Relics

by Relics (retail) (epub)

  ‘If you don’t let us in to do our job, then we’re likely to lose any chance at all of capturing this murderer and child rapist.’ He could feel his younger colleague’s stare burning into his back at the lie, but the mere suggestion of a paedophile always brought out the best in people’s willingness to help. ‘Now there’s no way I’m letting this sick bastard escape, so you either allow us to find him discreetly or I head right over to that crowd of paparazzi camped on your doorstep, and I tell them how the Vatican is harbouring a vicious child molester and how their chief of police is helping cover it up. And before you make a decision, just remind yourself how potent the power of the media now is because these days, Captain Rossi, it’s almost as powerful as the Church itself.’

  The lack of reaction on the Vatican official’s face spurred Perone on yet further. ‘Just think, Captain, how you alone will be held responsible for a worldwide news story accusing the Catholic Church of harbouring murderers and rapists simply for the sake of PR. Imagine the scandal that will result in – and all down to you.’ He returned to Barbosa’s side, allowing the captain to regain his personal space once more. ‘Now, Captain Rossi, I’m asking you again. On behalf of the Italian judicial system, will you allow us to do our job?’

  Almost twenty seconds of uncomfortable silence passed before the muscles in Rossi’s jaw began to twitch, and Perone knew they were getting in.

  ‘Very well, Superintendent, you can conduct your search. But a member of the Pontifical Guard will be with you at all times, and you’ll have to leave your weapons here at the guardhouse.’

  The two policemen immediately passed over their handguns. That was no surprise because the only professionals allowed to carry guns inside the Vatican walls were secret-service agents, and even they needed to seek permission months in advance.

  Captain Rossi opened the secure metal door to one side of the reception counter and ushered them inside, his face now seething with fury. ‘Now it’s my turn to make the threats, Detective Perone, and I know of your reputation, so I’ll get straight to the point. If you disturb tonight’s important events in any way or handle yourself in a disrespectful manner, then I will do everything in my quite considerable power to destroy your career. The Vatican Police may be small in numbers, but what we lack in size, we more than make up for in dogged determination. We make honourable friends but a powerful enemy. Are we clear on that, Detective?’

  A mischievous smile crept across Perone’s face as he and Angelo followed one of the guards towards the exit. ‘As a child conscience, Captain Rossi. Clear as a child’s conscience.’

  Chapter 43

  ‘It seems you’ve been grossly misinformed, Professor. Whoever this group are that you are referring to, they are clearly not here.’

  There was a note of frustration in Pope Adrian’s voice, and, after forty-five minutes of searching the north corridor of the Academy of Sciences, Harker couldn’t blame him. Even he himself was beginning to have doubts.

  Where was the secret entrance to this room, the existence of which Father Maddocks had been so convinced? The thought conjured up images of Valente’s decapitated head roasting amongst the red embers of the open fire back at the monastery, but Harker immediately pushed this grisly image from his mind. Too many people had died in getting him to this point, and he was not about to give up after only forty-five minutes of investigation. ‘Bear with me, Your Holiness.’

  The pontiff tut-tted loudly and then sat down on a black granite bench beneath a sixteenth-century oil painting of St Francis of Assisi, his impatience becoming obvious. ‘Very well, Alex, but we don’t have much time left. The summit begins in under an hour.’

  Harker surveyed the long extent of the north corridor. He had visited the academy occasionally when studying at the Vatican, but its refurbishment had left the decor very different from what he remembered.

  ‘What happened to all the other paintings and statues?’

  ‘Most of the paintings were destroyed in the fire, and the statues are still being restored. It was a bad fire, and it’s only by the grace of God no one was killed.’

  Harker nodded agreeably as an idea came to him. ‘Or maybe it was planned that way?’ His remark drew a confused look from the pontiff.

  ‘Planned? Why would anyone plan such an act of destruction?’

  ‘Well, for one thing, it would create an opportunity for building a secret entrance, without anyone’s knowledge, whilst the refurbishment took place.’

