Sign of the Cross paj-2

by Chris Kuzneski

  Dante was much larger than Benito and half his age. Yet their features were similar, especially the way their noses sloped away from their sunken eyes. Romans referred to it as the look of the emperor, though Dante didn’t care about his face or his clothes or the make of his car. He didn’t give a damn about those things because the only thing that mattered to him was his work. It was an addiction that ruled his life.

  Minutes passed as Dante sat there, quiet, patiently waiting for Benito to speak because that was the way it was done in the Old Country. The old man had called the meeting, so he controlled the agenda, just like every time the two of them got together. Someday Benito would die, and Dante would move up in the organization. But until then Dante would sit there like a loyal dog, studying the people who poured past them on the busy street. Waiting to be briefed.

  Eventually, the old man said, ‘It’s been a bad day for the Church.’

  Dante remained silent, realizing details would come in short bursts, every statement measured before it left the old man’s lips. As if Benito didn’t know how to talk to him.

  ‘A priest was found crucified… A warning was issued… The Council needs our help.’

  In the power structure of the Vatican, the Supreme Council was second in command to the holy father. At least on paper. In reality, the seven cardinals who made up the Council — led by Cardinal Vercelli, the man who replaced Cardinal Bandolfo when he died less than a year before — were the most powerful men in the Catholic Church. They decided what the pope knew and what he didn’t, protecting the papal throne from the bureaucratic issues of the day. To put it simply, their job was to keep the pope squeaky clean while they made the tough choices behind closed doors. The type of decisions that could soil the papacy and the Church.

  And when these issues came up, Benito Pelati was usually part of the solution.

  Finally, after several more seconds of silence, Benito turned toward Dante. ‘I need you to go to Vienna… There’s an excavation I need you to oversee… Something quite important.’

  ‘In Austria?’ Dante asked. ‘Do we have permission to dig there?’

  Benito stared at him until Dante lowered his head in shame. He should’ve known better than to question Benito’s orders. ‘Everything is ready… All you’ll do is supervise… Once you’re done, bring what you find back to me.’

  12

  Curiosity had a way of consuming Dr Boyd. Although he should’ve been focused on the bronze cylinder, he was more interested in the sound. The deafening roar of the outside world was too intriguing for him to ignore. ‘Hello!’ he called in his English accent. ‘Is anybody out there?’

  The rotor blades of the helicopter continued to reverberate like thunder just outside the entrance to the Catacombs.

  ‘Goodness gracious! What is causing that tumult?’ Boyd continued to ponder the question as he made his way to the mouth of the cave. ‘People should have more consideration when — ’

  The sight of the massive machine, coupled with the overpowering roar of the turbines and the hurricane-like wind that enveloped him, was enough to take Boyd’s breath away. He’d assumed the noise was probably a piece of equipment working on the plateau above but never expected to see a helicopter staring him in the face from more than 700 feet in the air.

  The man in the passenger seat grinned, then ordered the pilot to rotate to the left. A split second later, the man’s M501 sniper rifle was out the side window, and Boyd was in its crosshairs.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ he whispered into his headset, ‘the Lord works in mysterious ways.’

  The two soldiers stopped their ascent up the plateau and looked skyward, though their angle prevented them from seeing anything of value. ‘What’s going on, sir? Is everything all right?’

  The man squinted as he adjusted his scope. ‘It will be in a moment. One shot, and our biggest problem is history.’

  They nodded in understanding. ‘What should we do?’

  He shoved the rifle’s recoil pad against his shoulder and tried to compensate for the chopper’s sway. ‘Keep on climbing. I’ll need you to deal with the girl and seal the site.’

  Boyd shielded his eyes the best he could, but the mixture of dust and sunlight prevented him from seeing much. ‘Hello!’ he screamed. ‘Can I help you with something?’

  When he heard nothing, he figured he needed to alter his approach. So instead of shouting, he simply waved at the helicopter, hoping its passengers would wave back, then move on.

  ‘Hold steady,’ the sniper ordered. ‘Steady!’

