Sign Of The Cross (8 page)

As the box closed in, the pilot suddenly realized what was about to happen. He’d been so concerned about the gusting wind and the dangerous rock face that he never paid attention to Boyd or his toolbox. It was an oversight that would cost him his life.

Clank!

Metal struck metal in a sickening scream, shattering two of the four rotor blades on contact and sending shrapnel in every direction. With the sudden loss of lift, the chopper lurched forward, missing the rock face by inches before the pilot managed to pull the craft back. The sudden change in pitch couldn’t be handled by the rear rotor, causing the vehicle to spin like a broken Tilt-A-Whirl as it tumbled toward Boyd’s truck 700 feet below. Seconds later, the crunch of metal was masked by the powerful explosion that engulfed the side of the rock face, literally shaking the ground underneath Boyd’s feet.

‘Brilliant!’ he cheered. ‘Bloody brilliant!’

As the roar continued, Maria burst from the interior of the cave to see what had happened. ‘
Professore
, are you…’ Before she could finish her question, she noticed the bright ball of fire. Orange and red flames shot high into the air as thick clouds of black smoke surged from the smoldering wreckage. ‘
Santa Maria!
You broke their helicopter. And our truck!’

He nodded, happy with his handiwork. ‘Thank goodness we paid the renter’s insurance.’

Normally she would’ve howled at his comment, but Boyd didn’t give her the chance. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back inside, where he started gathering his equipment. Unfortunately, he was forced to stop when he heard a distant rumbling.

‘Maria? What is that? Is that another chopper?’

She grimaced, then took a few steps toward the mouth of the cave. Leaning back, she glanced at the cliffs above her. A slow trickle of rocks and debris were heading down the steep slope. ‘Oh my God!’

In a flash Boyd knew what was happening. The impact of the explosion had forced the ground around them to shake, producing the last thing that he wanted. ‘Avalanche!’

The duo burst from the tunnel entrance, running as fast as they could. Although it was a risky choice, they knew they’d rather face an onslaught of falling rocks than the sudden impact of a cave-in. Debris they could dodge. Collapsing tunnels they couldn’t.

Grabbing Maria by the hand, he led the way along the narrow rock face, making sure they stayed together as they hugged the wall of the cliff. They scurried on the precipice for several seconds when they realized they couldn’t outrun the falling debris. The footing was too unstable, and the stones were too constant for escape. They needed to find cover and hope for the best.

They scrambled under the first ridge they found, hoping the large outcropping would shield them from the debris. Unfortunately, as they stood underneath the slab, they realized that the ledge had several cracks near its base, flaws that might collapse when put under sudden duress.

‘Please hold!’ Maria begged. ‘Oh God, please hold!’

The two soldiers stared in disbelief as the helicopter plummeted past them. Flames shot skyward like a geyser from hell, forcing the men to cower against the rock face for protection. But it wasn’t the heat that they needed to worry about.

The landslide started with a trickle. First a pebble, then a stone, and finally a massive boulder. Before long, half the damn ridge was heading toward them, and they realized it was just a matter of time before they’d be joining their commander in the afterworld. The younger of the two men was the lucky one, for he died without suffering. A sharp piece of rock hit him squarely on the head, shattering his skull and rupturing his frontal lobe like a blow from a battle-ax. One minute he was by his partner’s side, the next he was splattered on his face.

Soon his lifeless body was swept down the cliff face in a torrent of dust and stones.

The older man tried to ignore the gruesome scene, though it was impossible. Chunks of brain stuck to his face like scraps of sushi, while blood seeped into the corner of his eyes, stealing his ability to see. Despite this hindrance, he somehow managed to hang on, shaking off the falling stones that tore at his flesh, praying he could somehow survive this horror and scramble back to his squad in one piece. But it was not to be.

The rock that sealed his fate struck him squarely on the right shoulder, ripping his arm from its socket with a nauseating pop and shattering his clavicle like it was made of glass. He teetered on the edge for several seconds – just enough time to express his agony with a scream that rose above the roar of the fire below – before crashing to the earth.

One toolbox. Four dead.

The outcropping shook and trembled throughout the landslide. Maria watched nervously as stones plunged past her, but nothing, not even the tiniest of pebbles, managed to find them in their protective haven.

