Rise of the Nephilim (14 page)

Jude awoke from a troubled nap when Eric slammed the door. He walked in with a large shopping bag filled with miscellaneous unknown items. His companion dropped the bag onto the small hotel dresser and turned toward him. Eric’s face was pale from terror, his brow furrowed from worry and intense thought.

“How do things look out there?” Jude asked.

“Not good,” answered Eric as he leaned back on the edge of the desk. “It’s a madhouse out there, and our faces are plastered all over the television. The Vicar wasn’t kidding, Europe is too hot for us right now. Luckily, I have a few tricks to keep us incognito.”

He reached into the bag and began pulling out an assortment of different products. Among them, Jude noted hair clippers, instant tanning spray, and hair dye. He picked up the clippers and began examining the different attachments, while Eric continued to lay out his supplies.

Eric continued, “Normal protocol for an all-points search like the one we are under is to set up a massive surveillance net for suspects. These usually include alerts whenever a suspect uses a personal phone or credit card that can identify his or her location. The good thing is we rid ourselves of all that back in Geneva, although I was more worried about being hunted by Nephilim than I was by the government. The next step is to monitor all available footage to track the suspect’s movement. No matter how smooth our escape was, you can bet your ass that Interpol will find video evidence that we left by train. I wouldn’t be surprised if they already know we are in Rome.”

“Our biggest threat right now is being recognized by someone while we are travelling, so I dropped by a few local stores and fetched some supplies to alter our appearance. Ever wondered what you would look like as a blond?” Eric handed Jude a box of dye and the clippers. “Be creative. The further you look from your normal self, the more you’ll blend in.”

Jude sadly walked to the bathroom. People wouldn’t necessarily say he was vain, but he was particular about his hair. He had found a cut and style he liked and had stuck with it since his college days. Even in the face of mortal danger, he hesitated at remaking himself. The thought was fleeting, however, and he raised the shears to his head.

When he emerged from the bathroom, Jude’s medium length, dark brown hair was now a short, platinum blond faux hawk. With the application of the fake tanning oil, he looked as if he belonged more on the beaches of the Mediterranean than he did in a library. Eric blackened his sandy hair and shaved his beard to complete his disguise. Both men donned street-smart jeans and jackets, while Jude made sure to wear the requisite Italia shirt. They gathered the remaining trash and clothing into a garbage bag to toss into the garbage chute in the hallway.

Jude mused at his new look in the hallway mirror, as they left the room. “I don’t even think my own mother would recognize me now.”

Eric shot him a lopsided grin. “Too bad we aren’t trying to fool your mother. It would probably be easier. Now, let’s get out of here. We’ve lingered long enough. It’s anyone guess as to how long it will be before they track us down.”

The two escaped into the hall and rode the elevator down to the lobby. The desk clerk began yelling something at them in Italian, but Eric urgently shoved Jude forward past him and into the crowded streets. Jude could hear the man running out of the hotel after them, but they were already well hidden by the throng of tourists.

They slowed down a bit, once they were sure they weren’t being followed. Neither man was sure of the location of the Villa Ada. Jude could only remember it was a large park somewhere in Rome. He stopped at a nearby sidewalk souvenir kiosk to purchase a map of Rome and fumbled to unfold it. He had never been adept at the intricacies of map folding.

He scanned the abstract conglomeration of colored shapes and lines peppered with text in search of his destination. His gaze landed on a large green ovoid nested close to the Tiber River bearing the park’s name. He stabbed his finger onto the paper. “There it is,” he directed. “We need to go north from here, until we hit the
Via Salaria
. The park will be just on the other side.”

The two walked up the avenue, trying to blend in with the aimless tourists in an effort to blend into the bustling mid-day crowd. Ten minutes later, they approached an open-air café with a television set to a local news station. Just as Eric had told him earlier, the coverage kept pulling back to the attack and the search for any persons of interest – the foremost of whom indeed appeared to be him and Eric. Both of them shuffled closer to the small crowd of patrons and on-lookers to collect any new information they could. Jude’s confidence in their disguises grew, as they stood inches away from the bystanders without being noticed, even though their pictures were being broadcast only a few feet away.

Eric gave Jude a quick tap on the shoulder and signaled him to listen. It was then, he heard the first siren. The faint sound quickly grew louder, and a blue and white Alfa Romeo with
Polizia
painted along the side flew by with lights flashing. After it had passed, Jude realized he had been holding his breath. He released it silently and tried to calm his nerves. Suddenly, his disguise seemed paper-thin. Now that he was paying attention, he heard more sirens off in the distance. It sounded as if the entire Roman police force was hot on a lead, and he was pretty sure that lead was them.

