The Gods' Gambit (24 page)

“They’ll start coming out soon,” he announced and moved into
the middle of the rear seat.

“Would you recognize our man’s car?” Irina asked him.

“It was a light colour; maybe white … I don’t remember
exactly.”

“Keep an eye on the exit,” said James. “It’d be good if you
alerted us immediately after he shows up.”

Lino fixed his eyes on the black door.

“You didn’t give me his name,” said Irina. “I could run it
through the system while we’re waiting.” She was behind the wheel with her
laptop on her lap.

“I didn’t put him on the list because I only know his first
name – Vittorio,” Lino explained. “Did you manage to find something about the
others?”

“Nothing in a personal sense. The financing of the Church of
Angels smells fishy, though.” Irina shut her laptop, put it on the floor behind
her seat and settled herself into her optimal driving position. “The Italian
branch, for example, bought this place after receiving a financial injection
from a Russian bank. The transfer looks okay at first glance. Yet the bank
itself has a bad reputation. It’s been under fraud and money laundering
investigations several times.”

Everything these people do is veiled in a fog of delusion,
thought James. The results of their actions are visible, as are the ordinary
perpetrators, the pawns in the game. The strong figures, the real players, and
their motives remain hidden. They show only what they want to be seen. Out loud
he said, “The cult definitely has great influence in different social spheres.
That’s why it’s difficult to find evidence against them—”

“I would add that they have had centuries to master the art
of deception and manipulation,” interrupted Lino.

“It’s possible that their strength could become their weak
point,” suggested James.

“What do you mean by that?” asked Irina.

“Lino, you claim that nowadays they are more active than
they’ve ever been.”

“That’s true,” Lino confirmed.

“Meaning – they’ve grown too big. They’re fighting on many
fronts, so to speak. That will inevitably make them easier to reveal, no matter
how craftily they cover their tracks,” explained James.

“Indeed. Activity on such a large scale would attract
attention,” Irina agreed. “They have to move large amounts of money in order to
finance their operations. Somewhere within the chain there’ll be a traceable
link. Moreover, they’ve started to rely on criminals to do their dirty work for
them, as with your fiancée. That provides another opportunity to track
them down.”

“It’s their tactical scheme which stands between us and
them. It appears that the ordinary perpetrators and the criminal mercenaries
don’t have access to the cult’s core where the decision-makers are. They
probably get their orders through mediators faithful to the cult,” said James.

Lino expressed his apprehension. “That’s my understanding,
too. Those mediators are brainwashed cult members. They’re ready to burn like
fuses if somebody uncovers them.”

“Whatever the case, all this is done by people. They’ve
already made mistakes. Traces have been left. We must find the evidence and put
it together,” said James firmly.

Lino grimaced. His features twisted into a mixture of doubt
and sadness.

“What is it?” James urged.

“I fear the stage they have reached – the ritual killings.
In my opinion, this is the climax of their master plan—” He didn’t finish his
sentence because the black door of the hall opened and people started pouring
out. “There he is … the man with the blue jacket,” he said.

The man he indicated was of short stature. He had dark hair
and a thickly built body. He was walking on the opposite side of the road in
their direction. He passed by quickly. He was frowning and looking straight
ahead, walking with his massive chin sticking out. This gave him a challenging
look as if he were saying “I’m coming; get out of my way.”

His car was parked just a few cars from the Volvo. It was a
light grey Fiat Brava. The man unlocked it with his remote, crossed the street
and jumped in. He drove away abruptly.

Another car in front of them was indicating to leave the
parking bay. Irina waited for it to drive off and then she followed the Fiat.

The man was driving fast. Irina kept a distance of one or
two cars between them. She lost sight of the Fiat from time to time, but each
time she managed to catch up with it again.

They left Florence and took the road to the north-west.
Twenty minutes later they turned west, drove over a hill and then through a
succession of small towns. There were few cars on the road, so Irina had to
increase the distance between them and the Fiat.

