him on the shoulder. ‘Of course. But before you go, I would like to introduce you to a good friend of mine.’
‘I am honoured, Archbishop.’
‘I called you here so that you could meet him. His name is Franco Bozza.’
Ferraro almost collapsed with shock at the words. ‘Bozza! The Inquisitor?’ Suddenly his heart was thudding at the base of his throat, his mouth was dry and he felt sick.
‘I see you have heard of my friend before,’ Usberti said. ‘He is going to take care of you now.’
‘What? But Archbishop, I…’ Ferraro fell on his knees. ‘I implore you…’
‘He awaits you downstairs,’ Usberti replied, pressing a buzzer on his desk. As Ferraro was dragged away screaming by the two men who had brought him, the archbishop crossed himself and muttered a prayer in Latin for the man’s soul. ‘In nomine patris et filii et spiritus sancti, ego te absolve…‘
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