The Venetian Betrayal (30 page)

Viktor instantly reacted to the visitor, pointing his weapon. She reached over and restrained him, her eyes saying, Let's see what he wants.

"I know of you."

"And I of you. Risen from Soviet bureaucrat to a forger of nations. Quite an achievement."

She wasn't in the mood for compliments. "What are you doing here?"

The older man shuffled close to the wooden box. "Did you really think Alexander the Great was in there?"

This man knew her business.

"And you, adventurer, for my immortal voice, though far off, fills your ears, hear my words. Sail onto the capital founded by Alexander's father, where sages stand guard. Touch the innermost being of the golden illusion. Divide the phoenix. Life provides the measure of the grave. Be wary, for there is but one chance of success."

She fought to conceal her shock at Thorvaldsen's recitation.

This man truly did know her business.

"Do you think you're the only one who knows?" he asked. "How pompous are you?"

She grabbed Viktor's gun and leveled the barrel at Thorvaldsen. "Enough to shoot you."

MALONE WAS CONCERNED. HE AND CASSIOPEIA WERE FIFTY FEET up and three quarters of a football field away from where Thorvaldsen was challenging Irina Zovastina while Viktor watched. Michener had brought them into the basilica via the west atrium and led them to a steep stairway. At its top, the walls, arches, and domes reflected the architecture below, but instead of a stunning marble facade and glinting mosaics, the basilica's upper-story museum and gift shop were encased only by brick walls.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Malone muttered. "He just called you outside."

They were huddled behind a stone balustrade, beyond which was a panoramic view of the towering vaulted domes, each resting on massive marble pillars. Golden ceiling mosaics shimmered from incandescent lamps--the marble floor and unlit side chapels cast in varying shades of black and gray. The presbytery, at the far end, where Thorvaldsen stood, loomed like a bright stage in a dark theater.

"You're not going to answer me?"

Cassiopeia stayed silent.

"You two are about to piss me off."

"I told you to go home."

"Henrik may have bit off more than he can chew."

"She's not going to shoot him. At least not until she knows why he's here."

"And why is he here?"

More silence.

They needed to shift position. "How about we move over there." He pointed left to the north transept and another gallery that overlooked the presbytery. "This museum winds around that way. We'll be closer and can hear."

She motioned right. "I'll go that way. There's surely an opening to the upper south transept from here. That way we'll be on either side."

VIKTOR'S HEART RACED. FIRST THE WOMAN, NOW THE SUPPOSED museum owner. Surely the second man was also alive. And probably nearby. Yet he noticed Thorvaldsen paid him no mind.

Not a hint of recognition.

ZOVASTINA STARED DOWN THE GUN'S SIGHTS AT THORVALDSEN.

"I realize you're a pagan," the Dane calmly said. "But would you shoot me, here, on the altar of a Christian church?"

"How do you know Ptolemy's riddle?"

"Ely told me."

She lowered the weapon and appraised her intruder. "How did you know him?"

"He and my son were close. Ever since they were children."

"Why are you here?"

"Why is it important to find the tomb of Alexander the Great?"

"Is there any reason I would discuss that with you?"

"Let's see if I can provide you with some. At present you possess nearly thirty zoonoses that you've harvested from a variety of exotic animals, many of which you stole from zoos and other private collections. You have at least two biological weapons laboratories at your disposal, one operated by your government, the other by Philogen Pharmaceutique, a corporation controlled by a man named Enrico Vincenti. Both of you are also members of the Venetian League. Am I making any progress?"

"You're still breathing, aren't you?"

Thorvaldsen smiled in seeming satisfaction. "For which I'm grateful. You also have a formidable military. Nearly a million troops. One hundred and thirty fighter jets. Various transports and support aircraft, adequate bases, an excellent communications network--everything an ambitious despot would need."

She didn't like that Viktor was listening, but she desperately needed to hear more, so she turned to him and said, "Find out what the other two guards are doing, and make sure we're alone."

THE OTHER TWO?

Malone heard the words as he assumed a position behind another stone railing, this one high above the presbytery, less than a hundred fifty feet above Thorvaldsen and Zovastina. Cassiopeia was fifty yards across the nave, in the south transept, with an equally high perch.

He couldn't see her, but he hoped she'd heard.

ZOVASTINA WAITED UNTIL VIKTOR LEFT, THEN GLARED AT THORVALDSEN. "Is there a problem with wanting to defend my nation?"

"Beware the toils of war. Soon they'll raze your sturdy citadel to the roots."

"What Sarpedon said to Hector in the Iliad. You have studied me. Let me offer a quotation. Nor do I think you'll find us short on courage, long as our strength will last."

"You're not planning on defending anything. You're preparing an attack. Those zoonoses are offensive. Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, India. Only one man ever conquered them. Alexander the Great. And he could only hold the land for just a handful of years. Ever since, conquerors have tried and failed. Even the Americans attempted with Iraq. But you, Supreme Minister, you intend to best them all."

She possessed a leak--a massive one. She needed to return home and resolve that problem.

"You want to do what Alexander did, only in reverse. Not the West conquering the East. This time the East will dominate. You intend to acquire all of your neighbors. And you actually believe the West will allow you the luxury, thinking you'll be their friend. But you don't plan to stop there, do you? The Middle East and Arabia, you want those, too. You have oil. The old Kazakhstan is rich with it. But you sell most of that to Russia and Europe cheap. So you want a new source, one that would give you even greater world power. Your zoonoses might just make all that possible. You could devastate a nation in a matter of days. Bring it to its knees. None of your potential victim-states are particularly adept at war in the first place, and when your germs finish, they'll be defenseless."

