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La Curia
He could smell the cigar when the elevator doors slid open. He took a breath of stale air and stepped out onto the red carpet of the corridor, the same bloody red carpet that ran throughout the entire complex. I Palazzi Vaticani. He hated coming here. At least he'd be forgiven for his disheveled appearance. Theo's borrowed jacket was a bit big on him and, he was just now realizing, stank of weed and his own linen trousers would never be linen colored again but he did manage to get his clerics collar on straight. He lightly rapped on the door and entered, "Monsignor?"
The priest stood at the window, opened precisely 3 inches. Were it not for the black cossack he might've been a military man, tall aristocratic demeanor, same rules-don't-apply-to-me attitude. He reached across the sill and flicked ashes out over the courtyard, "Father Sam. What have you to tell me?"
"Yes Father, I have the results for the artifact we discussed in our last meeting." He lay the file on the mahogany desk. "The artifact is authentic. How would you like me to proceed?"
The Monsignor held the ammezatto to his lips and drew deeply. He exhaled up to the ceiling, staring out at the sky through a haze of smoke. "Take the file to the cifra, tell them to lose it." He drained the last drop of espresso from the gilt edge of a demitasse cup then put his Toscano out in the dregs. "Take the book to Ghiberti."