In the next small town, the Fiat turned off between the
houses. Lino started to grumble impatiently. Irina slowed down and also turned
off. The street they entered was straight and not very long. There were several
cars parked on both sides. The Fiat had disappeared.

Irina continued ahead slowly. The three of them looked left
and right into the small side streets. They eventually spotted the Fiat at the
end of the street where the lines of residential houses ended and a field began.
It had been invisible to them until now because it was parked in a small
private parking area belonging to the nearby Catholic Church.

The man was not in the car and was nowhere else in sight.
That was strange, because from that parking area he could only go into the
street, the church’s courtyard, or the open field.

Irina pulled over and switched off the engine.

Lino looked around feverishly before saying in astonishment,
“Where did Vittorio disappear to?”

“I’ll go and check around the area,” said Irina.

“I’ll come with you,” said James. “You stay in the car,
Lino. He shouldn’t see you if he appears.”

Irina went to the parked Fiat and took a close look at it.
As James approached she shook her head. She pointed to the church and they made
their way towards it.

“I’ll go round the left side to the rear. You check the
other side,” said Irina.

The surrounding area was quiet and deserted. The church
courtyard was bounded by a stone wall along which were gravestones, some of
them centuries old. There was a path around the church illuminated by lamps
fixed on some of the church’s arched windows. It looked like Vittorio had
disappeared without a trace.

Irina followed the narrow path on the left.

James moved to the right side of the building, passing by
the entrance gate. He noticed a cornice on the wall about a metre from the
ground that stuck out about ten centimetres. He realized that if he stepped
onto it he would be able to see through the window. The upper arched part was
stained glass, but the glass beneath was clear. A dim light was coming through
the window.

He stepped onto the cornice and grabbed the window ledge,
pulling himself up and then leaning forward to rest on his elbows. Now he could
just see inside, although the light in the church was weak. Vittorio was there,
kneeling before a crucifix. James looked round, as much as his position
allowed, to see if Irina had reappeared. She hadn’t. He looked back at the man
at the altar.

What’s he doing here? Why did he come to this country
church? And how did he manage to enter it so easily? James asked himself.

Vittorio suddenly stood up and turned. He was motionless for
a few seconds before quickly setting off towards the exit. The first thought
James had was that the man had spotted him somehow. At that moment he heard
Vittorio saying something he didn’t understand. James jumped to the ground. To
his surprise, he heard Lino’s angry voice: “What I’m doing here is not your
business. What are you doing here? Violator!”

Vittorio responded in a voice that harboured as much anger.
“You followed me… Scoundrel!”

James ran to the corner just in time to see Vittorio
flinging Lino out of the church. He ran but couldn’t get to them in time to
stop the assault. Vittorio threw a sharp uppercut which landed on Lino’s solar
plexus. Lino tottered and sprawled to the ground on his side. His mouth was
opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“Hey! What are you doing?” James shouted and jumped between
the two men.

Vittorio’s face was red and angry. “Hah, another one!” he
said and aimed a blow at James.

James stepped swiftly aside and Vittorio missed his head by
just a few centimetres. Without losing his balance, Vittorio moved a step
forwards and lashed out again.

James recognized the boxing experience of the man. If
Vittorio’s heavy fist reached his face, he would surely find himself lying next
to his friend. He squatted to escape the attack and at the same time threw a
short but mighty punch at his opponent’s abdomen. Vittorio exhaled loudly. He
coughed, trying to regain his breath, but his throat was closing spasmodically.
But it only restrained him for a moment. He took a breath and attacked again.
This time, James delivered two quick strikes – one beneath his ribs, the second
to his jaw. Dizzy, Vittorio staggered into the church gate. While all this was
happening, James spotted Irina behind the opposite corner of the building.

“Stop it!” she shouted in Italian.

She took out her Interpol ID and showed it to Vittorio.
“Police,” she said as she moved towards him.

James helped Lino to his feet.

“Are you okay?” Irina asked the miserable-looking Lino.

