Sign Of The Cross (27 page)

‘The CIA?’ Boyd echoed.

Payne replied in a thick German accent. ‘Yes,
Herr
Doctor! And ve know you are a spy!’

‘A spy? What in the world are you talking about?’

Jones laughed. ‘Quit the games, Doc. We know all about your past.’

‘My past?’

‘You know,’ Payne said, ‘where you steal antiquities from half the countries in Europe, then figure out how to hide the stuff. Not a bad scheme, but why in the world would a smart guy like you double-cross men like Manzak and Buckner? Those guys are kind of scary.’

Suddenly Maria’s eyes filled with doubt.
‘Professore?’

‘Good Lord, you mustn’t believe these chaps! I’ve never heard anything so outrageous in all my life! Double-crossing the CIA? That’s bloody preposterous!’

Payne pushed the issue. ‘What about American Cargo International? Does
that
name ring a bell?’

Cracks started to surface in Boyd’s veneer. ‘Yes, but…’

‘But what? They’ve been financing you for years, haven’t they?’

‘Yes, but, that doesn’t mean -‘

‘Doesn’t mean what? Doesn’t mean you’re connected to the CIA? Come on! I got the information straight from the Pentagon. I know you’re on the CIA’s payroll.’

Boyd blinked a few times, trying to hold his facade. ‘Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean I’ve double-crossed them. I mean…’ His voice trailed off.

‘Go on,’ Payne insisted. ‘What
do
you mean? You obviously did something to piss them off. They wouldn’t have brought us into this if you weren’t a priority.’

Suddenly, horror filled his eyes. ‘They what?’

‘You heard me. They brought us in to track you down. We’re what you call specialists.’

‘Wait a bloody second! You mean you’re not
in
the Agency?’

‘Hell, no!’ Payne said. ‘We’re world-class bounty hunters, hired to find your ass.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out Manzak’s tracking device. ‘One touch of this button, and our obligations are done. They’ll come running, and we’ll get to go home.’

Boyd stared at the device for several seconds. ‘Yes,’ he finally said, ‘you’ll get to go home all right… in a fucking body bag.’

Maria gaped at the comment. It was the first time she’d ever heard him swear.

‘Jesus!’ Boyd continued. ‘Open your fucking eyes! The
CIA
doesn’t go out of house for help. They’ve got agents planted in every country in the world, ready to handle anything that could come up. There’s no way they’d turn to someone outside their network to hunt me down. That’s not how they work!’

‘Oh yeah,’ Jones challenged. ‘And what makes you such an expert?’

Boyd glared, locking his eyes on Jones’s. ‘Because I’m one of those agents.’

‘Excuse me?’ Payne said.

‘What?’ Maria shrieked.

‘You heard me. I’ve been with them for years, using my professorship to travel abroad.’

Jones rolled his eyes. ‘Oh really? What kind of secret agent comes right out and says he’s an operative? Not a real one, I know that.’

‘You know what? You’re right. In most situations that would be unheard of. Treasonous, even. But I’m afraid this isn’t an ordinary situation. Due to the false press I’ve been getting, my career as a spy is over. Plus, I get the feeling if you push that button, my life will be finished, too. So what do I have to lose?’

‘Wait a second!’ Payne demanded. ‘You’re trying to tell us you’re a
CIA
agent
? Get serious! Can’t you come up with something better than that?’

‘Well I certainly could if I was trying to come up with something, but the fact is, I’m telling you the truth. Sure, I know I don’t look like an agent. But the truth is, most company men don’t. If we did, we would all stand out.’

Jones smiled at the logic. ‘He’s got a point there.’

‘What? Don’t tell me you believe him! He’s been working at Dover for thirty years!’

‘Yeah, but I’ve heard some crazy shit about the
CIA
. They’ve got NOCs everywhere, just waiting to help their cause.’

Payne knew
NOC
meant
nonofficial cover
, a government officer working behind foreign lines without diplomatic immunity, but wasn’t sure what Jones was insinuating. So Payne grabbed him by his arm and pulled him off to the side, never taking his eyes off Boyd and Maria. ‘What are you saying? We should believe this wacko?’

‘No, I’m not saying that at all. There’s a chance he’s bullshitting us to save his ass. Then again, he could be telling us the truth. The point is, I don’t really know.’

