The Spear of Destiny

by Julian Noyce

  “Can you defuse it?”

  “Absolutely. This will be a fairly routine disarmament. Has anyone taken responsibility for it yet? Any demands made?”

  “Not as yet. Would it make a difference if anyone had?”

  Farina got up and approached one of the heavy blast suits as aides rushed to help him.

  “It would of course help to know who we’re dealing with. Certain groups prefer certain methods. With no-one coming forward to claim responsibility this could be just a political statement, someone who is angry with or at the Vatican or it could be a diversionary tactic.”

  “What do you mean a diversionary tactic?” Sonnenburg asked.

  “It could be to divert the police’s attention away from another target, possibly a political one. There is a football match tonight isn’t there? Between Roma and Lazio.”

  “There is,” De Luca replied, ”But we don’t think that is the target.”

  “Then it must be just someone making a name for themselves.”

  De Luca looked at Sonnenburg who read the other’s mind and nodded.

  “It seems a bit ridiculous but we believe there is someone, possibly a group, in Rome who is or are intending to steal relics from the church of the holy cross of Jerusalem.”

  “A terrorist group?”

  “No. A previously unknown group not linked to any organisations. We haven’t got all the details yet and what we do have is sketchy. We’re not even sure of their intentions as yet,” De Luca said, not sure as to how much information he should divulge to the army officer.

  “Well I’ll say one thing,” Farina said as layers of Kevlar were folded over each other in front of his throat, “They’ve gone to a lot of effort just for a few relics.”

  Now Sonnenburg and De Luca watched as Farina and his Lieutenant both suited up, left the truck and began a slow, heavy walk towards the police car. They passed the robot going in the other direction.

  “Why is the other one carrying pipes and a jerry can?” Sonnenburg asked.

  “They’ll attempt to drain the fuel tank,” De Luca answered.

  “The fuel tank?”

  “Yes. The petrol in the car’s fuel tank will create a worse situation if the bomb does blow causing fire to spread.”

  “Well they’d better hope there’s no more than twenty five litres because that’s all that can will hold.”

  Farina and his lieutenant Gianni Sforza reached the Alfa Romeo. Farina went straight to the open driver’s door and awkwardly, because of the heavy bomb suit, knelt to examine the accelerator pedal. He flicked on a small but very intense light on his helmet to see into the dark footwell. The red and green wires were attached to a small box on the underside of the pedal, reached up to the bulkhead and disappeared under the vehicle’s carpeting, reappeared by the parking brake, ran under the driver’s seat through the back seats and disappeared again into the boot.

  Sforza pushed the fuel filler flap inwards and it popped open. A modern filler flap that didn’t have a lock. He fed a dipstick into the neck of the fuel tank and pushed down gently until he felt it touch the bottom of the fuel tank. Then he withdrew it quickly and was relieved to see that the fuel tank was only a quarter full.

  They hadn’t filled it to cause the maximum explosion or fire.

  Farina joined him at the back of the Alfa Romeo.

  “A quarter full,” Sforza shouted.

  Farina heard the muted message.

  “Let’s get this body out,” he said back, moving into position to take hold of Balotelli’s legs.

  Restricted by their equipment they struggled to lift the body out. They settled it onto the pavement. Now Farina could see the boot of the Alfa Romeo was lined with C4 plastic explosives.

  “What in the name of God,” he said out loud.

  He got Sforza’s attention and pointed into the boot of the car. Farina clicked on the microphone in his blast suit and reported back to the incident unit. The monitor operator listened carefully then turned to Sonnenburg and De Luca.

  “The boot of the car is rigged with C4 plastic explosives. You can’t buy this stuff. It’s for military use mainly and is impossible to get, even on the black market, especially in the EU.”

  “What is C4 exactly?” Sonnenburg asked.

  “C4 is a composition of explosives, odorizing taggant, Dimethyl Dinitrobutane, plasticizer and plastic binder….”

