The Spear of Destiny (10 page)

  “The Swiss guardsmen.”

  “Oh I see.”

De Luca gave orders for the two policemen to wait for him then turned to Hutchinson.

  “The Swiss guard have been the body guards of the Pontiff since the 16
century. These are of course traditional uniforms. You will see men in suits. They are also members of the Swiss guard.”

  “Their uniforms are magnificent. Where do I sign up,” Hutchinson said, joking.

  “I’m afraid to join the Swiss guard you must be a single male of Swiss citizenship, have completed basic training with the Swiss military, have a professional degree and be between 19 and 30 years old. Oh, and of course you must also be a Catholic.”

  Hutchinson let his disappointment show.

  “I do have a professional degree and I am a Catholic,” he said.

Dennis tapped him on the shoulder.

  “You’re just 40 years too old my friend,” he said to the others laughter.

The two guards men saluted as they walked past.

  Inside the main building it resembled more of a police station. Officers in suits were on telephones or computers. One, turned and smiled at Natalie in friendly fashion while he used a photocopier. De Luca took them up a flight of steps and through a door and stopped outside another office.

  “This is the commandant of the Swiss guard, Colonel Martin Sonnenburg. You may call him Colonel or commandant. Do not call him by his name.”

  De Luca knocked on the door and entered the room. The commandant was a tall man in a police uniform with three gold stars on his shoulders. He turned from a bulletin wall he was looking at and fixed a large smile and sprang forward to shake hands with everyone.

  “Colonel may I present Miss Natalie Feltham, Mr Peter Dennis and Mr Jim Hutchinson.”

  “Welcome. Welcome.” he said, “I was the chief of police in my native home city and I am a Captain in the Swiss army. I am the current commandant of the Pontifical Swiss guard appointed personally by his holiness Pope Benedict XVI. Can I get you all coffee?”

  Sonnenburg picked up his telephone receiver and spoke quickly into it in Italian. Dennis caught the word ’Caffe’ and nothing else. There weren’t enough chairs in the office and as Hutchinson was about to ask if they could sit Sonnenburg picked up a blackboard pointer and turned to the board he was previously scrutinising.

  “This is all the information we have at this time,” he began.

At the top of the board was a photograph of Von Werner, before his injuries. Next to it was a copy of the photograph Bauer had shown Dennis of von Werner’s scarred face in the range rover. Next to the photographs was written in black permanent marker his name, date of birth, country of residence, home address. Current whereabouts stated ‘unknown’

  “If you know his home address why hasn’t he been arrested?” Hutchinson asked.

  “He lives in a castle in Germany. Because he has not committed any crimes in his native country the German polizei will not arrest him without a warrant. This is being dealt with by the European court of justice in Luxembourg. Unfortunately its rulings can take months and we have to follow the procedures,” Bauer answered.

  “This is why I want these individuals here in Italy,” De Luca added, “once here under Italian law I can arrest them.”

  Dennis was studying the information on Von Werner.

  “Von Werner is tall,” Dennis said to Sonnenburg.

  “Tall?”

  “Yes. I’ve been up close to him, very close. He is about 6ft 3in or 6ft 4in.”

Sonnenburg grabbed a permanent marker and wrote the word height.

  “What would that be in metres?” he asked.

  “Just under two,” Dennis said helpfully.

  “Is there anything else about him you can think of?”

They all looked blankly at the photographs of the German count.

  “If at any time any of you remember anything of relevance do not hesitate to say. Now we don’t know much on his associates. He employs a small private army. Mercenaries. Mainly of eastern European origin.”

  There was a photograph of Sergei Danilov, underneath was written ‘deceased’

  “He was on the American F.B.I’s most wanted list. We believe that he is dead.”

  “He is,” Dennis added.

Sonnenburg turned to look at the journalist.

  “You know of him?”

  “I killed him.”

Sonnenburg stared at Dennis long and hard.

  “Call it self defence.”

Sonnenburg turned back to look at Bauer.

  “Mr Dennis has told me that he knows his way around firearms. Some training with the British army I believe….”

  Dennis nodded.

  “I have assured Mr Dennis that any measures he takes in assisting us will not lead to any prosecution. I have that from the director of Interpol personally.”

