The Vatican Plot

By Raúl Sánchez Quintana

“The Vatican Plot” is an adventure of intrigue, betrayal, power and against it the whole struggle for good. Patrizia, a young woman who works at the Vatican Library, finds herself in the middle of a storm after inserting her nose where she doesn't belong and must navigate to safety. The pope, the mafia, national governments, the jihadists all have their hands in the mix trying to push and pull events in their favor, but not all can win or escape with their lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BadPress
• Release date: Oct 21, 2020
• ISBN: 9781071571859

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The Vatican Plot

Raúl Sánchez Quintana

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Translated by Nicholas Schell 

The Vatican Plot

Written By Raúl Sánchez Quintana

Copyright © 2020 Raúl Sánchez Quintana

All rights reserved

Distributed by Babelcube, Inc.

www.babelcube.com

Translated by Nicholas Schell

Babelcube Books and Babelcube are trademarks of Babelcube Inc.

¹⁵And they come to Jerusalem: and Jesus went into the temple, and began to cast out them that sold and bought in the temple, and overthrew the tables of the moneychangers, and the seats of them that sold doves;

¹⁶And would not suffer that any man should carry any vessel through the temple.

¹⁷And he taught, saying unto them, Is it not written, My house shall be called of all nations the house of prayer? but ye have made it a den of thieves.

¹⁸And the scribes and chief priests heard it, and sought how they might destroy him: for they feared him, because all the people was astonished at his doctrine.

Mark 11:15-18.

King James Bible

Vatican City

September 29, 1978

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That morning, when the sun had not yet risen over the Roman sky, the eldest nun that attended to the Holy Father had not been able to sleep for even three hours straight. A strange dream had woken her at one in the morning, and since then she could barely keep her eyes closed. She tried to relax herself praying, but that anomalous foreboding would not stop bothering her.

Just as she used to do every morning since she started serving the then cardinal in Venice, she prepared a cup of coffee that she left in the sacristy, outside the papal apartment, in front of the chapel where the pontiff went to pray every day upon waking. Then, and while she tried to make that strange sensation that gnawed her insides that cold September day go away as quickly as possible, she went to look for Sister Margherita to begin preparing the tasks of the new day that was starting in Saint Peter’s. Maybe, she thought a bit livelier, a little conversation and some distraction would help her to forget the bitter foreboding that anguished her.

Both sisters ate breakfast together, and their conversation did not avoid the matter that days before had upset the normal coexistence in the papal annexes. The dismissal of the two butlers that had attended the pontiff since his time as a bishop of Vittorio Veneto, for one of the two papal secretaries, had become the gossip behind the Vatican walls. Nobody knew the motive for the dismissals, which gave rise to all kinds of speculation, especially when the other secretary had opposed it.

Between conjectures and deductions made in low voices to avoid the sharp Vatican ears from hearing their opinions, the two nuns went to start their daily tasks. It was five fifteen in the morning.

Upon entering together the sacristy situated next to the Holy Father’s apartment, both sisters found it strange that the coffee, left a half hour earlier on the table, was still full in the same place, as if still waiting for the entrance of its recipient.

He hasn’t woken up yet? asked Sister Margherita incredulously.

The older nun caught the other’s arm and squeezed. That strange grief that had unveiled itself hours before, and that for a moment seemed to have been forgotten, resurged inside her with greater force.

It is very odd, she responded after a couple seconds of silence that seemed an eternity. It is the first time in all the years I have served him that he lets his first coffee of the morning get cold.

He must have fallen asleep, the other nun tried to justify. It has just been a month since his election, but the days have been very hard on him. You only have to take into account his daily bustle.

The young sister’s words did not manage to calm the old nun’s mind. Her battered heart seemed to be imprisoned by an invisible hand that squeezed hard and she felt like the cold flooded her extremities. The prey of a strong omen, she approached the first of the two doors that the papal apartment had.

Sister... whispered the young nun. You shouldn’t enter the Holy Father’s chambers.

This is very strange, she responded, also in a low voice. Wait for me out here.

Surely he is all right. He will only have fallen asleep. If something would have happened to him, he would have sounded one of the emergency alarms that he ordered installed by his bed yesterday.

