Blood Relics (A James Acton Thriller, #12)
Page 21
“What?”
And when she heard what it was her stomach flipped and her chest tightened, her heart slamming into her ribcage as blood pounded in her ears, Heinrich’s words growing distant as her entire future changed with a single sentence.
She leaned over the edge of the bed and vomited.
Renner Residence, Feuerbach, Germany
Karl Renner looked at the security panel near his front door, debating on whether or not to set it. He sighed, taking one last look back into the living area of his large home, a home that held many fond memories for him, though few recent. He and his ex-wife had designed the home themselves, it custom-built almost five years ago.
They had only lasted another three.
He ran his hand along the chrome banister leading upstairs then gripped it tightly, not wanting to let go, for it wasn’t just a home he was leaving, it was a life.
He was about to disappear.
Forever.
The authorities would be closing in soon and he needed to disappear fast. He was heading to a private airport where he’d fly to the French Riviera then take a boat to Morocco where passport checks were a little more lax. Forged identity papers would get him to the Dominican and he’d live out his life in the sun, possibly never to see his homeland again.
It was heartbreaking.
But necessary.
And with the amount of money he had stashed away before this, and with the payday he was about to receive, it was going to be a good life.
Just a sedate one.
He held in the Away button on the security panel, it chirping three times at him as the indicator light changed to red. He stepped outside, locking the door behind him, there still some hope deep down that it might all blow over and he’d be able to return someday, someday hopefully soon, but it was deep down.
Face it, you’ll never see this place again.
He reached into his pocket for his key fob when his phone vibrated. Pulling it out of his pocket instead, he checked the display to see a blocked number.
Maybe it’s him again.
The mastermind behind all his troubles had called as promised, agreeing to a payout of another ten million euros, there little argument, little discussion at all in fact.
It must be nice to have ridiculous amounts of money.
He had given his solemn promise there would be no further requests for payment, and that he would be leaving the country immediately.
Only the latter promise did he intend to absolutely keep.
He tapped the button to take the call.
“Hello?”
“You should have never betrayed us.”
Renner froze, quickly scanning the street for hostiles as he stepped back toward the door. A black SUV caught his eye.
“Good bye, Herr Renner.”
He held out his hand and saw the red beam of a laser scope play across his skin for a moment. His head dropped as he looked at his chest, the bead dancing on his crisp white shirt.
The sequence of events was strange, part of him certain he heard the vehicle squeal away before he actually felt the impact, but he knew that wasn’t right. What was certain was the pain wasn’t really what he had expected, the shot hitting him in the heart, the vital muscle torn open as the bullet pierced his skin, shattering a rib, sending shards of bone off in every direction to cause even more damage.
He dropped to his knees, the phone clattering to the interlocking brick porch as his arms sagged to his sides, his chin on his chest as he continued to stare at the rapidly increasing red stain, the hole made by the bullet so tiny it was hard to believe the damage it had done.
He gasped for breath but could feel his body failing him, his gasps now short, rapid inhalations, growing more infrequent with each quick intake. Tipping over, he fell on his side, his face slamming against the cool stone as bright spots began to flicker in front of him, his breaths now seconds apart as his mind tried desperately to hang on for one last moment of lucidity.
He focused on his rose bushes.
And wondered who would take care of them.
Sapienza University, Rome, Italy
James Acton stood impatiently outside the lab where their documents were being analyzed by some of the most advanced scanners in the world. It had been this very spot where he and Laura had stood when the document buried with a Templar knight discovered under the Vatican had been read for the first time in nearly a thousand years.
And it had led to chaos worldwide.
Today the only life he was concerned about was that of his wife. Terrence stood beside him, his hand resting on Jenny’s shoulder, she having pushed a chair up to the glass. He glanced at her rather obvious baby bump and smiled.
One of these days.
He and Laura had been discussing children for some time, and with her now working in the United States and both of them under the same roof, it was finally a possibility. And having a child would mean little adventures like this would have to end, though it seemed even going on vacation now was wrought with peril for them.
China! What a nightmare that turned out to be!
Having a little boy or girl running around the house would definitely be a change of pace, but a good one, one he was ready for. He loved gallivanting across the globe, and if it weren’t for Laura’s predicament, this would be an incredibly exciting time. If his hunch proved true, they might be about to find evidence that one of the Apocryphal texts was actually accurate, and that the Roman soldier Longinus did indeed exist.
Laura would be loving this.
He took a deep breath, fighting the tightness that threatened to trigger a bout of anxiety when Vatican Inspector General Mario Giasson entered the room.
“Good morning, Mario.”
“Professor.”
“Jim, please.”
Giasson smiled. “Jim.” He nodded toward the scientists on the other side of the glass. “Anything yet?”
“They just started. They’ve prepped the first document I want them to examine and are scanning it now. We’re trying to see what was scratched out.”
“Do you think they’ll be able to?”
