The Rome Prophecy

by Jon Trace

  He forces himself to kneel beside the mutilated torso. A man who in his mind is a martyr in the truest sense of the word.

  He places his hand over Guilio’s heart and recites an adaptation of the twenty-third psalm: ‘The Lord is your Shepherd and now you shall not want. He led you down the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake, and though you walked through the valley of the shadow of death you feared no evil. Now our sweet Jesus will prepare a table for you in the presence of your enemies. He will anoint your head with oil and ensure your cup is eternally full. He will perpetually be at your side and will restore your soul. He will grant you the right to dwell in his house for ever. Amen.’

  The soldier with Tom makes the sign of the cross and then helps the American to his feet.

  ‘Grazie.’ As Tom thanks him, he spots a shrine to Cybele set in the wall.

  The sculpture of her is the same as the one he saw in the catalogue at Galleria Borghese. She is holding an open book.

  The Tenth Book?

  ‘Can you shine your light over there?’

  The soldier points his MP5 at the marble.

  Tom has a hunch.

  More than a hunch.

  He takes Guilio’s scalene pendant from his pocket and tilts his head so that he considers the rectangle of the book as though it was horizontal rather vertical.

  He remembers how he moved the slab of tree that blocked the end of the gallery.

  There was a hidden triangle of key slots sunk in the middle of the bark.

  He runs his fingers over the two marble pages.

  Each line of the book is carved deeply, and there is lavish Latin writing engraved all over them.

  He looks again.

  It isn’t Latin, or even Greek.

  He doesn’t recognise it.

  It could be Etruscan. Maybe Phrygian.

  The soldier steps closer and focuses the light for Tom. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Just trying something.’ He shows him the black stone pendant. ‘This is a key. If I can find the right locks, we may discover something behind here.’

  ‘As long as it’s not lions, I don’t mind.’

  He smiles and points his light down and off to the left. It illuminates an open steel gate about a metre high and half a metre wide. ‘They came through there. The place is full of animal shit and bowls of dried food. There aren’t any more, I already checked.’

  Tom is relieved. ‘Can I have the light back, please?’

  The soldier obliges.

  The book is small enough for Tom to scan it quickly. He notices for the first time that the left-hand page is scored with diagonal lines that cross in the centre. He explores it for hidden slots.

  There aren’t any.

  Then it occurs to him that the crossed lines create a giant X.

  X for ten.

  He’s sure he’s found a connection to the Tenth Book.

  But what is it?

  He shifts his focus to the right-hand page. There are no obvious clues. It looks almost identical to the left-hand one except that there are no diagonal lines. Tom knows the clue is staring him in the face, but he can’t see it.

  He suddenly remembers the optical puzzles where you stare at a pattern and when your focus slips, another, far more intricate one becomes visible.

  He concentrates hard.

  Too hard.

  He blinks. Relaxes. Tries again.

  He’s conscious of the soldier next to him, and it’s distracting. He lets his focus go and clears his mind almost as though he were preparing for prayer.

  From the marble page appears an image he’s more than familiar with.

  A pentagram.

  An inverted one.

  He daren’t blink. Mustn’t move an inch. Can’t let it vanish.

  He stretches out his hand and tries the pendant in the first point.

  It fits.

  He presses it in and feels a latch click.

  Slowly and carefully, he works his way anticlockwise along all the other points of the pentagram. Each contains a hidden lock.

  The fifth and final lock gives off a satisfying click.

  But nothing happens.

  Nothing opens.

  He must have to pull, push, slide or lift something.

  But what?

  The soldier looks at him quizzically.

  The book doesn’t move. The statue doesn’t move. Nor does the wall in front of them.

  They push and pull some more.

  Nothing moves.

  The soldier lifts the light to Tom’s face. ‘What did you expect to happen?’

  ‘Good question. I’m not sure. Something to open, I guess.’

  The soldier gives him a sympathetic look. ‘Okay, come on, we should get out of here.’

  They turn around and head towards the exit.