That last argument held back the veteran nun’s intentions for a few moments, while she remembered the emergency alarms that they installed yesterday on each side of the bed where the pontiff rested. However, that argument just wandered around her mind for a few seconds; the strong suspicion that bothered her seemed much more consistent than any other logic.

After passing the first door of the chambers occupied by the Holy Father, the nun walked hesitantly toward the second. With subtle knocks on the wood, she tried calling the pontiff’s attention. For a couple of seconds she waited for a longed for response, but nothing was heard on the other side. Without hesitation, she repeated the calling knocks with greater impetus.

Holiness, are you all right? she asked with an elevated tone of voice that even Sister Margherita heard from outside.

Upon not getting a response, the sister, after a couple seconds of indecision, decided to go through the second door. She quickly saw that the room’s light was still on. Just a white curtain, which she approached with some hesitation, separated her from the pontiff’s bed. As if afraid to find what she did not want to, she opened the canopy with fear.

The Holy Father remained laying on the bed, helped by some pillows situated around his back. He seemed asleep. His face sketched a slight smile and his head tilted to the right. His glasses stayed lightly fallen on his nose and various manuscript pages remained on the sheets. Everything was in order. There was nothing to worry about, the nun thought while she confidently approached the pontiff to wake him. Since his recent election, the days of hard work seemed to be taking their toll.

Holiness, wake up. It is past five, the nun pronounced with a sweet voice. You should not be playing this kind of joke on me; you know my heart is delicate.

The prelate seemed to be in a deep sleep from which it was hard for him to wake, due to this she decided to softly grab his hand and try to move it delicately. The coldness of the extremity startled her, as well as the dark hue of his nails. Helplessly she stifled a scream that hung in her throat, while with desperate movements she tried to find his pulse. After a couple seconds of tension, her knowledge of nursing confirmed what she had never wanted to know: the pope lay dead in his bed. The tears did not take long to come to her eyes and, moved by a tender impulse, she kissed his forehead. The coolness of that area of his body made her understand that death had surprised him a few hours before. Gripped by a mixture of pain and discomfort, she called to Sister Margherita. The young nun hesitantly entered the room, and was immediately impacted.

The Holy Father has died, announced the older nun between tears. He has died, she repeated disconsolately between a constant whimper.

Sister Margherita approached the pontiff’s body and touched his right hand. The absence of body heat struck her.

I am going to tell the secretary, announced the older nun, while she tried to dry the tears on her face. Wait for me here.

The young nun accepted the proposal without objection, although she would have preferred to immediately leave the room.

*****

The secretary, that days before had dismissed the pontiff’s personal butlers, was already awake when the nun that had found the cadaver told him what happened. Minutes later, the nun also told the second secretary that assisted the Holy Father.

Both papal assistants looked at the image of the deceased pope, who still gave the impression of being asleep.

The Secretary of State for the Holy See, who resided two floors below the papal apartment, appeared immediately in the deceased’s bedroom. Upon observing the scene for a couple seconds, he went to the nightstand and put in his cassock the medicine bottle that the pontiff took each night before going to sleep. He did the same with the pages that one of the secretaries had picked up minutes before from the deceased’s bed[1]¹. Then, with cold words, he addressed those present.

"I hope you are aware of the situation that the Church faces. For that reason, I ask for the strictest confidentiality about what happened last night. Abide by the communication that will be issued about the Holy Father’s death and take the official version as your own. Everything that you have lived through in the last few hours should

be kept silent until otherwise ordered. Have you understood?"

The four present nodded.

Call doctor Buzzonetti, he then ordered, directing his gaze to one of the secretaries, who showed signs of being more put together than the rest. After he examines the body, prepare the body so that it can be immediately embalmed. Then, empty the room of all objects. The body will be displayed in Clementine Hall. Excuse me, I have to make some calls and prepare for the funeral.

*****

Official communication issued by the Holy See informing of the death of John Paul I, issued about three hours after finding the cadaver:

This morning, September 29, 1978, at about five thirty, the pope’s private secretary, having not found the Holy Father in the chapel as was custom, looked for him in his room and found him dead in bed, with the light on, as if he were still reading. Dr. Renato Buzzonetti, who came immediately, confirmed his death, probably having happened at 11:00 the night before caused by an acute myocardial infarction.