After the rocks and debris subsided, Maria said a short prayer of thanks, then turned to check on Boyd. His face was more pale than usual, but a smirk was etched on his lips. ‘Are you OK?’

He took a deep breath. ‘Brilliant. And you?’

‘I’m fine.’ Maria showed him the camera that she clasped in her hand. ‘So is the video.’

‘Oh, dear Lord! The cylinder!’ Boyd frantically moved his fanny pack, hoping that the artifact had stayed in the pocket of his shorts during all the chaos. When he felt metal, he smiled, knowing they had lucked out. ‘Well, my dear, it appears that things aren’t a total loss.’

‘No, but pretty close.’ Maria pointed toward the Catacombs. Their entrance was now covered in debris. ‘I don’t think anyone will be using that door in the near future.’

Boyd grinned as he inspected the rubble. ‘Good! In the meantime we can take our video to the authorities and use it as proof of our discovery. Then we can come back with proper protection and stake our official claim to this site!’

‘Yeah,’ she sighed, ‘if there’s anything left to claim.’

‘Don’t worry. I’m sure we won’t leave Italy empty-handed.’

And Boyd knew that was true, for even if the Catacombs had been completely destroyed, he realized that he already possessed the object that he had come to Orvieto for.

The bronze cylinder.

Several hours passed before they came back for Payne. By then his legs were dead asleep, two lifeless limbs barely able to move. Still in handcuffs, he was dragged upstairs and shoved into a metal conference room where Jones, handcuffed as well, was sitting at the end of a long table. A large stranger in a dark suit sat on Jones’s left. A second man, speaking on a cell phone, stood in the far corner of the room, watching everything with steely resolve.

Jones smiled when he saw Payne. It was the first time they had seen each other since they had been arrested. ‘Hey Jon, you’re looking well. How ya been sleeping?’

‘Like a baby. Every morning I wake up wet.’

He nodded knowingly. ‘Fuckin’ hose.’

Payne took the seat across from Jones and studied the man to his side. He was roughly the same height as Payne but outweighed him by a hundred pounds. Muscle, not flab. Payne stared at him for five seconds, sizing him up, and in all that time he couldn’t find his neck. Finally, to break the silence, Payne introduced himself. ‘I’m Jonathon Payne. And you are?’

The yeti stared back at Payne but didn’t say a word. He just let out a soft growl.

Jones, who was black and had the physique of a defensive back, laughed. ‘Thank God he hates you, too. When he didn’t talk to me, I thought he was a racist… Maybe he’s just deaf.’

‘Any idea what this is about?’

‘Nope. And you?’

Payne shook his head. ‘I was promised a phone call for today but never got to make it. Maybe these guys are from the embassy.’

‘No,’ blurted the man on the cell phone. ‘We aren’t from the embassy.’

‘Oooooh!’ Jones teased. ‘They can talk!’

‘Yes, Mr Jones, we can talk. But I promise this will be a short conversation if you continue to make comments at our expense. I will not tolerate lip from a prisoner.’

The guy was six foot one, in his mid-forties, and a total prick. They could tell that immediately. There was something about his demeanor that said,
If you fuck with me, I’ll shit in your corn flakes
. Maybe it was his hair, which was high and tight, or his eyes, which were cold and reptilian. Whatever it was, he made it work because there was no doubt he was running things. ‘So, should I leave right now, or will you shut up long enough to listen?’

Payne hadn’t followed orders since he was in the military but got the sense that they had no choice. Either they listened to this guy, or they went back to their cells for a very long time. ‘Sure, silence can be arranged. But only if you give us the courtesy of your name and rank. I feel that’s the least we deserve.’

‘No, Mr Payne, you don’t
deserve
a thing. Not with the charges you’re facing.’

The man took a seat at the far end of the table and removed a folder from his leather briefcase. Then he sat there for a minute, studying its contents. Refusing to say a word. The only sound in the room was the occasional rustle of paperwork. When he spoke again, the harshness in his voice was softer than before. Like he had reconsidered how to handle things. ‘However, due to the circumstances of my proposal, I think it would be best if I remained civil.’

‘Your proposal?’ Payne asked.

