Payne wasn’t sure if his ragtag group of fugitives would qualify under those high standards, but they were planning to find out the instant the facility opened in the morning. While they waited, he booked a large suite at a local lodge and bribed the night manager to open the lobby store so they could get a fresh set of clothes and something to eat. They took an hour to get cleaned up, then met in the main room of their suite to discuss Boyd’s affiliation with the CIA.
Boyd said, ‘I realize I don’t possess the suave looks of a spy. But there’s no need to. The fact is I’ve spent the better part of three decades working at Dover as a professor. The only time I do otherwise is when I’m asked to complete a task. Sometimes it’s something simple like smuggling documents out of a country. Other times it’s more complicated like convincing a diplomat to defect. The truth is, I never know what it’s going to be until I’m notified.’
Payne asked, ‘And what were you told in this case?’
‘That’s the amazing thing — this isn’t a case. This was strictly an academic dig. Or at least it was supposed to be. This had nothing to do with a CIA agenda. Absolutely nothing.’
Payne grimaced. ‘See, that’s where I’m having a problem. Unless I’m mistaken, most academic digs don’t involve helicopters, guns, and exploding buses. Right?’
Boyd was about to explain the legend of the Catacombs when he realized he could do better. Instead of dealing in myths and theories, he could use Maria’s video as the ultimate visual aid. Payne and Jones watched, speechless, as the tape documented the grandeur of the Catacombs and the bronze casing of the Tiberius scroll. Boyd chirped in whenever he felt it was necessary, but the truth was they barely listened to him, for the details on the screen were more than enough to convince them that Boyd and Maria weren’t a modern-day Bonnie and Clyde.
When the video ended, Jones focused his attention on Boyd. ‘Back in Milan you said something about your discovery killing a religion. What were you talking about? I didn’t see anything on this tape that would have a negative effect on the Church.’
Boyd shook his head. ‘The last object you saw — the bronze cylinder we found — contained a papyrus scroll with a very significant message. A message that casts doubt over the entire world of Christianity. If made public, people would simply stop believing. Churches would crumble. Coffers would turn to dust. In a word, ruin — both spiritual and financial.’
Jones glanced at Maria, then back at Boyd. ‘That seems a bit dramatic, doesn’t it? I mean, I’m not the most religious guy in the world, but even if I was, I certainly don’t think an ancient piece of paper would have that much effect on my beliefs. If any at all.’
‘Well,’ Boyd sneered, ‘we’ll have to see about that. You wait right there, and I shall fetch the document that will make you feel the fool.’
Maria kept quiet until Boyd left the room. Then she apologized for Boyd’s tone. ‘Don’t take that personally. I just think it’s his way to blow off steam… Besides, the fact is you should have some doubts about this. I know I did — even about the Catacombs themselves. Of course, there’s nothing like some visual proof to contradict a childhood of lectures.’
Jones smiled. ‘A childhood? Just how long have you known Dr Boyd?’
‘Oh, not his lectures. My father’s. He’s always been a disbeliever when it came to the Catacombs. And trust me, his words carry more weight than most. He’s something of an expert.’
There was something about the way she said ‘expert’ that made Jones flash back to their conversation in Milan. Maria Magdalena Pelati. Her name was Pelati, and her father was an expert on Orvieto. Suddenly, Jones realized that wasn’t a coincidence.
‘Maria,’ he stuttered, ‘is your father’s name Benito?’
‘Yes,’ she said, confused. ‘How did you know?’
Jones rubbed his eyes. ‘Holy shit! You’re his daughter. Benito Pelati’s daughter!’
Payne winced. ‘What? Why didn’t you tell us you were his daughter?’
‘I didn’t know you knew who he was. Besides, what does he have to do with anything?’
Payne looked at her in disbelief. ‘You can’t be that naive. He has everything to do with this. He’s the goddamned godfather of Orvieto! He runs the whole town.’