  Sonnenburg nodded.

  “Good to have you with us Mr Dennis.”

Dennis wasn’t sure if there was a hint of sarcasm.

  “These other men,” Sonnenburg continued, tapping photographs, are all behind bars. Some of them in North Africa. Some are awaiting extradition to the United states of America.”

  “Really?” Hutchinson said, “Why is my country getting involved?”

  “Four of the men on this board are wanted in connection with atrocities against American forces in Iraq,” Bauer interjected, “This is why Von Werner employs them. They are military trained. He can provide them with money and a new identity. A chance they wouldn’t get elsewhere.”

  “Then why aren’t the Americans leading this hunt?”

  “Believe me Mr Hutchinson they want to. Luckily for us the European court of human rights does not force us to disclose personal data on these individuals. Therefore as much as the Americans ask the data protection act means that we don’t have to tell.”

  Hutchinson was irked by this.

  “You should let the Americans deal with it. Why they’d have had the whole case sewn up by now.”

  “There is no need to be offended Mr Hutchinson. We are quite capable of dealing with this situation here. As it’s been said twice already, once these men pass over our borders they will be subject to Italian law.”

  “Why are the Swiss guard and the Vatican involved?” Natalie asked, “I mean why not just Interpol. I thought you only guarded the Pope.”

  “My dear Miss….”

  “Feltham.”

  “We have been alerted to the potential threat towards one of the holy churches of Rome Miss Feltham. In fact one of the very holiest churches of Rome. One built on Christ’s very blood. An attack on a Roman catholic church is the same as an attack on the holy father himself.”

  Dennis was studying the photographs of the Roman re-enactors. On its own on the board was a silhouette of a man’s head.

  “What’s this supposed to be?

  “That is Von Werner’s new number one. We have absolutely no idea who he is but he does exist.”

  “Danilov’s replacement no doubt,” Dennis said, “Have you considered that he is probably the Centurion who took the spear.”

  Sonnenburg looked at the grainy, still images of the Centurion taken from the CCTV at the British museum.

  “He personally passed the spear to Von werner in the range rover didn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have the footage of the Roman’s arrival?” Natalie asked.

Sonnenburg pressed play on his dvd player. They all watched the large tv screen. The playback was paused and he picked up the remote control.

  “This clip is from a news reel,” he said pushing play.

Dennis recognised the reporter’s face.

  “Oh Kim Nguyen,” he said as the reporter began speaking.

Natalie punched him on the arm. He smiled at her but all she did was raise her eyebrows at him. He nodded towards the tv as the camera panned around for the approaching legionaries.

  “Can you stop it and run it back,” Natalie said.

Sonnenburg pressed chapter search and took it back by one. The clip started again. The camera panned aound.

  “Just as I thought,” Natalie said, “Roman legionaries marched by leading off with their left foot. Any re-enactor would have known that. These men are marching on their right feet,” Natalie looked at Sonnenburg and then at Bauer,     “These men,” she pointed at the screen, “Are military trained.”

  “Great,” Hutchinson said, “A private army on the streets of London. What are we up against?”

  “Well there is nothing any of us can do until we know that they’re in Italy,” Dennis added.

  “This is true.”

Sonnenburg answered the knock at the door. The coffee arrived. Behind the bearer was another man carrying a leather attache case bearing the papal seal symbol in gold.

  “Help yourselves to coffee,” the Swiss guard commander gestured towards the steaming pot. The other man opened the attache case and then left the room. Sonnenburg took out I-phones, one at a time, and placed them on his desk equidistant apart. There were five in total. Once empty he closed the case and placed it upright on the floor by the side of his desk. He then picked up an I-phone from left to right and began handing them out.

  “What’s this?” Hutchinson studied the phone he’d been given. Dennis turned his over. On the reverse of the case was also the papal seal in gold.

  “Official Vatican phones?” Dennis asked. 

  “These I-phones,” Sonnenburg began, “Are the property of the Swiss guard. I want you to each keep these with you at all times,” he handed the last one to Bauer, “Even take them into the bathroom with you. Do not let them out of your sight. There is only one number entered into these devices and that number is me. I want you to telephone me the moment anything out of the ordinary occurs. No matter how trivial it may seem at the time. Are you all familiar on how to use them? Good. You cannot access anything else on these phones so please continue to use your own if you need to contact each other.”