‘Before I get to that, let me honor your request. My name is Richard Manzak, and I’m with the Central Intelligence Agency.’ He whipped out his identification and handed it to Payne. Manzak’s partner followed his lead. ‘This here is Sam Buckner. He’s been teamed with me for this particular, um, situation.’

Payne studied both IDs, then passed them over to Jones. ‘I don’t understand. What do we have to do with the CIA? Shouldn’t this be an embassy matter?’

Manzak grabbed his badge, then ordered Buckner to stand guard across the room. Payne found that kind of strange, since they were in the middle of a secure facility. Nevertheless, the big guy lumbered over there and leaned his ass against the door like a tired moose.

‘This is well past an embassy matter,’ Manzak assured him. ‘The embassy tends to avoid crimes of this nature.’

‘Crimes? What are you talking about? We didn’t do anything. We came here as tourists.’

‘Come now, Mr Payne. Both of us know the type of missions you used to run. I’m sure if you thought about it you could come up with a long list of activities that the Spanish government might disapprove of.’ Manzak leaned forward, lowering his voice to a whisper. ‘For now I think it would be best if we refrain from any specifics. You never know who might be listening.’

Payne thought back to his time with the MANIACs and realized they had passed through Spain on hundreds of occasions. Moron Air Base, located near Seville, was midway between the U.S. and southwest Asia, making it a prime spot to gather supplies and jump-start missions. Same with Naval Station (
NAVSTA
) Rota, positioned on the Atlantic coast near the Strait of Gibraltar. It gave them access to the Mediterranean Sea and assistance on amphibious assaults. Throw in Torrejon Air Base and all the other U.S. facilities scattered around Spain, and Payne shuddered at everything they might have on him and Jones.

Hell, every time they carried weapons off the base was a breach of regulations. So was crossing the border with nonmilitary personnel. Or flying through restricted airspace. In fact, just about everything the MANIACs did in Spain – even though it was always in the line of duty – bordered on a punishable offense. Not the type of violation that was
ever
pursued or prosecuted. The symbiotic relationship between the U.S. and Spain would not survive if the Spanish government started cracking down on active personnel in sanctioned U.S. missions. Still, the thing that worried Payne was the classified nature of his operations. How could he defend himself if he wasn’t allowed to talk about anything he did?

Payne said, ‘You know, you’re right. This
isn’t
an embassy matter. It’s way beyond their scope. This is something the Pentagon will have to handle themselves.’

Manzak shook his head. ‘Sorry, gentlemen, it’s not going to happen. The Pentagon was notified by the Spanish government as soon as you were arrested. Sadly, in their eyes they have nothing to gain by getting involved. Can you imagine the public relations nightmare they’d face if they admitted to the missions you were involved in? Things
might
be different if you were still on active duty. Unfortunately, their desire to help is usually related to your current usefulness. And since you’re currently retired, they view your usefulness as next to nothing.’

Manzak smiled crookedly. ‘It’s a cruel world. Isn’t it, Mr Payne?’

Payne wanted to jump across the table and show Manzak how cruel the world could be. Just to shut him up. But he knew he couldn’t do that. Not until he found out why he was there, why the
CIA
was interested in his situation. For all he knew, Manzak could be his only ally. ‘And what about you? Does your organization view us as
useful
?’

Manzak’s smile widened. ‘I wasn’t so sure until I read about your trip to Cuba. Very impressive. In my mind, anyone who could do
that
is useful… That mission still boggles my imagination.’

Payne and Jones looked at each other, confused. No one except the top brass at the Pentagon was supposed to know about Cuba. Not the
CIA
, the
FBI
, or even the president. As it stood, the Cubans didn’t even know about Cuba, because the moment they found out, they were going to be pissed. Anyhow, the fact that Manzak knew about their trip told them a lot. It meant he was a heavy hitter with some serious connections. Someone who could cut a deal.

‘Great,’ Payne said. ‘You’ve done your homework. Unfortunately, there’s still one question you haven’t answered. Why are you here?’

Manzak leaned back in his chair, quiet. Watching them squirm. Most people would’ve answered right away, but not this guy. He was cooler than that. Much cooler. The definition of self-control. Finally, when he sensed that they were about to lose their patience, he gave them an answer. ‘I’m here to buy your freedom.’