Acton nodded. “As long as it wasn’t done at the same time—meaning the same ink would have mixed together and dried at the same rate leaving probably nothing discernable—then there’s a very good chance.”
“You sound optimistic.”
Acton frowned. “I have no choice.”
“To that end, I just spoke with Hugh. Did you get his update last night?”
Acton nodded. “Hopefully they’ll be able to find something in the data they pulled.”
“I think they just might.”
Acton looked at Giasson, finally tearing his eyes away from the screens displaying the document. “Now you’re the one who sounds optimistic.”
“They just found Karl Renner shot to death on his doorstep. He was packed, heading for a private airstrip when he was shot.”
Acton’s eyes popped wide as a feeling of exhilaration raced through him.
Innocent men don’t run! And innocent men don’t get assassinated.
“Any idea who did it?”
Giasson shook his head. “Not yet, but it’s early on. I just got the word on the way here.”
“Look!” Acton turned to see Terrence pointing at one of the screens, various filters being applied to the scanned image, the dark band of heavy ink quickly changing colors and shades as the computer flipped through thousands of different scanning wavelengths.
“Oh my God,” whispered Jenny as she rose from her chair, pressing against the glass.
“It’s working!” Acton leaned closer as writing began to appear, faint at first, but as the experts behind the glass continued to manipulate the scanner, tweaking the settings as some wavelengths improved things and others made things worse, the handwritten words slowly took form.
“Does that say ‘Sancti’?” asked Terrence, squinting for a better look.
Adrenaline rushed through
Acton’s veins as he grabbed Giasson by the shoulder, shaking him. “It absolutely does.”
“Saint,” gasped Giasson.
Acton was mouthing out the letters following it, the handwriting still not clear, though individual letters were. “That’s definitely an L, isn’t it?”
“It looks like an L. And an O,” agreed Jenny.
Terrence turned to Acton, his eyes wide with excitement, a smile spread across his face. “It says Longinus, doesn’t it? Sancti Longinus!”
Acton was still shaking Giasson by the shoulder, there no doubt in his mind now, the hand written words recorded by some long forgotten records keeper centuries before, were now clearly displayed on the monitors.
Sancti Longinus.
“You found him!” exclaimed Giasson, turning toward Acton. “Congratulations, Professor.”
Acton shook his head in disagreement, though there was no suppressing his smile. “No, we haven’t found him, but we’ve found why he was thought to have been moved here almost five hundred years ago.”
“So what now?” asked Terrence.
“Now we go back to the basilica and see if we can find the actual body this document refers to. Somehow they found out it wasn’t Longinus and updated their records. That could be because they discovered something with the body that proved it wasn’t him, they received some sort of documentation after the fact proving it wasn’t, or they found the actual body elsewhere.”
Jenny returned to her seat, holding her stomach. “If there was some documentation, wouldn’t it have been with the records we found?”
“Possibly, but any such documentation would have his name figured prominently in it and we know that the Vatican’s own historian didn’t find any references to the name.”
Terrence perched on the chair, putting his hand on the back of his wife’s neck, giving it a gentle massage. “So if there was documentation, then it has either been lost or destroyed over the years.”
“If.” Jenny moaned at Terrence’s ministrations. “We know for certain now that there was a body in the catacombs once thought to be Saint Longinus. What would they have done with the body if they found out it wasn’t him?”
Acton shrugged. “There’s probably little doubt the person was Catholic, so they would have treated the body with respect, regardless. And considering the fact that there appeared to be many bodies listed of relative commoners, I’d say there’s a good chance they kept it.”
“If they were going to get rid of it, wouldn’t they have indicated that on the document when they were updating it to say it wasn’t him?”
Acton turned to Jenny, a slight smile on his face, her conclusion so obvious it had been missed by all including him. “Of course they would have.” His smile turned into a grin. “Up for getting a little dirty?”
Both Terrence and Jenny’s heads bobbed eagerly.
“Then let’s go.”
CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia
Chris Leroux had a smile on his face, Judy Garland’s Good Morning playing on his mental radio, not because he had watched Babes in Arms but purely because it had been used in a Viagra commercial at some point.
In other words, he had got some last night.
And this morning.
He loved when Sherrie came back from assignment.
“Hey, boss, you’re looking chipper.”
Leroux blanched as he looked at Marc Therrien.
Is it that obvious?
“Good morning,” he managed, unlocking his office door. “Any success?”
“Some, but there’s been news. Not sure if you’ve read your flash updates yet.”
Leroux shook his head. “No, I was, umm, busy this morning.”
“Alright boss!” Therrien raised a hand for a high five, then thought better of it after Leroux’s shocked look. “Umm, sorry, boss. Anyway, Karl Renner is dead.”
Leroux stopped, his eyebrows rising as he turned toward Therrien. “Dead?”
“Yeah, looks like a professional hit. Single shot to the chest. On the man’s doorstep no less.”
