CS 01 The Grail Conspiracy (12 page)

"They're on a plane to Rome," Ben Gearhart said on the other
end. "The priest is helping her take it to the Vatican."

Sinclair smiled. "That's very good news." He replaced the receiver
and looked back at the correspondent. "You were saying?"

"YOUR EMINENCE, FATHER TYLER and the SNN reporter are on
their way up," Cardinal Antonio lanucci's aide announced. "They've
just passed through security."

"Thank you." The cardinal gazed out his second story office window. Adjacent to the Vatican Museums, his office overlooked the
inner courtyard of the Belvedere Palace. He remembered a diplomat
once telling him that in America an office this big would be called a
formal ballroom. A frescoed ceiling met walls covered with medieval
tapestries-a Persian rug the size of a swimming pool accented a portion of the fifteenth century wooden floor. Two-hundred-year-old
brocade and damask couches and chairs were placed strategically
around the room, their hand-carved legs rich in gold leaf.

The cardinal returned to his desk to study the flat screen monitor.
At 68, he moved with ease, dedicating over an hour each morning to
a strict regimen of exercise. Born in Italy to a British mother and Italian father, he grew up fluent in both languages. Even as a youngster
he was fascinated with the trappings and traditions of the Catholic Church and the priesthood. Early in life he set his goal, heading
toward it as if traveling through a tunnel-no sidetracks, no distractions, no deviations. He knew he had been called, and he wanted to
serve God in the most powerful way he could.

With degrees in theology and cannon law, Ianucci had taught at
the Urbanian University in Rome prior to attending the Vatican's
diplomatic college. He spent over a decade serving with the Secretariat of State after being made a bishop in 1980. In 1997, he was elevated to cardinal, and in 2000 the pope appointed him Vatican Curator. Among the elite inner core of the Vatican, he was considered a
leading candidate for successor to the papacy-the goal at the end of
the tunnel-God's supreme servant.

lanucci was familiar with John Tyler, having met him on a number of occasions, but he read the priest's bio to refresh his memory. It
stated that Tyler was currently on a leave-of-absence. The cardinal
wondered why he had requested the leave, something so rarely sought
or granted.

When Archbishop Montiagro had called him about Tyler and the
discovery of a relic that might possibly be of unprecedented importance, lanucci rearranged his schedule to accommodate a meeting. As
with any new discovery, he was excited. "Unprecedented importance,"
he whispered. "I could use some of that."

Montiagro had made it clear that Tyler insisted on bringing along
a member of the press. That puzzled the cardinal. lanucci hadn't gotten the impression that the priest was glory hungry. He might have to
remind Tyler of the Vatican protocol when it came to the press-a
protocol that did not put American reporters at the top of the list.
Besides, lanucci had his own list-select members of the world
press-ones he knew and trusted to quote him verbatim. The Vatican
was a sovereign nation in which serving God was the focal point of every movement, every thought, and every deed. Not the place for
American reporters whose objectives were usually either sensationalism or exploitation.

The cardinal closed the file and put the computer into sleep
mode.

"Eminence, your guests are here," the aide announced after
knocking and opening the massive door.

"Show them in." He stood and came around his desk. "Ah, John,"
he said as the two visitors approached. Extending his right hand palm
down, he said, "It's good to see you again."

"Your Eminence." John accepted the cardinal's hand, genuflected,
and lightly kissed the sapphire-stoned ring of his office. "Thank you
for taking the time to see us. I'd like to present Cotten Stone, a correspondent for the Satellite News Network. Ms. Stone came into possession of the artifact while on assignment in the Middle East. She'll
be covering the news of its authentication for her network."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Ms. Stone. I hope you will take pity on
an old man and speak of me only in glowing terms when you file
your report."

"I'm sure there would be no other way, Eminence," Cotten said,
shaking the cardinal's hand.

lanucci studied her-composed, self-assured, he thought. Still,
he'd be delicate in his suggestions of how he would like to handle the
situation. "Please, both of you sit and tell me what you have." Returning to his chair, he nodded to John.

"Are you familiar with Dr. Gabriel Archer?" John asked.

"Oh, yes," lanucci said, tapping his finger on the desktop. "I read
only this morning that his Turkish team had reported his deathheart attack, I believe." The cardinal made the sign of the cross. "May
he rest in the peace of the Lord."

John continued. "Then you are aware of his excavation in Iraq?"

"I am. He accumulated an astonishing body of work throughout
his career-the end must have been frustrating for him with his
obsession with finding the Grail."

"His frustration may have paid off," John said. "Ms. Stone was
with him when he died. I'll let her tell you."

One of the cardinal's eyebrows arched and there was a quick flutter, like a bird's wing inside his chest. "Please."

She told her story, ending with how she sought John's help in the
opening of the puzzle cube and the discovery of the Cup inside.

The cardinal twirled his thumbs. "You say another man was killed
in a struggle with Archer-an Arab?"

"Well, I assumed he was Arab. The clothes, appearance, and his
accent," Cotten said.

"Strange, the article didn't mention anything other than Archer
having a heart attack. Hmm."

Cotten looked at John, but didn't say anything.

lanucci wondered what was on the reporter's mind. He waited a
moment before speaking again, giving her an opportunity to talk.
When she failed to do so, he said, "Let us suppose the man who tried
to steal the relic from Archer was only an antiquities thief."

