Chartrand felt comforted to know the camerlegno was taking control. The camerlegno was the person inside Vatican City for whom Chartrand held the most respect. Some of the guards thought of the camerlegno as a beato—a religious zealot whose love of God bordered on obsession—but even they agreed… when it came to fighting the enemies of God, the camerlegno was the one man who would stand up and play hardball.

The Swiss Guards had seen a lot of the camerlegno this week in preparation for conclave, and everyone had commented that the man seemed a bit rough around the edges, his verdant eyes a bit more intense than usual. Not surprisingly, they had all commented; not only was the camerlegno responsible for planning the sacred conclave, but he had to do it immediately on the heels of the loss of his mentor, the Pope.

Chartrand had only been at the Vatican a few months when he heard the story of the bomb that blew up the camerlegno’s mother before the kid’s very eyes. A bomb in church… and now it’s happening all over again. Sadly, the authorities never caught the bastards who planted the bomb… probably some anti-Christian hate group they said, and the case faded away. No wonder the camerlegno despised apathy.

A couple months back, on a peaceful afternoon inside Vatican City, Chartrand had bumped into the camerlegno coming across the grounds. The camerlegno had apparently recognized Chartrand as a new guard and invited him to accompany him on a stroll. They had talked about nothing in particular, and the camerlegno made Chartrand feel immediately at home.

"Father," Chartrand said, "may I ask you a strange question?"

The camerlegno smiled. "Only if I may give you a strange answer."

Chartrand laughed. "I have asked every priest I know, and I still don’t understand."

"What troubles you?" The camerlegno led the way in short, quick strides, his frock kicking out in front of him as he walked. His black, crepe-sole shoess seemed befitting, Chartrand thought, like reflections of the man’s essence… modern but humble, and showing signs of wear.

Chartrand took a deep breath. "I don’t understand this omnipotent-benevolent thing."

The camerlegno smiled. "You’ve been reading Scripture."

"I try."

"You are confused because the Bible describes God as an omnipotent and benevolent deity."

"Exactly."

"Omnipotent-benevolent simply means that God is all-powerful and well-meaning."

"I understand the concept. It’s just… there seems to be a contradiction."

"Yes. The contradiction is pain. Man’s starvation, war, sickness…"

"Exactly!" Chartrand knew the camerlegno would understand. "Terrible things happen in this world. Human tragedy seems like proof that God could not possibly be both all-powerful and well-meaning. If He loves us and has the power to change our situation, He would prevent our pain, wouldn’t He?"

The camerlegno frowned. "Would He?"

Chartrand felt uneasy. Had he overstepped his bounds? Was this one of those religious questions you just didn’t ask? "Well… if God loves us, and He can protect us, He would have to. It seems He is either omnipotent and uncaring, or benevolent and powerless to help."

"Do you have children, Lieutenant?"

Chartrand flushed. "No, signore."

"Imagine you had an eight-year-old son… would you love him?"

"Of course."

"Would you do everything in your power to prevent pain in his life?"

"Of course."

"Would you let him skateboard?"

Chartrand did a double take. The camerlegno always seemed oddly "in touch" for a clergyman. "Yeah, I guess," Chartrand said. "Sure, I’d let him skateboard, but I’d tell him to be careful."

"So as this child’s father, you would give him some basic, good advice and then let him go off and make his own mistakes?"

"I wouldn’t run behind him and mollycoddle him if that’s what you mean."

"But what if he fell and skinned his knee?"

"He would learn to be more careful."

The camerlegno smiled. "So although you have the power to interfere and prevent your child’s pain, you would choose to show your love by letting him learn his own lessons?"

"Of course. Pain is part of growing up. It’s how we learn."

The camerlegno nodded. "Exactly."

90

Langdon and Vittoria observed Piazza Barberini from the shadows of a small alleyway on the western corner. The church was opposite them, a hazy cupola emerging from a faint cluster of buildings across the square. The night had brought with it a welcome cool, and Langdon was surprised to find the square deserted. Above them, through open windows, blaring televisions reminded Langdon where everyone had disappeared to.

"… no comment yet from the Vatican… Illuminati murders of two cardinals… satanic presence in Rome… speculation about further infiltration…"