“They were all happy. They congratulated me. They said, ‘What good news!’ If they were angry they would have demonstrated their own dishonesty,” he said, referring to the workers. With his script lowered, he continued: “They’re not so stupid. This is also the proof that everyone worked well.”
Sciacca offered a hard copy of his answers and a jar of peach marmalade as he selected a bottle of wine for his lunch meeting with a powerful French cardinal from the diplomatic corps. Sciacca asked a Washington Post reporter to put his number in the prelate’s phone, an old flip-style cell. The reporter accidentally stumbled upon Sciacca’s list of contacts and backed off. “Go ahead!” Sciacca said. “There aren’t any mobsters in there. There’s nothing to hide.”
Downstairs, he asked a gendarmes officer to lend him a driver and a car, small and economical, he specified, to escort his guest on a tour of the sprawling, immaculate gardens. From the passenger seat, he pointed out elaborate fountains, the old Vatican train station and the grotto where Benedict takes a walk every afternoon. The tour concluded at St. Anne’s Gate, near where the butler was then being held. Sciacca promised an electronic copy of his answers on a disk. He later provided a Verbatim floppy disk.