“I cannot see it and that in itself is strange,” Bridget continued. “There is something in the way, blocking my vision, but I feel you are nearing your goal of finding Ailís. I can tell you no more.”
Between them, the air did not need to be filled with words. Julian considered, then spoke slowly. “Bridget, there is an unimaginable power larger, and far more deadly, at work here. I feel one of us has been turned. My problem is, I can’t believe someone so powerful would have gone unnoticed.”
Bridget could feel his anger, his frustration and his fear. It wasn’t from his voice or what he said. She could feel the raw emotions and the swirling thoughts. It was palpable to her, real, and her face twisted with the pain of it.
“Julian,” she began, “you have changed during your time in Rome. You have grown. The rate and direction of your growth has surprised even me. I am not so easily surprised.
“The result is, now, more than ever, you must become the master of your thoughts, your reactions and your emotions. What you are facing requires you to have no doubts, no fears. Know the unreality of the reality that has been presented to you.
“You have heard it before. You and I, and those like us, are tasked with dispelling the mist. In this case, you must make sure you project the strongest light possible. Your life, and that of others, may depend on it. You are strong and you are capable. You are talented and bright. Use all of that to intensify the light and know, you are never alone,” she concluded.
“I will try, Bridget. I will do my best,” Julian said.
“I know you will and that is all that can be asked of you,” Bridget whispered.
She hung up and her heart ached. She knew some of what he faced. When new and raw, she had faced it too. She had nearly died and would have if her teacher and mentor had not given up their lives to save hers. The grief and the guilt had been so great she had prayed to die. Now she prayed Julian would survive better than she had.
She said to herself in an undertone, “It is all that can be asked. But sometimes our best is not enough.”
***
Rain beat a steady tattoo on the windows of Fr. Soski’s office. The office was, as always, swathed in its perpetual twilight. Julian looked into the gray middle distance from a gap between the curtains. He turned to his friend seated at his desk.
“Well, Marek?” Julian asked in a whisper nearly drowned out by the rain.
“I do not see any other possibility, Julian. A conspiracy spanning two thousand years or more and they did it all in secret,” the priest said and ruminated on the possibilities. “The group we are dealing with is the ‘they’ in all of this. Your professors, Agostini and Bragonier, their research leads to only that conclusion. Proof we do not have, but their investigation is the next best thing.”
“The coins were the nexus of a criminal enterprise that puts all others in the shade,” Julian said. “The question is how was it held together for so long and in secret. The answer is we, those like us, have been involved from the start. There is no way of knowing who is involved now, so trusting anyone will be impossible,” Julian said.
“Impressive. I don’t know five people who can keep a secret for twenty minutes. So what’s next? Julian, at best we can only try to avoid being killed,” the priest said.
“Well, let’s call them the Group for lack of anything else. If the Group wants the Pope dead, we have to assume…” Julian was interrupted.
“We must assume one thing first,” Fr. Marek said and Julian nodded. “Our assumption was the doctor was being held by either Luciano or Sokolov. There is a new piece on the chessboard. The Group may have her. Their motivation has a higher priority and a greater likelihood.
“This Group, the good cardinal, and a Russian mobster all want you dead,” Soski said, “as soon as you’ve rendered some small service. In this case, assassinating the Pope. By the way, it would be a worthwhile conjecture this is not their first pope.”
The rain intensified as the storm passed overhead and thunder boomed in the distance.
“Yes,” the priest continued, “we can assume something else. Life insurance for you must be hideously expensive. You seem to attract all the wrong kind of attention. Julian, please work on that, will you?
“I wonder if we should cue the ominous music soundtrack now?” Fr. Soski said. Rather than lighten the mood, the sharp contrasts between life and death were only accentuated.
***
Sapienza University had been scrubbed clean by the overnight rain. The jaunty buildings and staid structures seemed to take on new confidence.
The professor had called. There was news, a clue and it was sufficient enough to perturb an imperturbable man. Agostini was unwilling to share it over the telephone. Julian climbed the stairs to Professor Agostini’s office. The long days and sleepless nights were wearing deep lines into Julian’s face and dark circles lay heavy under his gray eyes.
“No!” The word was a scream, a hope, a prayer and came from the second floor. Julian moved, taking the stairs two at a time. He reached the second floor and began to run. The word came again, “No!” as Julian reached the only open door on the second floor.
Gio knelt beside the body of Professor Agostini. The older man’s body was twisted, contorted into a painful shape. He lay face up. His chest was collapsed as though all the ribs had been crushed. Rivulets of blood had run from his ears and eyes, but had dried quickly as the man’s life faded, then was no more.
Julian looked up and saw heavy scorch marks on the filing cabinet where the professor kept his notes. Everything inside, including the professor’s research, was ash now.
Gio, his knees drenched in blood, vomited, but continued to kneel beside the professor. Rocking back and forth the young man whispered over and over, “No, no, no.”
“Gio,” Julian said as he lifted the young man away from the lifeless body of his professor. “Leave him, now. Let’s wait outside.” Julian’s voice was whisper soft and gentle. He guided Gio to the hallway as campus security arrived on the run.