‘Then let’s push the button and talk to Manzak. Personally, I don’t give a damn what happens to these two as long as we’re out of the mix. We gotta deal with him at some point, so let’s just get it over with. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?’

‘Don’t do it!’ Boyd begged from a distance. ‘I’m telling you, if you push that button, we’ll all be killed. Just like the people on the bus. Don’t you understand that? These guys can’t afford to leave any witnesses. An entire religion rides on this.’

Payne laughed at his claim. ‘Rides on what? A buried treasure? What religion are you talking about, Greedism?’

‘Greed? You think this is about greed? Dammit, man, you don’t know anything! The scroll we found in the Catacombs isn’t about money. It’s about the truth! It will cast doubt over everything that you’ve been taught to believe. Even Christ himself.’

‘Professore!’

He turned toward Maria to explain. ‘They
have
to hear this, my dear. If he pushes that button, we’re going to die, and so is this secret. It’s as simple as that. The Church cannot allow this to get out. It will shake the foundation of Christianity.’

Payne looked at Jones and whistled. ‘Well, that settles it. I’m pushing the button. I mean, first he claims to be in the
CIA
, now he says the Church is trying to kill him. This guy’s a loon.’

Jones stared at Boyd. ‘Personally, I’ve always had my doubts about the pope. Anyone who wears a hat like that is up to no good.’

‘Good Lord!’ Boyd shouted. ‘I’m not saying the pope! But someone in the Church is linked to this. They have to be. I mean, they’re the only ones that -‘ Boyd stopped his speech in midsentence and inexplicably turned his head upwards. ‘Oh, no!’

‘What?’ Payne asked. ‘Is God talking to you now?’

‘Shhh!’ he ordered. ‘That sound. Don’t you hear it? I heard the same thing in Orvieto.’

Payne and Jones had no idea what Boyd was talking about, but when they stopped to humor him, they actually heard a rumble above the Fiat’s engine. They weren’t sure where it was coming from due to the echo in the alley. The sound was getting louder, though.

Jones turned off the Fiat and whispered, ‘Did you push the button by mistake?’

Payne shook his head as he walked down the alley, away from the others. He traveled nearly fifty feet before he tilted his ear toward the sky.

‘Choppers,’ he announced. ‘More than one. And they’re coming this way.’

‘How did they find us?’ Jones asked.

‘I don’t know. Maybe this unit’s been tracking us the whole time.’ He slammed the device to the ground and smashed it. ‘Doesn’t matter. They won’t find us if we don’t want them to.’

Payne hustled toward Boyd and rammed his gun under his chin. ‘Where were you born?’

Boyd breathed deep, then said, ‘Do you want the truth, or what I’ve been taught to recite?’

Payne wasn’t in the mood for games so he pushed the Beretta even deeper into his throat.

‘Fine,’ he grunted. ‘Seattle, Washington.’

‘Where’d you go to school?’

‘The U.S. Naval Academy. Then Oxford.’

Payne eased up slightly, just in case he was a fellow midshipman. ‘Bad answer, Doc. It just so happens I know a thing or two about the Academy.’

‘Great! Ask me anything! Just do it quick, or we’re going to die.’

Payne paused for a second, trying to think of a good one. ‘Name a road on the Academy grounds.’

‘What? There are quite a few -‘

‘Name one, or I shoot.’

‘Fine, er, King George Street.’ Which, no matter how inappropriate it seemed, was actually the main road at the Academy. ‘I can continue if you’d like. Wood Street, Dock Street, Blake Road, Decatur Road, College Ave -‘

Payne nodded, half surprised by his response. ‘Where were classes held during the war?’

‘Which war?’

‘You tell me.’

‘I imagine you’re referring to the Civil War, since that’s the only time sessions were held elsewhere. And the answer is Newport, Rhode Island – moved there for safety reasons.’

‘Not bad,’ Payne admitted. ‘But this last one is the clincher. Any red-blooded Academy man would know the answer to this in a heartbeat. Are you ready? Because this is going to determine if you live or die. Got it? When you were in school, what was the name of the women’s dorm?’

Boyd smiled, quickly realizing it was a trick question. ‘Alas, there wasn’t one. Much to my disappointment, females weren’t admitted until
after
I’d departed. Around 1976, I believe.’

Begrudgingly, Payne lowered his gun. He still wasn’t certain about Boyd, but his gut told him that he was telling the truth. ‘So, you went to the Academy?’