  On the far wall, over to the left, the soldier’s light picks out something.

  A passageway.

  Tom grabs his arm and points the flashlight at the opening. ‘Was that there before?’

  The soldier shakes his head. ‘No. I checked the whole place and I didn’t see it.’

  Tom heads towards it.

  ‘Wait!’ The soldier gives him a stern look and nods at the gun in his hands.

  Tom sees his point.

  He follows a couple of metres behind the officer.

  Partway through the opening, he knows what kind of place they’ve entered.

  It’s a graveyard.

  A columbarium.

  Identical to the one Anna described in her crazed writings as Cassandra.

  The place is vast.

  High walls are filled with what look like dovecotes, personal spaces for ancient cremation urns.

  Tom examines the edges of the shelves. They’re marked with Roman numerals. The one he’s looking at says DXX and the one next to it DXIX. He knows he’s standing at 520 and 519. He follows the numbers down and back towards the entrance. On the bottom shelf, he finds what he’s looking for.

  X.

  The amphora is painted with the face of Cybele.

  A face that to Tom still looks disturbingly similar to Anna. He wonders what he’s found.

  Just a pot of old ashes?

  Or the remains of the oldest and most famous prophet goddess the world has ever known?

  He’s no archaeologist, but he already senses something strange about this find.

  The Cybele pot and those immediately around it aren’t as dusty as the others. Come to think of it, the entire shelf is relatively dust-free.

  Tom carefully moves all the pots off the bottom shelf.

  He pulls it.

  It takes a good tug, but it comes free.

  He stares down into a narrow trench.

  A trench filled with books.

  Books full of secrets.

  Secrets people hoped to take to the grave with them.

  139

  The outside of the unassuming farm has been turned into a military compound.

  In the centre is a four-wheel-drive Mercedes Unimog, the size of a small barn. It’s stacked with equipment and stands ready to tow vehicles away, bulldoze down walls and perform all manner of muscular tasks.

  Several Iveco armoured vans have already been loaded with prisoners. A soldier slaps the side of one and it heads off down the dirt road, flanked by BMW R85 motorcyclists, blue lights flashing.

  Up above, an Augusta-Bell helicopter keeps constant watch as the prisoners are taken down the Appian Way and back towards Rome.

  Tom sits on a stone trough and draws breath.

  He watches Valentina’s heart breaking as she says goodbye to Sweetheart. The child is being taken away by social workers, and the parting seems to be hurting her every bit as much as it’s hurting the kid.

  She joins him at the trough, puts her left hand on his thigh and her head on his shoulder.

  He takes her hand. ‘Is she all right?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I don’t think she’s even in the sam
e postal code as all right.’

  He squeezes her fingers. ‘There’s no more you can do. You have to leave her to the experts now.’

  She looks up at him. There are no tears in her eyes; just disbelief and disgust. ‘Silvestri says they freed almost a dozen kids. Some are even younger than that little girl.’

  ‘How many of the cult have they arrested?’

  ‘A dozen men. All guards, by the look of it.’ She glances towards the front of the farm. Mater is being lifted on a gurney into an ambulance. ‘Along with the old witch, they’ve taken four women of about her age and another two or three who seem to be in their forties.’

  Tom wipes rain from his forehead. ‘The tip of the iceberg.’

  Valentina knows what he means. ‘Under interview, some of the old birds will start singing. They won’t want to spend the rest of their lives in prison and should give up a good number of the other members.’

  Tom turns further towards her. ‘Down in the place where the lion killed Anna’s friend, we discovered a secret chamber, a columbarium.’

  ‘One of those old Roman resting places for the poor?’

  He nods. ‘We found a stack of books in there, all marked with the number X. They’re being lifted out by your forensics people.’

  She’s intrigued. ‘Do you know what they are?’

  He thinks he does. ‘The one on top was the most recent one. It was like a cross between an address book and a diary. On the left were telephone numbers and email addresses. No names. On the right were descriptions of the rituals they’d performed with children and names and descriptions of the children. I saw several pages talking about new arrivals and the initiation ceremonies they had to endure.’

