The Atlantis Code (46 page)

Murani nodded and set off down the hall. “By that time we’ll have gone and it’ll be too late.”

“Yes, sir.” Corghi fell in behind him. “I’m going to get you out of Vatican City, Your Eminence. There’s a way through the catacombs.”

Murani didn’t tell the man that he already knew that. He’d been the one who established the escape route with Lieutenant Sbordoni. Vatican City, the Church, the Swiss Guard, and the Society of Quirinus had all existed long enough to establish factions within those organizations.

Shortly after being invited into the ranks of the Society, Murani had found a few others who believed as he did regarding the Church’s place in the world. However, few of those were willing to act as boldly as he was. He’d found more like-minded men among the warriors of the Swiss Guard. Over the years, a few of the Swiss Guard had been restrained or even removed from office for their zealous efforts to enforce the Church’s power. None among them had the knowledge that Murani did, and only a few times before had a cardinal acted with the Guardsmen.

It was difficult splitting that group. Many remained loyal to the pope. Some of those who had still sworn allegiance to the office of the pope had come under Murani’s sway after Innocent XIV was elected. They saw the same weaknesses in the man that Murani had seen.

And they recognized the strength in you
, Murani reminded himself. After he stepped forward and made his trepidation known to the cardinals, the Swiss Guard had learned of Murani’s doubts as well. Guardsmen quietly came forward to offer their support.

“Will Lieutenant Sbordoni be joining us?” Murani asked.

“Not inside the city, Your Eminence.” Corghi took the lead briefly and stepped into the small public study where the residents sometimes met to confer. “He’ll be joining us in Cádiz.”

Murani nodded. “He’ll take command of the men we have on-site there?”

“Yes, sir.” Corghi pressed the hidden release along the back wall. A section of a bookcase turned sideways and allowed entrance into the hidden space beyond.

Murani took a flashlight from his robes and switched it on. Some of the catacombs had power lines through them, but the section they were going to use was decrepit and hardly traveled. He followed the beam into the darkness.

Anticipation filled him to overflowing with every step he took toward his destiny.

OUTSIDE LAGOS, NIGERIA
SEPTEMBER 11, 2009

By the time Natasha held up a hand and signaled for a stop, Lourds’s back and shoulders were knotted with tension and his eyes burned from fatigue. Sitting hunched over a steering wheel, especially along a rutted and bumpy road while traveling at excessive speeds, was nothing like sitting hunched over a computer or manuscript in need of translation. Dirt and bug entrails only blunted some of the sunset as they’d driven into it.

The motorcycle’s brake light flared ruby in the gathering dusk that pooled in the forest. Natasha swung her leg off the motorcycle as Lourds pulled in behind her.

“What’s wrong?” Leslie woke in the passenger seat. She’d gone to sleep only a couple hours ago, and Lourds hadn’t had the heart to wake her.

“Natasha wanted to pull over,” Lourds said.

“It’s about bloody time,” Gary commented. “My bloody back teeth are floating. I thought I was going to burst a kidney on those bumps.” He opened the side door, got out, and trotted for the tree line.

Diop and Adebayo got out as well. The old man carried the tribal drum with him.

As Lourds watched the oba, he grew anxious that he might not see the man again.

“He’ll be back,” Leslie said.

Lourds looked at her.

“That’s what you were worried about, right?” Leslie asked.

Lourds nodded and smiled. “I guess my interest is pretty transparent.”

“Solution of a mystery. Dead languages. And the possibility of the world ending.” Leslie shrugged and smiled back. “I’m pretty interested, too.” She glanced toward Natasha, who was approaching them. “Probably more interested than others I could mention.” She walked away before Natasha could join them.

Instead of stopping, though, Natasha walked to the rear of their four-by-four and unstrapped one of the jerry cans of gasoline. A dark splotch of blood showed on her right shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Lourds asked.

“The motorcycle is out of gas.”

“You could ride with us.”

Natasha shook her head. “Two vehicles give us a better chance to react if Gallardo had another vehicle around that I didn’t see.”

“He hasn’t followed us thus far.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s not out there.”

Lourds had to silently admit that was true. Gallardo had managed to keep finding them at every point in the journey so far. His uneasiness grew by the heartbeat.

Natasha turned to grip the jerry can.

“Let me get that,” Lourds offered.

“I can do it,” Natasha insisted stubbornly.

“I’ve no doubt of that.” Lourds stepped up to take control of the jerry can as it came free. For a moment he thought Natasha was going to hit him. Then she turned on her heel and walked back to the motorcycle.

She took a water bottle from one of the motorcycle’s saddlebags and drank deeply.

Knowing the woman wasn’t going to talk until she was ready to, Lourds put the jerry can down and opened the motorcycle’s gas tank. A quick rap on the side told him it was running on fumes. He hefted the can and topped the tank off without spilling any of the fuel.

“I had him in my sights,” Natasha whispered.

Lourds placed the cap back on the tank. “Who?”

“Gallardo. I had him in my sights and I missed.” Natasha tucked a length of lank hair behind her ear.

Lourds didn’t point out that she might well have another opportunity. That would hardly be comforting. Although there hadn’t been any signs of pursuit, he wasn’t willing to rule out the possibility. Like a bad penny, Gallardo had a way of continuing to turn up.

“He killed Yuliya,” Natasha said.

“You don’t know that,” Lourds said softly. “Not for sure. There were many men involved in that attack.”

“I know it here.” Natasha put a fist to her heart. “In the part of me that is Russian, I know it.”

“Let me have a look at your wound.”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

“In this heat, with all the dust and grime we’re facing, not to mention the local flora and fauna, it’s dangerous to let it go untended. Infection could set in.”

