Echoes Through the Vatican: A Paranormal Mystery (The Echoes Quartet Book 2) (15 page)

“The information we received back was staggering. While we all signed on to assist the world in reviving it’s potential, a powerful group that has been operating for centuries has set its sights on enslaving mankind.

“The people involved in this reprehensible conspiracy are those we all trust most. Politicians, civic leaders, members of the clergy of every denomination, the wealthiest and most powerful businesspeople, the social elite – members from all of those walks of life have a vested interest in seeing that mankind is kept sedated, powerless and subservient.

“It took time and cost many lives in the process of finding out who leads this group.” Rodriguez’s voice dripped with frustration. “We have succeeded and the leader of this group is someone of immense standing and power, I am talking of…” Julian interrupted Mr. Rodriguez.

“Let me save us all a lot of time,” Julian said. “You would like me to assassinate the Pope for you.” Julian sat back, crossed his legs and looked like he hadn’t said, ‘assassinate the Pope’ out loud. “Moreover, it was made pretty clear that the safe return of the doctor was dependent on my success. At least that is my understanding.”

The four members looked at Julian with hard eyes. Eyebrows knitted, Mr. Clarke asked softly with a cut crystal British accent, “And you know that, how?”

“His Eminence told me,” Julian said.

All eyes, except those of Mr. Clarke and Julian’s, turned to the cardinal. For his part, Luciano was outwardly calm, but Julian could easily sense the rage rolling off the man.

“Mr. Blessing,” Mr. Clarke said, “we, of course, do not require an answer today. I will tell you, there has been a misunderstanding. We will assist you in any case. For our part, we must mobilize our forces in order to pursue your current difficulties. We will begin the search for the doctor immediately. On that, you have my word. The four of us have given you a great deal to think about. May we call on you later to continue our discussion?”

“Of course, sir. I will do all I can to be available for you. In the meantime, I will consider carefully what you’ve said,” Julian said inclining his head.

“Thank you for coming. Can we arrange transportation for you?” Mr. Clarke asked.

“That is very kind, but the day is perfect and I need time to think. I’ve not really explored Old Rome and the walk will do me good,” Julian said with an ease he did not feel. He stood as did they all, except the cardinal. “Will you join me, Eminence?”

“I’m sorry, Julian, but the cardinal will be helping with some agenda items we need to go over,” Bob said.

“Good meeting you, son.” Bob shook Julian’s hand vigorously. The hand was firm, but somehow cold, lifeless.

After saying his goodbyes and thanking the group for its hospitality, Julian followed his previous escort to the front door and out to a freedom he thought he only had a 50/50 chance of ever enjoying again in spite of any guarantees of safe conduct.

***

He joined Fr. Marek Soski on a bench several blocks away. Julian sat, blew out a long noisy breath, and asked, “You heard?”

“Not one word,” Soski answered mildly.

“What? You were supposed to be backing me up. What if something went wrong?” Julian demanded staring at the priest. “You were supposed to ride in and save the day. Remember?”

Fr. Soski said, “You entered that place and it disappeared. I heard nothing and felt nothing. It wasn’t as if a wall went up. It was as though that piece of property didn’t exist. I have not the slightest idea what or how it happened. I could see it, but it wasn’t there. As far as backup goes, you, my very good friend, were in the hands of God. Or all on your own, which ever way you want to look at it.” Fr. Soski shrugged and tried to look contrite.

***

The priest took out his iPhone and called for a cab, and when it arrived, the driver nearly drove off. No one, he felt, drove the Ghost around and lived. He put his foot on the accelerator and the car died. The man looked up to find a deathly pale priest in an overcoat, hat, gloves, and sunglasses staring at him over the hood of the car. The driver swallowed hard, jumped out and opened the back doors for his guests. Once installed, the driver made the sign of the cross and the taxi sped into the heart of Rome.

“
And so
?” Fr. Soski thought while the cab driver knew only that he had a particularly silent fare.

Julian considered before he returned with his own thoughts.
“A few things became clear, but not many. Some things became muddier. Typical of Rome I’m discovering.

“First, because we should start with dessert,” Julian said, “Luciano was there and will be lucky to escape with his skin. Next, the main course. There were a group of four men, Tan, Rodriguez, Colbert and Clarke. Ethnically diverse if nothing else. Clarke was in overall charge. He is the one who spoke the least. The others were busy trying to convince me, a) I should become a recruiter for them and b) the little matter of me assassinating the Pope. The Pope is the bad guy in all of this and he is thwarting the group’s efforts to make the world a better place.

“They were all about ‘doing well by doing good’ of course. Always a good place for those who are interested in doing well at the expense of others. Extrapolating from their line of reasoning, there are multiple thousands of ways they can harvest the world at large and make money – with our help.” Julian stopped, reflected, then continued.