Vatican Apostolic Library

September 2018

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She placed the old codex that dated from the 15th century on the scanner and tried to manipulate it, following the guidelines that those responsible for the restauration workshop had given her. Always turn each page by the top edge, paying close attention to those that had fissures, she remembered. Then, she covered the book with the glass cover trying to get the pressure she exerted to be adequate. Next step, she sat in front of the screen and patiently waited for the process to complete. After a few minutes delay, the image of the two pages of the codex appeared digitally in front of her blue eyes.

Damn, she exclaimed on confirming how some words close to the internal margin of the old book were not legible.

With a certain desperation in her movements, she again went to the scanner and pressed the cover a little more on the codex to get a wider opening of the scanning angle. Impatient, she waited for the tedious process to finish again.

The room where she found herself was engulfed in almost total darkness, and it was only broken by the ultraviolet lights that were used to protect the state of conservation of the books that she would digitalize. On her right, two other books of great age and thickness waited to be scanned.

The Vatican Library found itself immersed in a digitalization process of a great deal of the volumes it housed. They intended for anyone to be able to consult the works they wanted on the internet without the risk of any books suffering any damage. The initial project encompassed about eighty thousand manuscripts for which they had estimated a term of approximately sixteen years, and her uncle, a priest that occupied the position of deputy manager, had given her a hand to participate in the project. But that job, she thought somewhat frustrated, was not as fascinating as she had initially supposed. It had nothing to do with the expectations that she had imagined days before when, from the Vatican, they informed her that she had been selected for an internship related to her recent doctorate in computer science. Then she had jumped for joy with the possibility of serving such an important institution with the knowledge that she had treasured since, just twelve years of age, she had fallen in love with the world of computers.  However, a few days working there had been enough for her to understand that it would not be her life’s occupation. Scanning pages of old books on high precision equipment that took a few minutes to complete the process, was not precisely a task that kept the attention of her restless mind.

The image of the two pages of the codex again appeared before her eyes. The reflection of her face showed for a few seconds on the glass of the screen and, without being able to avoid a certain flirtatious streak, she observed with pleasure her black hair pulled up in a bun and the blue gaze that appeared behind the glasses with metal frames. By luck, or maybe thanks to genetics, the innumerable hours that she spent seated in front of a computer still had not taken a toll on her physique.

She carefully reviewed the copy and came to the conclusion that it would be valid. She saved the image and repeated again the same action she had been repeating for the last two weeks without stop: turn the page very carefully by the top edge, press the glass of the scanner lightly and pray that the copy would turn out well.

Really exciting, she thought ironically while letting the necessary seconds pass to again see the result of the scan on the screen.

A new image appeared before her eyes. Definitely it was not her day, she cursed, while she observed how the corner of the page had been folded. She needed a break; otherwise, she would die of desperation and boredom.

She minimized the program used for the digitalization of the volumes and kept her gaze on the screen, thinking and letting her imagination soar. After a few seconds she huffed, she needed some action to clear her mind.

Suddenly, a somewhat crazy idea came into her head. Why not dedicate a couple minutes to look around the Vatican computer network? It was not the first time she had tried it. On a couple occasions, from her home a couple miles from there, she had tried, but the security system had managed to reject all her attempts. All except the last, when, with some luck, she had managed to get past the third level of security, known as "Archangel Gabriel", although she had almost been discovered. It was since that day that she understood that she needed to gain more knowledge and she did not hesitate to go into the dark side of the web. She knew that to have fun hacking security systems, she should first need to know the best techniques and meet with the most experienced hackers. She had left behind those antics before she had even started university, like on the occasion when she changed the picture of the guy that picked on her in high school, putting a pig’s head on his yearbook picture. After a year of hard training she felt ready, but decided to resist the temptation. She should be strong.  Although, competing against the levels of security of the most important organizations on the planet was just a game for her, she knew that if they caught her she would have serious problems with the law.

