by Brent Towns
Kane and Bluey entered the through the light wood door and found a thin-faced man, with gray hair and brown eyes behind wire-framed spectacles. “Posso aiutarti in qualche modo?”
“Sorry, what?” Kane asked.
The professor smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry. Let me start again. How can I help you?”
“My name is John Kane. My friend is Bluey Clarke. We’d like to ask you a few questions if we may?”
“Certainly. Come in and close the door.” The man gestured with his hands.
After Bluey had closed the door, both men crossed to a couple of chairs on the opposite side off the desk. Once seated, Kane said, “Professor, we were told that you are the man to come to about alternative religious beliefs. Is that true?”
Bianchi nodded tentatively. “I study the alternatives, amongst other things. Which one are you interested in?”
“Druids,” Bluey told him.
He stared at them for a moment before asking, “What would you like to know?”
“Where we could find them in Vatican City?” Kane asked.
“Druids?”
“Yes.”
“In Vatican City?”
“Yes.”
“What makes you think that they are here?”
Bluey was growing impatient. “Are they here or not? You’re the joker who studies this shit.”
The indignant professor rose from his seat. “Gentlemen –”
“Ease up, Professor,” Kane said before he could ask them to leave. “Just hear us out and then make up your mind.”
Bianchi nodded hesitantly, then retook his seat. “All right. Speak your piece.”
For the next few minutes, the professor listened intently to what they had to say. When the two men were finished, he shook his head in disbelief. “You say that all of these incidents coincide with the deaths of these women?”
Kane nodded. “Every one of them.”
“And you think that your friend will be a sacrifice and that an attempt will be made on the pope’s life tomorrow?”
“Pretty much, yes.”
Bianchi chuckled. “That is a fantastic story, gentlemen. Fantastic indeed. Maybe a mere coincidence.”
“Too much of a coincidence, if you ask me,” Bluey said.
“Have you told anyone about this?”
They shook their heads. “What would we say?”
The professor looked thoughtful for a moment, and Kane noticed the change. “What is it?”
“I want to show you something.”
“Like what?”
“Well, at first, I thought you might be here to make fun of my research. After all, you wouldn’t be the first, but after what you’ve just told me, I think you are maybe here for legitimate reasons.”
“Damn right, we are,” Bluey said.
“There is a place,” Bianchi said. “It is under the museum. Not many people know about it. There is an altar.”
“How is it meant to help us?”
“It might give you an idea or clue where to look next.”
The two men shrugged. At that point in time, they were willing to try anything. The three men walked out into the hallway. Bianchi stopped suddenly. “I forgot my keys. I won’t be a moment.”
He disappeared back into his office and was gone for several minutes before he returned. “Sorry. I couldn’t find them at first. If you would follow me.”
Beneath Museo Gregoriano Egiziano
Vatican City, Italy
Kane moaned, trying to move his arms towards his head to rid it of the shooting pain. The chains snapped taut, causing him to moan again.
“About time you woke up, you bastard.”
Kane lifted his head, attempting to stare through the haze which seemed to be affecting his vision. He blinked a couple of times, but the gloom wouldn’t clear. The voice came again, “Over here, Reaper.”
“Cara?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
“I’m dreaming,” Kane muttered.
“If you are, cobber, then so am I.”
“Bluey?”
“Kinda takes him a while to get his head around things, doesn’t it,” the Australian said.
“Always was a little bit slow. Typical Jarhead.”
“Who are you calling a Jarhead?”
“There he is,” Cara said. “You got a plan?”
“I think the first part of it worked well,” Bluey said. “At least we found you.”
“Your friend is funny, Reaper,” Cara said drily. “Seems like a lifetime ago since Somalia.”
“What happened?” Kane asked.
“We got slugged from behind. I think the professor wasn’t who he seemed to be,” Bluey explained.
Kane winced and said, “You think?”
“Well, look on the bright side. We found who we were looking for. On both counts.”
“That’s the bright side?”
“It is if your name isn’t Cara.”
“Thanks for reminding me,” Cara said.
Kane shook his head to rid himself of the last few cobwebs which remained. “Are you OK?” he asked her.
“I’ve been better. Is the team here?”
“Pretty much. All except Brick. He took a round in Pripyat. He’s laid up in a hospital. Damn near lost him.”
“Is he going to be OK?”
“I guess. He’s in the right hands, anyway.”
Movement deep in the catacombs revealed two men who came forward. Both of whom they knew; the professor and Craig Fletcher.
“Well, screw me over a rainbow,” Bluey swore. “Just when you think you know someone.”
“Do we ever really know someone?” Fletcher asked.
“Well, shit, obviously not.”
“So, you’re part of this too, professor?” Kane observed.
Bianchi nodded. “It would seem that way.”
“What’s next?” Kane asked.
“Tomorrow, we will complete the sacrificial rituals, and the Chosen One will kill the pope.”
