James Acton 03 - Broken Dove (12 page)

His fist impacted the chest of a camera man. He grunted and stumbled back, cursing at Acton in what was probably Italian.
Curse in Latin, and I’d understand you.
He kept moving forward, increasing his pace, those in front starting to clear out of their way. He caught a glimpse of the front gate to his left. He rapidly switched directions and continued mowing through the reporters until he reached the cordon of police surrounding the entrance to St. Peters Square. He was about to tell the officer in front of him who they were when he saw somebody waving.

“Jim! Laura!”

Laura lifted her head. “Is that Hugh?”

Acton raised his arm and waved. “Can you get us through?” he yelled.

Hugh came through the gates with a bald man he recognized from their previous visit, and both trotted over to their position. The bald one tapped the two officers in front of him and showed them his credentials. “They’re with me.”

The two men nodded and let Acton and Laura pass.

“Let’s get away from these nutters,” said Reading, as they all followed the bald man through the gates and across the cobblestone of St. Peters Square. The din outside the gates slowly faded, and Acton began to pay attention to his surroundings. There was a heavy police presence, outside and within. Sniffer dogs were leading their masters, examining bushes, trees, statues, walls. All were being searched. He glanced up at the balcony, famous for its pontifical waves.

He shuddered at the memory.

“Have you told the public yet?”

The bald man gave him a look and Reading spun around, holding his finger to his lips. “Loose lips sink ships.”

Acton nodded, and kept his mouth shut until they were indoors. Reading turned to face them, as did the bald man. Reading motioned toward their escort. “I’m sure you remember Inspector General Mario Giasson, head of Vatican Security?”

“Of course I do.” Acton reached out and shook the man’s hand, as did Laura. “Good to see you again.”

The man bowed slightly. “I just wish it could be under more pleasant circumstances.” He extended one arm, pointing deeper into the complex. “Shall we? Time is of the essence.”

“Indeed,” agreed Reading, and the foursome quickly made their way to Giasson’s office, Acton chomping at the bit to tell them about their ride from the airport. Once inside Giasson’s office, they all took seats. Reading was about to speak when Acton cut him off.

“Did you send a car to meet us at the airport?” he asked Giasson.

“But of course! Why it would not have come through the side gate we kept clear for you I don’t know. Perhaps he was redirected by the police.” His eyes narrowed into his nose. “Wait. Why are you asking me this?”

Reading leaned forward. “Yes, why?”

“Because the person who picked us up, in a stretch limo, replete with driver, had a gun, pointing at Laura and myself the entire ride.”

“Mon Dieu!” Giasson grabbed his phone and hit a button. “Get in here.”

Through the window, one of the security staff jumped up and strode quickly to the door. He opened it and poked his head in, nodding to the guests. “Yes, sir?”

“Find out what happened to the car we sent to pick up our guests. Apparently they were picked up by someone else.”

The man nodded and closed the door, rushing back to his desk. Giasson turned to Acton. “With the level of attention focused on us right now, I would never dream of sending you a limousine—it would draw far too much attention. We did send a diplomatic vehicle, however something more low key as I think you Americans say.”

“Only one Yank in the room, mate,” said Reading, winking at Laura. She was still too high strung from their ordeal to respond. Reading leaned over and gave her knee a pat, then looked at Acton. “Why don’t you tell us about your ride.”

“She said she was from the Order of the Blessed Virgin.” This elicited a chuckle from Giasson. Acton eyed him. “What’s so funny?”

Giasson waved at the air, as if dismissing his laugh. “I’m sorry, but the Order of the Blessed Virgin are just a bunch of harmless quacks who think we have hidden a book, penned by the Virgin Mary herself, stolen from them over a thousand years ago.”

“That’s basically what she said as well,” said Acton, nodding.

“And why did they kidnap, shall we say, you two?” asked Reading.

“They want us to find this book, and return it to them.”

Giasson still had a smile on his face. “In exchange for?”

“Returning Chaney and the Pope.”

All smiles were wiped from the room, Giasson’s elbows hitting the desk hard as he lunged forward in his chair. “They have His Holiness!”

“They have Chaney!” exclaimed Reading.