  Sonnenburg pressed call on his own mobile phone and the one Natalie was holding began ringing.

  “This is the pre-set ringtone….”

He let it ring until he was sure everyone would recognise it.

  “Are there any questions? No. Good. If there is a problem and you feel that you are threatened or in danger the emergency number for the police is 112. If you want the Carabinieri, they speak more English than the regular Polizia then it is 113. But this is only for an extreme emergency. I want you to only liase with me at all times. Are there any questions?”

  Sonnenburg looked from face to face. Nobody moved.

  “Very well. Now assuming that none of you are too tired I have arranged for inspector De Luca’s men to take you to the church of the holy cross in Jerusalem, The Santa Croce en Gerusalemme, where a tour guide awaits you. He is one of the best guides in Roma so please make good use of his services. He is not cheap. After you have finished De Luca’s men will take you to your hotel. You are staying near the Termini train station. It is not the best part of Rome but convenient for you to acquaint yourselves with the city. Once again lady and gentlemen thank you for your help. Enjoy our city.”

The mini-bus was still waiting for them when they got outside. It was the same two police officers. They were both smoking and threw their cigarette butts down and stood on them. De Luca shouted at them in Italian and one of them looking sheepish bent down to pick them up.

  “This is the Vatican,” De Luca said to Natalie after he saw her obvious look of disgust. She hated smoking and smokers but reminded herself that most men in the Meditteranean smoked cigarettes.

  “Where exactly is this church we are going to?” Jim Hutchinson asked climbing into the mini-bus. De Luca got in last climbing into the third seat in the front. He unfolded a map and taking out his pen he drew a large circle on it and passed it back to Bauer. Bauer passed the map on to Hutchinson.

  “Oh I see. Piazza Santa Croce in Gerusalemme,” he said, “Where is Vatican city?”

  Dennis leaned over and pointed on the map for him.

  “Citta Del Vaticano,” Hutchinson said, “So we are here,” he placed his forefinger on St Peter’s square, “And the church is the other side of Rome. How far is that?”

  Dennis looked at the map again.

  “It’s at least three miles.”

Hutchinson traced his finger in a direct line from St Peter’s to the holy cross church.

  “Ancient Rome is between the two points,” he said, “Look the Colosseum is there. What does that mean ’Palatino’? he asked.

  “Palatine hill,” Dennis said helpfully, “I must say Jim for someone who is an archaeologist you don’t know much about ancient Rome.”

  “My expertise is in Egyptology,” Hutchinson replied, not offended. “Inspector,” he said to De Luca, “Until we are called to help what is there for us to do?”

  “Commander Sonnenburg wants you to see the church with the holy relics. You will be needed if and when any of our suspects enter Italy. Until then you are free to do as you wish.”

The Carabinieri mini-bus pulled up as close as it could to the entrance of the church of the holy cross of Jerusalem in Rome. There were a few tourists milling about on the entrance steps and many turned in alarm at the sudden arrival of the police bus. One man, at the top of the steps holding an umbrella, was watching keenly. He descended the steps quickly as the occupants of the bus climbed out.

  Natalie looked around appreciatively at the neat footpaths and shrubs that fronted the church. 

  “It’s very pretty,” she said to Dennis who nodded his approval.

  “Good afternoon. Good afternoon,” the man with the umbrella shook hands vigorously with everyone. He removed his Fedora to reveal a brown, bald head. Dennis also noticed the man had eyes that appeared to bulge out of his face.

  “I am Luigi Alberto. Pronounced Al-bare-toe,” he said helpfully, “I am to be your guide for this afternoon,” he turned and gestured to the baroque styled front of the church, “Welcome to the church of the holy cross.”

  “Grazi,” De Luca said introducing the others to the guide.

“Pleasure. Pleasure. Pleasure,” Alberto said with a huge beaming smile.

“He’s a colourful character,” Natalie said.

“Quite the natty dresser,” Dennis replied taking in the three piece suit, khaki rain coat and despite the warm afternoon sun the silk scarf Alberto was wearing around his neck.