  Valentina drops her head and feels sick.

  Tom puts his hand on her shoulder and rubs it. ‘The books go back years, maybe even centuries. The Tenth Book has nothing to do with wisdom or prophecies; it’s a never-ending paedophile directory and diary, that’s all.’

  Valentina looks up and her face is hardened by anger. ‘You’re wrong, Tom. Wrong because it contains the greatest knowledge of all: information on how to find these sick animals, and probably enough evidence to get convictions and send them to their own damned cells.’

  EPILOGUE

  Three days later

  Valentina and Tom are shown through to Lorenzo Silvestri’s office.

  Neither of them is sure why they are there.

  Lorenzo called and said they were to come. Valentina hardly questioned it. She’s learned the painful way that it’s best not to disobey the orders of a Carabinieri major.

  The time of the meeting is seven p.m., and that gives her a clue. That and the fact that Lorenzo said they should both look smart. She thinks he’s a good guy, and is guessing that she and Tom are being invited along to share a glass of wine with the troops, get a slap on the back and hopefully an update on the case.

  Lorenzo greets them both with a smile as broad as the Tiber. ‘Capitano Morassi.’ He spreads his arms wide. ‘You look even more magnificent than in Vanity Fair.’

  She almost blushes. ‘You saw those shots?’

  ‘Valentina, everyone saw those shots.’ He embraces her warmly. ‘And Signor Shaman.’ He pretends to stand back and admire him. ‘Take away that sling and you look the perfect companion for our capitano.’ He extends his hand and shakes Tom’s firmly before pulling him close and kissing both cheeks. ‘Sit down, please sit down.’ He gestures to two black plastic chairs on the other side of his unassuming glass desk.

  Lorenzo sits and folds his arms contentedly. ‘So – I have much to tell you. Where should I begin?’

  Valentina helps him out. ‘How’s the little girl we found in the cells?’

  He nods. ‘She’s very well. She’s called Cristiana, is eleven years old and has written a letter for you.’ He searches the top of his desk. ‘I’m sorry; I thought I had it here.’ He reads the disappointment in Valentina’s eyes. ‘I’ll find it later, don’t worry.’

  He picks a manila file off a stack of three trays. ‘First, let’s tidy up some loose ends.’

  Both Tom and Valentina note his change of tone. Perhaps this isn’t going to be any kind of celebration after all.

  Lorenzo pulls out a black and white photograph and spins it round for them to see. ‘Not pleasant, I’m afraid.’

  And it isn’t.

  The picture shows the corpse of a woman in a shallow grave.

  Her hand is missing.

  Valentina picks it up. Her mind races back to Cosmedin and the time she stood in the bloodstained portico with Federico. This was the start of it all. She looks towards Lorenzo for an explanation.

  ‘We found the corpse inside the underground complex. The pathologist thinks she was buried alive.’

  ‘Dear God.’ Valentina returns the photograph to the major. ‘Scientists at the RaCIS told us that the blood from the severed hand came from Anna’s sister, Cloelia. Is that correct? Is this body that of her sister?’

  ‘It is.’ He waits for the news to sink in. ‘Forensics also found DNA that links the killing to one of the men we arrested. Blood from Anna’s sister was on this man’s robes, and his DNA was found on her, so we have a strong evidential chain.’ He puts the photograph back in the file. Sombrely he produces another picture and puts it down for them to see. ‘This one you know. Anna Fratelli.’

  They both look at it and feel a pang of sadness.

  She could have been so much more.

  Lorenzo rubs his chin thoughtfully. He dips into the file again, produces two more photographs and puts them either side of Anna’s.

  The first is a picture of the amphora that Tom discovered in the columbarium; the second is a mug shot of a woman in her sixties. The woman Valentina fired shots at in the underground temple.

  Lorenzo taps Anna’s picture. ‘This is her genealogical table.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ says Valentina, although a part of her actually does, and she simply doesn’t want to accept what she’s hearing.