  Pope Adrian scoffed at the notion. ‘That seems fairly improbable, and, besides, there doesn’t seem to be any secret entrance, regardless of what you have been told.’

  ‘OK, maybe the fire was an accident, but it could still have provided an excuse to install a …’

  As Harker’s eyes darted up and down the corridor, desperately searching for a clue; he noticed something odd. The walls were adorned with paintings from different time periods replacing those consumed by the fire, but more importantly, they were focused on a single theme – each image, unsurprisingly, related to Christianity or the Church in one form or another. A view of St Peter’s Basilica hung next to an image of St John the Baptist. Next to that was a pastel landscape of Vatican City, and beyond that, hung a Botticelli depicting the crucifixion, and so on. They were all, therefore, devoted to religious or Catholic themes except one.

  Harker hurried down the corridor towards the penultimate painting on the left-hand side. In between a depiction of the crucifixion and an oil painting of the apostle Saint Peter was a contemporary portrait of Sir Isaac Newton dressed in his finest attire. Harker gazed at the painting in front of him as a twinge of excitement rose in his chest, and he found himself thinking again about the last words of Archie Dwyer’s message: ‘Trust your logic, not your faith.’

  Initially, he had thought it was just the password for the monastery coupled with Archie’s way of telling him to view everything he encountered logically and not get caught up in any religious symbolism, but as he studied the picture in front of him, he realised he had misunderstood. Archie had meant those words literally, for Newton had been a man totally consumed by the logic of science.

  Harker slid his fingers down each side of the frame as far as the lower corners and then along the bottom edge till his fingers met in the middle, directly underneath a gilded cartouche bearing the words: ‘Isaac Newton 1642–1727. Artist unknown.’

  He gently prodded it with his forefinger, and, from underneath, there was a click followed by a low rumble. The entire painting then retreated into the wall by three inches and gently slid downwards to reveal a gap about a metre high allowing the admittance of an average-sized man. No sooner had the panel receded out of sight than a strip light flickered into life, revealing a brick-lined passageway. Another light came on a few metres beyond the first, followed by another and then another, creating a succession of lights that illuminated the gloomy passage running for many metres ahead.

  Pope Adrian was already at Harker’s side by the time the last light came on.

  ‘I don’t believe it. You were right, Professor.’

  Harker rubbed a finger across the corridor ceiling, causing fresh dust to float down. ‘And recently built too. This might be a good time to call the gendarmes, Your Holiness.’

  The pontiff’s face filled with concern. ‘No, I think we should find out exactly what this is before we get others involved.’

  This response confused Harker. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because if this does involve any of the criminal elements you described, then I want to keep it between as few people as possible. Consider it damage control … No, we first take a look, and, if there is anything serious, I will call upon officers of the pontifical police who can be counted on to be discreet.’

  Harker felt his heart sink. He had been starting to believe that the ex-cardinal’s transition to Pope had marked a change in his character, but this was pure Wilcox to cover anything up at the expense of truth and bury the very morals that should
be guiding the Church.

  The pontiff caught the disappointed look on Harker’s face. ‘You’re so naïve, Alex. Everything I have ever done is to protect the Church and, in doing so, protect the faith.’ The Pope genuinely looked saddened. ‘Why do you think I’m appearing so lax about the protocols of being Pope? Why I’m changing how the Catholic Church works? It’s to make it more relevant in people’s lives. But that won’t happen overnight.’ He stared deeply into Harker’s eyes, his own full of sincerity. ‘The Church cannot survive another crisis of faith, not now. I need time to bring Catholicism into the twenty-first century, just as our saviour Jesus Christ would have done if he were alive today.’

  That remark struck a chord with Harker for Jesus had been a visionary but also a revolutionary, a man with a message of change that eventually reshaped the world. He hated himself for what he was about to say next. ‘For the time being, OK. But if anything happens to Claire Dwyer don’t expect me to keep quiet.’

  The Pope nodded in agreement. ‘Thank you for your discretion. Now let us see where this passage leads, shall we?’

