by John Sneeden
Emily leaned against her father, one arm wrapped tightly around his waist. He smiled at the gesture. No one was going to take Emily’s father away again. Ever.
Feeling a brush on his shoulder, Zane looked at Keiko on his right. Feeling his eyes, she turned and met his gaze. Zane lifted an arm and draped it across her shoulder. She winked at him then faced forward again.
The elevator doors slid open on the third floor. Two Swiss Guards wearing official regalia flanked a doorway across a narrow corridor. Some probably thought the multi-colored stripes were a bit over the top, but Zane couldn’t think of a more welcome sight. Both men snapped to attention as the group crossed the corridor and entered.
Carmen looked around the ballroom as they entered. “Looks like the Pope spared no expense.”
Dozens of people mingled among tables adorned with fine white linens, candles, and trays of hors d’oeuvres. Among those attending were Swiss Guards, a few priests, several nuns, and an assortment of others in suits and dresses. To the left, a chamber orchestra graced the room with Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons.
“It’s my understanding the Pontiff doesn’t even know about the event,” Zane said. “Stegmann told me he paid for it out of their discretionary budget and kept his mouth shut.”
A thin server appeared in front of them, a tray balanced in one hand. “Champagne?”
“Ladies?” Zane gestured toward the drinks.
Carmen, Amanda, and Emily all lifted flutes, followed by the men.
“Ah, they finally made it,” said a familiar voice.
Zane turned to see Jonas Stegmann and Father Fiori coming toward them.
“My apologies,” Zane said. “You, of all people, know what Rome traffic is like on a Friday night.”
Carmen shook her head. “Don’t listen to him. He’s covering for us. We ladies took a bit too long getting ready.”
“I was only joking. You’re not late at all.” Stegmann gestured toward the man at his side. “I believe you remember Father Fiori.”
“I do indeed.” Zane shook the priest’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“The pleasure is all mine.”
After introductions were made, Pratt led the Paulings off for some hors d'oeuvres. Keiko followed.
Once they were gone, Father Fiori turned to Zane. “I want to personally thank you for bringing back our piece.”
Zane bowed slightly. “It was our pleasure.”
“And the world thanks you for taking down such a dangerous man,” Stegmann added. “Or should I say men.”
“I think we all know this was a team effort,” Zane said.
His statement couldn’t have been truer. The Americans, the Vatican, and the Israelis had all come together to hunt down Roger Lawson. The Swiss Guard and the Israelis began by gathering as many images of the Australian as possible. Then they loaded those images into software capable of searching CCTV feeds across the globe. Two days later, Stegmann was awakened after midnight. His lead investigator wanted him to view a short video taken in Split, Croatia. It was a thirty-six percent match, enough to come up on their radar. At the beginning of the feed, a man wearing a baseball cap could be seen walking through the port authority in Split, flanked by two men. As he was about to pass out of range, he lifted his head. In that fleeting second, the software had been able to match a couple of features, including the unique shape of his nose. To be sure, it seemed an odd place for Lawson to surface. Then again, Croatia was certainly in the range of places Lawson could’ve traveled to.
Despite the matching features, Stegmann hadn’t been convinced the man in the video was Roger Lawson. On a whim, he forwarded the file to Zane, who was still chasing leads in the field. It paid immediate dividends. While Zane couldn’t see enough of the man to verify it was Lawson, he remembered the face of one of the men at his side.
Unfortunately, the trail grew cold from there. None of the boats legally docked in Split were owned by the Australian. Stegmann thought he might have traveled there with someone else, but there was no evidence of that either. At some point along the way, Zane began to consider the possibility of an alias and asked Brett Foster to take a second look at the list of boat owners docked at Split. Brett’s search soon produced a suspicious name: Peter Rust of Perth, Australia. While Rust seemed to be connected to a number of documents supporting his identity, none seemed to date back more than a few years.
In light of the new information, an emergency meeting was called with attendees from the United States, Israel, Croatia, and the Swiss Guard. After reviewing all available information, the assembled group determined Peter Rust was indeed Roger Lawson.
Unfortunately, Rust’s boat had disappeared by the time a Croatian surveillance team was put in place. Zane believed the news wasn’t all bad. It meant Lawson now felt safe to travel. But where would he go? Zane asked Brett Foster to locate all properties owned by the enigmatic Peter Rust. Within hours, Brett had assembled a map showing real estate holdings across the globe. One in particular grabbed Zane’s eye—an upscale villa on a mountain overlooking Palermo, Sicily.
The rest, as they say, was history.
“Are you going to be a part of the exploratory team being assembled for Hermon?” Amanda asked. “If there is room, I’d love to be a part of it.”