Boyd heard the commotion and emerged from the other room. ‘People, what is it?’
Payne answered. ‘We just found out who she is. She’s Benito Pelati’s daughter.’
‘And that upsets you? Why would that upset you?’
Payne gaped at his response. ‘You gotta be kidding me! Her father runs Orvieto. He controls its security. You don’t think that’s relevant?’ He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. ‘Did it ever occur to you that the soldiers who shot at you in Orvieto might’ve been working for Benito? That maybe they shot at you because they didn’t want you digging there?’
‘Nonsense,’ Boyd scoffed. ‘His office gave us permission to dig there in the first place. You can’t start digging without the appropriate paperwork. If you did, you’d be arrested on the spot.’
Permission? They had permission? That didn’t make sense to Payne. If Benito Pelati was trying to protect his reputation like Frankie claimed, then why would he allow anyone to dig in Orvieto? And of all the archaeologists in the world, why his daughter? Wouldn’t he look even more foolish if his own child — his own female child — showed him up in the public eye?
Then again, maybe she was selected because she was a relative. Maybe Benito knew the Catacombs were there all along and figured if Maria made the discovery then he could bask in her spotlight. Benito could tell the media that he had discovered new evidence about the Catacombs and sent his own child into Orvieto to uncover the truth once and for all.
Payne and Jones discussed the possibilities until Boyd changed the subject, assuring them that there was something more important to discuss. The message on the scroll.
‘Jonathon,’ he said, ‘I was wondering if you could assist me for a moment. I’m afraid I’ve forgotten the exact terms that your friend Manzak shouted at us in Milan, something about fighting a war. Do you recall with any clarity what he said?’
Payne nodded. ‘There was no compassion during the Crusades, nor during this holy war.’
‘Holy war, yes!’ Boyd jotted the phrase. ‘And Christ? What did he say of Christ?’
‘Something about how I thought he was fighting for Christ. Then he said he didn’t care about Christ because he knew what actually happened back then and realized who the real hero was.’
‘Real hero! Yes, those were his words! Splendid job, just splendid!’
‘And that means something to you?’
‘It might. It just might.’ He flipped to a clean sheet of paper. ‘And once I left, did he say anything else? Anything about God, or scrolls, or this holy war?’
Payne looked back on his conversation with Manzak and tried to recall what he’d said. Ultimately the tough part of being an interrogator is sorting through all the nonsense in order to expose value. ‘He said something about the truth at one point that kind of confused me.’
‘The truth?’ Boyd glanced at Maria for help. The term didn’t make any sense to her, either.
So Payne continued. ‘He said his pain would be temporary because he knew the truth and assured me that my pain would be eternal because I didn’t.’
‘Is that what he told you, that he already knew the truth?’
‘Or words to that effect.’
‘How bloody confusing! If he already knows what the scroll says, then there must be more than one. But how?’
Maria spoke up. ‘If Tiberius sent multiple scrolls to Paccius in England, couldn’t Paccius have sent several scrolls back to Rome describing his success?’
‘Paccius?’ Jones mumbled. ‘Tiberius?’
‘Of course!’ Boyd exclaimed. ‘How foolish of me! Paccius would certainly feel the need to update the emperor on everything that he accomplished in Jerusalem, and anyone reading those mess
ages would become fully aware of their plot — even if they had no knowledge of our scroll!’
‘But wouldn’t — ’
‘Hold up!’ Payne demanded. ‘You two are getting way ahead of us. You’re starting to talk about other scrolls before you’ve even explained this one.’
Jones nodded. ‘Jon’s right. If you want our help, you have to fill us in. And the only way to do that is to start at the beginning.’
‘That might take a while.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Payne assured Boyd. ‘We bought ourselves some extra time at the airport.’
Lars knew his commander was expecting an update, but the truth was, he didn’t want to deal with him. At least not yet, not with such disappointing news.
