by John Sneeden
“A small fire broke out in the library.”
Stegmann’s eyes narrowed. “What was the cause?”
“I think they have it under control now. At least that’s—”
“How did it happen?” Stegmann asked, this time louder.
“We don’t know. All we know is it started in the library. I believe a few books caught on fire.”
“Have you called the fire department?”
“They’re on the way.”
“Good work.” Stegmann motioned for Zane to follow him toward a doorway on the other side of the entrance hall. Once they passed through, Zane knew they were in the library. The haze was heavier here, and water dripped from ceiling sprinklers, forming pools on the floor.
Without hesitating, Stegmann moved toward the bookshelves on the right. A large contingent of Swiss guards gathered in one of the aisles. As he took in the scene, Zane’s instincts told him the fire had been purposefully set. How else would it start among the books? Surely there wasn’t any wiring in the shelves. But why here? His heart beat a little faster as he remembered why he was there. Could the fire have been set to create a distraction? The timing was certainly suspicious.
Zane was about to bring it up when Stegmann spoke to the men. “Give me a sitrep.”
A dark-haired guard crouched in the aisle pointed toward the bottom shelf. “We think it started here.”
Stegmann stepped closer and lowered to one knee, his eyes fixed on the blackened books and shelving.
“Light the bottom, and let it ignite everything above,” Zane pointed out. “A quick way to create chaos.”
Stegmann nodded in agreement.
“Thankfully, the sprinklers did their job, thwarting whoever did this,” one of the other guards said.
“I’m not so sure they were thwarted,” Zane said.
Stegmann looked back at him with a frown. “What do you mean?”
“If someone was trying to burn the place down, they’d never do it by starting a fire here.” Zane nodded at one of the sprinklers directly overhead. “Assuming the fire-protection system was in good working order, they had to know a paper fire would be put out within a few minutes.”
“What are you suggesting?” Stegmann asked.
“I’m suggesting this was a distraction.”
Stegmann seemed to understand where he was going. “We need to find out where the relic is—”
“Sir.” A guard approached and held a radio toward Stegmann. “Hauptmann Auer would like to speak to you. He’s calling from the vault.”
Zane’s gut pinched. They were about to get more bad news.
Stegmann took the radio. “Auer?”
A choppy voice spoke on the other end. “Three of us came down to check on Hannes. He was late in checking out and didn’t respond to our calls.” There was a brief pause before he continued, his voice cracking with emotion. “Sir, we have a man down.”
Stegmann frowned. “Hannes?”
“Yes, sir.”
Stegmann stared into space, trying to make sense of it all. A moment later, he seemed seized with a thought. “Have you found anyone else? I was told Father Cortesi was there with one of the couriers.”
“Not yet, but we’re searching now.”
“Let me know if you find anything.”
Auer spoke again. “Sir, there is something else.”
“What is it?”
“Hannes… his uniform is missing.”
The pieces of the puzzle were slowly being snapped into place. Even though they hadn’t found his body yet, Zane had no doubt Father Cortesi was dead. The courier had used the father for access to the vault, then killed both he and Hannes. He then used the guard’s uniform to cover his escape.
After signing off, Stegmann told the guards to search the entire complex, including the grounds outside. They were to look for an impostor wearing the regular duty uniform of the Swiss Guard. He reminded them the man was armed and dangerous.
After the men left, Stegmann turned to Zane. “Let’s assume he got what he wanted. Why come up here and set this fire?”
“It was meant to be a distraction. From his standpoint, the biggest hurdle was going to be getting out through the security checkpoint. No one would recognize him from a distance, but if he was able to get out of the building…” A memory flashed in Zane’s mind: a Swiss guard escorting a nun to the curb. Zane had expected the man to remain with the nun or re-enter the building, but instead he’d simply walked out into the parking lot. Zane tried to picture the man’s face then remembered he’d been looking down. He’d gotten a general impression of his features, but that was it.
