The Vatican’s Ghosts

The rain had stopped by the time Jessica reached the Ponte Sant’Angelo. The Tiber glowed beneath the streetlights, the dark water rippling under the weight of history.

She leaned against the stone railing, pulling her jacket tighter around her. She had been here before. Not at this moment, not for this reason, but the Vatican had a way of pulling people back.

Jessica stared across the river at the walls of the Holy See, the domes and towers rising like a fortress of stone and silence. Somewhere inside, Giovanni Ricci had met with Bellanti. A Vatican official. A journalist chasing Pasolini’s murder. And then, both were gone.

Jessica exhaled. She needed a way in.

* * *

She pulled out her phone and dialed. Olivia picked up on the second ring.

“Jess,” she said, voice low. “You’re calling me from outside the Vatican, aren’t you?”

Jessica smirked faintly. “You always know.”

A sigh. Then: “Tell me what you found.”

Jessica turned, watching the few late-night pedestrians drift along the bridge. “Bellanti met someone before he disappeared. A Vatican official by the name of Giovanni Ricci.”

There was a pause. Then, Olivia muttered something under her breath.

Jessica could hear keys clacking, the sound of a search already in progress.

“Okay,” Olivia murmured. “There are at least six Giovanni Riccis on record. One’s a priest in Naples. One’s dead. The others are nobodies.”

Jessica shifted. “What about Vatican records?”

A longer pause. Then, Olivia’s voice dropped. “There’s one more,” she said. “But there’s no file on him. Just a reference in an old internal memo—Vatican intelligence, from about five years ago.”

Jessica straightened. “What kind of intelligence?”

“The kind that doesn’t officially exist,” Olivia muttered. “The memo was about a… how do I put this? A sensitive investigation. Ricci was assigned to monitor certain historical records. No details, just that he was involved in something classified.”

Jessica’s grip on her phone tightened.

A Vatican intelligence officer. Not just a priest. Not just a bureaucrat.

“Whatever Bellanti found,” Olivia said, “Ricci was already looking at it.”

Jessica exhaled. “Then I need to find him.”

Olivia hesitated. “Are you sure about this?”

Jessica smirked. “No. But that’s never stopped me before.”

A dry laugh. Then: “I’ll dig,” Olivia said. “See what else I can find. In the meantime, don’t get excommunicated.”

Jessica grinned. “I’ll do my best.”

She ended the call, slipping the phone back into her pocket. Ricci had been in the archives. That was where she needed to go.

Jessica stood at the edge of the bridge a moment longer. She didn’t pray. She didn’t believe. But some part of her knew that what she was about to step into wasn’t just a library. It was a tomb full of names someone had tried very hard to forget.

* * *

The Vatican Apostolic Archives were buried beneath the main library, locked away behind centuries of gatekeepers, security, and silence. The last time Jessica had broken into them, she had barely made it out. She doubted they’d be more welcoming this time.

She checked her watch. Midnight. Too late to walk in through the front doors. But there were other ways. She crossed the bridge, moving toward the Vatican’s outer perimeter. The city was quiet here, the glow of lamplight casting long shadows against the old walls.

She had studied the layout before. She knew the weak spots. A service entrance near the rear gardens—low security, used mostly by maintenance workers and visiting scholars.

She moved quickly, slipping into an alley, keeping to the edges of the light. The door was unmarked, tucked beneath a covered walkway. Jessica tested the handle. Locked. Of course it was.

She exhaled, pulling out a small toolkit. Locks were just puzzles. She worked fast, fingers steady despite the adrenaline in her veins. A soft click. The click of the lock was soft, but it echoed in her skull like a shot. She paused, breath held. Nothing. No footsteps. No voices. Just the hum of old lights and dust settling on centuries of forgotten secrets. She pushed the door open, stepping inside. The air shifted immediately—cold, still, the scent of ancient paper and polished wood. Jessica closed the door behind her. She was in.

The last time she walked these halls, she was looking for a different document, one connecting her through history. That time, she'd escaped because Olivia was watching. This time, she was alone.

She told her everything will be fine. All she just had to do was find Ricci’s trail before someone found hers.