  But it was an impossible task. The wind was surging off the top of the ridge like a waterfall, then swirling on its descent to the rocky terrain below. The result was an aeronautical nightmare, a pocket of turbulence that literally chewed at the lift the helicopter was trying to produce. The pilot did his best to compensate, increasing and decreasing the pitch of the main rotor. But it made little difference. Choppers weren’t meant to fly in these conditions.

  ‘I’m losing it,’ warned the pilot. ‘I swear to you I’m losing it!’

  With camera in hand, Maria strolled into the colorful first chamber, making her way directly to the Catacombs’ exit. As she crawled through the narrow opening, she suddenly became aware of the noise and vibrations that had intrigued Boyd. ‘Professore?’

  She continued up the slope of the rocky trail, trying to shield her eyes from the intense glare. With the exception of her hand, the only thing protecting her from total blindness was the figure that stood in the cave’s entrance. And from his slender frame, she knew it was Boyd.

  ‘Professore? What’s making that noise?’

  Before he could respond, she heard the unmistakable sound of gunfire, then watched in horror as Boyd turned from his perch and scrambled down the path. Without hesitation he buried his shoulder into her gut and tackled her to the floor, protecting her from the blitzkrieg. Skidding to a painful stop, he grabbed her hand and dragged her to the nearby corner, making sure they were out of the gunman’s range. ‘Are you all right?’ he demanded. ‘Are you hurt?’

  Stunned, she took a moment to probe her body. ‘No, I’m fine.’

  Boyd climbed to his feet and peeked around the nearest outcropping. The roar of the chopper still thundered outside. ‘I think we’re in trouble. There’s a helicopter out there.’

  ‘A helicopter?’

  ‘Yes! And it’s got a nasty little passenger. All I did was wave, and he started shooting at me!’ He peered around the rock, still unable to see. ‘But that’s not the worst thing. I saw a sign on the chopper that said Polizia.’

  ‘What? Are you serious?’

  ‘Of course I’m serious.’ He grabbed her hand. ‘Listen to me, we’re in grave danger. But if you follow my lead, we’ll survive.’

  ‘We can beat an armed helicopter?’

  ‘Yes! But we have to act quickly. If they land and come inside, we’re going to be killed.’

  ‘Wait! You want to fight a helicopter? With what?’

  Boyd rushed to the corner and rummaged through their tools. ‘Did we bring any rope?’

  ‘Rope? Not with us. We left that in the truck.’

  Quickly, Boyd turned the toolbox upside down and dumped its contents with a loud clatter. ‘I guess this will have to do instead.’

  She stared at him, confused. ‘You asked for a rope but settled for a toolbox? Do you mind telling me what you’re going to do?’

  ‘Watch and learn, my dear. Watch and learn.’

  Boyd carried the box toward the entrance of the cave and studied the machine that threatened their lives. It hovered less than fifty feet in front of the opening, its occupants glaring out the front window of the craft. ‘Maria, come here. Grab the camera and anything you want to take with us. Whether this works or not, I think it’s best if we leave this place as soon as possible.’

  ‘We’re leaving?’

  ‘Go!’ he ordered. ‘And be quick about it!’

  She scampered to the rear while Boyd
moved forward, boldly walking into the line of fire. He wasn’t sure if his idea was going to work, but he figured it was better than being trapped inside the Catacombs without any weapons. ‘Hello! Come and get me!’

  He quickly repeated the phrase in Italian, just to make sure they understood his command. The chopper instantly moved closer, trying to reduce the angle between the sniper and target, hoping to avoid another misfire. But the maneuver was a tactical mistake. As the craft inched forward, Boyd extended the toolbox behind him, then tossed it underhanded as far as he could. The container sailed through the air until it floated into the path of the main rotor blades.

  As the box closed in, the pilot suddenly realized what was about to happen. He’d been so concerned about the gusting wind and the dangerous rock face that he never paid attention to Boyd or his toolbox. It was an oversight that would cost him his life.

  Clank!

