The Secret Cardinal Read Online Free PDF

taken in July, when Kilkenny and his wife were vacationing in Harbor Springs, Michigan. Kelsey was wading knee-deep in the placid water of Little Traverse Bay clad in a brightly colored bikini, unaware of the camera trained upon her. She was gazing down at her belly, both hands placed as if cradling the life growing within. It was the middle of her fifth month, and Kelsey was delighted with her maternal shape. Kilkenny remembered the moment and her amazed expression as their child stirred. She had called him over and pressed his hand to the spot where she had felt movement.
    The frame to the left of Kelsey’s picture contained a slip of light gray paper marked with a pair of black impressions, footprints no larger than the end of Kilkenny’s thumb. These were the only marks his son would ever make on the world, aside from the ones Toby left on his father’s heart. Framed to the right was a mass card from the funeral of his wife and son this past August.
    â€œI still dream of you and me at the beach, playing with Toby,” Kilkenny said to his wife as he fastened his watch. “I miss you both so much.”
    He grabbed his room key and a water bottle from the minibar refrigerator and left.
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    AS HWONG REACHED the Piazza del Popolo, a melodic ring tone chimed from her fanny pack. She paused her iPod and answered her cell phone.
    â€œHwong,” she said cautiously.

    â€œ Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus teacum,” a man said, carefully enunciating each syllable in the first line of an old Latin prayer.
    â€œ Benedicta tu in mulieribus —” Hwong’s voice wavered as she recited the second line, completing the code phrase for her contact inside the Vatican, “ et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Jesus .”
    â€œAre you being followed?” The man’s English was warmed with an Irish lilt.
    â€œYes,” she replied.
    â€œI know what you’ve been asked to do is dangerous,” the man offered sincerely.
    â€œBut it must be done,” Hwong said.
    â€œA man will be running across Ponte Cavour shortly. Check your phone for his picture.”
    â€œI don’t understand.”
    â€œWe never walk alone, my child.”
    The call ended and Hwong found on her phone’s LCD screen a picture of a man running. He appeared to be about her age, was clean-shaven, and possessed a head of bright red hair. She deleted the photo, stowed her phone, and resumed her run, heading west down Via Ferdinand de Savoia toward the Tiber River. At the foot of the Ponte Margherita, she turned south and ran down the scenic tree-lined lungotevere that followed the meandering course of the river.
    Hwong saw the runner crossing Ponte Cavour over the Tiber as she moved past the Ara Pacis Augustea and the Mausoleum of Augustus. He turned south on the lungotevere, and she picked up her pace to close the distance. The man stood a full head taller than Hwong and ran with his back straight and head high. He moved purposefully, not a wasted motion in his long-legged stride. She glided up beside him, but he was so lost in thought that he failed to notice. A glint of metal on his left hand caught her eye, a simple gold band around his ring finger.
    â€œExcuse me,” Hwong said politely. “You speak English?”
    Startled, Kilkenny turned his head and was surprised to discover a beautiful young woman running beside him.
    â€œMost of the time,” Kilkenny replied warily. “Why do you ask?”
    â€œI speak some Italian and French, but my English is better. And you do not look Italian or French.”

    Kilkenny nodded with a laugh, and Hwong saw a warm twinkle in his green eyes.
    â€œCommand of three languages is impressive, but I’m guessing you know at least one more. Where are you from?”
    â€œChina—I live in the city of Hangzhou.”
    â€œThat’s near Shanghai, isn’t it?”
    â€œYes, south of Shanghai.”
    â€œSo, what