Sign Of The Cross (7 page)

The black helicopter hovered near the plateau, swaying in the strong wind. The pilot fought the air currents the best he could but realized he was in danger of losing control. ‘Let me set her down, sir. The wind is swirling off the rock face. I don’t know how much longer I can hold it.’

The lone passenger in the copter lowered the binoculars from his cold, black eyes. ‘You’ll hold it until I tell you otherwise. I have two men on that rock face, and my job is to cover them from an airborne position.’

The pilot argued, ‘Well, I have a job, too. And it’s impossible to do it in these conditions. I’m setting her down now!’

‘If you do, I swear to God I’ll have your ass.’ The intensity of his glare proved that he was serious. He was willing to do anything to complete his mission.
Anything
. There was simply too much at stake. ‘Give me five more minutes, and this will all be over.’

Piazza Risorgimento,

Rome, Italy

(fifty meters from Vatican City)

Buses filled with foreigners rumbled past him on their way to the main gate of the Holy City. People with cameras and unruly children strolled by his bench completely ignorant of who he was or why he was there. Their sole focus was on Saint Peter’s Square and the Sistine Chapel and all the glorious artifacts in the Vatican museum, not the old man in the expensive suit or the two bodyguards who stood behind him.

Of course that was the reason that he liked to come here, the perverse amusement he got from watching so many people shell out their hard-earned cash for guidebooks and private tours. Meanwhile he sat on his bench knowing the vast majority of the Vatican’s treasure lay hidden underneath the streets that they were walking on, everything protected in hermetic vaults that made Fort Knox look like a piggy bank. He smiled, realizing that none of them, no matter who they were or how much money they had, would
ever
see the treasures that he saw every day.

The contents of
Archivio Segreto Vaticano
. The Vatican Secret Archives.

Benito Pelati’s official title was the minister of antiquities, a job he’d held for over three decades. Unofficially he was known throughout Italy as the godfather of archaeology, for he vowed to protect every relic found on Italian soil, even if that meant breaking a few laws in the process. Some critics looked down on him for his questionable methods, especially in the early years when he just started building his violent reputation. But the Vatican never did. They knew a man with his talents would be invaluable. Not only his academic knowledge but his willingness to do
whatever
he needed to get results.

Every organization, even one as sanctimonious as the Church, can use men like that.

Still, in the beginning it was Benito’s expertise in the world of art, not his brutality, that got him noticed. Cardinal Pietro Bandolfo, the former chair of the Vatican’s Supreme Council, was a childhood friend of Benito’s and his biggest ally. Bandolfo understood politics better than his fellow cardinals and assured the Vatican the only way to protect its place in the modern world was to join hands with Benito, someone trained outside of the Church. Someone who could update their antiquated system. Someone who
wasn’t
encumbered by papal law. Eventually, the Vatican agreed, and Benito was hired to update their way of doing things.

And his first project was organizing their most valuable asset: the Secret Archives.

Benito ran his fingers through his slicked-back gray hair and remembered the first day he was taken through the vaults. What an honor it was. Less than thirty men were privy to the contents of the Vatican’s collections: the facility’s curators, senior members of the Sacred Congregation of Cardinals, and the Curia. All of them devout Catholics who had dedicated their lives to God and were an established part of the Church. But not Benito. He was the first outsider to be given unlimited access to the vaults. Ever. And the experience made him tremble. Never before had he seen so many beautiful things in one place. Paintings, statues, and treasures filled room after room. Plus more than
forty miles
of shelves that held nothing but written documents: scrolls, parchments, and stone tablets for as far as the eye could see.

Unfortunately, once he got past all the beauty and started thinking about his job, he realized the Archives’ filing system was a mess. Computers were still on the distant horizon, so everything in the vaults had been logged into card catalogs similar to those in a public library. Cards that could be moved, lost, or stolen. Adding to Benito’s confusion were the curators themselves. Over the centuries the men in charge of the Archives had different preferences for recording their data. Some logged artifacts by year, others by country, others by theme. And one curator used a system Benito couldn’t even interpret. To him it was amazing. He was staring at the most valuable collection in the world, yet one that was in complete disarray.

