“Excellent. Send me the exact details on where to pick it up. I trust you will also send me a report on Saint Peter’s Square with the best tactical information.”
“Sending it right now, sir. You will find it in your email within moments.”
“Perfect. Meet us at the airport in fifty minutes. You’re coming with us to Italy.”
Sun Pak hesitated. He hadn’t anticipated that. “Yes, sir. I’ll be ready.”
Han-Jae ended the call and looked out the window.
Rain had been falling consistently for the last twenty minutes. The roads were soaked, and traffic was starting to pick up as they drew closer to London.
The driver, Shaved Head, looked over at him. “What did he say?”
Han-Jae continued staring out the window. They passed a tour bus on the right, full of people who had no idea about the war going on around them. He wondered if he’d overplayed his hand, asking that the package be brought in, but desperate times called for such measures. It was too late to go back on the decision now.
“We’re going to Rome.”
28
Rome, Italy
Tommy stared up at the obelisk in the middle of Saint Peter’s Square.
The monolith rose to over seventy-five feet, and while it wasn’t the tallest of the Egyptian obelisks, it towered over the square and dominated the immediate view before the visitor’s eye was drawn to the incredible dome just beyond.
Sean’s eyes weren’t locked on the obelisk. He was more concerned with the surrounding area. Saint Peter’s Square was a security nightmare. Tens of thousands of tourists poured through there every day. It was wide open in the middle with plenty of places to hide behind the columns that ran four deep along the colonnade. He put the bridge of his hand against his forehead and turned in every direction, examining the faces as they passed by.
Most people were there to take pictures or there on pilgrimage to visit the place they considered holy. Occasionally he’d see children running around playing tag or throwing water on each other from the fountain. After reconnoitering the plaza for more than ten minutes, though, he didn’t see a threat.
That didn’t mean there wasn’t one.
Sean and his friends were most vulnerable to sniper attack from one of the thousands of windows in the buildings surrounding the area. A sharpshooter could easily pick them off one at a time. A good one could take out all four in less than eight seconds. His eyes shifted, looking once more at random windows to see if there was a menacing silhouette.
From his vantage point, Sean knew it was a fruitless endeavor. They were going to have to risk being exposed to have a closer look at the obelisk. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to keep his eyes open.
“Look okay to you?” Tommy asked as he turned his head toward Sean.
They’d been standing in the shade of the colonnade, waiting for the last few minutes as Sean checked out the situation.
“I don’t like it,” Sean said. “Too many variables. And you’ll be exposed. Out there in the middle of the plaza, you’re a sitting duck. If we’re going to take a look at this thing, we need to make sure we make it as difficult as possible for someone to ambush us.”
“You think they’re here?” June asked.
“I think we’d be stupid to say it’s not a possibility. They’ve somehow managed to track us down everywhere we’ve gone. No reason to think they won’t figure out where we are now.”
“But we swept everything. There weren’t any bugs in our stuff,” Tommy said.
Sean had done a thorough check of every item in their bags. There was no sign of any kind of tracking device, which meant if the North Koreans were following them, they had to be using a tail.
“Even so, we need to be careful.” Sean didn’t sound convinced that this was a good idea, but his friend was insistent. “We’ll stay here and keep watch while you go out there. If you see anything suspicious, get back over here as fast as you can. We’ll make easy targets if all four of us go out there together.”
“Targets?” June said.
“In case there’s a shooter in place.”
She was taken back by the comment, the situation suddenly becoming very real.
Tommy put his hand on her shoulder. “Listen, you don’t have to do this. We can go back to that little cafe we passed on the way here.”
June appreciated his sentiment, but she steeled her nerves and shook her head. “No. Let’s do this. Just be careful. I don’t like the idea of you going out there alone.”
He raised both eyebrows and held his hands out to the side. Tommy wasn’t going to argue with her no matter how worried he was deep down. June had a strong personality.
“I appreciate your concern. But if there is a clue to the sword or how we get it out of the basilica, it might be on that obelisk. I know Egyptian hieroglyphics better than the rest of you. And my Latin is strong, too. If there is something about the sword written on the obelisk, I have the best chance of interpreting it.”
June acknowledged his explanation with a nod. “Okay, fine. But hurry back.”
“I will. If something happens,” Tommy said, “don’t come after me. Let Sean take care of it.”
He didn’t wait for her to say anything, instead turning immediately and heading out into the square.
He walked along one of the long white lines set into the cobblestone, a feature added later on in the history of Saint Peter’s. The lines were designed as part of a large-scale sundial that worked in tandem with the obelisk’s shadow.
Tommy turned his head from side to side, scanning the surroundings for any signs of trouble. Thousands of nameless faces milled around the plaza. Some were taking pictures by the fountain; others were staring up at the statues guarding the entrance to the giant dome of the basilica. Hundreds more people were lined up around the ticket office, waiting patiently to get their tickets to see the basilica.
Fortunately, Tommy and the others had gotten in line earlier that morning before most of the sightseers and pilgrims had arrived. He knew what the lines could be like to get into what was one of the holiest sites in all of Christianity.
