The Keys of Solomon (13 page)

Piero nodded. “I found identification on the woman, a very fortunate thing as her face has been carved away. Her name is Maria Giuseppe, a staffer at the hospice.”

“Ah. I knew her.” Arturo turned to look at the second corpse. He had been a tall, thin man bordering on gaunt, midfifties, perhaps a bit older. “And him?”

Piero pulled a handkerchief from the inside pocket of his coat and mopped sweat from his brow. Then, with a slight nod of his head, he motioned for Arturo to follow. As they walked away, Piero called over his shoulder to the two plain clothed officers, “No one touches either body. And get that crowd out of here!” The two men got to the steps of the hospice, well out the crowd's hearing.

“The man is Father Raoul Acuna, a resident lecturer at the university. A brilliant man.”

“Oh? You knew the Father?”

Piero nodded. “Not very well, but we had talked on a couple of occasions. I had the pleasure of attending one of his lectures last year at the Regina Apostolorum, where he is a member of the faculty. He developed much of the new course work relevant to exorcisms and the occult.”

Arturo arched an eyebrow at this revelation. When the pontiff had decided to resurrect the actual teaching of occult-oriented material, it had touched off disquieting reverberations felt throughout the global Catholic community. He began another question, then paused. In the distance, Arturo could hear the high-pitched wail of sirens. An ambulance, no doubt, and quite possibly the Rome carabinieri. He would need to work fast.

“Have you any idea how this went down?”

Piero shook his head. “Only one murder. Acuna's death is a suicide, I'm certain. The murder weapon is still in his hand. Besides, we have witnesses who watched Acuna run the knife through his own throat. My God, Arturo, this is unthinkable!”

Not nearly so much as you might think, my friend. The entire world has gone mad
.

“And you believe the witnesses are reliable?”

Piero shrugged. “As reliable as any group of nuns might be. Ah, the ambulance just came through the gate. I need to finish the photos, then bag and tag the rest of the physical evidence before they haul these two away. Can you can do me a favor?”

“Sure,” replied Arturo. “Name it.”

Piero handed him a pair of numbered door keys. “Father Acuna had been assigned a suite inside the hospice, a special consideration for his assistance at the university. Maria was a resident caretaker. We'll need to search both apartments, and have a report ready for the Inspector General by morning, if not sooner. I could use the help.”

Excellent!
“Say no more, Piero. I'll handle the searches myself and notify you immediately should I find anything of interest.”

“I appreciate your help, Arturo,” said a grateful Piero, as he started back to the crime scene. “Thank you.”

No, thank you, my friend.

*   *   *

Domus Sanctae Marthae, or the House of Saint Martha, was a massive building constructed of beige and tan blocks standing adjacent to the basilica. A former hospice, it was now the most exclusive hotel in the world, featuring 107 suites. It reached full capacity only when the cardinals assembled for a papal conclave. At other times, it served as a temporary residence for visiting ecclesiastical dignitaries like Father Acuna, the occasional diplomatico, and a small cadre of year-round caretakers. What few people were in residence had gathered on the pavement adjacent to the lawn, where they looked on with morbid fascination as Piero's men worked the crime scene.

Arturo understood the onlookers' fascination with this tragic event. This was the first homicide committed inside Vatican City since 1998, when a member of the Swiss Guard, Vice Corporal Cedric Tornay, allegedly committed a double homicide before taking his own life. The official Vatican line was that Tornay was under the influence of drugs at the time, and perhaps suffered from some undiagnosed mental illness. Tornay's family vigorously protested the findings, suggesting that Tornay had been killed to cover the Vatican-inspired murders of Colonel Alois Estermann and his wife. Arturo knew that there was bad blood between Tornay and Estermann, the result of a reprimand given to Tornay just before the tragedy. Given the brutality of the murders, Arturo had secretly considered that perhaps the young guard had, in fact, been under an influence, though not of drugs or other intoxicants.