  Harker pulled himself over the brick ledge and into the cold, dank passage beyond. There he waited as Pope Adrian speedily removed his robe to reveal the customary black and red cardinal’s costume underneath before placing them in a neat pile and following closely. They had made it only a few metres along when the entrance behind them slid shut, causing both men to instinctively race backwards, only to have the door slide open again.

  ‘It must be activated by a pressure switch,’ Harker surmised. ‘Clever construction.’

  He turned around and began venturing further into the tunnel with the pontiff in tow. Behind them, the stone panel slid back into place once again with a loud grinding noise.

  ‘That entrance may be new, but the further in we get, the older it looks.’ Harker rubbed at one of the walls, which crumbled away under his hand. ‘This corridor must be over fifty years old at least.’

  The Pope gave him a nod. ‘There are scores of tunnels underneath Vatican City, mostly unexplored.’

  It was something Harker knew all too well, and he had always been fascinated by the reports of excavations under the Vatican. ‘I’ll bet it dates back to the war.’

  Judging by the silence, he figured the new Pope was unaware of the city’s underground history. ‘During World War II, there were genuine concerns that the Nazis would enter the Vatican and attempt to kidnap the Pope himself. Hitler decreed that the Vatican would remain exempt from occupation, but, with a track record like his, the promise fell upon deaf ears, and Vatican officials dug escape routes from many of its major buildings. This could be one of them. There was even a route leading from the Pope’s inner chamber, but if my memory serves me correctly, it was filled in during the 1950s for security reasons.’ The vague look in the pontiff’s eyes convinced him to cut short his papal history lesson, and not wanting to embarrass the man any further with his ignorance, Harker swiftly moved onwards through the dank musty tunnel.

  Another fifty metres brought them to a sturdy-looking black metal door, and Harker pressed his ear against it, listening for any sounds. There were none. ‘OK, let’s take this slowly. If we do find Claire Dwyer in here, I must insist that you go back immediately and get reinforcements whilst I stay. Is that acceptable?’

  The pontiff shot him a firm look ‘Yes, it is. I only hope the room behind this door is empty.’

  It was a strange thing to say, considering a woman’s life was at stake, but Harker shrugged it off. ‘And I hope you’re dead wrong. Otherwise, I’m out of leads, and out of time.’

  Chapter 44

  Cardinal Vincenzo pushed his way past the sprawl of secret service agents littering the steps of St Peter’s Basilica with all the grace of a water buffalo. The last few hours had been testing enough without the Pope taking a midnight stroll with less than an hour to go before he was due to address this summit of world leaders.

  When Alex Harker had turned up, it had been an unexpected, if not pleasant surprise, but, with all his talk of conspiracies and bomb threats, the cardinal’s nerves were beginning to fray, and an uncomfortable feeling had been building in his stomach ever since. This was not what he had envisaged when the Pope originally outlined tonight’s event, describing it as ‘a chance to remake the Church in the world’s image’. Had Vincenzo known it would reflect the more troubling aspects of the globe, he would have argued strongly against it.

  He halted in front of the enormous doors of the basilica overlooking St Peter’s Square and thumped his fist against them. What a day!

  The eyes of numerous secret service men watched him doggedly as he waited for the doors to open. Most had been there since the early morning, completing every safety check imaginable, from manhole covers to cloakrooms. Even the pontifical guard, the Vatican’s own police service, had been required to undergo a complete security check, encompassing every single member of its staff. That was no real surprise since, where there was a congregation of world leaders such as tonight, safety and security had to be of the utmost importance. Vincenzo once again rapped on the massive doors. With so many eyes fixed upon him, it was hard not to feel guilty about anything.

  Finally, the double doors swung open, and the cramp in Vincenzo’s stomach got even tighter at the sight confronting him. The young priest acting as a doorman offered the president of the Governorate a nervous look as he glanced back at the fervour of activity behind him. ‘It’s a little busy in here, Cardinal.’