The night before, the group decided they would show up early at the square, get their tickets, and then drop back into the shadows to watch for trouble. They’d waited for any sign of the Brotherhood or the North Koreans, but the men never showed, not that the Americans noticed anyway. Like Sean said, there were a million places to hide.
Tommy was halfway across the square when he noticed a sudden movement out of his right eye. His head twitched that direction, fearful one of the North Koreans was rushing at him. It was just a young boy running to meet an older couple. He was followed by a younger couple, probably in their mid-forties. The kid was just rushing to see his grandparents. At least that’s what it looked like.
Tommy shook off the momentary surge of fear and kept walking, picking up the pace of his stride as he neared the base of the giant obelisk.
He and the others figured they needed to examine the altar in Saint Peter’s Basilica since that was what the clue suggested—based on their interpretation. Tommy, however, had insisted they get a closer look at the obelisk, just in case they’d missed something.
The huge plinth was a massive marker in the series of clues that had led Tommy and his friends down a bizarre path in the pursuit of Excalibur. Just thinking about that sent a fresh pang of doubt through Tommy’s mind.
We’re looking for a sword that is mostly a thing of myth, he thought. But his parents believed in the sword. And they’d reached out to the Brotherhood about it. That brought new questions to his mind, mixing with some others that he’d been considering for the last day or so.
Why hadn’t his parents contacted him? Why did they reach out to a bunch of guys they’d never met? They should have found a way to message him. He could have used his connections with the government to negotiate a way to get them out.
Then he reminded himself that the government would most likely
not be of any help in negotiating with North Korea. Plus, according to what the Brotherhood said, it wasn’t the Chairman who was responsible for Tommy’s parents’ imprisonment. The leader might not even be aware that they were still being held.
The whole situation was wildly improbable, but he had to try. If there was any chance that his parents were still alive—no matter how remote—he had to try to get them back.
He stopped under the shadow of the obelisk and looked up at the dark side of it, his eyes searching the ancient hieroglyphs for anything about the sword. Then he examined some of the Latin engraved on the base and lower area of the gigantic stone. Nothing there.
Tommy shifted his stance to the next side of the obelisk and repeated the process, occasionally taking his eyes off the ancient monolith to have a fast look around. Sean’s words lingered in his mind. Tommy learned a long time ago that his friend’s instincts were usually dead on. Those instincts had saved their necks on numerous occasions before. No reason to stop trusting them now.
He didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. He pored over the engravings, still finding nothing that seemed helpful.
Tommy repeated the process two more times, checking all four sides of the obelisk thoroughly before deciding the whole exercise was futile. If the monolith contained information on the sword, he didn’t see it.
He’d wasted enough time. They needed to get inside of the basilica and examine the altar. That was what the last clue had said. He should have trusted it.
Tommy looked out across the square and then casually at his friends hiding in the shadows among the rows of columns off to the side. He ticked his head toward the entrance of the basilica, signaling that they should get moving.
He didn’t wait for confirmation that they’d gotten the signal. Tommy knew Sean and the other two were watching his every movement with focused intensity.
He meandered slowly through the growing crowds and found his way to the steps of the basilica. On the left side—close to where he stopped at the base of the stairs—stood a giant statue of Saint Peter. Tommy cocked his head to one shoulder as he stared at the sculpture.
Peter, with a flowing cloak and robes, gripped a key tightly in his right hand. A scroll dangled from the left.
Tommy scratched his head and looked across the way at the other sculpture guarding the entrance to the basilica. It was the image of Saint Paul. From this distance, Tommy couldn’t make out all the details, but one was impossible to miss. Paul was holding a long sword.
“Whatcha doing?” Sean asked as the other three arrived at the base of the steps.
Tommy shook his head, snapping back to the mission at hand. “Sorry. I was just looking at these statues. We should probably get inside.” Sean’s warning about shooters and easy targets kept banging on the walls of his brain.
“Saint Peter,” Adriana said. “Holding the keys to the kingdom of heaven.”
Tommy frowned, suddenly remembering the key he’d found in the man’s pocket. He searched his jacket and found the key still there. He took it out and held it up, examining the similarities between it and the one in the sculpture’s hand. They were a spot-on match.
“The key I took off that guy in the alley back in Cologne,” he said. “It looks just like the one in Peter’s hand.”
The other three looked between the keys, running the same silent comparison.
“You don’t think this has something to do with the sword, do you?” he asked.
“Only one way to find out, buddy,” Sean said, taking a cautious look around the area. “Let’s get inside where we aren’t so exposed.”
Saint Peter’s Basilica was considered by many to be one of the most important locations in the Christian religion. It was the supposed location of Peter’s grave, along with an extensive Roman necropolis from the pagan era. Since one interpretation of Jesus’s words about building His church upon this rock is that the rock was Peter, Constantine decided he would literally build his church on top of Peter’s tomb.
Inside, the four companions stopped and looked around at the incredible scenery surrounding them.
