CARDINAL TSANA re-read the letter and then he sat back in his chair and deliberated on its contents, a frown creasing his brow. It would seem that his instructions that all Monsignor Cronin's mail should be entrusted to him for the time being in view of the monsignor's malady had borne fruit. Unfortunately, the Monsignor was no longer non compos mentis and would soon be back on his feet so some swift action needed to be taken. The information in the letter had, in fact, given the Cardinal an idea. As if to confirm his thought processes, he studied the photograph one more time and agreed that the likeness was remarkable indeed. Hardly brothers though! Surely, a mere coincidence? Lifting the phone from its cradle he dialled out.
An hour later a thin man, quite short, with thick slicked black hair swept straight back, a thin pointed nose, ferret like eyes and dark features sat before the Cardinal.
Peter Sartori, a Neapolitan by birth, wore a smart, well-cut grey suit over a pink shirt with an elegant black silk tie and fashionable black shoes; his appearance was that of a man who knew what 'dolce vita' was all about. In a word, he was immaculate in appearance but there was just a hint of femininity about him. There was nothing feminine about his nature, however, which was ruthless, vindictive, sly, and totally without a conscience of any kind. Those qualifications combined with his work experience, ten years with the Costa Nostra in the United States, had landed him a job with the Cardinal. That was eight years ago and now Sartori at the ripe old age of thirty-eight had enough money to retire. But then why should he when he enjoyed his work so much?
He scuffed a piece of lint off his highly polished shoes as he listened to the Cardinal elaborate.
“And where did you say this man John Devlin is, your Eminence?” he then asked.
“Manila! One thing though! This letter is from Captain Lewis! I've no need to tell you to watch out where he's concerned!”
Sartori's eyes narrowed as he heard the name. He well remembered the Englishman that had destroyed the team he had put together in Ireland. Their incompetence had nearly cost Sartori his life. In his line of work, failures were unacceptable, and his employers did not consider resignation a viable option
“Do you want me to deal with Captain Lewis while I'm there?”
“You will have to! He's the only one so far that knows of the likeness between this John Devlin and the monsignor.” The Cardinal rubbed his nose and then issued a warning. “This man is famous so if he dies in suspicious circumstances there's going to be a full-scale enquiry. I want no loose ends! Do you understand?”
Peter Sartori smiled as he answered, “Perfectly, your Eminence!”
“I hope so, Mister Sartori. A repeat of the last fiasco and you'll be out of a job!”
Sartori did not answer; the threat said it all.
“Are you taking Sam with you?” the Cardinal then asked.
“Yes, your Eminence. This John Devlin may need a little persuading!”
“Good! Can you leave tonight?”
“Of course!” Sartori replied.