She shrugged. “Do whatever you wish. But make it fast. We need to keep moving.”

Lourds called out to Gary, who had returned to the vehicle, to bring the first-aid kit over. Lourds took out a penflash and a bottle of antiseptic.

“Need any help?” Gary asked.

Before Lourds could answer, Natasha said, “No.”

“Okay. Cool. I’m just going to be over to the lorry if you need anything.” Gary left the first-aid kit and retraced his steps to the vehicle.

“Feeling antisocial?” Lourds asked.

“If I hadn’t been concerned about all of you,” Natasha told him, “I would have stayed behind and killed Gallardo then.”

Lourds said nothing. Her way of dealing with her sister’s death was very different from his. He wanted to carry her work on. Natasha wanted to end her sister’s killer. He couldn’t imagine cold-bloodedly killing someone. On some of his international hunts for artifacts and manuscripts, he’d sometimes crossed paths with professional soldiers. To a degree, he’d understood their mentality, but he never once believed he could have been one of them. But Natasha had made him realize there was a place for such people in this dangerous world.

“Well, I’m glad you were concerned about us.” Lourds pulled at her blouse sleeve and realized he’d never be able to roll it up high enough to clear the wound. “Can you take off your shirt? I can’t—”

Natasha slipped a lock-back knife from her pocket, flicked the blade open with her thumb, and sliced through the material.

“Thanks.” Lourds ripped the material farther to give himself access to the wound. He played the light over her shoulder and quashed the queasiness that blossomed in the pit of his stomach.

“It’s nothing to worry about. The bullet only grazed me,” Natasha said.

Not trusting his voice, Lourds nodded. The ragged tear across the top of her shoulder looked nasty and painful, but it didn’t look life-threatening.

However, he could not help thinking how much different things would have been had the bullet been six or seven inches to the left. It would have smashed through Natasha’s throat. If the wound hadn’t killed her outright, she would have drowned in her own blood.

And she was acting as if it were nothing.

She was amazing.

“This may sting,” Lourds warned.

“If I can’t bear it, I’ll let you know.”

That was what Lourds was afraid of.

Lourds poured antiseptic over the wound and flushed the blood away. He cleaned up the area as best he could without pulling at the edges, because he didn’t want to risk starting it bleeding again.

Natasha never said a word.

Once he was satisfied that the wound was as clean as he was going to get it, he applied an antibacterial ointment and a bandage. He taped everything in place.

“Where do we go from here?” Natasha asked as he taped the ragged edges of her bloodstained shirt together.

“I don’t know. We’ve got to make contact with the other two Keepers.”

“Are they like the old man?”

“His name is Adebayo,” Lourds replied. “And I don’t know. I think all people tend to be products of their culture rather than of the assignment they’ve been handed down.”

“Do you know where they are?”

“Not yet.”

“Staying here in Nigeria wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Lourds nodded. “I agree. But, we’re flying to London.”

Natasha frowned and shook her head. “She’ll have all the power there.”

Lourds knew there was no question who Natasha referred to. “It’ll be safer there. For all of us. Leslie’s been able to arrange a temporary visa for Adebayo through the British Consulate.”

Natasha looked at him. “She’s been on the phone?”

“Yes. She also arranged flights for us that will—” Lourds discovered he was talking to Natasha’s back.

Natasha bent down and hefted the jerry can without a word. Then she walked over to the edge of the forest where Leslie stood with her sat-phone pressed to her ear.

Lourds hurried to catch up. The situation suddenly didn’t look good.

“Give me the phone,” Natasha demanded.

Leslie glared at her, then looked at Lourds for help. When it wasn’t forthcoming—and Lourds knew for sure he didn’t want to step into the buzz saw that existed between the two women—Leslie returned her glare to Natasha.

Behind Leslie, Gary, Diop, and Adebayo all stepped back out of harm’s way as if of a single mind.

“The phone,” Natasha demanded again.

“Excuse me,” Leslie said, “but I happen to be on the phone this moment trying to negotiate—”

Natasha reached for the phone. Leslie blocked the effort only because the Russian woman reached with her wounded arm and was slower than normal.

“You cheeky cow!” Leslie exploded. “How dare you try something like that!”

Lourds inserted himself between the two women, and immediately decided that it was one of the more foolish gestures he’d ever made in his life. Before he could do anything, Natasha chopped him in the throat with the edge of her hand and kicked his feet out from under him. He fell gracelessly and landed on his back hard enough to knock the wind out of his lungs.

Natasha drew her pistol and pointed it between Leslie’s eyes.

“The phone,” Natasha said. “Now.”

Unbelievably, Leslie threw herself at Natasha. She swung the phone like a club toward Natasha’s face. The Russian woman blocked the blow with her pistol and knocked the phone from Leslie’s grip. Before it hit the ground, Natasha caught the phone easily.

Leslie came at her again, but Natasha spun aside and tripped her. Leslie sprawled on the ground beside Lourds, who still hadn’t regained his breath.

Natasha hunkered down and took Lourds’s sat-phone, too. Then she demanded Gary’s and Diop’s. Both men, faces tense and astonished, handed their phones over.

“Gallardo and his people have been tracking us,” Natasha said as she threw the phones onto the ground. “This is how they find us. They know where we are through the global positioning satellite signatures of these phones.” She scowled at Leslie. “Most probably yours, with the way you’ve been on it all the time.”

Leslie said something totally unladylike and uncomplimentary.

Natasha ignored her and reached for the jerry can. “Personally, I’d love another chance at Gallardo and his people. But I don’t think you’d live through another assault.” She sloshed gasoline over the phones.

“What are you doing?” Leslie screeched in disbelief.