can do the whole job in half an hour if they have to.”

“Grimaldi?” the mayor repeated, cocking his head slightly as he shifted his gaze to the chief.

“Roberto Grimaldi,” the chief explained. “Head of Vatican security whenever the Pope is traveling.” He paused to survey the activity, which seemed to be increasing with every minute that passed. “We’re cutting it a little closer than I like, but we’ll make it. Grimaldi knows what he’s doing.”

“I hope so,” the mayor replied dourly. “And I trust you let him know that if anything goes wrong, it’s going to be more on them than us. I still don’t think we should have agreed to this at all. Just not enough time to get ready.”

The chief shrugged. “And if we hadn’t agreed, we’d have every Catholic in Boston on our backs, and you could forget about running next time, let alone serving another term.”

“I know,” the mayor sighed. “But I still don’t have to like it.” Just then a young man with an athletic build, intense dark eyes and an official looking clipboard in his hand stepped through the curtain, spotted the chief and came over.

“Well, speak of the Devil,” the chief said, then introduced Roberto Grimaldi to the mayor.

“My apologies for the short notice, Your Honor,” Grimaldi said. “I must tell you, I think I was probably as upset over the lack of planning as you, but as it happens you have an excellent venue here, and your people have made it very easy for us.”

“I wish that made me feel better.” Flowers sighed. “But I’m afraid I’m not going to get much sleep until this is all over.”

“Nor will I,” Grimaldi agreed. “But for us this is actually a very small event, comparatively speaking. If you block vehicular access to the Common tomorrow morning in time to have the streets cleared by ten-thirty, that should do it. Since we began using the plexi shield, we no longer have to worry about snipers or people in the audience, and if the streets are blocked, it eliminates the possibility of a car bomb. His Holiness will arrive in his armored car, and our security along with your own will be in place when he moves from the car to the stage.” Grimaldi offered the mayor and the police chief a thin smile. “I should think that between us we can keep him safe while he walks ten feet, don’t you?” Grimaldi flipped a couple of sheets over on his clipboard. “The three students from St. Isaac’s Preparatory Academy who will be servers for the Mass will follow His Holiness in a second limousine, escorted by Father Sebastian Sloane.” Seeing the mayor and police chief exchange a nervous glance, Grimaldi smiled. “Believe me, the Vatican has been watching Father Sebastian for years, and both he and the three children are here at the direct request of His Holiness.” He pointed toward the foot of Spruce Street. “They’ll enter from that street, and the cars will pull up directly behind the stage. His Holiness will not be visible to anyone in the Common until he appears on the stage, and then he will be protected by the plexi shield. Keep the streets clear until thirty minutes after he’s gone, and that will be it.”

The mayor fumbled in his pocket for his antacids, and glanced questioningly at the police chief.

“We’ll have security at the school and all along the three blocks of the route to the Common.” When the mayor looked no happier, he spread his hands helplessly. “It’s the Vatican’s show, and they want to do it their way. And I’ve got to say that from what I’ve seen and heard, they run a very tight ship. Frankly, short of spending three days trying to put everyone who comes in through a metal detector, I can’t think of anything else we’d do.”

“Okay,” the mayor sighed. “So there’s nothing else to do but sit back and enjoy the show?”

“Exactly,” Grimaldi said, finally smiling. “And you’ll enjoy it — there’s something quite magical about His Holiness. Everywhere he goes, it’s the same — everyone who sees him adores him.” He glanced at his watch. “And since His Holiness lands in about ten minutes, I need to go.”

The mayor shook Grimaldi’s hand, as did the chief, then Grimaldi flipped open his phone, punched a couple of buttons, and headed off in the direction of the back gate, where a chauffeured black sedan waited.

“Tums?” The mayor held the open package out to Chief Warner.

“Don’t mind if I do,” the chief replied, and helped himself to two.