Leroux hung his jacket on the hook behind his door then sat down, logging into his computer. “Any leads on who did it?”
“None yet, it just happened a few hours ago. But it looks like he was heading to parts unknown.”
“What do you mean?”
“Car was loaded with suitcases and he was apparently heading for a private airport for a flight to the French Riviera.”
“Maybe he was going on vacation.”
“Don’t think so. Everything was last minute, flight just booked this morning. I think he knew we were onto him and he was planning on disappearing.”
“And somebody didn’t like that.”
“Apparently not,” said Therrien as he sat in one of the office chairs. “But that doesn’t really make much sense, does it? If he’s disappearing, isn’t that what we were expecting his men were going to be doing as well? Why would somebody shoot him for that? If he disappears, then he can’t be interrogated.”
Leroux logged into his secure email, quickly scanning the update on Renner. “Maybe his plans and theirs have nothing to do with each other. Maybe they were just tying up loose ends.”
“But this isn’t over. Killing him now sort of confirms he was involved, doesn’t it? Now we’ll focus on him, and since he’s much more high profile than his men, we might just be able to track things back to the source.”
“I don’t think that will be happening, at least not yet.”
They both turned as Sonya Tong poked her head into the office. She was one of Leroux’s best analysts and had been part of the nightshift team tasked with following the money.
He was also pretty certain she was sweet on him, despite Sherrie being clearly in the picture.
It was kind of flattering, though awkward.
“What makes you say that?” he asked, trying to avoid eye contact, he having zero experience with office crushes other than his own.
Tong nodded toward his computer. “I just sent you the update. It took a little doing but we gained access to the bank files of that employee who was sending his salary to Switzerland—”
“Already? Excellent work!”
Tong blushed.
Uh oh, easy on the compliments.
“Thanks, Mr. Leroux.” Flustered, she fumbled for her train of thought.
“You accessed the bank files?” prompted Leroux.
“Oh, yes! And we found regular deposits that matched up with his employment record perfectly, plus monthly withdrawals of about five thousand euros a month which we assume he used to pay his bills. But, we found two very large deposits, one for a million euros three months ago, and another for the same amount just a week ago.”
“Just before this all started.”
Therrien whistled. “Two million euros, that’s a lot of coin. A man could disappear for a while on that.”
Leroux nodded. “And the usual pattern on these types of payments is a final lump sum when the job is done.”
“So we can probably assume another one to two million.”
Tong sat down beside Therrien, crossing her legs, her skirt hiking up an uncomfortable amount. “And they found six motorcycles in Vienna, which suggests at least six people involved, so we could be looking at a twenty million euro payout.”
“That’s like, what, twenty-five million dollars?”
Leroux nodded. “Close enough. Not to mention equipment, helicopters, vehicles and what not. This is an extremely well-financed operation.”
“There’s not a lot of private individuals who could finance this type of thing,” said Therrien. “We’re sure it’s not government?”
Leroux shrugged. “I doubt it, but you never know. We need to find the moneyman.”
Tong leaned forward. “And that’s what I was about to tell you. We traced the payments from our suspect’s account back to the source.”
Leroux smiled, Therrien grinning as he turned toward Tong. “And?”
Leroux closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Hard. It made no sense. Renner was the mastermind, the man behind the entire thing? No, something was wrong here. You don’t kill the mastermind.
Unless the mastermind turned on the men he hired.
These men were capable of killing, of that there was no doubt. The fact they had participated in two crimes where people had died showed they had set their morals aside, their motivation now a hefty payday, and if Renner were to jeopardize that in some way they might eliminate their own boss.
But it still didn’t fit.
“Why would Renner be behind this?” he finally asked the room. “It makes no sense.”
“No it doesn’t,” agreed Tong. “That’s why I’m digging deeper. Personally…” Her voice drifted off and she looked away, as if uncertain whether or not she should continue.
“What?” asked Leroux. “Spit it out, you know the rules, never hold back when you’re brainstorming.”
Tong blushed slightly. “Well, I think he’s been set up.”
Leroux nodded. “So do I. I can’t see how he’d have accumulated fifty million euros on his own.”
“Could he be the middleman? Somebody gave him the bonds, he opened an account and distributed the money?”
Leroux nodded at Therrien’s suggestion. “That’s definitely a possibility. Either way, we need to know where that money came from, and we just hit a major road block.”
“I just hope it’s not a dead end,” agreed Therrien.
“If it is, then the entire Stuttgart op was a waste of time.”
Leroux shook his head. “No, we rattled somebody’s cage. Renner was running, and somebody felt he knew something he shouldn’t have. That means Renner either knew who the real moneyman was, or knew how to reach him.” He pointed at Therrien. “Start tracing his phone records. I want to know about any incoming or outgoing calls, especially after the transmitter was planted. I think he panicked and made a call he shouldn’t have that got him killed.”