However, he was thrilled by the chaos. Not only because he had the honor of placing everything where he thought it belonged, but because he realized if the curators themselves didn’t know what they had in the vaults, then neither did the Vatican. And if that was the case, there was no telling what he might find as he dug deeper into the bowels of the Church.

One day on the job, and he’d been given a ticket to the greatest treasure hunt of all time.

It was an opportunity that changed his life forever.

Dante was one of Benito Pelati’s top assistants, a no-nonsense disciple who went out of his way to please the old man. He arrived on time and greeted Benito with a kiss on both cheeks. No words were said, no pleasantries exchanged. This was a business meeting, not a social call. They would save the chitchat for another day. If ever.

Dante was much larger than Benito and half his age. Yet their features were similar, especially the way their noses sloped away from their sunken eyes. Romans referred to it as
the look of the emperor
, though Dante didn’t care about his face or his clothes or the make of his car. He didn’t give a damn about those things because the only thing that mattered to him was his work. It was an addiction that ruled his life.

Minutes passed as Dante sat there, quiet, patiently waiting for Benito to speak because that was the way it was done in the Old Country. The old man had called the meeting, so he controlled the agenda, just like every time the two of them got together. Someday Benito would die, and Dante would move up in the organization. But until then Dante would sit there like a loyal dog, studying the people who poured past them on the busy street. Waiting to be briefed.

Eventually, the old man said, ‘It’s been a bad day for the Church.’

Dante remained silent, realizing details would come in short bursts, every statement measured before it left the old man’s lips. As if Benito didn’t know how to talk to him.

‘A priest was found crucified… A warning was issued… The Council needs our help.’

In the power structure of the Vatican, the Supreme Council was second in command to the holy father. At least on paper. In reality, the seven cardinals who made up the Council – led by Cardinal Vercelli, the man who replaced Cardinal Bandolfo when he died less than a year before – were the most powerful men in the Catholic Church. They decided what the pope knew and what he didn’t, protecting the papal throne from the bureaucratic issues of the day. To put it simply, their job was to keep the pope squeaky clean while they made the tough choices behind closed doors. The type of decisions that could soil the papacy and the Church.

And when these issues came up, Benito Pelati was usually part of the solution.

Finally, after several more seconds of silence, Benito turned toward Dante. ‘I need you to go to Vienna… There’s an excavation I need you to oversee… Something quite important.’

‘In Austria?’ Dante asked. ‘Do we have permission to dig there?’

Benito stared at him until Dante lowered his head in shame. He should’ve known better than to question Benito’s orders. ‘Everything is ready… All you’ll do is supervise… Once you’re done, bring what you find back to me.’

Curiosity had a way of consuming Dr Boyd. Although he should’ve been focused on the bronze cylinder, he was more interested in the sound. The deafening roar of the outside world was too intriguing for him to ignore. ‘Hello!’ he called in his English accent. ‘Is anybody out there?’

The rotor blades of the helicopter continued to reverberate like thunder just outside the entrance to the Catacombs.

‘Goodness gracious! What is causing that tumult?’ Boyd continued to ponder the question as he made his way to the mouth of the cave. ‘People should have more consideration when -‘

The sight of the massive machine, coupled with the overpowering roar of the turbines and the hurricane-like wind that enveloped him, was enough to take Boyd’s breath away. He’d assumed the noise was probably a piece of equipment working on the plateau above but never expected to see a helicopter staring him in the face from more than 700 feet in the air.

The man in the passenger seat grinned, then ordered the pilot to rotate to the left. A split second later, the man’s M501 sniper rifle was out the side window, and Boyd was in its crosshairs.

‘Gentlemen,’ he whispered into his headset, ‘the Lord works in mysterious ways.’

The two soldiers stopped their ascent up the plateau and looked skyward, though their angle prevented them from seeing anything of value. ‘What’s going on, sir? Is everything all right?’

The man squinted as he adjusted his scope. ‘It will be in a moment. One shot, and our biggest problem is history.’

They nodded in understanding. ‘What should we do?’

He shoved the rifle’s recoil pad against his shoulder and tried to compensate for the chopper’s sway. ‘Keep on climbing. I’ll need you to deal with the girl and seal the site.’

