James Acton 03 - Broken Dove (9 page)

“What is it? What did he say?”

Giasson raised his head and looked directly at Reading.

“Nothing.”

Reading wasn’t expecting that. His eyebrows narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“He wasn’t there.”

“You mean—” Reading stopped, unable to say the words.

“His Holiness is missing.”

Reading’s jaw dropped. “You don’t think—”

“I pray not, but with the Father having been murdered just the day before, I can’t help but think the worst.”

“Any leads? Any clues? Anything?” Reading’s mouth was spouting whatever he could think of, his anxiousness removing the brain-mouth filter. He took a deep breath. “Tell me where you’re at in the investigation.”

Giasson frowned. “Almost nowhere. We’re searching the entire grounds, top to bottom, even in sections long closed off. Basements, attics, sewers, everything. As well, we’re reviewing any security footage we have, the Roma Police are doing the same, checking cameras, tickets issued, interviewing their men to see if they saw anything unusual. So far nothing.”

Reading shook his head. “Unbelievable,” he muttered.

“All we know is His Holiness went to bed at his regular hour, his staff confirming this. His bed was slept in, but his room was empty at one a.m. last night when we entered. No one has reported seeing him leave his room, and we have no cameras in the residential quarters. All we know for certain at this point, is that he didn’t leave the quarters through any of the known entrances, and he ordered his customary guard dismissed until the morning.”

“Dismissing the guard. Is that unusual?”

“Unheard of.”

Reading leaned forward, his interest piqued further. “And
known
entrances?”

“This city is old, built in a different time, a paranoid time. There are secret passageways and hidden doors, throughout. We know of many of them, but there could be others we are simply not aware of.”

“So you don’t even know if he just wandered off, or if he was taken.”

Giasson shook his head. “No, not for certain, however I lean toward the latter.”

“Why?”

Giasson lifted a folder off his desk and handed it to Reading. “This was found taped to the outer wall last night.”

Reading took the folder and flipped it open. He gasped, his jaw dropping. Inside was a single sheet of paper with the symbol of the Triarii, crossed out in red.

Somebody knows the Pope is Triarii!

Corpo della Gendarmeria Office

Palazzo del Governatorato, Vatican City

Father Morris looked pale, the old man probably approaching the age of his charge, the Pope. But he had been the executive assistant for three popes, and Reading was sure he had no interest in fulfilling the same job for a fourth. He sensed no fear from the man, no guilt, simply worry. They both looked up as Giasson reentered the office, handing the trembling man a glass of water, then closing the door behind him. Reading sat casually in his chair, and Giasson took up a similar posture on a couch lining a portion of the back wall, both trying to keep the man at ease.

“Is there anything out of the ordinary you can tell us about His Holiness’ meeting with DI Chaney?” asked Giasson

Father Morris nodded, lowering the glass from his lips. “The entire meeting was quite out of the ordinary.”

“In what way?”

“First, I never arranged it. Usually if His Holiness wants to meet someone, he asks me to contact them and arrange a meeting. In this case, I had no involvement, and was merely told to expect him the next day, and that when he arrived, to have him sent in immediately.” He took another sip from the glass. “He also had me clear his morning schedule.”

“And that’s unusual?” asked Reading. “Clearing the schedule, I mean?”

Father Morris’ head bobbed. “Absolutely. His Holiness never cancelled a meeting. In fact, I cannot recall any of the Pope’s I’ve had the honor to serve cancelling a meeting unless there was an illness or emergency of some sort. In this case, there was no indication of any emergency.”

“Anything else?”

Father Morris looked away and shifted in his chair. He raised the glass then lowered it without drinking. He looked from one man to the other. “Do you really think he’s in danger?”

Giasson nodded. “Absolutely.”

Father Morris sighed. “Very well. What I’m about to tell you cannot leave this room. Ever. You must swear to God himself that what I am about to tell you will never leave your lips.”

Reading and Giasson exchanged glances. Reading wasn’t a religious man, and personally believed that God would forgive him for breaking the promise he was about to make if it meant saving His mouthpiece on Earth. He nodded. “I swear.” Giasson echoed this, and Father Morris leaned forward, lowering his voice.

