Hannah sat for a brief minute and was then motioned by Father Pusniche who stood at the doorway. She walked through the door as requested. As Hannah entered the room, the priest smiled, bowed toward the Pontiff and quietly left the room.
Hannah was mesmerized as she first gazed on the Holy Father. He was sitting up in his canopy bed with a broad smile on his face. His complexion was pale and he seemed tired. She walked the few steps to the side of his bed and sat in a chair used apparently by his guests. Josetta spoke first, “Buona mattina [good morning]. Welcome to Vatican City, Miss Littleton.” “Good morning, your excellency. Please call me Hannah” was the woman’s simple request. The Pontiff shook his hand and said, “And you, please call me Josetta.” Hannah shook her head affirmatively as the Pontiff continued, “I’m sorry that Spia is not with you. How is Harrison?” Hannah was somewhat taken aback at the holy man’s use of Spia, but she was beginning to understand why Harrison preferred that she herself did not identify him in that way.
The genuine warmth in Josetta’s voice reflected the intensity of their friendship. “Harrison is fine. He so much wanted to be here today and asked me to be sure to convey his respect and best wishes to you. He received an urgent message from Washington early this morning and flew out immediately.” Hannah’s face could not hide her disappointment and concern for Harrison. Her expression also did not go unnoticed by Josetta. He attempted to comfort and assure Hannah, “Spia is highly trained and can take care of himself, Hannah. You may have to get use to this worrying about Harrison given his occupation.” Hannah appreciated the holy man’s concern for her whom he just met for the very first time. She was also comforted by the passion in his voice. Josetta continued, “It will take a special woman to care for him and adjust to his lifestyle…a woman with, what did Spia say, a woman with moxie? He told me that you are that woman, yes?” Hannah smiled as she remembered her first encounter with Harrison. She replied with confidence, “Yes, I am that woman.” Josetta smiled and nodded in approval at her conviction.
“Tell me about yourself,” the holy man said although he knew much about Hannah already as she was one of Harrison’s favorite topics and certainly a healthy diversion from the rest of his lifestyle. “Well,” Hannah replied, “I was born in Boston, Massachusetts in the United States. My father was editor-inchief of a Boston newspaper before he retired. My mother was a housewife and took care of my two older brothers and me. Although my brothers did not, I guess I got the newsprint bug early. The newspaper fascinated me. My dad read parts of the paper to me each evening. I seldom asked questions about the content of the articles, but always wanted to know how the writers went about drafting their stories.” Josetta was vitalized by the passion in Hannah’s voice. She continued, “I studied journalism at Harvard. I was hired as a journalist by the Washington Sun five years ago and now cover special assignments.” “Like the death of a Pope?” interrupted Josetta with an uneasy smile. “Harrison and I pray for your recovery and hope you have many years. You’ve been quite progressive, you know.” “Progressive?” uttered Josetta with disdain. “There’s that word again,” he muttered with a push of his hand.
Hannah asked, “Harrison told you how we met?” “Yes,” said the Pontiff with a broad smile. “I guess I’m somewhat responsible since he met you after a…shall we say a dejected visit with me?” reflected the holy man. “Then maybe you will finish the story about how you met my Harrison?” begged Hannah. “Did Spia not say anything about our early partnership in crime?” queried Josetta. “Partnership in crime?” the betrothed lady asked in turn. Josetta stared at Hannah, but did not say anything. She clarified, “Yes, in a manner of speaking, he did; however, my dear Harrison did not finish the story and apparently left out more than I suspected. Harrison thought that perhaps you might give me a first hand account.” Hannah paused and then continued, “He told me that he was on a mission in Italy that had gone badly. He was wounded and found his way to your church in Carrara. Harrison stated that you bandaged his wounds as best as you could given the severity of his injuries. He told me that you hid him in the burial vault below your church. Harrison said that two gunmen came looking for him in the church and you confronted them…And that’s where our dear friend Mr. Rossetti left me hanging, your Excellency” said Hannah with slight annoyance. “Ah, yes” commented Josetta with concern. He continued, “I can see why he would stop there.” “You mean my fiancé intentionally ended the story at that very point?” asked Hannah more in irritation than annoyance.
“Perhaps…Perhaps my dear friend was trying to protect me and what I had to do that day 17 years ago.” Josetta’s voice grew hoarse and he coughed to clear his throat. He thought back 17 years ago and the images of that day flooded his mind as if the events occurred yesterday. “Forgive me,” he said humbly. Hannah smiled as if to say, ‘Never you mind.’ The holy man proceeded, “As Spia told you, two gunmen entered my church. They were rather rude men and shall we say not at all patient?” Josetta paused briefly as his statement echoed. He continued, “One of the gunmen was a lean, tall man who had a scar on the right side of his nose. The other thug was more menacing, a big fellow with murderous eyes and several tattoos on his arms. He also had two scars on his face that were larger and more visible than the other gunmen.”
Josetta rested for a moment, cleared his throat once again and continued. “Mi scusi. I knew that if they found the doorway to the burial vault below the church where Harrison was hidden, he would not survive the confrontation. I too would be…how do you Americans say, ‘loose ends’ and expendable. It was obvious that these men were not here for negotiation. They were out for blood.”
Josetta rested momentarily and then proceeded, “When the gunmen first entered the church, they did not have their guns drawn. However, it was clear from the bulges in their dress that they were very well armed. The gunmen did not approach me at first. They busied themselves looking around the church by opening doors and checking between the congregational pews.” The Pontiffs rendition of the events of his first meeting with Harrison was again interrupted by coughing and clearing his throat. “I am sorry” he offered. “Maybe you should rest and I can come back another time” Hannah suggested. “And leave you hanging again like our beloved Harrison?” said Josetta emphatically. “Besides, I don’t know how much time I have.” The comment saddened Hannah, but she did her best to conceal it.
Josetta managed a slight smile and proceeded, “The gunmen were nearing the end of their search. They had scrutinized the obvious. I knew that they would soon be disgruntled by their efforts and search the less obvious. I decided to approach them in hopes of defusing the situation or at the very least steer them away from the church. I greeted the tall, less threatening gunman who simply stared at me. After introducing myself, I asked if I could be of service. Again, the gunman stared at me and uttered nothing. Our one-sided conversation, however, did not go unnoticed by the other assassin.”
Josetta stopped to rid himself of the rasp in his voice. His cough lingered this time. Hannah asked if she could get him anything to which he nodded ‘no’. The holy man continued, “As the second gunman approached, I again introduced myself and smiled uneasily. He took out a large caliber handgun from inside his jacket and struck me hard on the side of my face. I collapsed to one knee, not a position for which I’m unfamiliar by the way, and held the side of my face which ached severely from the blow.” As the holy man spoke, Hannah noticed a scar on the left side of his face. Josetta continued, “The tall gunman did not move or react in any way. He apparently had witnessed such viciousness before from his colleague. The other gunman who struck me walked forward and aimed his gun inches from my head. At that moment, I knew I was dead. Whether or not I betrayed Spia, their brutality certainly suggested that I would be sacrificed. Theirs were not the kind of enterprise known for leaving loose ends.”
Josetta patted his chest as he coughed once again. “Mi scusi. This persistent cough is most irritating…,” he said as he paused and waved his hand. “I was too frightened to