  The major touches the mug shot. ‘This is the woman they all call Mater. Her real name is Sibilia Cassandra Savina Andreotti.’ He looks towards Tom. ‘She claims to be a divine descendant of the goddess Cybele. I don’t believe in goddesses.’ He glances at Valentina. ‘At least not that kind. But what I can substantiate is that she is Anna Fratelli’s mother, and they both share the DNA of whoever was cremated and put in this pot centuries ago.’

  The air seems to have been sucked out of the room. Tom and Valentina are speechless.

  Tom clears his throat and sits forward in his chair.

  Lorenzo looks towards him expectantly.

  ‘There’s something I should say.’

  Valentina looks surprised. She and Tom have barely spoken about the case in the last few days. They’ve been trying to forget it.

  ‘The man who took me into the tunnels.’

  Lorenzo names him. ‘Guilio Brygus Angelis.’

  ‘Guilio …’ Tom says it almost reverently. ‘He told me what had happened at Chiesa Santa Maria in Cosmedin. The sect members had recaptured Anna and taken her to the Bocca to frighten her and to find out if she’d told anyone about the temple and the rituals. They cut off her sister’s hand and said they would kill her and then do the same to Anna if she didn’t tell them the truth.’ Tom takes a breath to make sure he recounts things accurately. ‘Guilio appeared as Anna was screaming, and fought with the guards. During the fight, Anna picked up one of the ceremonial swords and killed the man who’d injured her sister.’

  Valentina interrupts. ‘That’s why the blood on her robe was AB and didn’t match that of the handless victim, which we now know was Rhesus negative and belonged to her sister.’

  Tom is unsure of the biological evidence. ‘I guess so; I’ll take your word for it. There’s more though that I need to tell you.’

  Lorenzo motions for him to continue.

  ‘In the panic, Anna ran off. The Galli took Mater and the injured siste
r away. Guilio was left with the dead guard. He put the body into a workman’s sheet that had been draped over the portico so that people couldn’t see inside. He carried the corpse to the boot of his car, then drove down to the Tiber and buried it beneath some rocks.’

  ‘What about the mutilation?’ asks Valentina. ‘Did Anna do that?’

  ‘No. Guilio did. At first he tried to make the death look like an accident. He laid the body down by the river, chopped out much of the stomach and threw it in the water. He then piled rocks on the corpse, probably causing the skull injuries, and fled.’

  ‘We’ll need you to make a statement.’ Lorenzo gathers the photographs and returns them to their file.

  Valentina wishes she was somewhere else. Anywhere other than back in the midst of already painful memories. She sits forward and tries to stay polite. ‘Are we free to go now?’

  ‘Not quite. There is still the note the child wrote for you. Uno momento.’

  He picks up the phone and dials his secretary.

  She doesn’t seem to be there.

  He hangs up and looks slightly annoyed. ‘Sorry. I am having no luck today.’

  Valentina gives him a resigned nod.

  ‘Still. I must not let you leave without the good news.’

  She looks bored. ‘Which is?’

  ‘The disciplinary charges against you and Federico have been dropped. I have spoken with our chief of staff and he has spoken to the Commandante Generale. You and Assante will both be reinstated tomorrow.’

  Valentina is relieved and shows it. ‘Grazie. What about Louisa Verdetti’s complaints against us?’

  ‘Withdrawn.’

  She raises an eyebrow. ‘And how is she?’

  ‘Getting better. The whole affair has shaken her up, as you would expect. Before you disappear, tell me, how do you feel about going back to work with Major Caesario?’

  Until now, Valentina hasn’t thought about it. She takes some seconds to answer and tries not to sound disrespectful. ‘I’m proud of the job I do and proud of how I do it. I will be pleased to be back at work.’

  ‘After a little holiday?’ suggests Tom.

  She smiles at him. ‘After a big holiday, I promise.’

  Lorenzo smiles at them both. They make a good couple. ‘Only, if you don’t want to work with Caesario, I’d be honoured to have you on my team in the GIS.’