"If it weren't for the break-in of my apartment, Eminence, I
would agree," Cotten said. "But there's too much of a coincidence.
That's why I'm anxious to place it in the hands of an organization like
yours that can assure its safety."

"You brought the relic with you?"

"Yes." Cotten opened her bag and produced the box.

lanucci's pulse quickened.

She handed it to John. With precise movements, he slid open the
lid, letting it drop back on its hinges. He placed it carefully on the
desk.

"Our old friends, the Templars," Ianucci said, peering at the cross,
the rose, and the seal woven into the cloth. Tiny beads of perspiration
dampened his scalp beneath his red zucchetto.

"I had the same reaction, Eminence," John said. John produced a
pair of white gloves from his pocket. He gently removed and
unwrapped the Cup, setting it beside the box.

Hairs on the back of Ianucci's neck prickled, and a surge of nerve
impulses raced down his arms. Gabriel Archer was no fool. If he
believed this to be the Holy Grail, there was a strong likelihood that
the Cup from the Last Supper sat only inches away.

lanucci opened a desk drawer and retrieved his own pair of
gloves. Slipping them on, he picked up the chalice and examined itexploring the engraved monogram, the small band of beads, and the
grapevines winding around the neck. The exhilaration was difficult to
contain. He pointed to the dark substance coating the inside.
"Beeswax?"

"I think so," John said.

"An appropriate method of preservation for that time period."
The cardinal inspected the Cup from all angles, finally setting it down
again. He leaned back and cocked his head, first to one side and then
the other as he continued to study the relic. "The style and metalwork
seem concurrent with others I've seen of that era. The engraving was
probably much later."

"Agreed," John said.

"Radiocarbon dating the wax should be fairly straightforward."
The fluttering in his chest made him cough. He pressed his fingers to
his carotid, checking the irregular beat, unable to take his eyes from
the chalice. His heart regained its rhythm. "We have a number of vessels with which to do a side-by-side comparison." lanucci looked up. "All right. Let's deliver it to our experts and see what they find." He
stood. "Where are you staying?"

"Nova Domus," John said, coming to his feet.

Cotten rose and turned to John. "Is that all?"

"For today, Ms. Stone," lanucci answered.

"But SNN is ready to-"

The cardinal smiled, holding up his hand. "You must be patient."

"Do you think it's authentic? What's your best guess?" she asked.

John gently took Cotten's arm. "It has to go through a lengthy
process-there won't be any guessing."

Cotten edged her arm away. "I realize that it will take time." She
turned to Ianucci. "Your Eminence, I took John's advice and agreed to
bring the relic here. But there are many other organizations qualified
to authenticate it in return for guaranteeing me the exclusive." She
took a slight step forward toward the desk. "If I could have your
word, the Cup is yours."

The significance of the relic far outweighed who reported the
story first, the cardinal reasoned. He would grant her a fleeting
moment of fame. Then she would be on a plane fading into obscurity
while he continued his journey toward his ultimate goal. The Grail
story would give him additional notoriety, helping him gain prominence among his colleagues. A prominence that mattered the next
time the College of Cardinals gathered in the Sistine Chapel in secret
conclave and cast their ballots for the man who would become the
next bishop of Rome, Holy Father, successor to Saint Peter, Vicar of
Christ.

"You have made your point, Ms. Stone. I will alert you as soon as
I have word. Until then, take time to enjoy the sights of Rome while
our people perform their work. I am sure Father Tyler will be happy to act as your tour guide." Cardinal Ianucci nodded, clearly dismissing them.

They thanked lanucci and walked across the ancient wooden
floor. As the echo of the fourteen-foot-high doors closed behind
them, lanucci moved to the window overlooking the palace courtyard, waiting until his pulse slowed. Only then did he allow himself to
look back at the Cup on his desk.

At twilight, John and Cotten took the cardinal's suggestion to take in
some of Rome's famous highlights.

As they walked, Cotten couldn't help but rehash what lanucci had
said. "Someone got rid of the Arab's body so there would be nothing
suspicious," she said, walking alongside John. "Don't you see, it's a
cover-up? The cardinal said there was nothing in the news about the
dead Arab-just Archer's death due to a heart attack."

"It is strange there was no mention of the Arab."

"I'll tell you what, when this story breaks, I'm leaving that part
out. I don't want them to come looking for me again." Cotten glanced
up and stopped dead. "Oh, my God." The lights striking and splaying
off the Coliseum's travertine and stone gave it an overwhelming sense
of grandeur.

"Amazing, isn't it? It's quite astounding at night;" John said as they
approached the Coliseum.

Cotten's eyes fixed on the structure that was the symbol throughout the world of the Eternal City-the emblem of Rome's greatness.
"I've seen pictures and movies, but-"

She waved her arms toward the Coliseum. "This is why. This is
what kept tugging at me as I grew up in Kentucky. This is why I do what I do, John. There is so much to see. I want to see it all." The timbre of her voice dropped. "And I don't think I'll ever see enough." She
turned in a circle, feeling as if she couldn't take it all in. It wasn't just
the splendor, it was the whole package-the stunning beauty, the
wonder of the structural design, the history. "I'm babbling," she said.
"Sorry. You talk. Tell me about the Romans, about the gladiators, the
architecture. Were Christians really thrown to the lions, here?"