Echoes Through the Vatican: A Paranormal Mystery (The Echoes Quartet Book 2) by K. Francis Ryan

for it but to listen with care and wait.
    ***
    Cardinal Manning and Julian sat and admired the papal gardens. Both men chatted amiably about Ireland and Julian’s impressions of rural Irish life. They discussed the pros and cons of life in New York and New York’s similarities to Rome.
    As the cardinal spoke, Julian pursued his own internal dialogue.
    To Julian, the cardinal’s signature presented a pleasant, crafty, and unbelievably complex man whose agendas had agendas of their own. The man’s intellect and experience were the basis of his personal power and his sense of humor allowed him to appear charming without necessarily being so. Still, for Julian, there was something out of place. This cardinal had something askew, something off.
    Julian felt he was talking with the cardinal, but there was an echo to the man’s personality. A fraction of a second after the cardinal spoke, Julian heard a resonance. Something shadowed Cardinal Manning and Julian didn’t know what. He told himself he would revisit that later. Now was the time to listen with great care.
    A bell rang once somewhere in the cardinal’s suite of offices. The older man took a deep breath, savored the sight of the gardens before him, and sighed. He rose from his chair and led Julian into an adjacent dining room.
    The dining room was small enough to be intimate and was tastefully understated to impress. The table was laid for what promised to be a lunch that would eliminate the need for dinner.
    “Please, Mr. Blessing, sit and prepare to be amazed. My chef is a wizard.” The cardinal winked and smiled more broadly than was warranted. “Before our meal arrives though, let us take a private moment, shall we, to reflect and be grateful. Sure it is that you have many things for which to be grateful.” Again, the cardinal smiled and again, Julian heard the echo.
    A full minute passed before the cardinal looked up, rang a small bell on the table, and a liveried steward arrived and served lunch.
    “Mr. Blessing, do you mind if I call you Julian? It ‘tisn’t formalities we need to stand on, now is it?” the cardinal said. Julian enjoyed the Irish English sentence structure and the way the cardinal employed it not to charm but to disarm. Julian nodded knowing this relaxation of formalities was a one-way street.
    “Julian, I told you when you arrived, it was my good self who meant to be of assistance to you,” the cardinal said. “Well, help you I shall. I’m afraid my authority is, however, strictly spiritual so the assistance I can offer is only my advice. I may be able to call in a small favor here and there to aid you though.
    “You have come to my attention for several reasons. This is the Vatican and we all have our tasks to perform. In addition to overseeing the Vatican Bank, one of my duties is to watch over all things Irish. I am the resident Irishman and so the resident expert. At least my betters say that. I’ve always suspected I’m it because no one else would take the job of dealing with the Irish.” The cardinal’s smile was as practiced as his speech had been.
    “Your friend, Dr. Dwyer, is missing.” The cardinal said it flatly, a statement of fact, but he looked grave. “This is a vital concern to me and to others.
    “You are deeply tied to the Irish Republic, Julian. I understand you’ve applied for residency. Even without that, with your many ties to Ireland, you are now one of my flock. What concerns you, concerns me deeply.
    “To that end, let me tell you this. Have a care, my son. You are swimming in a shark tank. I know many of the sharks personally and know how dangerous they can be. In my early days in Rome, I was bitten many times.”
    Julian drifted into his own Irish accented English. “Ach, wouldn’t your Eminence be talkin’ about a time before he started biting back?” The cardinal eyed Julian carefully, smiled broadly and nodded his head.
    “You have been to see Cardinal Luciano.” The cardinal held up