Acton nodded. “Yes, and they will kill them if we don’t deliver what they want.”

Giasson grabbed his phone again, hitting an extension. “Get me everything we’ve got on the Order of the Blessed Virgin.” He listened a moment. “Yes, I’m serious.” He slammed the phone into the cradle, tossing a glare out the window at a woman who had just glanced over her shoulder as she put her phone down. Her head spun back to her computer screen.

The man who was looking into the missing car and driver jumped from his desk, sprinting the ten feet to Giasson’s office. He threw open the door, not bothering to knock. “The Polizia just found the car at the airport in the charter terminal parking lot.”

“Parking lot? Why would he—” Giasson stopped. “The driver?”

“In the trunk. Shot in the head.”

Giasson made the sign of the cross, sinking back in his chair. “Get down there, see what you can find out.”

The man nodded, closing the door.

“Perhaps not ‘harmless quacks’ after all,” said Reading, his voice subdued at the loss of another life.

Acton felt Laura squeeze his hand. He returned the acknowledgement, his heart pounding a little harder with the fact their brief captor was indeed a killer. “So, why don’t we just get this book, do the exchange, and get this thing over with?”

“Because, Professor, as I said earlier, the book does not exist.”

“Then why are we here?” asked Acton, his frustration level rising. “If we’re not here to find this book, then why did we fly all the way out to Rome?”

Laura patted him on the hand. “James, no one knew about the book until tonight.” She turned to Reading. “I’m certain you brought us here for a very good reason.”

Reading nodded. “Yes. We need you to break into a chest.”

Acton’s eyebrows shot up. “Break into a chest? Can’t you?”

Giasson shook his head. “No, it is very precious, very ancient, and very secret. We need an expert we can trust to open it, examine its contents to see how it might be connected to our current situation, then to reseal it, without revealing anything about its contents unless absolutely necessary.”

“Naturally I thought of you,” said Reading.

The prospect of looking at a Vatican secret had wiped Acton’s frustration of moments before away. He leaned forward and felt Laura’s grip tighten slightly on his arm, she too shifting position in excitement. “What can you tell us about this chest?” she asked.

Giasson rose and closed the blinds, then pulled his chair around his desk so they formed a tight square. He lowered his voice to barely a whisper. “We know little, in fact, I knew nothing of this until last night. It appears, that on the first eve of a new pope’s reign, a chest is brought to him. He is instructed to open it, read what is inside, then reseal it. It is then placed back in the Secret Archives.” He leaned in even closer, the rest joining him. “Apparently, our man tells us the last three popes he’s been privy to deliver this chest to, have all remained awake through the night examining it, and are changed men the next day.”

“What’s inside?” asked Acton, his heart thumping in excitement.

Giasson tossed his hands out, palms open. “No idea. It’s for a pope’s eyes only.” He waved his hands around them. “No one here dare open this chest, but you”—he pointed a finger at Acton—“I trust. I trust you to keep the secret of the chest, no matter what happens.”

Acton nodded, then glanced at Laura, and back at Giasson. “You mean, you trust
us
.”

Giasson’s eyes flicked to Laura, then to Reading, who nodded. Giasson’s eyes returned to Acton, dropping his head slightly. “Of course.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” said Acton as he leapt to his feet. “Let’s get to work.” He glanced around for his suitcase that contained his tool kit and his shoulders slumped. He turned to Laura. “Our luggage.”

Her hand quickly touched her forehead then came to rest on her chin. She turned to Giasson. “Our luggage must still be at the terminal.”

Acton nodded. “You’re right, we got in the car and immediately left.” He smacked his forehead, then ran his fingers through his hair, pulling it slightly in punishment. “I can’t believe I didn’t pick up on that.”

“Might have been the gun pointed at your head,” offered Reading.

Giasson picked up his phone and hit an extension. “Contact the airport and have the professors’ luggage delivered here.” He hung up then led them from his office, and within minutes, they stood in front of a large set of carved doors, two of the papal guards flanking it. They snapped to attention, one reaching out and opening the door.

“Thank you,” whispered Laura. There was no reply. The door was quietly closed behind them as a man, in priestly garb, rose from behind a desk.

“All is prepared as requested.”