Crime scene investigators arrived, measurements were made, photographs were taken and fingerprints lifted. The coroner arrived and took possession of the professor’s body.
The university security personnel stood by while members of the Carabinieri questioned Julian briefly. They were far more interested in Gio who they had handcuffed and sitting in the hallway. The officers took copious notes and asked questions in rapid fire Italian. Unsatisfied, they stood the young student up and started toward the waiting squad cars.
“This isn’t happening,” Gio said to Julian. “It can’t be happening. I didn’t do this thing.”
“I’m sorry, Gio. It has happened and you didn’t do it. I know that and the authorities will too. There is nothing more to be said.” There was much to be said, but Julian wasn’t prepared to say it. “Say nothing until you talk with your lawyer. I’ll find the best there is. No matter what, say nothing and know you’re not alone.”
His past viewing ability gave Julian no clue what had happened. He could see the office clearly. He watched as Gio had arrived for his appointment. It flickered into being and then was gone, obscured by some dark presence. In the present, it manifested itself as Julian had found it. A dead professor and a grieving, terrified student. And a world of information gone.
Julian watched as the police car pulled away from the curb with Gio in the backseat. He began to walk. He could have hailed a taxi, but he needed time to think, time to see through this darkness.
***
“Wizard.” Julian came slowly to himself. He blinked rapidly and shook his head trying to clear the thoughts and images. He had traveled several blocks along the busy street.
He was subdued when he answered, “Inspector, what can I do for you.” A statement not a question.
She sensed the difference and cocked her head. “Behind you is a small park. Go there, pick a bench you like and sit. We’ll be with you in a moment.”
“No.” Juli
an spoke the word simply.
The inspector’s brow creased and she said softly, “Please.”
The unmarked police car pulled away from the curb and was lost in the traffic as Julian drew a noisy breath and turned into the park.
He found a shaded bench and was joined a short time later by the inspector and her sergeant.
“What are you doing here?” Julian asked, not interested in the answer and his mind a thousand miles away.
“We monitored a emergency call at the university. A body had been discovered. A murder they say with a suspect in custody. No concern of ours, but it was noted. The Carabinieri get all the interesting things to do while we deal with finance. And you. It is unfair.
“Driving down the street, who do we see but you, a few blocks from the same university where a body has been found. Enrico and I looked at each other and instantly knew you were involved. What have you done?” She was reading Julian in a fundamental way. He was distant, he was serious, hurting.
She dealt with him gently, while the sergeant looked on and watched for the slightest flare of any reaction or emotion. He found nothing in Julian except an empty sadness.
“Tell me what has happened and if or how it involves you,” she said softly.
Julian looked at the ground and saw nothing at all. His mouth a hard, tight line. The space between his eyes deeply etched in thought. He answered quietly, “Inspector, there are things you do not want to know, apparently things that will get you assassinated. Leave it alone. Your world is dangerous enough, but much easier to live in than mine.”
“That may be. You said assassinate while I said murder,” the inspector said. “There is a difference between the two, no?”
“Yes there is a very great difference. Very great and no difference at all. A good man is dead,” Julian said without intonation or emotion. “Still, you are the police. If you say murder, it must be murder.”
“Don’t be like that.” The inspector’s words were hard-edged.
Julian turned to the young woman, thought hard for a moment and said, “Inspector, can you do me a favor? I have no right to ask, but you are the right person to ask.”
The inspector thought, looked to her partner who shrugged. “Ask your favor,” she said. “We will see.”
“The young man who was arrested for this crime, he is a friend and needs a lawyer quickly. You know the good ones from the bad ones. I need only the one who will get my friend out of jail. I don’t speak Italian, as you have reminded me. I need you to call whatever lawyer you think best for the job,” Julian said.
“The thing you ask is easily done. But in return…” She left the sentence suspended in air and looked guarded.
“I will give you some information and I will save your life.” Julian looked into the inspector’s eyes and she leaned away. Simultaneously, her partner leaned in.
“I can tell you,” Julian began. “The young man in custody didn’t do it. You don’t like the word assassinate and I don’t like murdered. Let’s settle. The professor was silenced to keep him from telling me something. His death was meant as a warning, an example to me, and it eliminated some vital information.”
Julian continued, “I can tell you, people are behind this who will never be caught. You have no idea how powerful they are.” Julian smirked. “I would like to tell you who they are, but I can’t. I don’t know. They are shadows. They are nightmares.
“Now I will save your life.” Julian looked from the inspector to her sergeant. “Both of your lives, actually. Please, make the call and then distance yourself as quickly as possible. Do not look into this case even informally. Do not speculate. Do not think of it again. Put it from your memories forever.”
The inspector’s brows drew together in concentration. She looked to her partner. His shrug was a little less lackluster than the last one.
“I will do this for you and promise to stay well away from the case. I must warn you though, the Italian justice system is not an easy one to navigate. It is based on Napoleonic law which, itself, is based on Roman law. It is not for the state to prove a suspect guilty, but for him to prove his innocence.