It was one thing for a warrior to commit such an atrocity, regardless of the impetus, and Tornay certainly had been a highly skilled warrior. It was quite another when an esteemed member of the clergy, a pontifical university theologian no less, succumbed to murderous rage. Arturo checked the time. He knew others shared his opinion and would soon descend upon Acuna's living quarters in search of answers.

While the Gendarmes were responsible for almost all investigations inside Vatican City, there were other security forces at work within the Holy See. Beyond the initial shock, the Swiss Guard would take little more than a passing interest in the crime. After all, it didn't involve the pontiff's safety—not directly, at least. However, the secretary of state commanded his own elite intelligence agency, and would deploy them as he saw fit. Given the identity of the alleged murderer, Arturo fully expected to see intelligence agents combing the hospice before daylight.

He bypassed Maria's quarters and made straight for the elevators at the end of the vaulted hallway. He would have to make a show of checking her apartment, but in his own time. It was Acuna's suite that interested him most, that held the greatest potential for significant discoveries. Arturo stepped onto the elevator and pressed the second-floor button. A few minutes later, he took one of the keys from his pocket. Disregarding the
NON DISTURBAR
placard hanging from the doorknob, he unlocked suite 217 and stepped inside.

The smell of feces, rotted food, and stale urine assaulted his senses.
How could the live-in staff not have noticed this?

Covering his nose and mouth with a handkerchief, Arturo shut and locked the door behind him, then walked across the room to close the drapes. He wanted to move about the apartment undetected from the streets. Of course, both the Gendarmes and the Secretary's intelligence group would know he was rummaging around inside the second-story apartment, but closing the drapes might prevent prying eyes from knowing what, if anything, he might discover. After all, the compound was littered with state-of-the-art surveillance equipment.

He pulled a pair of latex gloves from his coat pocket and donned them. Next, he stood in the middle of the living room and surveyed the immediate area. Arturo wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he hoped to recognize it when he saw it.

Newspapers, soiled clothing, and dishes caked with days-old food were strewn about the living area. In one corner of the main room Acuna had apparently relieved his bowels on more than one occasion.
The man was mad, no question. How had he managed to hide his condition from students and peers?

Mentally sectioning the room off into a grid, Arturo began his search. A half hour later, he finished the preliminary search of the living room and moved to the expansive bedroom. He began with the dressers, carefully checking the contents of each drawer, then removed the drawers to search inside the cabinet. In the bottom drawer of the second chest, Arturo found something: a book.

The hardcover journal was of a type carried in most bookstores. Nothing remarkable on the covers. However, on the inside, tucked between blank pages, he found a small key. The key was unremarkable and simple in design, meaning it likely fit some cheap, uncomplicated lock. Arturo did recognize one peculiarity about the key: a fine, white, chalky substance caked between the large teeth. He took some of the powder between thumb and forefinger and examined the texture.

Commercial chalk? No. Too coarse. Then, what? Talc? Gypsum, maybe? Yes, Gypsum. Sheetrock!
Excited, Arturo began a systematic search of the interior walls. He checked behind every picture and bookcase, and around the light fixtures. Failing to find anything in the bedroom, he moved to a large walk-in closet. The closet contained an inexpensive suit, a couple of clean black cassocks, shirts, and slacks. Several cardboard boxes containing textbooks and other supplies associated with academia were stacked along the walls. Arturo took a book from atop one of the boxes and was flipping through the pages when he heard the familiar
click
of a thermostat, followed by the low hum of a heating fan. A stream of warm air blew across the back of his neck.

Looking up, he saw the source of the air: a small rectangular vent mounted in the ceiling above his head. He also noticed the deep tool marks along one side of the grill. Scratches embedded in Sheetrock.

Arturo ran to the dining room, grabbed a chair, then ran back to the closet. He stood on the chair and used the small key to pry up the edge of the grill, much as he expected Acuna had done. Several precious seconds later, he had the grill removed from the vent. Reaching inside the vent up to his elbow, he probed about blindly until at last his fingers made contact with a slim, metallic box. In another minute, he was sitting in the chair, holding a red metal container, its lid fastened by a simple lock. He fit the key into the lock and gave it a quarter turn. The lid of the container came free, and Arturo found himself looking at a copper scroll and a second journal. Arturo's eyes widened as he recognized the papal library label attached to one end of the thin, rolled copper sheeting. The second, smaller book appeared to be another journal, penned in English and Italian. He took the items out into the bedroom to make use of better lighting.