Giasson nodded. “Father Morris, these are Professors Acton and Palmer. They will be examining—”

“They?” interrupted Morris, his eyebrows raised, eyes wide. “I thought there would be only one?”

“
We
work together,” said Acton. He lowered his voice. “We understand what is being asked of us. The trust you are putting in us.”

The man nodded and opened the inner doors to the empty office. He led them in, then, as if scared to even look at it, pointed a shaking finger toward a chest sitting upon a table on the far side of the room. “There it is. When you are finished, please lock it, then let me know.” He rushed from the room, closing the doors behind him.”

Giasson didn’t look at all, purposely placing his back to the chest. “I’ll be in my office. Come see me when you’re finished.” He opened the door and looked at Reading. “Coming?”

“In a few minutes. I just want to bring them up to speed on a few additional details.”

Giasson nodded, then closed the door behind him.

Reading immediately spun around, facing the two professors. “There’s little time, so just listen. This has everything to do with the Triarii.”

“How?” asked Acton.

Reading gave him a look, as if reminding him of what he had just said.
Just listen.
“They found a paper pasted to the outer wall after the Pope was taken. It was the Triarii symbol, with a red X through it.”

“Does Giasson know?”

“He knows of the poster, but not what it represents.” Reading took a quick glance at the door. “We’re the only ones who know the Pope and Chaney are Triarii.”

“Somebody else knows,” said Laura, and they all nodded.

“Apparently.” Reading placed a hand on Laura’s shoulder, then Acton’s. “Be careful. There’s more going on here than just a book. These people are anti-Triarii, and have now killed at least two people, one within these very walls.”

Acton’s mind raced. There was something he knew he should be remembering. He looked at Laura, and realized she too was thinking the same thing. She smiled, her jaw dropping just as he remembered as well.

“It’s not them!” she exclaimed.

“It can’t be!” agreed Acton.

“What the devil are you two going on about?” asked Reading.

“The woman in the limo, she had no clue who the Triarii were!” said Acton.

“What?”

“When I mentioned the Triarii, she didn’t know who they were. Never heard of them. And if they’ve never heard of them—”

“Then how would they know their symbol?” completed Reading.

Acton walked over to where the chest had been placed and sat down. “Are we on a wild goose chase?”

Laura joined him. “If the Order has Chaney and the Pope, then the anti-Triarii poster is most likely a coincidence, and that, I find incredibly hard to believe.”

“There’s no way this is a coincidence,” said Reading. “One dead, two kidnapped, including the Holiest man on Earth. That takes massive bollocks, a lot of planning. And how would they have known Chaney would be here? In fact, why take him at all?” He plunked down in one of the leather couches. “I get the distinct impression that this was not planned to take place on a certain date, but when a certain event happened. Which means they had people on the inside, ready to take action whenever necessary.”

“If that’s the case, then we don’t know who we can trust,” said Laura.

“Do you trust Giasson?” asked Acton, already sure of the answer.

“Absolutely.” Reading lowered his voice. “I ran a background check on him, just to be sure, and he’s clean as a whistle.”

“He could still have been recruited while here.”

Reading nodded. “Possible. But I’ve always been able to read people, and I sense nothing off about him.” He grinned. “After all, I didn’t arrest you two, now did I?”

“Hey, I distinctly remember being nicked and brought down to the Yard,” said Laura, her voice playfully indignant.

Reading laughed and dismissed her comment with a wave. “You were brought in for questioning, not nicked.”

Laura shrugged her shoulders. “Just sayin’, it felt like it.”

“Okay, we have to trust someone, and Giasson seems to be the man. If we assume the Order is not involved in the kidnapping, then perhaps they are just taking advantage of the situation.”

Reading’s head bobbed. “Perhaps. But they would need to know that the situation was occurring.”

“They would have to have known we were called in, when we were arriving, when and what car was being sent to pick us up—” Acton stopped. “They have someone on the inside.”

Laura nodded. “Perhaps someone in Security? They would have access to all that information.”

Reading stood up. “I’ll talk to Mario and see what we can come up with.” He pointed at the chest. “You two figure out what the hell”—he stopped and glanced up—“what the heck, that thing has to do with all this.”