Saint Peter's Soldiers (A James Acton Thriller, Book #14) (14 page)

“You’ve
got over one hundred people working for you. You should learn to delegate.”

“I
delegate you to get our guests something to drink.”

Everyone
shook their heads, not wanting to get in the middle of it. He smiled.

“I’ll
bring some iced tea.”

“That
would be lovely,” said Laura. “Can I help?”

Marie-Claude
waved her off. “No, no, you relax. You’re our guests.” She winked at her
husband. “Besides, I think you’ll need all your energy dealing with that one.”

“Love
you too, dear.”

She
winked at him then turned to leave.

“Close
the door, would you, hon?”

“Anything
for my wounded warrior.”

She
closed the door and he rolled his eyes.

“Laura,
if he rolled his eyes after me you give him a slap!”

Everyone
laughed, Giasson wincing and grabbing for his shoulder.

“Consider
it done!” said Laura loud enough to be heard through the door. She looked at
Giasson. “She clearly loves you.”

“Thank
God. If she didn’t, I’m afraid what she’d do to me.” He shifted slightly then
looked at his guests. “First, thank you for coming. You are the only three
people I trust in this matter.” He patted the wound. “This is far less bad than
it looks, or that anyone knows. I’m on some painkillers and antibiotics, but
that’s it. You’re the only people who know this besides the doctor at the
hospital, and I told him that little tidbit isn’t to be shared. Assuming he
honors doctor-patient confidentiality, we should be good.”

“I
assume you have plans?” asked Reading, a man Giasson knew would do exactly the
same if the roles were reversed.

“We need
to catch those responsible, but we’ve got a problem.”

Reading
pursed his lips. “We don’t know who we can trust.”

“Exactly.
We need to figure out who talked. I’ve narrowed down the possibilities from my
end. Did any of you tell anyone where you were going or why?”

Acton
shook his head but Laura leaned forward. “I told my service where we were
going, but not why. I had to arrange the flight.”

“And I
had to tell work I was taking a couple of personal days,” said Reading. “No
mention of the portrait of course.”

Giasson
nodded, pleased. “Good, I figured that would be the case. Which means the leak
came at this end. We have Father Rinaldi, who identified the portrait and
arranged the lab time at the university. He was supposed to tell no one, but
could have. You know how scientists are.”

Reading
grunted, jerking a thumb at his friends. “Do I!”

Acton
chuckled, elbowing his friend in the shoulder.

“There’s
Professor Salvay at the university who Father Rinaldi called. He too would have
been told to keep it quiet.”

“He
wasn’t there, was he?” observed Laura. “Isn’t that a little strange?”

Giasson shook
his head. “He had told Father Rinaldi he wouldn’t be. He’s apparently in
Florence visiting family.”

“Who
else?” asked Acton, leaning forward.

“My
second-in-command, Gerard Boileau, of course knew and I gave him explicit
instructions to tell no one. And then there’s Chief Inspector Riva.”

“I get
the distinct impression you think he’s our man.”

Giasson
pushed his lips out as he nodded at Reading. “He was supposed to be there,
wasn’t. Arrived just after the shooting, which means he was in the area, and it
was men dressed in State Police uniforms that did the shooting. If they weren’t
police, their uniforms had to come from somewhere.”

Reading
nodded. “He’s definitely the most likely suspect, but I don’t think we can rule
anyone out. And all that being said, someone could have let something slip
completely innocently. And if that’s the case, the suspect pool could grow
exponentially very quickly.”

Laura
leaned forward. “Let’s see if we can eliminate anyone. If Professor Salvay is
out of town, I can’t see him being able to organize something like this on such
short notice. As well, we have to assume this is linked to the shooting
yesterday, which would mean he would have had to be involved in that. Do you
think that’s possible?”

Giasson
shook his head, impressed at her reasoning. “No, I don’t see it at all.”

“Neither
do I,” agreed Acton. “I’ve worked with him before. He’s a good man.”

“And
then there’s Father Rinaldi,” continued Laura. “We’ve both worked with him in
the past. If he wanted to steal the portrait, why would he identify it and
bring us in? He would have had many opportunities over the past twenty-four
hours to switch it out with something else.”

Giasson
jabbed the air with a finger. “This is true. He’s the one who identified it
then figured out who to call in.”

Reading
rose, pacing in front of the door. “And if either of them mentioned it casually
to anyone, it wouldn’t matter. We know it has to be someone that was involved
prior to the shooting yesterday.”

“So that
leaves two possibilities.”

Giasson
looked at Laura. “Chief Inspector Riva.”

“Or your
man.”

Giasson
nodded at Laura’s conclusion. “I’m afraid you’re right.”

“How do
you plan to figure it out?” asked Acton.

“Good
old fashioned police work.” He turned to Reading. “Care to help?”

Reading
grinned. “Bloody right I would!”

Rocca d'Angera Castle, Angera, Italy

Hofmeister caught a glimpse of himself in a tall mirror to his
right, his jet black SS uniform freshly pressed, not a thread loose, not a
piece of lint in sight. He was perfect in every sense of the word. A fine
specimen of humanity’s future. Through selective breeding, the Congress was
managing to turn out better stock with each generation, and soon, with the
scientific advances being made here and around the world, they’d be able to
manipulate the genome, changing the species for the better.