He held his stomach with both his hands and was breathing
fast. “I’m fine. This man hit me!” he exclaimed.

Vittorio took a deep breath and stood firmly. “This cheap
trick will not pass,” he said to Irina. “I’ll call the real police right now.”
He then pushed through the church door and slammed it behind him.

“Don’t bother. I’m already calling them,” Lino shouted and
reached into his pocket for his mobile.

James grabbed his arm. “Hold on. We’re missing something
here,” he said.

Irina had also lifted her arm to halt Lino. “I’m an Interpol
officer. I’m investigating the Church of Angels. That’s why we followed you,”
she said loudly so Vittorio would hear her.

There was silence. Eventually Vittorio said, “How can I
believe you? The tall guy is a Church of Angels’ man.”

“You attended the Church’s gatherings as well. Does this
mean you’re one of its people?” asked Irina.

The door latch creaked and Vittorio peered round the door.
“Let me see your ID again,” he said. She handed it to him and he scrutinized it
under the light of the entrance lamp. “It looks authentic,” he said and
returned it. “What do you want from me?”

“You tell us first what you’re doing in this temple?” Lino
broke in.

Before Vittorio could answer, Irina said, “You belong to the
Catholic Church. A priest, probably.”

“A deacon. From the local eparchy,” said Vittorio humbly.

Lino was astonished. Yet his doubts had not been dispersed.
“Why did you come here so late?” he asked suspiciously.

Vittorio looked askance at him. “I always come here for
purifying prayer after visiting that place,” he answered. “Who are you two?
Also Interpol?”

Irina jumped in again. She introduced James and Lino and
added that they were assisting her in the investigation.

Vittorio was surprised. “Who would have believed it?” He
looked at Lino. “I’m sorry I hit you. I thought you were one of those lost
souls.”

“I thought you were…” Lino ceased speaking because he
realized he shouldn’t mention the cult. “…a prominent occultist,” he muttered.

That exhilarated Vittorio. “Every one of us hides some
surprise,” he said. “You, for example.” He looked at James. “You have the best
left cross that has ever landed on my jaw. I can hardly believe that you’re a
man of the pen.”

“From now on I’ll think twice before engaging with a
deacon,” responded James.

Vittorio blushed, this time in embarrassment. “My behaviour
was unacceptable,” he said.

“I assume you wouldn’t wish to discuss in detail your
mission amongst the Church of Angels’ members?” James suggested tactfully. He
didn’t want Vittorio to feel under pressure. It was clear that his attendance
in those gatherings fell under the Catholic Church’s fight against sects. It
was also clear that Vittorio would not make a confession about it.

“Let’s say that now is not the time to deal with that
subject,” said Vittorio. “Perhaps there is something else I could do for you.”

“The Deprived of Light is a Gift for the Wisdom Keeper,”
said James clearly. His eyes were fixed on the deacon’s expression.

Vittorio’s look was one of incomprehension. “What’s that?”
he asked.

“If it doesn’t ring a bell then it’s of no importance,” said
James.

“Interpol’s current investigation is in connection with a
religious murder in the UK. It was highlighted in the international media as
well. You might have seen it on TV,” said Irina.

“No. I barely watch television,” said Vittorio. “It wouldn’t
surprise me if somebody from this sect was implicated in murder. There are
quite a few unstable people there.”

“There’s no direct evidence linking members of the Church of
Angels to that murder,” explained Irina. “Do you know something regarding
connections of the Church with other sects? With some secret societies like the
Masons, for example?”

Vittorio thought for a moment before answering. “I haven’t
come across such information. I’m a deacon-preacher. My concerns are for
sectarian ideologies. And the methods they use to spread their delusions.”

Irina took a business card out of her bag and passed it to
Vittorio. “If you later remember something we could be interested in,” she
explained.

“Do you have something to write on?” James asked her.

She took out a small notebook and a pen and gave them to
him. James drew the two horned serpents and the Sumerian cuneiform “dingir”
arranged in the same position they had been drawn by Costov’s killers.