The tallest corridors and naves Sean had ever seen stretched out in multiple directions. The high arched ceilings all connected at the dome hovering over the altar and Saint Peter’s Baldachin.
Sculptures of saints, popes, and apostles adorned the various nooks along the walls. Multicolored frescoes displayed scenes from parts of the Bible. Some sections of the archways overhead were gilded in gold leaf.
“I have never seen anything so opulent in my life,” Sean said as he stared with wide eyes and a wider mouth at the incredible interior.
“And likely never will,” Tommy added.
“Over there,” Adriana said, pointing at the altar and elaborate canopy. “Let’s move.”
If she seemed less impressed by the scenery, it wasn’t because she didn’t appreciate it. It was because Adriana didn’t get distracted by shiny objects. She was here to do a job and get it done as fast as possible. She didn’t need to remind the others of the potential danger lurking outside, or even possibly inside, the basilica. The others followed her lead as she stalked past a cluster of tourists readying their headsets for the guided audio tour of the building.
Voices echoed through the great halls, though none of the conversations could really be heard since all the sounds mixed together to form a sort of ambient noise. Their shoes clicked on the shiny floors underfoot, floors made from multiple colors of marble and inlaid with various designs—some with oddly pagan origins.
“This place must be something to see during mass,” June said as she looked around at the giant naves.
The basilica was designed to be a cross, like the one on which Jesus and Peter were crucified. Saint Peter’s Baldachin and altar were located at the heart of the cross—the intersecting point of all the naves where the pope conducted traditional ceremonies. On such occasions, each of the adjoining halls was packed with chairs and filled with thousands of people.
For the time being, in spite of the tourists, the place was relatively empty.
They approached the altar and slowed their speed, taking in the enormous canopy and spiraled pillars surrounding it. Massive paintings hung from the four corners supporting the dramatic dome above the canopy. Alcoves with more sculptures of saints and patriarchs dotted the walls surrounding the baldachin.
“That thing is even bigger when you get up close,” Tommy said. “It’s unreal.”
“Yeah,” Sean agreed. “Pretty awesome. Now the question is, if the sword is here, how do we get to it?”
Tommy shook his head. “I have no idea. The clue just leaves us hanging. It says we’ll find it at the altar of the sword bearer, but doesn’t say exactly where.”
Velvet ropes marked off the area so visitors would stay back. While the ropes themselves provided little security for the altar and tombs below, the Swiss Guard watching over it from one of the corners were more than enough to keep people in line.
The Swiss Guard had originally been mercenaries, brought in to protect the pope in the early sixteenth century. They’d done the job ever since with the sole purpose of watching over the safety of the pontiff. The men were extensively trained and excellent marksmen, more than enough to make someone think twice about doing anything stupid inside the walls of Vatican City. While their Renaissance-style uniforms might not be imposing, the colors were highly visible and reminded visitors that they were always watching.
There was no way Sean and his companions would be able to get close enough. He also knew there were cameras everywhere, hidden out of plain view. He imagined some might even be tucked away inside some of the statues or perhaps the gilded molding in the corners.
“We need to get closer,” Tommy said, leaning as far over the velvet ropes as he felt was permissible.
Two sets of candles sat atop the white marble altar along with a golden cross in the center. Other than that, there wasn’t anything that suggested there might
be a way to get inside the altar. From the visitors’ vantage point, it appeared to be a solid piece of stone.
Adriana noticed one of the Swiss Guards was keeping a watchful eye on them.
“Well, I don’t think we’re going to get closer,” she said to Tommy. “That guard is watching our every move. Probably because we’re not with a tour group.”
June’s gaze drifted behind the altar to where another huge piece of art hung on the back wall behind the presbytery. It was hard to tell what she was looking at. Golden sculptures of cherubim, angels, and other figures hovered around an ornate chair that almost appeared to be floating in the center.
“What’s that?” she asked.
The other three looked over at the beautiful display.
“Saint Peter’s chair,” a new voice said in an Italian accent.
The four turned to find a priest standing just a few yards away with his hands folded in front of his flowing robes.
“Oh,” she said. “Thank you.”
The man bowed his head a few inches. He had a kind face with a few wrinkles stretching out from his eyes and on his forehead. His hair was gray almost to the point of being white. The black spectacles on his face gave him the look of someone who’d spent their whole life in deep study.
“Always happy to help people get a better understanding of this place,” he said as he approached. His footsteps were so light, it almost appeared as if he were levitating. “Speaking of help, is there anything else I can do to help? You look as if you have some questions.”
The guy was astute. Sean imagined it came with the job. Maybe this priest could be useful.
“We are doing some research about Peter,” Sean said. “We’re wondering if there are any relics kept inside the altar.”
The priest’s forehead scrunched. “Now that is a question I’ve never had before. I don’t get many firsts anymore, not after being here for forty years. The answer is no. The altar is a solid piece of marble. So it would be impossible for it to be a reliquary. If you are interested in seeing relics, I could refer you to the right place, though.”
The Sean Wyatt Series Box Set 4 Page 47