He looked at Stegmann. “Shut down all the exits now.”
“There are guards at every—”
“No, shut them down completely. Close the gates. Don’t let anyone out under any circumstances. No vehicles. No foot traffic. No one can leave.”
Stegmann frowned deeply. “You saw him?”
“He was walking out into the courtyard. And if we don’t stop him in the next couple of minutes, we may lose him forever.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
DANTE—THE MAN posing as Fabio Pinelli—strode across the parking lot with confidence. Look like you’re supposed to be here. Five more minutes and this will all be over.
So far, he couldn’t be more pleased with how things had played out. The plan had worked to near perfection. After he’d set the fire, smoke had filled the library, triggering sprinklers and alarms. Less than a minute later, chaos reigned throughout the building. People streamed down stairs and rushed toward the exits. Others had bent over coughing, unable to move in the suffocating haze.
There had only been one hiccup along the way. As he crossed the entrance hall, he noticed two guards coming toward him. If they had seen his face, he would’ve been forced to fight his way out. Fortunately, fate had smiled down on him. Just as the guards drew near, several nuns emerged from a nearby stairwell. One of them looked like she was about to keel over, so he had come alongside her, wrapping an arm around her waist and helping her through the exit.
After emerging outside, he had seen two men running toward him. One wore a suit and had a look of authority. He was just the kind of man Dante wanted to avoid. The other was a civilian—a tall, athletic-looking man with long hair. Thankfully, neither had seen his face.
An ear-splitting thump pulsated overhead, drawing Dante back to the present. He looked up. A helicopter swept through the night sky, its searchlight panning from one side of the courtyard to the other.
The search was already on.
A minute later, he arrived at the van. After climbing in, he moved to the back and placed the satchel in a metal cabinet. Now that the relic was secure, he removed the bulky blue uniform of the Swiss Guard, completing the transformation back to courier.
After climbing back into the front seat, he drove through the tunnel. As he emerged on the other side, two fire trucks whisked past him, sirens wailing. He stopped the van and looked toward St. Anne’s Gate. The iron gate was open, but the guards buzzed around it like bees. They were probably waiting for more fire trucks to pass through. That might mean it was his last chance to get out before they sealed things off.
Reaching into his pocket, he removed the pistol he’d taken from the guard. He chambered a round then placed it between the seat and the center console. While he preferred to slip away without a fight, he wouldn’t hesitate to use the weapon if necessary.
He put the van in gear and drove forward. One of the guards saw him coming and stepped into the road. He was clutching a semi-automatic weapon, and his face was etched with a hard scowl. They weren’t playing games.
The guard held up a hand. “Halt!”
Dante brought the van to a stop and took a deep breath. Now wasn’t the time to hit the panic button. He reminded himself they weren’t looking for a courier, at least not yet, so it was likely they’d let him out. If not, he’d leave by force. Either way, he’d be fine.
<
br /> The guard approached the driver’s side window. “Turn the vehicle around. No one is allowed to leave.”
Dante shifted the van into park. “What’s going on? I just dropped something off and need to be at my next delivery.”
“It will have to wait.”
“It can’t.”
The guard’s scowl deepened. “Didn’t you hear me? I said no one is leaving. Now back up and turn around.”
“You can’t keep me here against my will.”
His suspicions now aroused, the guard’s eyes scanned the dash and the front seat. “I need to see your identification.”
Dante glanced toward the Swiss Guards standing near the gate. Most were looking in his direction. They seemed to sense something was wrong. Some gripped their rifles tightly.
“Now!” the guard shouted.
“Sorry. I have it right here.”
He reached down and grasped the pistol. In one smooth motion, he pulled it out and shot the guard twice in the face. As the guard fell backward, he shifted into gear and mashed the accelerator. The van lurched forward with a roar. Two guards stood in the road with guns raised, only to step back when they saw he wasn’t stopping.