Trying to put aside her last thoughts, she got up from the chair and returned to the scanner. She lifted the glass and after turning over the codex, she unfolded the corner that had been wrinkled. She placed the book on the scanning surface again and started the digitalization process. Once finished, she took her place in front of the computer again. The possibility of taking a look around the Vatican computer network came to her with renewed force. That damn addiction came flooding back into her thoughts. She lifted her head and looked at the screen where her face was reflected. Suddenly, a theory ended up destroying the little resistance that she still had: by being in the Vatican computer network, she would not have to confront the first level of security. Without intending to, she just found a first victory. Her new rival was called "Archangel Raphael", the second level of security.

Just a couple of minutes- she tried to convince herself while she took off one of the bracelets from her wrist that camouflaged a USB. Just enough time to scratch the itch.

*****

Some of the coffee that he was trying to drink stained Father Paolo’s shirt when the flashing coming from the monitor in front of him caught his attention. He quickly confirmed that an intruder just got past Archangel Raphael, the second level of security for the computer network, and found themselves in an area of delicate information.  He left the cup on the table, adjusted the glasses on his nose and, after frowning, began to quickly type; that boring morning just began to get interesting.

He was accustomed to the Vatican computer network receiving three thousand incursion attempts each day. Some of them were able to get past the first level of security, but very rarely was someone able to get past Archangel Raphael, and whoever did it was not exactly just any hacker. However, he was still calm; he was waiting for the last level of security, "Archangel Michael", which was up for the task and was able to reject the intrusion, but not without first being able to locate them.

He dedicated a couple of minutes to observing their movements and, little by little, convinced himself that the visitor was very skillful. With great skill they were able to get out unharmed from the numerous tricks that the system offered; paths that did not go anywhere, in which the intruder should have wasted enough time to leave the necessary trail to get their location. This began to not look good. The risk that the intruder would gain access to places with highly delicate information was beginning to be very high; without thinking a second more, he chose to notify the head of the computer security service.

Father Filipo appeared in the computer room just a couple minutes after the warning. He was tall and thin, almost boney, and had a cold and distant gaze. Accustomed to daily looking over the statistics related to the numerous incursion attempts on the network security system that he ran, he knew that when his presence was required by one of his subordinates, the matter was really hairy. It would not have occurred to any of the young priests that monitored the external attacks to notify him for a simple incursion of the first level of security.

His presence stressed the rest of the priests. Without wasting a single word, he went to Father Paolo’s station.

What do we have?

"An intruder has been able to get past Archangel Raphael, responded the young, hesitant cleric. He is very good, sir. Archangel Michael has not yet been able to oust him. He is able to avoid the bait he is offered to pick up his trail and he uses a sophisticated system that in seconds is able to hack all kinds of passwords. He gives the impression that he is moving without a defined objective. As if he were just looking around."

Father Filipo did not respond and just observed the screen that did not stop emitting a flashing alarm.

How long has he been in the system?

The young priest remained thoughtful. Ten minutes had passed since the intruder had gotten past the second level of security, but, for some strange reason, the system did not show any data that indicated the time elapsed since the break in of the previous level. Without being able to avoid it, he tried to loosen the collar that pressed his throat. He was barely able to swallow.

Father Paolo, how long has the intruder been in the system? the head of network security service asked again, elevating the tone of his voice.

Sir, the young cleric finally responded, while he looked at the cold gaze of his superior, the intruder has not needed to get past the first level of security. He was already inside...he is using a computer on our own network.

Both priests kept observing for a few seconds, the same way that the rest of the priests in the computer room were observing them. Just the hum of the computers broke the silence that had been imposed after that statement.

Suddenly, a shrill noise brought them back to reality. The reddish signs on the screen situated in front of Paolo warned them that the intruder had been able to get past Archangel Michael, the last level of network security. The Vatican’s most sensitive information was within reach of an outsider.

Damn you, Satan! exclaimed Father Filipo, while he hit the table next to him and spilled the rest of the coffee that Father Paolo had not yet drank.

Both clerics watched stupefied how the intruder rested a couple seconds and seemed to look around the place he had just gotten access to.