  Metal struck metal in a sickening scream, shattering two of the four rotor blades on contact and sending shrapnel in every direction. With the sudden loss of lift, the chopper lurched forward, missing the rock face by inches before the pilot managed to pull the craft back. The sudden change in pitch couldn’t be handled by the rear rotor, causing the vehicle to spin like a broken Tilt-A-Whirl as it tumbled toward Boyd’s truck 700 feet below. Seconds later, the crunch of metal was masked by the powerful explosion that engulfed the side of the rock face, literally shaking the ground underneath Boyd’s feet.

  ‘Brilliant!’ he cheered. ‘Bloody brilliant!’

  As the roar continued, Maria burst from the interior of the cave to see what had happened. ‘Professore, are you…’ Before she could finish her question, she noticed the bright ball of fire. Orange and red flames shot high into the air as thick clouds of black smoke surged from the smoldering wreckage. ‘Santa Maria! You broke their helicopter. And our truck!’

  He nodded, happy with his handiwork. ‘Thank goodness we paid the renter’s insurance.’

  Normally she would’ve howled at his comment, but Boyd didn’t give her the chance. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back inside, where he started gathering his equipment. Unfortunately, he was forced to stop when he heard a distant rumbling.

  ‘Maria? What is that? Is that another chopper?’

  She grimaced, then took a few steps toward the mouth of the cave. Leaning back, she glanced at the cliffs above her. A slow trickle of rocks and debris were heading down the steep slope. ‘Oh my God!’

  In a flash Boyd knew what was happening. The impact of the explosion had forced the ground around them to shake, producing the last thing that he wanted. ‘Avalanche!’

  The duo burst from the tunnel entrance, running as fast as they could. Although it was a risky choice, they knew they’d rather face an onslaught of falling rocks than the sudden impact of a cave-in. Debris they could dodge. Collapsing tunnels they couldn’t.

  Grabbing Maria by the hand, he led the way along the narrow rock face, making sure they stayed together as they hugged the wall of the cliff. They scurried on the precipice for several seconds when they realized they couldn’t outrun the falling debris. The footing was too unstable, and the stones were too constant for escape. They needed to find cover and hope for the best.

  They scrambled under the first ridge they found, hoping the large outcropping would shield them from the debris. Unfortunately, as they stood underneath the slab, they realized that the ledge had several cracks near its base, flaws that might collapse when put under sudden duress.

  ‘Please hold!’ Maria begged. ‘Oh God, please hold!’

  The two soldiers stared in disbelief as the helicopter plummeted past them. Flames shot skyward like a geyser from hell, forcing the men to cower against the rock face for protection. But it wasn’t the heat that they needed to worry about.

  The landslide started with a trickle. First a pebble, then a stone, and finally a massive boulder. Before long, half the damn ridge was heading toward them, and they realized it was just a matter of time before they’d be joining their commander in the afterworld. The younger of the two men was the lucky one, for he died without suffering. A sharp piece of rock hit him squarely on the head, shattering his skull and rupturing his frontal lobe like a blow from a battle-ax. One minute he was by his partner’s side, the next he was splattered on his face.

  Soon his lifeless body was swept down the cliff face in a torrent of dust and stones.

  The older man tried to ignore the gruesome scene, though it was impossible. Chunks of brain stuck to his face like scraps of sushi, while blood seeped into the corner of his eyes, stealing his ability to see. Despite this hindrance, he somehow managed to hang on, shaking off the falling stones that tore at his flesh, praying he could somehow survive this horror and scramble back to his squad in one piece. But it was not to be.

  The rock that sealed his fate struck him squarely on the right shoulder, ripping his arm from its socket with a nauseating pop and shattering his clavicle like it was made of glass. He teetered on the edge for several seconds — just enough time to express his agony with a scream that rose above the roar of the fire below — before crashing to the earth.

  One toolbox. Four dead.

  The outcropping shook and trembled throughout the landslide. Maria watched nervously as stones plunged past her, but nothing, not even the tiniest of pebbles, managed to find them in their protective haven.

  After the rocks and debris subsided, Maria said a short prayer of thanks, then turned to check on Boyd. His face was more pale than usual, but a smirk was etched on his lips. ‘Are you OK?’