Muzzles flashed as a wave of bullets ripped across the van’s front. Without taking his foot off the gas, he accelerated past the gate and into the street beyond, his tires squealing as he turned left.
Screaming tourists parted like the Red Sea as he careened down Via di Porta Angelica.
As the gate disappeared behind him, the man smiled.
It had all been so easy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“I NEED A weapon,” Zane insisted.
Stegmann hesitated, weighing the pros and cons of such a decision. Zane couldn’t blame him. Arming a third party within the walls of the Vatican could lead to some very unwanted consequences. If something happened, his job could be called into question. But Zane had no choice but to press his case. At this point, he was the only one who’d seen the man’s face, albeit from the side.
“You can take charge of the vault. There could be others hidden there. I’ll find the imposter. I’m the only one who knows what he looks like.”
The last point seemed to persuade Stegmann. He turned and flagged down a guard running past them. “Give me your pistol.” The man hesitated for a moment, confused, then surrendered his weapon. The commander handed it to Zane. Stegmann addressed the guard again. “Accompany him wherever he wants to go. Give him full access to our resources.” After getting a nod, Stegmann moved off toward the elevators.
Zane headed toward the exit.
“One moment.” Before departing, the guard quickly retrieved another weapon from a locker behind the security checkpoint. When he came back, Zane noticed he was holding a nasty-looking Steyr TMP, or Tactical Machine Pistol. Nice. The fully automatic weapon could fire a blistering nine hundred rounds per minute.
The two rushed toward the door. Emergency vehicles were lined along the curb. Zane heard deafening thumps and looked skyward. Two black choppers circled overhead like angry hornets, their spotlights sweeping across the buildings and open spaces.
Zane jogged down the sidewalk until he reached a place that gave him a better view of the parking lot.
“What are we looking for?” the guard asked.
“The perp is trying to leave by commercial vehicle.” Zane’s eyes surveyed the chaos that reigned across the plaza. “See if you see one moving.”
“There! Behind the trucks… going out.”
Zane shifted his gaze in time to see red taillights of a white van disappearing through the tunnel at the far end. That was likely the thief. Hopefully, the gate was already closed, but that was by no means a certainty. They had to be ready to pursue if he made it beyond the walls. At this point, Zane wasn’t even sure if the Swiss Guard were legally permitted to do that.
He turned to the guard. “Do you have a car?”
He shook his head. “Not here.” He looked around then pointed further down the sidewalk. “But we do have those.”
Zane followed his point. Three motor scooters stood at a rack about twenty yards away. It wasn’t ideal—most had a maximum speed of about thirty miles per hour—but it would have to do.
“Are they ready to go?”
“Yes, the keys are always kept in the ignition, but you can’t—”
Zane was already moving. “Radio the gate, and make sure it’s closed.” He paused briefly and looked back. “And tell them who I am!”
As the guard lifted his radio, Zane sprinted to the closest bike and hopped on. A key dangled from the ignition, so he pressed the Start button. Thankfully, the engine purred to life without any trouble. He squeezed the throttle and headed straight for the tunnel.
If the imposter had already made it past the gate, there was little chance he’d be able to catch him. Hopefully, the guards had done their work and sealed things off. If so, the man wouldn’t be able to leave unless he abandoned the vehicle and hid somewhere among the buildings. He might even try to scale a wall.
After passing two fire trucks in the tunnel, Zane emerged on the other side. St. Anne’s Gate was directly ahead. His heart sank as he took in the view. Mayhem reigned. Several guards surrounded what appeared to be a dead body lying on the pavement. Others had spread out into the street beyond, waving their rifles to and fro.
There was no van.
Zane accelerated up to the gate. The other guard should have radioed ahead by now. Any extended conversation might ruin their chances, so he hoped they would simply wave him through.
Just when he thought he was going to pass unhindered, one of the guards saw him and raised a submachine gun. “Stop!”