Stegmann and Father Fiori exchanged a glance. Father Fiori answered, “I’d like to be a part of it myself. Unfortunately, no one will be going back in, at least not for the time being.”
Zane’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“The Israelis claim the upper tunnel system has collapsed,” Stegmann said. “They say it would take years to safely cut through. They believe the explosives Lawson set off weakened the entire network of caves, leading to a widespread collapse.”
“Meaning we could’ve all been killed had we not gotten out when we did,” Zane noted.
“They won’t rule out trying to reach the city at some point in the future,” Father Fiori said. “They’ve assembled a panel of their country’s finest geologists in order to study how they might gain entry, but nothing will happen anytime soon.”
“If they do make it in, we might never know,” Amanda said.
Zane frowned. “Why is that?”
“Think about it. There is an entire city down there, and we know very little about it. They will probably want to understand what they’re dealing with before they announce it to the world. Remember, the legend says it’s the entrance to Hades. Talk about creating controversy.”
Father Fiori lifted an eyebrow. “Do you believe the caves lead to the underworld?”
Amanda considered her answer. “I don’t think any of us can say for sure. I will say this… I have no doubt those are the deepest caves on earth. None of the others around the globe even come close. Regardless of how you define the underworld, that’s what we found.”
As Father Fiori continued to question Amanda about their experience, Zane slipped away to find a restroom. He’d had two beers at the hotel bar while waiting for the ladies and needed to seek relief. He finally ran down one of the servers, who pointed him toward an alcove across the room.
***
After finishing in the restroom, Zane returned to the banquet hall and plucked another flute of champagne from a nearby tray. He took a sip and glanced back toward the entrance. Carmen had a cell phone pressed to her ear, her face etched with concern. It was strange she would even take a call here. Should he go back? His gut told him not to. Carmen often got that look on her face when talking to Ross. The last thing he wanted to do was get knee-deep in a Delphi problem right now. He’d let her deal with it.
Zane looked around for an excuse to stay on this side of the room. A talkative priest. A lonely nun. At this point, anything would do. As he surveyed the area, his eyes came to rest on a set of French doors opening onto a balcony. Perfect. After all the traveling, he could use a breath of fresh air.
A cool breeze caressed his face as he stepped outsi
de. He crossed to the rail and looked down. A river of taillights stretched into the distance. Rush hour was still going strong. He shifted his gaze across the rooftops on the other side of the street. St. Peter’s Basilica glowed brightly beneath a full moon.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Zane jumped at the sound of the voice.
“Didn’t mean to scare you.” Emily joined him at the rail.
“You’re fine. Just don’t tell anyone I got startled. It’s not the kind of thing a senior operative wants to get out.”
“What happens in Rome stays in Rome.” Emily laughed then slid toward him a bit, her shoulder brushing up against his arm.
The two stood in silence, staring at the moon. Zane wondered if the contact had been purposeful. He’d sensed some attraction on her part but had brushed it off as a temporary manifestation, something that often happened when two people worked together in the field. Perhaps the brush had been a coincidence. Then again, perhaps it was an attempt to gauge his interest. If the latter, he didn’t want to go there, at least not now. He needed to get over Katiya before diving into anything resembling a relationship. Even casual dating was off for now. Perhaps at some point, he’d reflect on a potential relationship with Emily. But not now and certainly not after two beers and a flute of champagne.
“So how is your dad?”
“Dad is great. He loves being around Amanda. I think those two could talk archaeology for hours.” There was a long pause. “He poured his heart out to me the other night. He said he was happy to be alive…” Her eyes moistened, and her voice cracked. “Because it meant he was able to see me again. He really believed they would kill me once this was all over, and he couldn’t bear the thought of that happening.” She looked at Zane. “Dad has never told me anything like that before. He’s always been a man’s man when it comes to things like that.”
“There is something special about the love between a father and daughter.”
Emily laughed and wiped her eyes. “We’re so funny. Neither one of us wants to let the other out of sight. In fact, we’re going to take a trip across Europe together beginning in two days.”
“That’s wonderful.”
She looked at him. “Do you want to come with us?”
Zane averted his gaze. “I wish. Unfortunately, our fearless leader already has another operation on the docket. We’ll be here for two more days, then it’s back to the States.”
They stood in silence for a full minute. Finally, Emily crossed her arms. “It’s a bit cooler out here than I thought.”
“Oh, here…” Zane set his flute on the rail, removed his jacket, and draped it over her shoulders. “I didn’t realize you were cold.”
“Thank you.”
After Zane retrieved his champagne, he felt Emily’s eyes on him. He met her gaze. She held it for a moment then moved in his direction. Caught off guard, he averted his eyes to the rooftops across the street.