Try to locate the computer he has used to access the network without authorization! ordered the head of network security, at the same time that he watched as the hacker began to move again and was stopped in front of a protected folder by a hard password that he himself had designed. He clenched his fists and felt as his nails embedded in his palms. He knew who that information belonged to and what would happen if the intruder gained access to the content. The system warned them that various files were being extracted without authorization.

I have him! yelled Father Paolo euphorically.

Where? asked the anxious head of network security.

It is one of the computers in the Vatican Library.

Warn them! Quickly! Tell them to remove everyone that is close to a computer and not to let anyone leave the building. Tell them it is an emergency, I will be there in a couple minutes. Tell the Gendarmerie, I will need a couple agents urgently.

*****

Euphoric, she went through the multiple cryptographic algorithms that delimited Archangel Michael. Not even in her wildest dreams could she have imagined reaching that place. She sensed that the security system that she just got past was following her steps, but it would not be easy to locate her. From the Vatican Library computer where she found herself, she had accessed the computer installed in her house, taking advantage of the connection to enter the network. Then, and by a complex device, she was able to mask her real location by jumping from various telephone networks to hide her real location.  However, and in spite of all of the precautions, she was aware that using a computer located on the same network increased her vulnerability.

She clenched her teeth and tried to find an access that would let her get past the last level of security. Time was against her and she could not take long or she would have to abandon it. Suddenly she saw it; a back door camouflaged in a complex cryptographic algorithm. She halted for an instant and studied it. She had to rule out that it was not more bait, like the others that she had had to overcome. If she was wrong and infiltrated one of those paths that led nowhere, she was lost. The access seemed valid. Maybe it was a fault in the security system or a masked shortcut destined to access a certain place. Without a single moment’s hesitation, she slipped in. She held her breath and waited.

Yes! she yelled quietly so that the rest of her coworkers that were in the adjoining room would not realize what was happening. She had done it. She had reached the heart of the Vatican’s computer network and, most importantly, she had beaten the three archangels. She would soon be admired by her anonymous colleagues, with whom, sometimes, she would share her successes in the darkest places of the web. Now she just needed proof, a trophy to be able to show off before escaping. She visualized the content of the files that appeared before her eyes and chose to download a folder that seemed to be protected by a strong password. Just as she started the download, an alarm let her know that she was going over the prudential amount of time to stay, she should get out as quickly as possible.

Suddenly, some voices coming from outside called everyone’s attention. She looked away from the screen and saw how various priests were making all of her coworkers get away from the computers they were working on. It was just a matter of seconds for them to get to her. She saw the progress of the download; all of the content had passed already to the USB that she hid in one of her bracelets. Without time to lose, she got up from her chair and yanked the power cord from the computer; the screen went black. She quickly retraced her steps and walked up to the codex that was still on the scanner. In that moment an old priest with a red face and short of breath entered the room and with nervous and impatient gestures indicated that she should quickly leave the room.

Somewhat taken aback by the tension of the moment, Patrizia left the room to join the rest of the staff, at the same time she discretely put the bracelet back on her right wrist. She had managed to narrowly escape and promised herself that next time she would not take so many risks. Calmer, she observed how several agents from the Vatican Gendarmerie came to where the employees had been gathered. A couple priests, on the other hand, checked each one of the computers.

Somewhere in the Apostolic Palace

Vatican City

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Eminence? the priest hesitantly asked from the entrance to the office.

Come in. He heard from the opposite end of the room.

The distance was immense, but had little furniture: an ornate large armchair, a dark rough wooden table with two chairs in front of it, and a bookcase to the right of the ensemble. A big crucifix behind the desk and some other pictures completed the scarce decoration that covered the walls. Two windows opened onto Saint Peter’s Square.

The priest hesitantly advanced toward the table where the prelate worked. The echo of his steps thundered in the quiet while he decided to keep his gaze down. As he got closer to the cardinal, he felt how his muscles tensed and a strange cold clung to his extremities. He was aware of the enormous power that that servant of God hoarded, and his task was not easy: inform about the details related to the security failure that happened that same morning on the Vatican network. The low temperature that reigned in the office did not help much either.

Once the iron gaze of