“The Chosen One?”
“That would be me,” Fletcher said.
There was a moment of silence before Kane asked, “What happens to us?”
“You will watch the ritual, and then you will be killed, too.”
“That’s nice,” Bluey said. “At least we get to watch the show before we check out. Do we get chips and Coke?”
Bianchi chuckled. “You are funny.”
“Find out how funny I can be when I kill you.”
The professor dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand and said, “I’m tired of this. We will return tomorrow when it is time.”
Once they had disappeared back into the chamber, Cara turned to Kane and asked, “You got a plan?”
“Not yet.”
“You working on one?”
“Kind of.”
“Well, once you work it out, let me know.”
“I’ll do that.”
Safehouse, Rome
“Do we have anything yet?” Thurston asked Ferrero.
“No, Ma’am, it’s like they’ve just disappeared.”
“Damn it. Find them. Get me Axe and Traynor. Carlos will stay here with you.”
A few moments later, the two men were standing in front of their commander. “Listen up. Reaper and Bluey have disappeared. We know the location of where they were last, but that’s it. They went to the museum and haven’t been heard of since.”
“So, they’ve been gone all night, Ma’am?” Axe asked.
“That’s right.”
“What do you want us to do?”
“Pete and I are headed over to the museum. Axe you head over to St. Peter’s Square. The pope will be holding his mass outside the Basilica. Keep a look out for anything out of the ordinary.”
“Cool. Me and Mike just hanging out.”
Thurston glared at him.
“Or not. Weapons, Ma’am?” Axe asked.
“No.”
“OK.”
“I mean it,” Thurston snapped.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Get your comms organized. We leave in ten.”
The general’s next stop was Swift, who was busy trawling through security camera footage. “Do you have anything?”
“I have them going into the museum, and that’s it. After that, nothing.”
“They can’t have just vanished.”
“One would think not, but it would appear that they have.”
“What about the cameras inside?”
“I can’t access them. They’re a closed circuit. I would need to be inside.”
Thurston sighed. “That’s not going to happen. Shit.”
“I do have something else.”
“Tell me.”
Swift hit a couple of keys on his keyboard, and a picture came up. “This is Professor Bianchi leaving the museum yesterday afternoon.”
“Who is that with him?”
“Craig Fletcher.”
“Bluey’s friend?”
“Yes.”
“Is there any link between them that we don’t know about?”
“None that I can find. Other than the fact that he goes to the museum at least twice a week.”
“Keep working on it. There has to be a reason for him to be going there as often as that. See if you can match up any of his visits with the deaths of the women.”
“Will do, Ma’am.”
“I’ll be on comms if you need me.”
The crowd was starting to build in St. Peter’s Square. Axe figured there was already at least ten thousand people in attendance. But that was just a fraction of the three-hundred-thousand it could hold. However, the crowd would build over the next few hours to a little more than half that number.
Axe walked past the Ancient Egyptian Obelisk and walked towards the Basilica. With a practiced eye, he looked around, taking in the security measures that were already in place. There were at least four snipers on the surrounding structures and any number of other armed men standing in the shadows.
The big ex-recon marine sniper reached the steps where it was roped off, and a podium had been placed behind bulletproof glass from which Pope Michael would make his speech. To his right stood a police officer who was watching over the perimeter. Axe walked over to him. “Hey, Buddy. Where can I find the Pope?”
The man stared at him, blankly and said, “Chiedo scusa?”
“You speak English?”
“Scusa?”
“I’ll take that as a no,” Axe said, rubbing at his beard. Then, “Pope Michael? In there?”
The man’s eyes widened. “Si, si.”
Axe made to climb the rope only to be stopped by a firm hand pressing him hard in the chest. “Fermati, non puoi andare lì dentro.”
“I guess that means I can’t go no further, huh?”
The stern expression said it all. Axe raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture and nodded. “OK, I’ll go.”
He turned away from the rope and walked back the way he’d come until he was directly beside the obelisk. From there, he looked at his surroundings until he found what he wanted. A way in. Now all he had to do was breach the perimeter to exploit it.
Chapter 19
Museo Gregoriano Egiziano
Vatican City, Italy
Thurston and Traynor sat on a stone seat outside the museum, watching crowds of people coming and going, while they waited patiently for Swift to relay them some information. The computer tech was searching diligently for the schematics of the museum and where the professor kept his office. Their goal was to infiltrate quietly and question the man without causing too much fuss.
Suddenly his voice burst over their comms. “Bravo? Bravo Four, over.”
Both Thurston and Traynor were dressed in casual clothes. Traynor in jeans and a collared shirt, while Thurston wore jeans and a white T-shirt with her hair tied back in a ponytail. They winced in reaction to the loud voice in their earpieces. “Copy, Bravo Four. Maybe keep it down a bit?”
“Sorry, Ma’am. But according to what I was able to find out, the professor’s office is in the back of the museum. I’ll have to talk you through it.”