  The hall was brimming over with prime ministers and presidents taking their seats, already discussing politics and swapping pleasantries. For a brief moment, the entire crowd went silent as they turned to the entrance, expecting to see the Pope. But finding only the startled-looking cardinal, they turned their attention back to one another, and the low-level rumble of chatter continued once more.

  Vincenzo forced a smile and battled his way to the rear of the Cathedral and through a plain wooden doorway just behind the pulpit where Pope Adrian would soon be making his speech. The room beyond was not empty as Vincenzo had suspected, and he found Cardinal Rocca sitting coolly on one of the stonewall benches covered with red and gold Camomilla cushions. In one hand, he held a sheet of paper which he was carefully scrutinising and with the other was running a finger across the page line by line, his lips murmuring the words he traced.

  Vincenzo gently swung the door shut, allowing the room to quieten from the chatter in the main hall. He then turned to face the younger cleric, who had still not looked up from the document he was reading, completely engrossed in the text. ‘Cardinal Rocca …’

  Rocca glanced up towards the Governorate president with wide eyes, the focus of his thoughts elsewhere.

  ‘You’ve been extremely difficult to get hold of.’

  A thin grin spread across the younger man’s lips, and he placed the sheet of paper face down on the bench beside him. ‘Salvatore, I’m glad you’re here. I was just about to send for you.’

  Vincenzo ignored the irony. ‘Well, I’m glad about that, too, because I’ve been trying to get hold of you since this morning.’

  He sat himself down on the bench opposite, noting the sarcastic glance on Rocca’s face, and he realised there was no point in tiptoeing around the situation further. Whatever the younger man was up to, he seemed hell-bent on continuing with it.

  ‘I sent Father Reed to check up on you today at your office. Did you meet with him?’

  Rocca’s expression morphed into a curious smile, and he shook his head. ‘No, can’t say I’ve had the pleasure, but it’s interesting to know you’ve been checking up on me. For what purpose?’

  Rocca’s conceited response stirred a deep anger in Vincenzo, but he immediately quashed it, not wanting this conversation to dissolve into a shouting match. ‘You know why, Cardinal. It concerns the black hole in the academy’s budget and the secretive way you’ve been handling yourself over the past few months.’

  ‘Hmm, as much a
s I would love to sit here and talk to you, I’m afraid my workload just won’t allow it,’ Rocca replied drily, gesturing to the piece of paper lying on the bench next to him. ‘Can we reschedule?’

  Vincenzo eyed him with contempt before resting back against the white-painted wall of the waiting room. ‘Very well, Cardinal Rocca, if that’s going to be your attitude, then all you need do is listen. After our meeting yesterday, I asked a member of the Governorate, Father Reed, to take a closer look into your dealings at the academy, of which I am still awaiting his findings. But that wasn’t all. I also tasked members of the pontifical guard to place you under a watchful eye, which they’ve been doing ever since you left my office. Apparently, Father Reed entered the academy yesterday afternoon, followed shortly by yourself, but later, only you were seen coming out, and Father Reed, it seems, has now vanished.’

  Vincenzo finally saw a chink in Rocca’s confidence begin to open up, and the younger cardinal’s thin smile started to evaporate. ‘Then, in the early hours this morning, you were seen allowing an unknown man access to Vatican City, whereupon you took him into, where else but the Academy of Sciences.’ He let out an ironic laugh. ‘And again, would you believe, after an hour or so, only you emerged. Another mysterious disappearance. You’re quite the magician.’

  Rocca’s jaw muscle twitched irritably as Vincenzo continued.

  ‘Still there’s more. The gendarmerie took some photos of your friend and had them checked through the appropriate channels, and this is the truly worrying thing – no one knows who he is! For all intents and purposes, that man doesn’t exist. I’m still waiting to hear back from Interpol, but I’ve got a feeling they won’t be able to identify him either. So the real question I put to you, my Catholic brother, is who is he and what business does he have in Vatican City?’ Vincenzo sat absolutely motionless as he waited for a response.