The lettering stamped on the outside of the copper roll was alien and without meaning. For the moment, Arturo set it aside and turned his attention to the journal.

The early entries were written in a clear, concise hand. Several were dated and signed by Acuna, as if the man intended the passages inside the book to serve as a daily diary. The contents of those passages shocked Arturo.

Acuna described in great detail his devotion to beings he called “The Nine Princes of Sitra Akhra” or “The Great Ones,” and their myriad lieutenants on Earth. He wrote of his forthcoming rewards for faithful service, and how he had led others to serve the Great Ones. If the man was to be believed, he had carefully selected and recruited an entire cell of co-conspirators from among the papal staff, beginning with lowly clerks and security personnel, and later from scholars and caretakers associated with the Vatican Library. Every meticulous step toward the final prize was chronicled.

Arturo noticed something else, as well. At the same time he carried out his plan, Acuna was descending into madness. It was no small wonder, thought Arturo. For whatever reasons he may have had, it was obvious Acuna had surrendered his immortal soul to the Enemy. Enthralled or possessed, the end result was the same. Sanity was ever short-lived in the presence of ultimate evil. One particular passage caught Arturo's attention.

The work of the devils will infiltrate even into the Church in such a way that one shall see cardinals opposing cardinals, bishops against bishops. The priests who venerate me will be scorned and opposed by their confreres … churches and altars sacked; the Church will be filled with those who accept compromises and demons will press many priests and consecrated souls to abandon the ser-vice of the Lord …

Arturo flipped through the first dozen or so pages, each containing multiple, handwritten repetitions of the first paragraph. He was familiar with the passage. It was part of a disturbing prophecy uttered by a Sister Agnes of Our Lady of Akita Church, in 1973, and was said to be a dire message from the Blessed Virgin. The warning was accompanied by several unusual instances including stigmata and the shedding of blood and tears by a stone statue of Mary.

As was customary in such cases, the Vatican had instructed the Prefect of the Congregation of Doctrine and Faith to examine the circumstances involving Sister Agnes and Our Lady of Akita Church. After years of interviews and examinations of fact, including photographic evidence, the prefect issued a definitive judgment in 1988 that the events at Akita were “reliable and worthy of faith.” That prefect was none other than Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, now known as Pope Benedict XVI.

Yet, the repetitious entry was hardly the most disturbing. As Arturo read on, he found himself mesmerized by the content, curiosity turning to fascination, and then to unmitigated horror. There were names, dates, places, and details of horrible crimes. And finally, he found a direct reference to the copper scroll.

Sweat beaded along his brow as Arturo read the entries associated with the scroll.
My God, can this be true? Did he really smuggle the Keys of Solomon out of the Vatican Library? I must get the book and scroll out of the building at once! They mustn't fall into the wrong hands. The intelligence force must never suspect that I've found anything. Especially, not this—this grimoire!

He tucked the book and scroll into the waistband of his trousers, secured beneath his coat in the small of his back, then walked back into the closet. It took several minutes to secure the vent grill to his satisfaction. Minutes later, Arturo Giannini left the hospice without giving Maria's apartment a second glance. It was time to contact the Watchers.

*   *   *

Enrique arose at daybreak, nibbled at a tasteless breakfast, then packed a single bag for his flight to Phoenix. He suspected the meeting with Falco and Conner would take less than an hour, two at the most. Depending on the outcome of that meeting, he would either coerce the boy into serving the Order, or sanction the immediate termination of both Falco and Sam Conner. The latter would be most unfortunate, but with so much at stake, there could be no compromise.

He set his bag by the door and walked into his study for a final check of both fax machines and e-mail. A quick scroll of his incoming mail revealed nothing out of the ordinary had come in overnight. His business fax showed no transmissions. The second machine, however, encrypted and dedicated to Watcher business, had received two sets of documents.