At first he thought their mission was going to be simple, especially when they learned that Payne had used his credit card to buy four tickets to Geneva at the local train station. Unfortunately, while they were busy flagging down the angry conductor near Fribourg, they received a report that Jones and Boyd had both rented cars from an agency back in Bern. Confused, he ordered half his men back and told the others to continue their search of the train.
But that was only the beginning.
Before his men returned, Lars was informed that Maria Pelati had rented a limo to Zürich, and any attempts to contact her driver would be pointless, because of cellular interference in the Alps. Then he was told an American named Otto Buckner, a gentleman matching Payne’s description, had purchased eight pairs of tickets on eight different buses, and all of them were currently on the road and heading in opposite directions around Switzerland.
Of course what Lars didn’t know was that all of those purchases were false leads. The truth was that Payne and Jones had found their transportation in the long-term parking area at the Bern airport. They simply waited for a businessman to pull into the lot, then had Maria flirt with him to obtain his travel information. Once she discovered he was flying to Paris and would be gone for an entire week, Payne and Jones knew they could take his BMW to Küsendorf and wouldn’t have to worry about the car being reported stolen for days.
Dr Boyd managed to explain everything they needed to know: his discovery in Bath, his theories on Emperor Tiberius, and his translation of the scroll. Then, once he had answered all of their questions, Maria pointed out the mystery of the laughing man, described the statue on the roof of Il Duomo, and gave them some facts about Tiberius’s right-hand man, General Paccius.
Needless to say, their heads were swimming at the end of the session.
Just to be fair, though, they returned the favor by briefing them on their backgrounds, their deal with Manzak and Buckner, the cover-ups at the crime scenes, and everything else they could remember. By the time they finished, there were only two things that everyone was able to agree on. One, all of them were baffled. And two, if they had any hope of learning anything at the Ulster Archives, they needed to get some sleep.
Because tomorrow would be filled with even more excitement than today.
47
Nick Dial rented a hotel room a few blocks from the crime scene so he could walk to Fenway in the middle of the night if he felt the urge to reexamine the evidence. And the truth was, he probably would, since his body was still on European time. Or was it African time? Honestly, he didn’t know, since he’d passed through eight different time zones in the last day alone.
Dial checked his watch and decided he might be able to catch Cardinal Rose at the Vatican. They hadn’t spoken since Tuesday, and he was hoping Rose had found some additional information on Father Jansen. He already knew that Jansen was affiliated with the Pontifical Biblical Commission (PBC), though he didn’t know his exact role. Dial needed to know if Jansen was interning with a cardinal from Denmark or Finland, or if his position was more substantial.
The phone rang eight times before someone answered. ‘This is Cardinal Rose.’
‘Joe? This is Nick Dial at Interpol.’
‘Nick! I was wondering when you were going to get ahold of me. I left several messages.’
‘Sorry about that. It’s been a busy couple of days.’
‘CNN just reported that another body was found in Boston. Is that true?’
‘Very true. I just left Fenway Park.’
‘Was the victim another priest?’
‘Nope. This time it was a Pope.’
‘Excuse me?’
Dial clarified his statement. ‘The victim was Orlando Pope, a ballplayer for the Yankees.’
Rose took a few seconds to absorb the news. ‘That can’t be a coincidence.’
‘Probably not.’
‘Was there another note?’
Dial grinned. ‘Are you sure that you’re a cardinal? You sound more like a cop.’
‘Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. It’s just that I’m trying to get a clear picture. I figure, with my knowledge of the Vatican and your knowledge of the case, we might be able to help each other.’
‘Speaking of which, what did you learn about Father Jansen?’
‘Nothing useful, I’m afraid. I talked to all my friends on the PBC, and they were saddened by the loss. It seems Erik was one of the good ones, one of those people that everyone knew and liked. In fact, the more I learned about him, the more I regretted not knowing him.’
‘What about his job? Did you find out what he did?’