“There is already one of us on their payroll and he, or she, isn’t so much formidable as terrifyingly powerful,”
Julian said. Soski turned in his seat to look at his friend.

Julian continued,
“As soon as I crossed the threshold, all my attempts to do anything were stopped. I could get something off the cardinal, but only the rawest most violent passions. Of which he had plenty.”
Julian chuckled
.

“The group entered into all of this today with a sort of paranormal bodyguard. Try as I might, I could read none of them. While Luciano was clear in his intent to open up a six-pack of industrial strength whoop ass, it was clear he couldn’t, wouldn’t or was afraid to try.

“The others took up physical space, but nothing more. No signatures, no nothing. Even the house and the staff were blocked off to me. That would account for you not being able to sense anything from the outside. What do you think
?” Julian asked.

“Industrial strength what?”
Soski responded
. “Never mind, I would rather not hear you explain that. One of us acting as a shield. Now that is something a little more than disturbing.

“I have an idea that is far beyond reasonable,”
Fr. Soski said
. “Think about what you said. Think about what I said. What if only you and the cardinal existed? What if you and he were sitting alone in that house? No group, no coffee. What if it was all an illusion? You stepped through the gate, took one step into a pocket dimension, and the rest was a false impression.

“Had you or the cardinal done anything untoward
…” Fr. Marek left the thought unfinished
.

“A chimera, a mental hologram. That’s sickening,”
Julian thought and felt his mind roil in confusion.

“Could I so easily be deceived?” he thought to himself. “Could a world be created for me in my own mind? One shared with the cardinal?”
Julian’s teacher had said it was possible.

“It would turn our world upside-down,” Soski said. “A world, I will remind you, we have already turned inside-out.”

Julian said,
“While we’re upside down and inside-out, let’s consider something else. If they have one of us powerful enough to do what you’ve suggested, why do they need me?”

Fr. Soski thought and Julian received the thought with crystal clarity,
“That is the only thing we do know. They need you because you are expendable. It would also launch the church on another inquisition, with us being the modern day heretics and witches. A nice distraction, don’t you think?” the priest said. “Distracted from what though?”

“Marek, I have tried to avoid it, but it is something that must be considered. This Group, is it the same institution Professor Agostini uncovered?”

“I pray I am wrong, but fear I am right,” Fr. Marek said. “I believe it is the same and that terrifies me. I need to talk with some people. There is an explanation to all of this and we need to find it quickly.”

“Your thoughts?” Mr. Clarke asked.

A man in a plain black suit and clerical collar, considered, then said, “There is almost no chance Blessing will do as we ask unless we give him no choice. He will do anything to protect the woman. He would give up his own life freely. He would murder a thousand popes. She is his weakness and she must to be found.”

“You have no way of tracking her?” Mr. Clarke asked.

His companion arched an eyebrow, smiled, and his words were acidic. “If I could, she would be in our possession now and this would all be behind us.”

“I mention it,” Mr. Clarke said, “not to offend, but because I have never known you, as our Consul, to be stymied.”

Clarke had used the Group’s title, Consul. It was a vestige, the highest position in the ancient Roman Republic. It was a designation used in great deference then and now.

“Are there larger issues, other agents or powers involved? Cardinal Luciano for example?”

“No offense taken, my friend. The thought has occurred to me as well. Something, or someone, is obscuring the woman’s presence, her essence actually. It is as though she does not exist. That sort of protection would draw much power. To be sure though, I will work my way through this.

“As for the cardinal,” the man snorted his derision, “his Eminence is an easier situation to handle. He will be expunged once he has served his purpose. People never fail to fascinate me, Mr. Clarke. They embrace the light and shun the darkness. What they can’t afford to admit is the light is a fantasy and the dark is the only thing that is real.”

“The good cardinal,” Mr. Clarke followed the thought. “Even for all he knows, all he is, he spurns the light, but he is incapable of grasping the reality of how dark the darkness truly is. He and Blessing stand in the mist between the two.”

“The difference is,” the Consul said, “Blessing knows roughly who he is and definitely where he is and why he is there. He grows more adept and powerful every day.

“The cardinal believes he is out of the light so he must be in the darkness and he stopped growing long ago. The very definition of a stupid man, don’t you think?”

***

The Vatican Bank was a blizzard of activity. On the surface, all looked calm and businesslike but Julian could feel the hum of energy just below the surface. The employees, from tellers to directors, were terrified.

“You asked for me, Eminence. If you want to know what progress I’ve made, the answer is, none. Fr. Soski and I have interviewed and profiled every employee of the bank and we have not discovered the mole, let alone the method. We are at a standstill.” Julian stood at Cardinal Manning’s desk in a respectful silence.