“I will tell you another thing,” the inspector said. “In Italy, money buys influence. Influence buys power. Power buys happiness. There are many happy people who want to stay that way.”
“Cost is not an issue. My friend needs to walk on this. There will be no justice for the professor. I want there to be no injustice befalling my friend. He did not do it. You may depend on that.”
“Again, wizard, you have told us absolutely nothing of value. We will make the call, but one day we will call on you for a favor,” the inspector said, “and, regardless of what we ask, you will deliver.”
Julian closed his eyes and nodded.
Chapter Seventeen
He accepted the inspector’s offer of a ride to the House of Joy. He made a call he dreaded. He telephoned Professor Bragonier. The man’s moan came from a tormented soul. He passed the phone to his wife, Bridget. Julian explained again the circumstances of Professor Agostini’s death. Julian added horrific details he hadn’t shared with Bridget’s husband, would never share with him.
“I am sorry, Julian. There is little else that can be said,” the woman whispered.
“Bridget?”
“Yes, Julian.” She could feel the pain in his tortured silence.
“You have the Sight. I know you can’t see what is going on now, but going forward…”
Bridget waited for him to continue, waited for the questions she knew would come.
“Going forward, beyond right now – will Ailís survive this?” Julian whispered his question.
“She will,” Bridget said and felt sure in her answer.
“Will I?” Julian asked.
“There is a cloak around you, Julian. It covers all of this business and, I’m afraid, I cannot explain it and cannot really see beyond that. Your survival will depend on the choices you make. Beyond that, I cannot say.”
“Thank you, Bridget. It’s good to know what I’m facing,” Julian said.
But she could see, not everything, but enough. She did know, not everything, but enough. She could say, but nothing that would change Julian’s choices.
Bridget Bragonier hung up the telephone and, for the first time in a very long time, wept.
***
“If it isn’t Mr. John Clarke. You indicated there was some urgency, my young friend.” The heavyset older man with the simple suit and the clerical collar seemed pleased to see his protégé.
He was seated in an underground passage in the lower reaches of Castel Sant'Angelo. The passageway was safe, secure and a secret known to few who had not been murdered to keep the secret.
“You are looking particularly smug today, Consul,” Clarke said using the Group’s ancient title for its leader.
“The Passetto di Borgo is the secret passageway connecting St. Peter’s to Castel Sant’Angelo. Not a secret any more, of course,” the Consul said.
“Today, tourists walk in the same pathway as many popes. Oddly, no one ever noticed this parallel passageway we built. The things our little group has accomplished have been remarkable, no?”
John Clarke thought a moment. “I take it you selected the place we eliminated our first pope for a reason.”
“I did, actually. Generations of us followed generations of them right to you and me, right here in the present day. We murdered John X here in fact. Yes, the castle has the residence and refuge of popes, a prison, barracks and an execution chamber.
“Still, we mustn’t neglect our butchering the next two popes, Leo VI and Stephen VIII. The woman who killed them all did so in order to install her son on the Throne of Peter.” The Consul continued with his history lesson. An historical place, don’t you think?
“She was a very busy lady and advanced our cause substantially. We owe much to her. When it was time, she was killed by her apprentice as I will be killed by you.” The Consul smiled wit
h a kindness that never reached his eyes. “You know all of this, so what brings us together today?”
“I have a concern, two actually,” Clarke said. His British accent was elegant, his language precise. “We have employed every available asset to locate the doctor. Our search has been fruitless. As you have said, without her, Blessing will not comply with our wishes. Can you assist?”
“I agree, he will not,” the Consul said. “As for finding the woman, in all likelihood I could do it. Doing so, however, would require lowering the shadows that protect our business. There are many who, right now, are probing the shield I maintain. Any weakening would leave us exposed,” the Consul said.
“I understand. Could we not threaten Blessing in another way? His mentor in Dublin comes to mind,” Clarke said. His bright gray eyes sought out the steel gray eyes of his superior, his mentor.
“Let me tell you something,” the Consul said. “Send an army of kidnappers or assassins against that woman and your army would be no more. She tangled with us decades ago. She escaped, but two of her companions did not.
“Those three obliterated a score of our people in the process. She did not get away unscathed, but the experience left her vicious. Over the years she has become unreasonably powerful. She can detect anything you send against her or hers at a great distance and would not hesitate to eliminate the slightest threat.
“To make it more difficult, she has the sight. She would know well in advance, my friend. She is a very large reason I cannot lower our guard.” The older man sat and ruminated before saying, “You mentioned a second concern, John.”
“Luciano,” Clarke began. “He has become troublesome in one way, dangerous in another. I feel this is getting worse by the moment. He lacks discipline and so is prone to wild outbursts and unpredictable behavior.
“We left him to recruit Blessing. The cardinal’s arrogance put paid to that. He then went on to forewarn Blessing about our intentions, viz this current pope. As a result, the young man was prepared for us.”
Echoes Through the Vatican: A Paranormal Mystery (The Echoes Quartet Book 2) Page 18
