“About as much as you know about religion!” he retorted.

They were both laughing when a snow-caked Hans Morgen stormed through the door like an iceman born on a cloud of frigid air and blown snow. He held an olive canvas rucksack in one hand.

“Good afternoon!” He said heartily as he pulled off his goggles with his free hand. “Nothing like alpine snow to make me feel thirty years younger.” He reached into the rucksack as he walked toward them. “Word from the parish priest is that your friend Thalia will be arriving tomorrow. She’s flying out right after her father’s funeral.”

“Bastards,” Seth mumbled.

Morgen nodded. “The dear girl had no idea that he had died quietly in his sleep just weeks after she arrived in Zurich.” He pulled a copy of the International Herald Tribune from the rucksack and handed it to Zoe.

“What was it?” Seth asked as Zoe unfolded the paper.

“A stroke,” Morgen said. “He died instantiy. They put his body in a meat freezer.”

Seth shook his head slowly.

“Oh!” she said when she looked at the front page.

She read silently for a moment, then handed the paper to Seth. The front page carried the story of the burning of a Vatican-owned retreat outside Innsbruck. There was an aerial photograph of the structure in flames that the helicopter pilot had taken with a small pocket camera just after lifting off. Next to the aerial shot was an official Vatican photograph of Braun with the caption: “Killed in fire.”

Seth read the story closely.

“Here,” he said finally, pointing to a paragraph toward the end of the article.

“Police are still searching for two survivors of the fire who were rescued by a helicopter waiting to take the cardinal to the Innsbruck Airport.”

“That’s us. They must know our names. Why aren’t we named?” Seth asked Morgen. “Aren’t we being hunted? Isn’t Interpol still scouring the earth for us?”

“I told you our allies in the Vatican had their friends.” Morgen smiled. “Your help has earned us even more gratitude, among the good members of the Curia and with the Holy Father himself. Otherwise, I am quite certain he would not have blessed our sojourn at this wonderful retreat.”

Then Morgen turned toward the door. “You two read that.” He pointed toward the newspaper. “I have the computers you ordered and I need to get them inside.”

“Let me help you,” Zoe and Seth said almost simultaneously.

Morgen shook his head. “I feel like a lion today.”

“Really?” Zoe said doubtfully.

“Absolutely!” Morgen replied and swiftly made his way outside.

Seth moved toward the door. Zoe grabbed his arm. “Don’t. You’ll hurt his pride.” Seth looked at her doubtfully for a moment, but allowed her to drag him over to a pair of rustic chairs by the window. In the distance, a pair of cross-country skiers made their way through a broad meadow.

After they settled into the chairs, Zoe read aloud from a sidebar article inside the paper.