Boyd shielded his eyes the best he could, but the mixture of dust and sunlight prevented him from seeing much. ‘Hello!’ he screamed. ‘Can I help you with something?’

When he heard nothing, he figured he needed to alter his approach. So instead of shouting, he simply waved at the helicopter, hoping its passengers would wave back, then move on.

‘Hold steady,’ the sniper ordered. ‘Steady!’

But it was an impossible task. The wind was surging off the top of the ridge like a waterfall, then swirling on its descent to the rocky terrain below. The result was an aeronautical nightmare, a pocket of turbulence that literally chewed at the lift the helicopter was trying to produce. The pilot did his best to compensate, increasing and decreasing the pitch of the main rotor. But it made little difference. Choppers weren’t meant to fly in these conditions.

‘I’m losing it,’ warned the pilot. ‘I swear to you I’m losing it!’

With camera in hand, Maria strolled into the colorful first chamber, making her way directly to the Catacombs’ exit. As she crawled through the narrow opening, she suddenly became aware of the noise and vibrations that had intrigued Boyd.
‘Professore?’

She continued up the slope of the rocky trail, trying to shield her eyes from the intense glare. With the exception of her hand, the only thing protecting her from total blindness was the figure that stood in the cave’s entrance. And from his slender frame, she knew it was Boyd.

‘
Professore?
What’s making that noise?’

Before he could respond, she heard the unmistakable sound of gunfire, then watched in horror as Boyd turned from his perch and scrambled down the path. Without hesitation he buried his shoulder into her gut and tackled her to the floor, protecting her from the blitzkrieg. Skidding to a painful stop, he grabbed her hand and dragged her to the nearby corner, making sure they were out of the gunman’s range. ‘Are you all right?’ he demanded. ‘Are you hurt?’

Stunned, she took a moment to probe her body. ‘No, I’m fine.’

Boyd climbed to his feet and peeked around the nearest outcropping. The roar of the chopper still thundered outside. ‘I think we’re in trouble. There’s a helicopter out there.’

‘A helicopter?’

‘Yes! And it’s got a nasty little passenger. All I did was wave, and he started shooting at me!’ He peered around the rock, still unable to see. ‘But that’s not the worst thing. I saw a sign on the chopper that said
Polizia
.’

‘What? Are you serious?’

‘Of course I’m serious.’ He grabbed her hand. ‘Listen to me, we’re in grave danger. But if you follow my lead, we’ll survive.’

‘We can beat an armed helicopter?’

‘Yes! But we have to act quickly. If they land and come inside, we’re going to be killed.’

‘Wait! You want to fight a helicopter? With what?’

Boyd rushed to the corner and rummaged through their tools. ‘Did we bring any rope?’

‘Rope? Not with us. We left that in the truck.’

Quickly, Boyd turned the toolbox upside down and dumped its contents with a loud clatter. ‘I guess this will have to do instead.’

She stared at him, confused. ‘You asked for a rope but settled for a toolbox? Do you mind telling me what you’re going to do?’

‘Watch and learn, my dear. Watch and learn.’

Boyd carried the box toward the entrance of the cave and studied the machine that threatened their lives. It hovered less than fifty feet in front of the opening, its occupants glaring out the front window of the craft. ‘Maria, come here. Grab the camera and anything you want to take with us. Whether this works or not, I think it’s best if we leave this place as soon as possible.’

‘We’re leaving?’

‘Go!’ he ordered. ‘And be quick about it!’

She scampered to the rear while Boyd moved forward, boldly walking into the line of fire. He wasn’t sure if his idea was going to work, but he figured it was better than being trapped inside the Catacombs without any weapons. ‘Hello! Come and get me!’

He quickly repeated the phrase in Italian, just to make sure they understood his command. The chopper instantly moved closer, trying to reduce the angle between the sniper and target, hoping to avoid another misfire. But the maneuver was a tactical mistake. As the craft inched forward, Boyd extended the toolbox behind him, then tossed it underhanded as far as he could. The container sailed through the air until it floated into the path of the main rotor blades.