‘A little bit of everything. Part clerical, part researcher, part messenger. He was a jack-of-all-trades, just trying to learn the ropes.’
‘What about funny business? Sex, drugs, anything?’
Rose took a deep breath. ‘The kid was clean.’
Dial made a note to himself. ‘So this wasn’t about him. That’s what you’re telling me, right? Father Jansen was the victim, but it wasn’t about him.’
Rose nodded. ‘That would be my guess.’
‘What about the Vatican? Anything going on that I should know about?’
‘What are you implying? That we had something to do with it?’
Dial shook his head. ‘I’m not saying that at all. I’m just wondering if there’s anything going on that I should be aware of. Any scandals? Controversies? Bitter feuds? Give me some help, Joe. People are dying, and I don’t know why.’
Rose stayed quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts. When he finally spoke, he did so in a much softer voice. ‘All organizations — even the innocuous ones — have enemies. No matter what you do, whether it’s good or bad, someone’s bound to be offended. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but the truth is, the Catholic Church gets more threats than any organization in the world. It’s so bad we have a special staff whose sole job is to sort through our mail and separate the real threats from the fake ones.’
‘Is that so? What do they do with the real ones?’
‘I guess that depends on the threat. We have a first-rate security staff that would handle things on our grounds. Anything else would be turned over to the police.’
‘What type of threats are we talking about?’
‘Bombs, fires, assassinations. Everything that you’d expect. Then, of course, there are the whitecollar threats. Lawsuits seem to be popular these days. So does blackmail. You know, “Give me a million dollars, or I’ll tell the press that a priest molested my son.”’
‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’
‘I wish I was, Nick. Unfortunately, that’s the world we live in today. What’s that expression? Money is the root of all evil… Whoever said that was a very wise man.’
Benito Pelati spent the night in his office, waiting for an update. Twenty years ago he would’ve been in Milan himself, doing the things that had earned him his reputation as one of the most feared men in Italy. Now he was relegated to the sidelines, stuck with Dante running things. Not that Dante wasn’t capable, for he was. Still, Benito would’ve preferred his presence in Vienna, working on the excavation that was so important to their cause.
When the call finally came, Benito was angry. He wasn’t one
to tolerate inefficiency.
‘What took you so long? You were supposed to call me hours ago.’
Dante replied, ‘I would’ve if it wasn’t for her. Her involvement has complicated things.’
The comment stunned Benito. He wasn’t used to backtalk from anyone. ‘What are you talking about? Who’s involved?’
‘I’m staring at surveillance photos from the library, and Maria was there with Boyd. You know, I wondered why your guards in Orvieto waited so long to take him out.’
‘Maria? But why? Why would she risk everything that we hoped to achieve?’
‘We? She hasn’t been a part of we since you shipped her off to school. I don’t know when that’s going to sink in, but the sooner it does, the better we’ll be. Trust me, if we don’t get to her soon, she’s going to ruin everything you have planned. And she’ll love every minute of it.’
Benito stayed silent for several seconds. He was scheduled to meet with the Supreme Council later that day, and the last thing he needed was a distraction. He had worked too hard and waited too long to have his moment in the spotlight ruined by his insolent daughter. He was getting ready to drop the bomb of all bombs on the Vatican, and he needed to be focused.
He said, ‘Then you know what you need to do.’
Dante nodded, smiling. He’d been waiting for this day since Benito had sent her away.
48
The Ulster Archives sat nestled against an outcropping of rock, one that shielded the wooden fortress from the Alpine winds that roared through the region during the winter. Nut-brown timber, the color of surrounding trees, made up the bulk of the chalet’s framework and blended perfectly with the broad gables and deep overhangs of the reinforced roof. Square windows were cut into the front facade at regular intervals and were complemented by a triangular pane that had been carved under the structure’s crown. A large picture window ran vertically through the middle of the frame, giving people on the main staircase a spectacular view of the Alps.
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