  The man speaking could see that he’d already lost the two policemen. He had intended to include that the explosive was Cyclotrimethylene Trinitramine which is approximately ninety percent of the C4 mass. The plastic binder is Polyisobutylene and the plasticizer is Diethylexyl.

  Instead he said.

  “You take these three items and mix with a small amount of non detergent engine motor oil and you dissolve all these in a solvent, such as a thinner for example. The solvent then needs to be evaporated, filtered and dried and then you’re left with a white substance similar to clay. The type of clay a potter or modeller would use.”

  “And then it’s a deadly explosive?” Sonnenburg asked.

  “Oh no. It’s very stable and can take a lot of shock. Which is why it didn’t go off on its journey in the car to its current location. You can drop it, throw it into a fire. You could even empty your 9mm in to it and it won’t go off. It needs a detonator, extreme shockwaves or heat. The advantages of it are that it can be moulded into any shape. Ideal for inserting it into gaps or cracks for whatever you want to blow up, bridges, buildings, etc. Mostly it is in the form or shape of bricks. Colonel Farina just has the job of removing the detonators. He will start by disabling the device on the accelerator pedal.”

  “Well he’d better get a move on,” De Luca said noting that the shadows had got long.

  The explosives man didn’t answer. He was listening into his headset. He turned to the two policemen.

  “The C4 is Russian.”

  The two policemen looked at each other.

  “Russian Mafia?” Sonnenburg said.

  De Luca shrugged.

  The explosives man spoke into his headset. Then he turned.

  “The wires connected to the accelerator pedal are dummies. The bomb is set for remote detonation.”

  De Luca’s radio suddenly burst into life. Ferrara was shouting into his.

  “Sir it’s going to blow!”

  De Luca turned to shout up the road as the Alfa Romeo exploded. The detonation sent the car fifteen feet into the air, blowing the fuel tank, sending burning petrol into a rain that fell onto the road as the car crashed back down onto its roof completely destroyed. In moments the Alfa was a burned out shell.

  Farina and Sforza were thrown over a hundred metres like rag dolls and they crashed heavily. Farina’s bomb suit was on fire. Police and firefighters began rushing towards the scene. De Luca ran to Farina first. The inside of his helmet mask was completely red. Nothing could be seen within. Firefighters called out to him but there was no response. Gently they removed the helmet. Farina was dead. His entire face soaked in his own blood. Sforza’s helmet had been ripped off by the blast. His neck had snapped and the back of his head was caved in.

  De Luca pressed the talk button on his radio.

  “Bauer! Come in Bauer!”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The black Lancia sped through Rome’s crowded streets. Dennis was calling out what he saw on the satellite navigation’s screen. The voice was naturally in Italian and neither he nor Bauer spoke it. Dennis had tried to change the language to English but couldn’t work it out. Instead he shouted instructions to Bauer as quickly as he could.

  They blasted over the ponte Victor Emmanuel, the bridge dedicated to the first king of a united Italy, and raced down the Victor Emmanuel road. The traffic they encountered was heavy and the blue light and siren bought them some time. On and on they sped through red lights. Dennis found a map in the glove compartment.

  “Ah this will help,” he said reaching up for the lights in the roof of the Lancia, “C
an you cope with a light on?”

  “Yes.”

  The traffic was thick and Bauer commented on it as he wove the Lancia in and out of motorists trying to avoid him.

  “It might be better if we get off these main roads and onto quieter ones,” Dennis said looking from left to right down side streets, “What do you think?”

  Bauer didn’t know Rome. It was the first time he’d been. The main streets seemed to be the better option but the traffic was getting heavier.

  “There seems to be a lot of heavy traffic heading into Rome. I wonder if that’s usual for a Wednesday evening?”

  “I don’t know,” Dennis replied. Then a thought struck him.

  “There’s a champions league football match on tonight. Between Lazio and Roma. It’s a local derby. I saw it advertised this morning on television. It’s being played at the Olympic stadium which is home ground for both teams. It’s on the other side of Rome from the church. That’ll explain why there is so much traffic heading in from the south and east. The game doesn’t start for a while but I guess like most cities the traffic starts early.”