“The first evening of every Pope’s reign is marked by a special, private event. It is secret, known only to a handful of people, one of which is myself. No one, however, knows the nature of the event, as only the new Pope is present.”

Reading’s curiosity was piqued. “What can you tell us?”

“After all of the day’s activities are completed, a chest is brought from the Secret Archives, and placed in His Holiness’ office. It is fitted with a lock that only the Papal ring can open. The new Pope is instructed that it is his duty to open this chest, inspect its contents, and then to let us know when he is finished.”

“What’s inside?” asked Giasson. Reading could tell from the excitement in his voice he had never heard of the chest, or this ritual.

“No one knows. However I do know this. Of the three Pope’s that I have seen the chest presented to, not one has gone to his chambers that night. All have remained in their offices through the night, and the next day, were changed men.”

“Why are you telling us this? What does it have to do with the meeting?”

“Because for the first time I am aware, he requested the chest be brought from storage, and placed in his office. And”—the man paused, as if for effect—“immediately after DI Chaney’s meeting ended, he requested the chest be returned to storage.”

“Could he have shown Chaney what was inside?”

Father Morris shrugged his shoulders. “I have no idea.”

Reading didn’t need convincing. “It’s too big a coincidence for him not to have.” He turned to Giasson. “We need to see what’s inside that chest.”

Both Father Morris and Giasson gasped.

“It’s forbidden!” exclaimed Father Morris.

Reading returned his gaze to the elderly priest. “If no one knows of this chest, then how is it forbidden to look at it? Is it written somewhere?”

Father Morris said nothing.

“I didn’t think so.” He turned to Giasson. “We need to know what was so important that Chaney and now your Pope have disappeared. The key is in that chest.”

“But it’s locked. Only the Papal Ring can open it.”

“Don’t worry, I know someone who’s an expert at opening ancient locks.”

Acton Residence

Stowe, Vermont

Professor James Acton lay on his side, facing the sleeping form of the woman he loved, Professor Laura Palmer. He smiled at the rose covered pajamas she had insisted on wearing while visiting his parents, her normal nighttime attire usually a little more provocative. It was his dad’s birthday this weekend, and it was rare that he was able to be there in person, life usually forcing him to resort to a phone call and a mailed gift. But when Laura had found out about it, she had thought it the perfect opportunity to see them again, so had surprised him with two first class airline tickets from their dig in Egypt to his parents’ home in Vermont.
Being rich has its advantages.

Laura’s brother had died several years ago, leaving her the many millions he had made selling his Internet company before the bubble had burst. She had remained a professor, even lived in the same apartment as before, but used the money to fund her digs, and indulge herself by flying first class, staying at five star hotels, and generally enjoying life with no barriers. And since he had become involved with her, she had been spoiling him in little ways. He had protested at first, as he could honestly claim he had no idea she was rich when he first fell in love with her, but she had insisted that it made her happy, and she had so much money, why not spend it on each other? He had acquiesced, and he had to admit, life was better. He still had the same beat up Jeep in his garage, the same modest home with mortgage that he barely saw, but it was the barriers that he hadn’t even realized were there, and their removal, that truly made the difference.

Money buys freedom.

They flew whenever they needed, always as comfortable as possible. If one of their digs needed some equipment, it was purchased without a second thought. If there was a student who couldn’t afford to come because of family circumstances, they would pay for that student, quietly so the student wouldn’t be embarrassed, anonymously if possible. Acton usually said the university had an anonymous benefactor, and to keep it quiet. The joy on their faces was worth every penny. Freedom to do what you wanted, when you wanted. It was a wonderful feeling. Especially when doing it with the woman you loved.

He shuffled closer to her, the double bed making it a short trip. Spooning her, he buried his face in her long, auburn hair, inhaling her scent. He kissed her neck and she moaned softly. He kissed her again, feeling a stirring down below. She slowly awoke and turned to face him, smiling, her eyes still closed. He kissed her lips and she responded, reaching out for him as he kissed his way down her neck. He reached to unbutton her pajamas when she suddenly awoke fully and grabbed his hand.