An awkward silence ensued. Emily finally turned and looked out over the city. “So what’s her name?”
Zane frowned and turned his head slightly. “Who?”
“The other woman.”
Zane was about to ask who she was referring to but realized that would just delay the inevitable. He knew what she meant. Emily obviously didn’t know her name but was able to sense her existence.
“Is it that obvious? How did you know?”
“Because I’m a female.” She glanced at him. “We always know when there is someone else.”
Zane nodded slowly. Most did have that ability. In this instance, he saw it as a blessing. It was better she knew. “We’re not seeing each other anymore, but it’s—”
“I understand. I’ve been there before. If you ever need someone to talk to, let me know.” She patted his arm. “Thanks for the chat, but I’d better go check on Dad.”
He felt a pang of guilt at running her off. “I’m sure he’s fine. Why don’t you stay out here and chat for a bit?”
“I might come back out later. I really do want to check on him. I need to make sure he’s not talking Amanda’s ear off.”
Zane laughed.
She gave him a little wave and walked back inside.
Zane set his elbows back on the rail. His respect for Emily had just grown immensely. She sensed his feelings and gave him the respectful distance he needed. Maybe if things had been different…
Footsteps approached from the French doors. Zane turned. “I thought you were checking—”
He stopped in mid-sentence, his mouth agape. A woman stood a few feet away. She was tall with light-brown hair that fell down to her shoulders. She smiled at him, her distinctive red lipstick glistening in the moonlight.
Zane pushed off the rail in disbelief. “Katiya?”
She walked toward him until she was a foot away. Her expression made it clear she wasn’t there to talk. Zane set his glass aside and took her into his arms. They kissed like lovers who had been separated for far too long.
Finally, Katiya pulled back. A gentle breeze blew hair across her face. “You seem surprised to see me. I guess you didn’t figure it out.”
Zane lifted an eyebrow.
Katiya nodded toward the building. “I was just talking to Carmen on the phone a few minutes ago, and she was convinced you had picked up on something.”
Zane laughed and shook his head. It all made sense now—Carmen’s look of concern on the phone, which apparently had nothing to do with Delphi. She had been hiding a little secret. And Zane was glad she had.
“How did this happen? How did you know we were here?”
Katiya laughed again and gave him a quick peck. “You can thank your boss.”
He frowned. “The Oracle? I’m not sure I believe that.”
She nodded. “He called me a few days ago. Apparently, one of your colleagues told him the reason for our breakup. He said he couldn’t allow his organization to stand between the two of us. Here, hold on a sec. You’re not going to believe this unless I show it to you.” She squirmed away and pulled an envelope out of her pocket.
“What’s this?”
“It’s our itinerary. We’re taking a five-day vacation across Italy, compliments of the Delphi Group.”
Zane was stunned. “It’s so unlike the guy. I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything.” She leaned against him. After they hugged, she pulled back. “But before we go on this little trip, there is something I need to know.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
Her eyes darted back toward the party. “You’re going to have to tell me why some cute young brunette is wearing my boyfriend’s favorite coat.”
Zane opened his mouth to speak, but Katiya tapped his lips with a finger. “But you can tell me that later. Right now, just kiss me.”
Katiya pulled his head toward her. As they kissed, a man catcalled from a balcony across the street.
Only in Italy.
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AUTHOR’S NOTE
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for purchasing The Hades Conspiracy. I know there are a lot of ways you can spend your entertainment dollars, so I’m grateful you decided to spend yours on one of my novels. I’m currently working on the fourth book in the series, which will be released soon.
I sincerely hope you found The Hades Conspiracy entertaining. If you did, I’d like to ask you to do something: please go online and post an honest review. The reviews of satisfied readers are vital to the success of every author, and please know that your effort will be greatly appreciated.
Please also let me know your thoughts by emailing me at [email protected]. I love hear
ing from my readers.
Thanks again and I hope to hear from you soon!
John Sneeden
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
John was born on the coast of North Carolina, and thanks to his mother, a voracious reader, he began discovering books at a very early age. If not outside playing basketball or fishing with friends, he could be found curled up in a living room chair with an Edgar Rice Burroughs novel. In fact, it was Burroughs who first kindled his love for escapist fiction.
After a twenty-five year career in banking, John decided to turn his life-long passion for reading into a career as an author. He still lives in the southern United States, and when not writing he loves to travel and follow NHL hockey.
You can be among the first to learn about John’s future releases and special discounts by signing up for his newsletter at:
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The Hades Conspiracy
Copyright © 2016 by John Sneeden
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means whatsoever without express written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