“Let’s keep going,” prodded Eric in a quiet voice.

“They tracked us to the hotel, didn’t they?” Jude asked, although he already knew the answer.

Eric nodded, maintaining his
sotto voce
, “We were stationary for too long. I had a feeling it was only a matter of time before they came for us. I bet that damn fool at the desk called them in. Okay…,” he looked around furtively. “We need to change up our route a little. Go right at this intersection.”

Eric took the lead, as he and Jude travelled parallel to the
Via Salaria
. Eric continued to point at things they passed and make small talk, as if they weren’t running just steps ahead of the authorities. They took a few turns at random in an effort to confuse their trail before cutting through a small parking lot to arrive across from the park.

The two looked around, saw no one, and briskly darted across the small two-lane street. They followed the narrow sidewalk that ran along the tall wall surrounding the park for a few blocks, until they reached one of the myriad entrances. Jude pushed on the green wrought-iron gate and peered in at the straw-lined pathway that meandered under a patch of laurels. He took a deep breath and tread over the cobblestone entranceway into the shadow of the small forest.

Cardinal Savelli sat stone-faced at his immense desk, as Father Gallo threw open the double doors of his office and lead a cadre of Italian military personnel down the velvet carpet. “May I help you, Antonio?” Savelli questioned the priest non-chalantly and motioned to the chairs in front of him. “Would you like some tea for your friends? Perhaps some wine? I’ve been keeping apprised of your tribulations in the past few days.”

Gallo sat down and smirked, as his entourage fanned out behind him. “Tribulations, indeed. Good friends betray us and the entire world seems to be falling apart.” He waved a hand in an arc around him, “I’ve even had to resort to a personal bodyguard just to feel safe, although they have helped me immensely in my investigations.”

“Investigations?” Savelli queried with morbid curiosity.

“Have you not heard?” Gallo asked. “My familiarity with Mister Sullivan has helped me become of the foremost authorities into his possible behavior and hiding places.”

“Then we must pray and have faith,” the old Cardinal intoned, “that the Lord God and all of his angels will guide our path and show us the truth.”

Gallo suppressed a quick laugh. “Sure. And who guides Jude’s path, I wonder?”

Savelli shifted nervously. For the first time since the intrusion, he worried about Gallo’s presence in his sanctuary. “Who are we to conjecture?” he countered. “I only hope he doesn’t do anything to make matters worse.”

Gallo leaned over the desk. “It’s too late for that. I’ve been told that he’s been traced to a hotel right here in Rome. The authorities should have him in custody in a matter of hours.”

The taste of bile rose in the Vicar General’s mouth. “Bravo for the men and women working on such an arduous task. Surely there is a good explanation for what transpired. I know you did your best to relay to the authorities exactly what happened.”

“As best a man of my position could,” Gallo answered with a gracious bow of his head. “Here is another story. Once the
Agenzia Informazioni e Sicurezza
Interna
determined Jude and his accomplice were in Rome, they placed a tap on the phones of all possible contacts with whom they might attempt to seek refuge. Imagine our surprise when a call from Mister Sullivan was intercepted on your own private line and traced to a hotel not far from here.”

The Vicar General knew there was no denying his contact with Jude. Someone in the Italian intelligence agency had other nces. Lying would only draw him further into whatever trap the
diavolo
inhabiting Gallo’s mind was trying to set. Only the Internal Security Information Agency could have been able to infer the origin of that call. Gallo didn’t seem to be bluffing, either. Savelli tensed in anticipation before relenting to his accuser’s suspicions.

“Yes, he did contact me,” Savelli confirmed cautiously. “He wanted to meet with me, and I informed him that would be impossible, considering he is a wanted man. That was the extent of our conversation, I’m sorry to say.”

Gallo slammed his palm down on the desk in a melodramatic display of frustration. “You didn’t think it prudent to inform the proper authorities? Mister Sullivan may be one of the most infamous men of our age, and you merely hang up the phone and go back to work?” He laughed as he stood up and hissed, “I think you know where he is or where he is headed,
Your Eminence
. Your interference with the capture of a dangerous criminal is a breach of international law, and I am placing you under arrest.” His personal guard unslung their sub-machine guns from their shoulders and pointed them at the Vicar General in response to Gallo’s accusation.

The Cardinal bowed submissively and emerged from behind his desk to be taken away. As one of the military men pulled his hands behind his back to place them in handcuffs, Gallo leaned in close. “Which will fail first, I wonder?” he whispered conspiratorially. “Will it be your mind or your body?”