“James! Not here!” she said in a harsh whisper, her eyes fully open.

“Why not?”

“Your parents! They could hear us.”

He continued to unbutton her top. “I’ll be quiet.”

She swatted his hand away. “Behave.”

“But, honey, we have company.”

She glanced down at his boxers and burst out laughing. It wasn’t the reaction he was used to, but even he started to laugh. They both were cut short when there was a knock on the door. “You two awake in there? Breakfast is in ten minutes.”

“Yes, Mom.”

He looked at Laura who was holding her breath, trying to stifle her laugh. Giving up, air burst from her lips, causing them to vibrate momentarily. He joined her, hugging her tightly, then whispered in her ear. “I love you.”

She pushed him onto his back and straddled him. “Okay, maybe a quickie.” She dropped down on top of his chest and whispered. “But
be
quiet!”

He grinned and was just about to score in the bedroom he had never been successful in his entire teenage life, when his cellphone vibrated on the nightstand.

“Leave it.” Her whisper was hoarse, as she too was now aroused, her lips kissing his neck and chest. The phone went to voicemail, then vibrated a moment later indicating a message. He tore open her top, revealing her naked chest and was just about to provide his own form of support when the phone rang again. Laura sat up, clearly as frustrated as him. “You better get it.”

He grabbed the phone, the call display showing him a number he didn’t recognize. He hit
Talk.
“Acton.”

“Jim, old boy, it’s Hugh.”

Acton’s eyebrows shot up. “Hugh? Do you have any idea what time it is?” He lowered his voice. “And that you just interrupted a dream thirty years in the making?” Laura swatted him, then ground her hips playfully. Acton threw his head against his pillow, frustrated.

“Sorry, mate, but I need your help, urgently.”

Acton was still distracted by Laura’s lap antics. “Wh-what is it?” He reached up with one hand to participate.

“Chaney is missing, and so is his
friend
in the Vatican.”

Acton’s hand stopped in midair. “What?”

Laura grabbed his hand and placed it on her chest. Acton pulled it away and raised a single finger. She stopped, concern on her face. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

“Listen, I can’t really tell you much on this line, it’s not secure. But I need you here, now.”

“In Rome?”

“Yes, I’m here now, and there’s something we need you to help us with that’s urgent.” Reading’s voice lowered. “Listen, mate, one person is already dead, two more are missing, and I think you can help. How soon can you get here?”

“I’ll have to check the flight schedule, but Laura and I will be there as soon as we can.”

“Okay, let me know the details, and I’ll have you met.”

“Okay, see you soon.”

Acton ended the call and looked at Laura.

“What’s going on?” she asked, rolling back to the other side of the bed.

“That was Hugh. Somebody’s dead at the Vatican, and now Chaney and the Pope are missing.”

“What!” Laura’s hand flew to her mouth and she flushed. “Missing?” she asked, her voice much lower.

Acton nodded. “We need to get to Rome right away.”

Laura flipped her legs out of the bed and grabbed her phone. “I’ll call our travel agent.”

“I’ll go let Mom and Dad know.” He jumped out of bed and headed for the door when Laura cleared her throat. “What?”

She pointed at his waist. He looked down and found Jimmy, Jr. still peeking out. He grinned. “Better put some pants on.”

342 A.D.

Outside Tyrus, Judea

Berenice bit her knuckle, trying to stifle any cries of terror she might accidentally let loose. She gripped the Word tightly against her chest as only feet away footsteps pounded, shaking the ground she now hid under. The kindly farmer, so helpful earlier, stood above, terrified. From her vantage point in a dugout root cellar, covered by a series of heavy rugs, she could see his hands clenching and unclenching through a small gap, his tiny steps as he shuffled from one spot to the other while trying to avoid being tossed aside by the soldiers like the furniture now scattered about the floor, revealing how insignificant he now felt in his own home.

“We know they passed here. Your denial of having seen them makes you guilty. You could not have missed them if you were tending your fields as you claim.”