Boyd nodded. ‘I take it you’re an Academy man, too?’

‘Yes, sir. Jonathon Payne, at your service.’

‘Well, Mr Payne, if you’re interested in survival, I recommend we get moving. Otherwise, we will be killed before we leave this alley.’

It happened years ago, right after finding the scrolls in the secret vaults. Documents that the Vatican didn’t even know it had. Following their intricate instructions, Benito Pelati journeyed to Orvieto and took pictures of the ground using geological prototypes that he had borrowed from Germany. High-tech stuff that no one else had access to. Equipment that allowed him to chart every inch of the town from the topsoil to more than a hundred feet below. Studies no one had conducted before and hadn’t been allowed to run since.

Needless to say, there was a very good reason.

More than fifty tunnels were detected near the surface, all of them starting in private property and branching through the tufa like a tangle of arteries. Most of them stopped abruptly – either because the locals hit a section of stone they couldn’t penetrate or they ran out of patience and quit looking – while others interconnected with their neighbors’ tunnels. The deepest anyone got was twenty-three feet underground. Impressive, considering their rudimentary digging techniques, yet not deep enough to reach what they were hoping to find: the Catacombs of Orvieto.

Benito knew the Catacombs existed. Or
had
at one time. The scrolls he found were proof of that. So were all the other documents he’d read in the Secret Archives. But prior to his geological testing, he had no idea if the Catacombs would still be there. Or what condition they might be in. One record at the Vatican mentioned a massive cave-in shortly after the Great Schism. If so, it could have wiped out everything he was hoping to find. All the proof he needed.

But thankfully, that wasn’t the case. One look at the geological report confirmed it. The Catacombs were still there and in great shape. Furthermore, they were more substantial than the Vatican had ever realized. Papal records from the time of the Schism indicated one floor of chambers and tunnels. Nothing else. But Pelati saw more than that on this report. He saw multiple levels. And stairs. And areas so far under the soil that he doubted the Vatican had ever reached them. He wouldn’t know for sure until he explored the tunnels himself, but from the look of their design, Pelati sensed the ancient Romans had built a lower tomb, then immediately sealed it off from the upper chambers. Why the Romans did this, he wasn’t sure. But if his family’s secret was to be believed, that was probably where he’d find the evidence he was looking for.

Of course, he had other things to worry about before he could investigate.

His first order of business was to stop all digging in Orvieto. Another cave-in was the last thing he wanted, so he went to the local police chief and told him that Orvieto was in danger of collapsing. To bolster his case, he showed the chief the seismic studies that he’d conducted – conveniently omitting the information about the Catacombs – then walked from house to house pointing out all the tunnels that had been constructed.

Locals still refer to it as the Shovel Act of 1982, because digging became a criminal offense.

Next Benito bought the land above the twenty-three-foot tunnel, claiming the government needed to stabilize the property, or Orvieto might implode. The owner was so embarrassed by his handiwork and mortified by what could’ve happened that he sold everything to Benito to ensure the safety of his hometown. Except Benito had no intention of filling the hole. Instead, he planned to lengthen it to the depth of thirty-six feet, for that was where the Catacombs began.

All told the process took several weeks. Benito eschewed attention, so he used unobtrusive equipment and a skeleton crew made up of miners from eastern Europe who couldn’t speak or read Italian. He knew if he used local workers they’d be familiar with the legend of the Catacombs and would figure out what Benito was doing. But the foreigners were clueless. He could keep them quiet without doing any of the digging himself. That is until his miners reached a depth of thirty-five feet. One foot short of history. From there he couldn’t risk their further involvement. So he thanked them for their effort with a big celebration. He put a bullet in each of their brains, then buried them with their own shovels. Just like the great explorers of yesteryear. Men who cared more about fame and fortune than the hired hands who helped them achieve it.

Ruthless. That’s what he slowly became when he found the scrolls at the Vatican. Until that point he was a passionate academician, nothing more, someone who wasn’t afraid to take chances and fight for what he believed in. But when he found the scrolls, his persona started to change. He slowly became wicked. Malicious. Immoral. All of it fueled by what the scrolls stood for: power and unimaginable wealth.

From that point on, Benito didn’t care about his workers. Or the town of Orvieto. Or the sanctity of the Catholic Church. All he cared about was himself and his family’s secret.