She still held the gun. "The West should welcome that change."

"We prefer the devils we know. And contrary to all those Arab states' varied beliefs, the West isn't their enemy."

He pointed straight at her.

"You are."

MALONE LISTENED CAREFULLY. THORVALDSEN WAS NO FOOL, SO HE was challenging Zovastina for a reason. The Dane even being here was highly unusual. The last trip the man took was to Austria last fall. Yet here he was, inside an Italian basilica in the middle of the night, poking sticks into the spokes of an armed despot.

He'd watched as Viktor left the presbytery and turned into the south transept, below Cassiopeia's position. Malone's immediate concern was an open stairway twenty feet away that led down to the nave. If there was a portal on this side, in the north transept, surely another opened in the south since medieval builders, if nothing else, loved symmetry.

He was surrounded by more undressed masonry walls along with art, tapestries, lace, and paintings, most displayed in glass cases or on tables.

A shadow appeared in the lighted stairway and danced across the marble walls, growing in size.

One of Zovastina's guards.

Climbing to the second floor.

Straight for him.

Chapter
FIFTY-THREE

STEPHANIE FOLLOWED MONSIGNOR MICHENER DOWN THE HALLS of the diocese offices, into a nondescript cubicle, where Edwin Davis sat beneath a framed portrait of the pope.

"Still want to kick my ass?" Davis asked.

She was too tired to fight. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to stop a war."

She didn't want to hear it. "You realize there could be trouble inside that church."

"Which is why you're not in there."

Realization dawned. "Malone and Cassiopeia can be denied."

"Something like that. We have no idea what Zovastina may do, but I didn't want the head of the Magellan Billet involved."

She turned to leave.

"I'd stay here if I were you," Davis said.

"Screw off, Edwin."

Michener blocked her way in the doorway.

"Are you part of this insanity?" she asked.

"As I said outside, we came across something and passed it on to a place we thought might be interested. Irina Zovastina is a threat to the world."

"She's planning a war," Davis said. "Millions will die, and she's just about ready to start."

She turned back. "So she took the time to risk a trip to Venice and look at a two-thousand-year-old body? What is she doing here?"

"Probably getting angry," Michener said.

She saw a twinkle in his eye. "You set her up?"

The priest shook his head. "She did that all by herself."

"Somebody's going to get shot in there. Cassiopeia is way beyond the end of her rope. You don't think gunfire is going to attract the attention of all those police out in the square?"

"The basilica's walls are several feet thick," Michener said. "Totally soundproof. No one will disturb them."

"Stephanie," Davis said, "we're not sure why Zovastina took the chance coming here. But it's obviously important. We thought since she was so intent on coming, we'd accommodate her."

"I get the point. Out of her sandbox and into ours. But you have no right to place Malone and Cassiopeia in jeopardy."

"Come now. I didn't do that. Cassiopeia was already involved, with Henrik Thorvaldsen--who, by the way, involved you. And Malone? He's a big boy and can do what he wants. He's here because he wants to be here."

"You're fishing for information. Hoping to learn something."

"And using the only bait we have. She's the one who wanted a look inside that tomb."

Stephanie was puzzled. "You seem to know her overall plan. What are you waiting for? Move on her. Bomb her installations. Shut her down. Bring political pressures on her."

"It's not that simple. Our information is sketchy. And we have no concrete proof. Certainly not anything she can't simply deny. You can't bomb biologicals. And, unfortunately, we don't know it all. That's what we need Malone and the others to zero in on for us."

"Edwin, you don't know Cotton. He doesn't like to be played."

"We know Naomi Johns is dead."

He'd held that one for the right moment, and the words pounded her gut.

"She was stuffed into a coffin with another man, a small-time hood from Florence. Her neck was broken and he had a bullet to the head."

"Vincenti?" she asked.

Davis nodded. "Who's also on the move. He left earlier for the Central Asian Federation. An unscheduled visit."

She could see he knew even more.

"He just kidnapped a woman that Irina Zovastina has been caring for since last year, a woman that she was once romantically involved with."

"Zovastina's a lesbian?"

"Wouldn't that be a shocker to her People's Assembly? She and this woman were involved for a long time. But her former lover is dying of AIDS, and Vincenti apparently has a use for her."

"And there's a reason you're allowing Vincenti to do whatever it is he's doing?"

"He's up to something, too. And it's more than just supplying Zovastina with germs and antiagents. It's more than providing the Venetian League with a safe haven for all their business activities. We want to know what that is."

She needed to leave.

Another priest appeared in the office doorway and said, "We just heard a shot, from inside the basilica."

MALONE DOVE BEHIND ONE OF THE DISPLAY CASES AS THE GUARDSMAN fired. He'd tried to hide before the man topped the stairs, but apparently a fleeting glance of his retreat was enough to generate an attack.

The bullet thudded into one of the tables that displayed medieval textiles. The laminated wood deflected the round and allowed Malone the instant he needed to scurry farther into the shadows. The gunshot echoed through the basilica and had surely attracted everyone's attention.

He scrambled across slick hardwood, taking refuge behind a long exhibit of panel paintings and illuminated manuscript pages.

His gun was ready.

He needed to draw the man farther in.

Which didn't seem a problem.

Footsteps were coming his way.

ZOVASTINA HEARD THE SHOT FROM THE UPPER NORTH TRANSEPT. She spotted movement to her right, beyond the stone railing, and saw the head of one of her guards.