  He took a deep breath. ‘Brilliant. And you?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ Maria showed him the camera that she clasped in her hand. ‘So is the video.’

  ‘Oh, dear Lord! The cylinder!’ Boyd frantically moved his fanny pack, hoping that the artifact had stayed in the pocket of his shorts during all the chaos. When he felt metal, he smiled, knowing they had lucked out. ‘Well, my dear, it appears that things aren’t a total loss.’

  ‘No, but pretty close.’ Maria pointed toward the Catacombs. Their entrance was now covered in debris. ‘I don’t think anyone will be using that door in the near future.’

  Boyd grinned as he inspected the rubble. ‘Good! In the meantime we can take our video to the authorities and use it as proof of our discovery. Then we can come back with proper protection and stake our official claim to this site!’

  ‘Yeah,’ she sighed, ‘if there’s anything left to claim.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’m sure we won’t leave Italy empty-handed.’

  And Boyd knew that was true, for even if the Catacombs had been completely destroyed, he realized that he already possessed the object that he had come to Orvieto for.

  The bronze cylinder.

  13

  Several hours passed before they came back for Payne. By then his legs were dead asleep, two lifeless limbs barely able to move. Still in handcuffs, he was dragged upstairs and shoved into a metal conference room where Jones, handcuffed as well, was sitting at the end of a long table. A large stranger in a dark suit sat on Jones’s left. A second man, speaking on a cell phone, stood in the far corner of the room, watching everything with steely resolve.

  Jones smiled when he saw Payne. It was the first time they had seen each other since they had been arrested. ‘Hey Jon, you’re looking well. How ya been sleeping?’

  ‘Like a baby. Every morning I wake up wet.’

  He nodded knowingly. ‘Fuckin’ hose.’

  Payne took the seat across from Jones and studied the man to his side. He was roughly the same height as Payne but outweighed him by a hundred pounds. Muscle, not flab. Payne stared at him for five seconds, sizing him up, and in all that time he couldn’t find his neck. Finally, to break the silence, Payne introduced himself. ‘I’m Jonathon Payne. And you are?’

  The yeti stared back at Payne but didn’t say a word. He just let out a soft growl.

  Jones, who was black and had the physique of a de
fensive back, laughed. ‘Thank God he hates you, too. When he didn’t talk to me, I thought he was a racist… Maybe he’s just deaf.’

  ‘Any idea what this is about?’

  ‘Nope. And you?’

  Payne shook his head. ‘I was promised a phone call for today but never got to make it. Maybe these guys are from the embassy.’

  ‘No,’ blurted the man on the cell phone. ‘We aren’t from the embassy.’

  ‘Oooooh!’ Jones teased. ‘They can talk!’

  ‘Yes, Mr Jones, we can talk. But I promise this will be a short conversation if you continue to make comments at our expense. I will not tolerate lip from a prisoner.’

  The guy was six foot one, in his mid-forties, and a total prick. They could tell that immediately. There was something about his demeanor that said, If you fuck with me, I’ll shit in your corn flakes. Maybe it was his hair, which was high and tight, or his eyes, which were cold and reptilian. Whatever it was, he made it work because there was no doubt he was running things. ‘So, should I leave right now, or will you shut up long enough to listen?’

  Payne hadn’t followed orders since he was in the military but got the sense that they had no choice. Either they listened to this guy, or they went back to their cells for a very long time. ‘Sure, silence can be arranged. But only if you give us the courtesy of your name and rank. I feel that’s the least we deserve.’

  ‘No, Mr Payne, you don’t deserve a thing. Not with the charges you’re facing.’

  The man took a seat at the far end of the table and removed a folder from his leather briefcase. Then he sat there for a minute, studying its contents. Refusing to say a word. The only sound in the room was the occasional rustle of paperwork. When he spoke again, the harshness in his voice was softer than before. Like he had reconsidered how to handle things. ‘However, due to the circumstances of my proposal, I think it would be best if I remained civil.’

  ‘Your proposal?’ Payne asked.