“I will never let your kind take control,
Azazel
,” Savelli responded defiantly. “My mind is my own.”

“A challenge worthy of testing…,”the Nephilim said with dark glee, as he followed the party out of the room.

Rays of light from the evening sun filtered down through the tall canopy created by the umbrella pines native to the Mediterranean. The illumination speckled the simple dirt path running through the park, while the singing of starlings in the upper boughs twittered in welcome juxtaposition to the muted notes of the busy cityscape surrounding the reserve.

Jude and Eric’s escape deeper into the cultivated wood was beginning to make him feel just as detached from their current situation as the interior of the Villa Ada was from the rest of Rome. As they walked, the crunch of pine straw beneath his feet reminded Jude of autumns in rural Georgia. He had spent many nights in his teens traversing similar terrain in search of haunted places and dark thrills. His teenage self harbored no inkling that his weekend passions would turn eventually turn into a career that took him to every corner of the globe.

Now he was being hunted by the very things he had sought.

He and Eric were headed for a clearing next to the lone pond near the center of the park’s four hundred fifty acres. It was marked on the park map as a picnic and recreation area for visitors, but Jude hoped that the crowd would be at a minimum at this time of day. They stumbled upon a larger, debris-free dirt path that must have been one of the primary trails through the area and followed it further inward until they reached a fork in the trail. They stopped to get their bearings.

“Okay,” said Eric, as he leaned in to examine another map posted along the pathway. “If we go straight, we’ll reach the pond, so we want to take this way off to the left to get to the clearing.” He looked down at his watch. “It’s getting close to seven, so let’s hurry up. I’m ready to get to ground.”

Jude nodded in agreement, as the two travelled in the desired direction. “Yeah, I’m dying to kick back and drink a beer or something.”

A few minutes later, they emerged from the wooded path onto a large, well-manicured lawn. A few park-goers were still relaxing under the reddening sky, as the men wandered out onto the grass. Jude scanned the area for a good place to be seen by Vicar General’s contacts. He spied a bench already shaded from the setting sun and pointed toward it.

“Let’s sit there,” he suggested. “If we’re approached, surely it would only be by Savelli’s people.”

“Sounds good,” Eric said. “We can see anyone coming long before they can reach us, at least.”

The two men sat down and waited for their rescuers to arrive. They watched the passers-by for a few minutes and tried to scout out whom they may be meeting. After about twenty minutes, a couple in their early sixties approached them from the opposite side of the lawn. The woman wore a smart wool jacket and a bright yellow silk scarf, while the man was in khakis with a blue blazer and a white button-down shirt.

“
Bounasera
,” the man greeted Jude with a slight bow that indicated a man of culture. “I couldn’t help but admire your
Football Italia
jersey. This year’s design truly is spectacular. Do you watch much?”

“
Si
,” Jude responded carefully, “I try to catch it when I can.”

“
Magnifico!
” the man exclaimed with the look of an avid fan. “Tell me, what are your thoughts on Pirlo’s performance last weekend? His goal in extra time was quite fantastic!”

Jude smirked, as he played the role given to him. “I wouldn’t know. When Pirlo plays for Roma, then I will care enough to comment positively on his technical prowess.”

The man laid the back of his hand across his forehead in mock forlorn before extending it out. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both, Mister Sullivan and Mister Strauss. I am Leo, and this is my wife Eva. I’m sorry to cut our greetings short, but time is of the essence.”

Jude and Eric fell in line behind Eva and Leo, as the pair led them up the path to one of the northwest corners of the park. Eva conversed with them as they walked. “Your disguises are impressive. I almost didn’t recognize you from your pictures on television. Facial recognition software won’t be so easy to fool, though.”

Eric nodded in agreement and added, “Especially since the police found our hotel. We were lucky enough to get out of there before they found us, but I’m afraid we wouldn’t be able to evade them for long on our own.”

“Thank you for helping us, by the way,” interjected Jude. “I don’t know what Cardinal Savelli told you about us, but I’m glad he has friends he can trust.”

“He told us what we needed to know,” Eva mused. “My Leo is especially interested in your situation.”

“Interested because we have been falsely accused of a terrorist act, I hope,” Jude commented absently.

“Partially,” Leo responded, as he turned to face at Jude. “It’s mostly because, for the first time in centuries, the Grigori are willing to act.”

Eric started at the surprise acknowledgement. Jude stared agape at the older man. “Wh-what are you talking about?”

“It’s okay, Jude,” Leo shot him a quick smile and spun back around to continue their trek to safety. “You don’t have to pretend to hide it from me. After all, I used to be one of them.”