  “I think we should take the side streets,” Bauer said weaving in and out of slower moving vehicles.

  “It’s your call,” Dennis said.

  Bauer could see the traffic ahead was slowing. The road a mass of brake lights.

  “Well you have the map.”

  “Okay. Okay. Let me just think. We are somewhere here. I can’t see any of the names of the side roads….”

  Dennis kept glancing at the sat nav looking for road names to appear on the little five inch screen. Then he spotted one to the left.

  “Via De Gesu. That means we are here. On the via Dellia Plebiscito. These roads here,” Dennis said talking more to himself, “Are no good and some will double back on us.”

  Bauer raced down this road frantically sounding the Lancia’s horn as he dodged in and out of traffic. A bus pulled out of a bus stop in front of him and he sounded the horn cursing. The bus driver saw the blue light and stopped.

  “Turn right here,” Dennis ordered.

  Bauer swung the steering wheel and with a squeal of tyres the Lancia changed direction and careered off down the via Dei Fori Imperiali.

  “Hey there’s Trajan’s coloumn,” Dennis shouted excitedly. Then he looked ahead. “Oh shit there’s the Colosseum!”

  Bauer looked ahead at the massive building dominating the Roman skyline.

  “So what?”

  “The colosseum is one big roundabout.”

  “Then get us off.”

  “There’s nowhere to go. These roads to the right double back on us. This is ancient Rome. Over there is the Palatine hill.”

  “What’s to the left?”

  “There’s one more road and then nothing until we get to the Colosseum.”

  “Where does it lead?”

  “Hang on,” Dennis said turning the map this way and that.

  “Too late,” Bauer said turning at speed down the road to the left. Dennis fought the g-forces to hold onto the map.

  “Which way?” Bauer asked.

  “I don’t know. Hang on.”

  Bauer looked across at the map as Dennis turned it and held it closer to his face to read it. Bauer spent a second too long looking at the map. Movement ahead caught his attention. A refuse lorry had pulled out into the street they were now on regardless of the other traffic it forced to stop. Bauer was a hundred metres from it and gaining fast. He sounded the horn as he caught up to the tail end of the jam. The driver of the refuse truck heard the horn being sounded and ignored it. He looked into his mirror and saw the blue flashing light and heard the siren. He shrugged and continued to watch in his mirror for a bit longer. Other road users were doing their best to move out of the way. Bauer nosed through stationary vehicles until he was close to the refuse lorry. The truck driver leaned out of his window and shouted his innocence at the situation. Bauer pulled the parking brake on and threw the driver’s door open and flashed his police I.D. The refuse lorry driver continued to protest his innocence and begrudgingly moved out of the Lancia’s way. Dennis was listening to the police radio as Bauer squeezed through the gap now provided by the lorry. He pointed his finger at the driver who was still unconcerned. Dennis now pointed at the radio.

  “That was De Luca,” he said, “They’ve lost contact with the unit stationed at Santa Croce.”

  “Are we still heading the same way?”

  “Yes. Take the next right. Follow ahead,” Dennis said as parked cars whipped by in a blur, “Take the next right….”

  Bauer was encouraged by the time they were now gaining. The streets Dennis was taking them down were much quieter. Then suddenly Bauer had to slam the brakes on as a large group of football fans in red shirts, Roma followers, were crossing the road for the metro station. By the look of them they had been drinking and the last few raised red and yellow scarves and chanted a football song at Bauer as he raced away.

  “Football is a passion in Italy,” Dennis said helpfully.

  “The next person who gets in my way will get run down. You would think that a siren and flashing blue light would be enough.”

  “This is Rome. Everything here happens at a fast pace.”

  “I suppose.”

  A carabinieri police car with flashing blue lights and siren sounding went racing past in the other direction.

  “Get on the radio,” Bauer said, “See if they’re sending back up.”