The old cardinal sat back in his chair, closed his green eyes and drew in a deep breath. “Julian, I am running out of options. We are currently drawing from our reserves to keep things afloat. Our buoyancy is failing fast, my son.

“The Pope would like my head and will have it, but he knows replacing me will do nothing but delay stopping these attacks and bring the spotlight onto the Vatican itself. Again. For this reason he will keep this quiet. Although not important in itself, I will be free to continue working on this without fear of being replaced.

“There are a group of cardinals who sit on the bank’s advisory board. This same group advises the Pope on all matters financial and economic. Julian, I want you to interview each of them.

“You and Fr. Soski have been through the bank like a dose of salts. I know because the managers have complained. Not loudly. This is, after all, the Vatican bank.” The cardinal eked out a slight smile.

“The members of the council are all that remain. If not them, then the attacks are originating without assistance from the inside. My auditors say that is nearly impossible. A man on the inside is needed for any external assault to work.” The cardinal’s Irish accented English was present, but subdued.

“Eminence, Cardinal Luciano is a member of that body, no?” Julian asked.

“He is and I know he presents a special case for you and Fr. Soski. We will leave him for last, but sooner or later, he must be confronted. About that, son, he will not be entirely pleased,” Cardinal Manning said.

***

“Thank you for calling, Bridget,” Julian said to his Irish mentor. “I wish I could say I’ve made progress. Hell, I really wish I could say we were on our way back home. Things here seem to get murkier by the minute and I am no nearer finding Ailís than I was.” Julian avoided telling his mentor about being ensnared by the Group, Sokolov and Cardinal Luciano.

Her diction, as always, was perfect. The cadence of her Irish accented English was unhurried and hypnotizing. “You are in error, Julian. The murkiness has always been there, no more, no less. You are just now plumbing its depth. Do not let the darkness distract you. Whatever you do, do not despair. Going through that doorway leads in only one direction.

“You have allies who will assist you beyond your ability to understand now. Hold to two things - you will bring this to a conclusion and you are not alone.

“I cannot see it and that in itself is strange,” Bridget continued. “There is something in the way, blocking my vision, but I feel you are nearing your goal of finding Ailís. I can tell you no more.”

Between them, the air did not need to be filled with words. Julian considered, then spoke slowly. “Bridget, there is an unimaginable power larger, and far more deadly, at work here. I feel one of us has been turned. My problem is, I can’t believe someone so powerful would have gone unnoticed.”

Bridget could feel his anger, his frustration and his fear. It wasn’t from his voice or what he said. She could feel the raw emotions and the swirling thoughts. It was palpable to her, real, and her face twisted with the pain of it.

“Julian,” she began, “you have changed during your time in Rome. You have grown. The rate and direction of your growth has surprised even me. I am not so easily surprised.

“The result is, now, more than ever, you must become the master of your thoughts, your reactions and your emotions. What you are facing requires you to have no doubts, no fears. Know the unreality of the reality that has been presented to you.

“You have heard it before. You and I, and those like us, are tasked with dispelling the mist. In this case, you must make sure you project the strongest light possible. Your life, and that of others, may depend on it. You are strong and you are capable. You are talented and bright. Use all of that to intensify the light and know, you are never alone,” she concluded.

“I will try, Bridget. I will do my best,” Julian said.

“I know you will and that is all that can be asked of you,” Bridget whispered.

She hung up and her heart ached. She knew some of what he faced. When new and raw, she had faced it too. She had nearly died and would have if her teacher and mentor had not given up their lives to save hers. The grief and the guilt had been so great she had prayed to die. Now she prayed Julian would survive better than she had.

She said to herself in an undertone, “It is all that can be asked. But sometimes our best is not enough.”

***

Rain beat a steady tattoo on the windows of Fr. Soski’s office. The office was, as always, swathed in its perpetual twilight. Julian looked into the gray middle distance from a gap between the curtains. He turned to his friend seated at his desk.

“Well, Marek?” Julian asked in a whisper nearly drowned out by the rain.

“I do not see any other possibility, Julian. A conspiracy spanning two thousand years or more and they did it all in secret,” the priest said and ruminated on the possibilities. “The group we are dealing with is the ‘they’ in all of this. Your professors, Agostini and Bragonier, their research leads to only that conclusion. Proof we do not have, but their investigation is the next best thing.”

“The coins were the nexus of a criminal enterprise that puts all others in the shade,” Julian said. “The question is how was it held together for so long and in secret. The answer is we, those like us, have been involved from the start. There is no way of knowing who is involved now, so trusting anyone will be impossible,” Julian said.

“Impressive. I don’t know five people who can keep a secret for twenty minutes. So what’s next? Julian, at best we can only try to avoid being killed,” the priest said.