He kept
abreast of the latest developments in genetics, and the recent announcement by
the Chinese that they had successfully—and illegally—modified the germ line, had
sent chills through the entire scientific community and the public who could
understand it.

Here it
had been a moment to rejoice.

It meant
their work had made a major leap forward.

For they
had two tasks here that needed completion before they could bring order.

Create
the Master Race.

And
perfect human cloning.

The
latter task had a dual purpose, and with he being young and healthy, he fully
expected to see all of their tasks accomplished within his lifetime.

Two
soldiers snapped to attention at the end of the corridor, opening the large
doors to the conference room. He entered, his chin held high, his chest thrust
out, his shoulders back, and snapped a smart salute.

“Heil
Hitler!”

The
table of the executive returned his hail, though a little more subdued than he
would have expected.

They’re
mostly old men. Maybe it’s time for fresh blood.

He
caught his breath as Dr. Josef Mengele Jr. himself entered the room. Everyone
leapt to their feet.

“Heil
Hitler! Heil Mengele!”

The
salute was returned in typical Führer style as the head of the table was
vacated, one side shifting down as their leader took his place. He looked at Hofmeister.

“You
have something for us?”

“Yes,
sir!” Hofmeister snapped his fingers and one of his men rushed in, carrying the
crate containing the da Vinci portrait. He took it and placed it on the table,
keeping his expression neutral though he felt a tremendous amount of excitement
to be in the great man’s presence. “We have the portrait.”

“Excellent
work. Show us.”

Hofmeister
held out his open hand and a small hammer was slapped into it with the crisp
precision of a nurse handing a surgeon his scalpel. He pried off the top and
placed it to the side, tipping the crate up slightly so the portrait would
slide out. His fingers felt the edge of the portrait and he gently squeezed,
pulling it free.

Something
clattered onto the tabletop.

His eyes
widened in shock, his stoic exterior broken.

“What is
that?”

His wide
eyes stared up at Mengele. “A cellphone!”

If rage
could kill, he’d be dead already, Mengele’s eyes conveying the anger and hatred
his and his father’s reputation were notorious for. “How did it get there?”

“It must
be that damned professor. He asked to package it properly so it wouldn’t be
damaged.”

“And you
agreed?”

“At the
time I didn’t see the harm.” His shoulders slumped, his chest deflated. “He
tricked me.”

“A
clever man. Too clever for you, apparently.” Mengele glanced at the others.
“Perhaps we should recruit
him
instead.”

Nervous
laughter from those gathered suggested a history of doubt as to when their
leader was joking.

Hofmeister
drew a quick breath, forcing himself back into the pose of a proud German.
“Sir, I will take care of this.”

“How?”

Hofmeister
picked up the phone. “With this. He slipped it in during a moment of bravado.
It will still contain all of the contact information for his friends and family.
I already know from our contact that an American and a British professor were
being brought in. I’m guessing he’s the American, so he’ll be easy to find. And
with a bookworm like that, we simply need to apply the right pressure. He won’t
be a problem.”

“He
better not be,” said Mengele, raising a boney finger and jabbing the air with
it. “Or you will become mine.”

Giasson Residence, Via Nicolò III, Rome, Italy

“It looks like they’ve arrived at wherever they were going.” Acton
flipped the laptop around so Giasson could see it. “According to this it hasn’t
moved in almost half an hour.”

Laura
leaned over and looked. “They could just be stopped for a break.”

“Let me
see.” Acton zoomed in on the map, his eyebrows jumping when he saw the
pixelated image coalesce into a clearer picture. “What do you make of that?”

Everyone
gathered closer.

“Is it a
castle?” Laura’s voice was tentative, as if she couldn’t quite believe it
herself.

Acton
nodded, it appearing to him to be exactly that. “It looks like a castle at the
edge of a mountain town in northern Italy.” He glanced at Giasson. “Is that
possible?”

Giasson
nodded. “Yes. You Americans don’t seem to realize how many castles there are in
Europe. There’re thousands of them and a lot of them are privately owned,
usually in preservation deals. The governments can’t afford to preserve them
all, so most go to ruin, but there are private non-profit groups, and
individuals, who will buy them and restore them as museums or even residences.”

Acton
peered at the picture then pointed. “It looks like there’s at least half a
dozen cars in the courtyard. This thing is definitely occupied.”

“We’ll
need to find out who lives there,” said Laura, returning to her chair and
taking a sip of the iced tea Marie-Claude had brought earlier.

“Shouldn’t
be too difficult.” Reading sat back down. “I’ll use my Interpol access and see
what I can find out.”

Acton glanced
at Giasson to see if he still wanted to look at the laptop. The man shook his
head, waving his hand slightly and Acton sat back down. “Should we go there?”

“Absolutely
not.” Acton looked at Reading. “There’s no reason to risk our lives over a
drawing.”

“But
they’re thieves and murderers! And who knows how long they’ll stay there. If
we’re going to catch them, we have to act now.”

“
We
don’t have to do any such thing. We need to figure out who we can trust, and
until then, sit tight.”

Giasson
yawned and Acton looked at him, the man beginning a battle to keep his eyes
open. Acton stood. “We’ll let you get your rest. We’ll be at our hotel room,
trying to find out as much as we can. Call us if you need anything.”