  Dennis got through to Sonnenburg.

  “As soon as we can,” was the reply.

  Dennis went back to the map. To their right were the Terme de Traiano, the baths of Trajan. Next Dennis saw a large sign for the national museum of oriental art.

  “Turn right here!” he shouted as Bauer spun the wheel.

  They were now on the Via Merulana.

  “Follow this road, straight, for about one kilometre.”

  The traffic was heavy on this road but Bauer was able to weave in and out without much difficulty. Three public buses in convoy stopped for him as they fast approached the end of the road.

  “Left at the end!” Dennis shouted.

  They raced past the Lateran palace. Once the home of the popes until their residence was moved to Avignon in France in the fourteenth century.

  Now the Lancia was on the Viale Carlo Felice road.

  “The church is at the end of this road,” Dennis said, “It’s just over a quarter of a mile.”

  Bauer turned off the siren and reached out and plucked the flashing blue light off the roof and switched that off also. He looked into the rear view mirror. The sky behind was still bright but ahead it was getting dark. Bauer slowed the Lancia to a more appropriate speed as they completed the last few hundred metres. He brought the Lancia onto the piazza in front of the church and pulled up under a tree. A carabinieri Alfa Romeo was parked ahead also under the trees. Dennis and Bauer got out of the Lancia and headed towards them.

  “Stay behind me,” Bauer said unclipping his gun holster on his belt and resting his hand on his gun.

  Dennis could see the officers moving about inside the car. One of them suddenly glanced in the door mirror and saw the Austrian and the journalist approaching. Both doors on the police car opened and two uniformed officers stepped out.

  “Can we help you?”

  Bauer released his grip on his gun and showed them his I.D.

  “They’ve been trying to radio you from the Vatican,” he said, “They said they’d lost contact with you. Do you have a problem with your radios?”

  The two officers looked guiltily at each other. Dennis peered into the police car. There was a small portable television on the seat. On the nine inch screen were three men in suits in front of an empty stadium talking. Dennis reached in and took the television out and showed it to Bauer.

  “Tonight’s game?” Dennis asked.

  Bauer frowned at them.

  “We turned the car radio down to hear the commentary,�
�� one of the officers said.

  “And your lapel radios?”

  “Switched off,” the other officer replied.

  “What are your names?”

  “Officer’s Bossano and Angelo sir. Will you be reporting this matter?”

  “Probably.”

  For the first time since arriving Bauer now looked at the church. He noted the large double doors were closed.

  “Is the church closed?” he asked the carabinieri officers.

  “Yes inspector,” Bossano replied.

  “When was this?”

  “Possibly half an hour ago Inspector.”

  “You saw it close. The doors were open before then?”

  “Oh yes. Like I said it was about thirty minutes ago.”

  Bossano looked at his colleague for approval. Angelo nodded.

  “The priests closed the doors when, presumably, the last visitors left.”

  Bauer looked at his watch. It was just after seven o’clock.

  “What time does it usually close?”

  “Usually at seven thirty.”

  Bauer showed him his watch.

  “Yes sir but sometimes the church does and has closed suddenly and without warning before. All churches in Rome have been known to do this.”

  Bauer was concentrating on the church still.

  “And you definitely saw the priests close the doors?”

  “Yes sir.”

  Bauer continued watching the church for another minute.

  “Well it does appear to be quiet.”

  “Yes Inspector.”

  “Have you noticed anything else unusual?”

  “No.”

  “How long has that Hummer been parked there?” Dennis asked.

  “I beg your pardon signori.”

  They all turned to look in the direction Dennis was pointing.

  “At the far end of the church near the wall there is a black Hummer. How long has it been there?”

  “I don’t know signori.”

  “You didn’t notice it arrive?” Bauer intervened.

  “No.”

  “It’s definitely not a car a priest would drive,” Dennis said.

  “You. What was your name again?” Bauer pointed at the quieter of the two policemen.

  “Antonio Angelo Inspector.”