“Well, let’s call them the Group for lack of anything else. If the Group wants the Pope dead, we have to assume…” Julian was interrupted.

“We must assume one thing first,” Fr. Marek said and Julian nodded. “Our assumption was the doctor was being held by either Luciano or Sokolov. There is a new piece on the chessboard. The Group may have her. Their motivation has a higher priority and a greater likelihood.

“This Group, the good cardinal, and a Russian mobster all want you dead,” Soski said, “as soon as you’ve rendered some small service. In this case, assassinating the Pope. By the way, it would be a worthwhile conjecture this is not their first pope.”

The rain intensified as the storm passed overhead and thunder boomed in the distance.

“Yes,” the priest continued, “we can assume something else. Life insurance for you must be hideously expensive. You seem to attract all the wrong kind of attention. Julian, please work on that, will you?

“I wonder if we should cue the ominous music soundtrack now?” Fr. Soski said. Rather than lighten the mood, the sharp contrasts between life and death were only accentuated.

***

Sapienza University had been scrubbed clean by the overnight rain. The jaunty buildings and staid structures seemed to take on new confidence.

The professor had called. There was news, a clue and it was sufficient enough to perturb an imperturbable man. Agostini was unwilling to share it over the telephone. Julian climbed the stairs to Professor Agostini’s office. The long days and sleepless nights were wearing deep lines into Julian’s face and dark circles lay heavy under his gray eyes.

“No!” The word was a scream, a hope, a prayer and came from the second floor. Julian moved, taking the stairs two at a time. He reached the second floor and began to run. The word came again, “No!” as Julian reached the only open door on the second floor.

Gio knelt beside the body of Professor Agostini. The older man’s body was twisted, contorted into a painful shape. He lay face up. His chest was collapsed as though all the ribs had been crushed. Rivulets of blood had run from his ears and eyes, but had dried quickly as the man’s life faded, then was no more.

Julian looked up and saw heavy scorch marks on the filing cabinet where the professor kept his notes. Everything inside, including the professor’s research, was ash now.

Gio, his knees drenched in blood, vomited, but continued to kneel beside the professor. Rocking back and forth the young man whispered over and over, “No, no, no.”

“Gio,” Julian said as he lifted the young man away from the lifeless body of his professor. “Leave him, now. Let’s wait outside.” Julian’s voice was whisper soft and gentle. He guided Gio to the hallway as campus security arrived on the run.

Crime scene investigators arrived, measurements were made, photographs were taken and fingerprints lifted. The coroner arrived and took possession of the professor’s body.

The university security personnel stood by while members of the Carabinieri questioned Julian briefly. They were far more interested in Gio who they had handcuffed and sitting in the hallway. The officers took copious notes and asked questions in rapid fire Italian. Unsatisfied, they stood the young student up and started toward the waiting squad cars.

“This isn’t happening,” Gio said to Julian. “It can’t be happening. I didn’t do this thing.”

“I’m sorry, Gio. It has happened and you didn’t do it. I know that and the authorities will too. There is nothing more to be said.” There was much to be said, but Julian wasn’t prepared to say it. “Say nothing until you talk with your lawyer. I’ll find the best there is. No matter what, say nothing and know you’re not alone.”

His past viewing ability gave Julian no clue what had happened. He could see the office clearly. He watched as Gio had arrived for his appointment. It flickered into being and then was gone, obscured by some dark presence. In the present, it manifested itself as Julian had found it. A dead professor and a grieving, terrified student. And a world of information gone.

Julian watched as the police car pulled away from the curb with Gio in the backseat. He began to walk. He could have hailed a taxi, but he needed time to think, time to see through this darkness.

***

“Wizard.” Julian came slowly to himself. He blinked rapidly and shook his head trying to clear the thoughts and images. He had traveled several blocks along the busy street.

He was subdued when he answered, “Inspector, what can I do for you.” A statement not a question.

She sensed the difference and cocked her head. “Behind you is a small park. Go there, pick a bench you like and sit. We’ll be with you in a moment.”

“No.” Julian spoke the word simply.

The inspector’s brow creased and she said softly, “Please.”

The unmarked police car pulled away from the curb and was lost in the traffic as Julian drew a noisy breath and turned into the park.

He found a shaded bench and was joined a short time later by the inspector and her sergeant.

“What are you doing here?” Julian asked, not interested in the answer and his mind a thousand miles away.

“We monitored a emergency call at the university. A body had been discovered. A murder they say with a suspect in custody. No concern of ours, but it was noted. The Carabinieri get all the interesting things to do while we deal with finance. And you. It is unfair.

“Driving down the street, who do we see but you, a few blocks from the same university where a body has been found. Enrico and I looked at each other and instantly knew you were involved. What have you done?” She was reading Julian in a fundamental way. He was distant, he was serious, hurting.