“Fine.”
“There is one more thing. I got a ping from facial rec, and Bluey’s friend was back there.”
“Seems like too much of a coincidence,” Thurston said.
Traynor said, “I think we need to find these guys and now.”
“I said was. He left thirty minutes ago.”
“On his own?”
“Yes.”
“OK, then, let’s go.”
“But wait, there’s more,” Swift said in a quiz-show kind of tone.
The general sighed. “Today is good.”
“I don’t know how it was missed, but I checked over the autopsy reports for the dead girls –”
“You what?” came the reply, cutting him off.
“Checked the autopsy records from the medical examiner.”
“You know how to read those things?”
“In a fashion. Anyway, the more recent bodies had traces of a certain type of fungus on them. When I checked on it, I found out that it only grows in dark places below ground.”
“So, they were killed underground?” Thurston asked.
“It would seem that way, Ma’am.”
“Where around here would they be able to do that?”
“Rome is an ancient place, Ma’am,” Swift said. “It has catacombs beneath it everywhere.”
“What about here in Vatican City? The museum?”
“Possibly. I can see if I can find out.”
“Do it while you’re guiding us to the office of the professor.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Beneath Museo Gregoriano Egiziano
Vatican City, Italy
Bianchi stood beside Brother Red. He said, “It will soon be time. Get her ready.”
Brother Red nodded. “Will you be doing it yourself, My Lord?”
“Yes.”
“As you wish.”
In the background, Brother White lurked in the shadows. Cara watched him and couldn’t help but think how much she would like to cut his balls off before they killed her. Red moved toward her, a syringe appearing in his hand from the sleeve of his robe. Before she knew what was happening, he’d injected her with something.
Immediately, Cara’s vision blurred, and her head slumped forward.
“Motherfucker!” Kane exclaimed. “What did you do?”
“She is only asleep. But just long enough to get her prepared on the sacrificial altar. They are a lot easier to handle that way.”
Kane wrenched on his chains, and they snapped tautly. “You’re dead, asshole.”
Two other brothers emerged from the darkness and took Cara down. They carried her away, feet dragging on the damp cobbles. Bianchi said with a mirthless smile, “Enjoy the screams.”
He followed in the others’ wake, leaving the two men chained and feeling impotent. “I must say, he’s a nice bloke,” Bluey said sarcastically.
“Be even nicer with a bullet in his head,” Kane responded caustically.
“So, what’s the plan?”
“That is the million-dollar question.”
Museo Gregoriano Egiziano
Vatican City, Italy
“Slick, he’s not in his office,” Thurston said into her comms. “What else do you have?”
“Sorry, Ma’am. Wait one.”
“Don’t take too long.”
Traynor looked around the interior of the professor’s office, and his gaze landed on the dark-stained bookcase. He walked over to it and studied the spines, his eyes alighting on one which stood out from the rest. The writing on the damaged spine was so faded it was barely legible, which told him that the book was well used. He slid it out and studied the title.
“Ma’am, I might have something here,” Traynor said and opened it.
Thurston came to his side. “What is it?”
�
�It’s a book on druids and shit like that. It’s well used. More than any other book on the shelf.”
He flicked through the ancient pages and stopped at a hand-drawn picture. It was of a woman on an altar with a hooded man standing over her with a knife. Thurstone said, “That looks nice.”
The ex-DEA man pointed to the caption beneath the picture which read, “It was believed that the power from all sacrifices would go to the Chosen One before battle.” He read on and then said, “Here, General. This part says that the druids often sacrificed many people leading up to battles with their enemies.”
“He’s got to be our guy. Slick, do you have anything yet?”
“Ma’am, according to old maps I’ve found, there are a series of catacombs below the museum.”
“How do we get down there?”
“Allow me.”
The Basilica
The only way to describe what he saw was magnificent. All of it. From the terrazzo floor to the gold gilding on the walls, and the stunning artwork to the marble statues. Axe shook his head in wonderment. “Man, this is some fucking … oops, sorry, God. But man, you have some kind of house here.”
“And he welcomes all who enter.”
Axe turned towards the voice. Before him stood an elderly man dressed in off-white, and wearing a white zucchetto and a plain chain and crucifix. Recognition flooded Axe’s face. “Mikey, that you?”
The elderly man smiled. “Not the place I would expect to find you, Axel.”
“I guess we’ve both come up in the world.”
“It is a long way from Angola.”
That was where the pair had met. Axe had been part of a two-man sniper team inserted in country to perform a job against a local warlord who had been inciting violence against the Christian community. Things hadn’t gone to plan when Axe’s spotter was wounded, and he’d been forced to hide out at the mission where Father Michael had been serving at that time.
“Are you still doing God’s work, Axel?” the Pope asked.
“Yes, sir. Still kicking the shi – ahh, still fighting on the side of the righteous.”
“Good for you. Now, what brings you here?”
