Mario often marveled at the paradox that was Roberto—a man who cooked like an angel but lived a life that was anything but angelic. He held onto the hope that with enough gentle persuasion, he could steer his best friend away from his hedonistic lifestyle. Roberto was a man of immense potential, but he seemed to prefer the pleasures of the flesh. And who could blame him? With his wealth and leisure, why not indulge in the finer things in life—wine, women, and song?
Rounding the corner into the exquisitely designed kitchen, Mario was greeted by the familiar sight of the sprawling seven-foot-by-twelve-foot island, its white Carrara-marble top streaked with black veins littered with the remnants of dinner preparation.
Roberto stood in front of his commercial-sized refrigerator retrieving a bottle of Perrier. “It’s like you have a sixth sense when I’m making one of my signature dishes,” he quipped, handing the bottle to Mario.
“I was hoping you weren’t entertaining tonight.”
“Everything okay?”
“Um, yeah. Hey, would you mind if I stayed for dinner?”
“For you, anything,” Roberto replied, turning back to the six-burner stove to stir the simmering sauce. “What brings you out to my neck of the woods?”
“Can we check out some stuff on the internet?”
“Ah, the pasta’s done. Sure, but can we look after we eat?” Roberto suggested, the aroma of the cooked pasta wafting through the air. “I research better on a full stomach.”
“Good idea. I’d rather search on a full stomach too,” Mario agreed, his stomach growling in anticipation. “I’ll set the table while you dish out the food.”
Seated at the robust oak table, on chairs fit for royalty, the pair indulged in another of Roberto’s culinary masterpieces: spaghetti. After numerous visits to trattorias, bistros, and ristorantes across Rome, Roberto had been unable to find a spaghetti dish that satisfied his desire. Frustrated, he decided to create it himself. After several trials with fresh local ingredients sourced from farmers’ markets and butchers, he finally concocted the perfect spaghetti sauce. Everyone who tasted his signature dish was enamored by it—especially Mario, who had a particular fondness for spaghetti.
“What’s bothering you, bro?” Roberto asked, noticing Mario’s distracted demeanor.
Mario paused, savoring the mouthful of spaghetti before swallowing, then said, “This spaghetti is incredible.”
“Thank you,” Roberto responded, noting Mario’s evasion. “But you’re avoiding my question. What’s troubling you?”
“Do you remember the mysterious brown package I mentioned last week?”
“Of course, but I wasn’t going to bring it up. You got your panties all in a wad last time.”
“I opened it,” Mario admitted sheepishly, a wave of shame washing over him for his indiscretion.
“No way!” Roberto’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. His friend was not one to break rules. “Whatcha find?”
“A journal. A beautiful one, with a leather cover adorned with artwork the likes of which I’ve never seen before. It’s truly remarkable. You should see it, Roberto.”
“Forget the artwork—what was on the inside?” Roberto asked, his hand gesturing impatiently for Mario to get to the crux of the matter.
“I read an entry about Adolf Hitler and a man named Hess.”
“Rudolf Hess?” Roberto asked, his interest intensifying.
“Yes, that’s right. The entry mentioned both of them being in prison.”
“Incredible. A journal talking about Hitler and Hess. What else did you find?” Roberto asked, his eyes wide with intrigue.
“I got scared and put it back,” Mario admitted, his voice shaky.
“Scared? By a journal? How does a journal scare you?”
“There was a warning written on the inside of the wrapping paper. It said ‘Beware! Do not read! You’ll be in danger!’ or something like that.”
“It’s just an old journal, Mario. That warning probably doesn’t mean anything,” Roberto said dismissively. His hand drifted towards his wine glass to indulge in a generous gulp; his initial enthusiasm was clearly waning.
“The warning was signed with the initials ‘GAB’,” Mario revealed, his voice laced with intrigue.
“And?” That tidbit alone did not pique Roberto’s interest.
“The priest who served in the Vatican Secret Archives before me shared those very initials.”
“What was his name again?”
“Giuseppe Alphonso Benedetti. GAB.”
“Perhaps it’s a coincidence,” Roberto suggested, setting down his wine glass and reclining in his chair. Despite his casual motions, there was a sense of foreboding creeping over him. He had a hunch this journal held more secrets than Mario was letting on. “What else did you uncover in your reading?”
“I read the first entry, dating back to 1888. The author spoke of a meeting with his grandfather and being designated as a successor in line for the papacy.”
“Ah ha,” Roberto exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at Mario. “So, the popes are handpicked, not democratically elected.” He mused over this revelation, a conspiracy theory brewing in his mind. “Even within the sacred walls of the Vatican, it’s about who you know, not what you know.” He took another sip of his Chianti, his mind racing. “And to whom does this alleged future pope’s journal belong to?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I came over to research it with you.”
“Then let’s go. I gotta know who this dude is.” Roberto gathered his plate and wine glass and swiftly headed towards the kitchen.
“Alright, alright. Let me finish up here.” Mario consumed the remainder of the delicious dish faster than he would have liked.
By the time Mario joined him, Roberto was already seated at his desk, ready to search deeper into the mystery.
“Search ‘Eugenio Pacelli’,” Mario instructed.
Roberto inputted the search query into dogpile.com, and a plethora of search results flooded the screen:
Eugenio Maria Giuseppe Giovanni Pacelli, better known as Pope Pius XII, held the esteemed position of the head of the Catholic Church and the sovereign of the Vatican City State from 2 March 1939 until his death in October 1958. Prior to his ascension to the papacy, Pacelli held several significant roles within the Church:
1) secretary of the Department of Extraordinary Ecclesiastical Affairs, a role that saw him involved in the Church’s most pressing matters;
2) Papal nuncio to Germany, acting as the diplomatic representative of the Holy See to the German State right after World War I;
3) In his capacity as the Cardinal Secretary of State, Pacelli worked tirelessly to conclude treaties with various European and Latin American nations. Among these was the notable Reichskonkordat with the German Reich, a treaty that marked a significant moment in the Church’s history.
“Fascinating. He got entangled in the Nazis’ web,” Roberto mused, his eyes reflecting a spark of intrigue.
Mario’s brows furrowed in confusion at Roberto’s statement. “Where’d you get that from?”
“‘German Reich’ is synonymous with the Nazis.”
Mario fell into a stunned silence. This glaring piece of information had somehow been disregarded from the curriculum in seminary.