Zane cursed and brought the scooter to a halt. The guards were now trigger-happy and wouldn’t hesitate to mow him down. “Call the team at the Secret Archives. I’m a guest of Commander—”
“Get off! Now!”
Zane groaned in frustration but did as he was told. As he slid off the bike, a man in a gray suit was already rushing over. He laid a hand on the guard’s shoulder and said something in his ear. Immediately, the guard lowered his weapon and signaled Zane was free to pass.
“Which way did he go?” Zane slid back on the scooter.
The guard pointed. “After passing through the gate, he turned left on Via di Porta Angelica.”
“Were you able to get the name of the company printed on the van?”
The man in the suit gave him the name.
Zane nodded, thanked them, and squeezed the throttle. He turned north on Via di Porta Angelica, retracing the route he’d come in on. As he passed each street turning off to the right, he slowed and looked for signs of the van. Seeing nothing, he continued to the end, where he was forced to turn right. If the van wasn’t there, it meant the thief had gotten away.
A long line of cars was stopped ahead. As Zane eased up to the back of the line, his pulse quickened. A white van was stopped about ten cars ahead. He squinted and was finally able to read the name printed on the back door. That’s it.
As the wait continued, Zane mulled over his options. Should he run the scooter up onto the sidewalk and launch an assault? Or should he stay back and follow at a distance? Both scenarios had problems. If the thief were heavily armed, which was certainly possible, an attack would be little more than a suicide mission. Not only that, but a gunfight in the street would likely end with collateral damage. The sidewalks swarmed with people at this hour.
If Zane followed at a distance, he would likely lose sight once the van was able to accelerate to higher speeds. The scooter had no chance of keeping up once the traffic thinned. Despite the challenges of following, it was his only option. He couldn’t endanger the lives of innocent bystanders. There was likely a BOLO out on the van already, so at least he’d soon have the help of the Rome police.
The traffic began moving. Careful to keep a low profile, Zane followed his quarry along the streets running north and east of the Vatican. T
hankfully, the van kept a moderate pace. That was a bit surprising and was probably an indication the driver didn’t want to draw attention to himself.
Ten minutes later, the van crossed the Pietro Nenni Bridge. On the other side, it turned north along the east side of the Tiber then slowed. Zane’s heart thumped faster. Was the driver looking for a turn or a parked vehicle to switch to? The answer came a moment later when it turned left onto a ramp that ran down to the river. Zane continued on without turning behind him. If he’d followed down the ramp, the driver would’ve realized he had a tail.
Zane drove for one block, made a U-turn, and came back. As he drove down the ramp, he extinguished the scooter’s headlight. At the bottom, the service road turned right along the Tiber. A row of large trees hung over each side. The darkness was both good and bad. Good in that it allowed for a more stealthy approach, but bad in that he might run up on the van without knowing it.
Brake lights flashed ahead. The van had also been running without its headlights. Zane slowed the scooter and rolled to a stop behind a tree. Once he was out of view, he turned off the ignition and slid off. He crept forward and peered around the trunk. The van was parked in one of several parking spaces arrayed in front of a small building situated on the river. Such structures were a common sight on the Tiber. Some were used as storage facilities and boathouses. There were even a few restaurants and cafes built over on the water. As best Zane could tell, this one looked like a boathouse.
Suddenly, there was a flash of light as the driver opened the door and stepped out. In that brief second, Zane saw the man had a black satchel slung over one arm. He guessed it contained the stolen relic.
After a cursory look around, the man crossed the dock and entered the building through the front. Zane waited. It would be foolish to follow immediately. The man might have gone inside to pick something up and could come right back out.
So why had he come here? Was he simply hiding until things blew over? That was doubtful. The fact that he’d come to the river likely meant a boat was either on the way or was already waiting, which meant it was time to act. Zane removed the pistol the guard had given him and ejected the magazine. It contained a single stack of eight cartridges. Not as many rounds as he’d like, but it would have to do. Besides, if he played this correctly, he should only need one.
