The Revelation Relic

by Rob Jones

  “Gallo!” Hunter said.

  The aristocrat nodded once, dwarfed by his shadow projected up on the wall by the multiple flashlights. With his slim, aquiline nose and slicked-back raven black hair, he reminded Hunter of some sort of bird of prey. “Si, I am the Marquis Giuseppe Francisco Patrizi Gallo, and si, I am a high-ranking member of the Creed’s Italian chapter.”

  He gave the giant tapestry an admiring glance as he walked over to the light switch. When he flicked it up, a giant electric candelabra spilled bright yellow light all over the room. “Perhaps this will allow you to appreciate my artwork better.”

  “We need to talk about the elephant in the room,” Hunter said. “Or in this case, the chimera.”

  “Ah, you like this piece? This is one of the finest in my house.”

  “House…” Jodie muttered. “At least he’s got a sense of humor.”

  “All of this, including this tapestry, was carefully collected and curated over hundreds of years by papal treasurers,” he said smoothly. “My ancestors were always very close to the papacy. Even today, we are a very powerful family with many important connections and lots of influence. It is not wise to cross a man like me.”

  “We need the lion statue,” Amy said.

  “I know what you want,” he said. “I know why you’re here.” He wheeled in a tight circle and glanced away from them and up at the tapestry. “They’re magnificent beasts, and you will now step away from the display case containing the statue you are trying to steal.”

  Blanco was still holding the gun on him. “The way I see it, you don’t have a hell of a lot of bargaining power right now, Mr Gallo.”

  Gallo smiled. “I suppose you are right, but do you really think stealing from the Creed is a wise thing to do? We know who you are. We know what you did in Germany. What you did in Atlantis. You are under constant observation. Perhaps this is your chance to redeem yourselves. Maybe if you tell me why you need the statue I will let you live.”

  “And if you believe that you’ll believe anything,” said Lewis.

  Amy said, “I thought the Creed knew everything?”

  Gallo shrugged. “Different factions know different things. Why do you want this lion?”

  “That’s not something I’m prepared to…”

  A short burst of gunfire made everyone jump.

  “Throw down your guns!”

  Gallo turned and looked behind him. He saw several men in black combat fatigues and balaclava masks stomping into the exhibition room. “What the hell is this?”

  Amy saw one of the men was dragging Quinn behind him. “Quinn!”

  Gubenko spun around, aimed his Steyr at Gallo and opened fire. The muzzle flashed and roared as the rounds exploded in the Italian’s chest and head, blasting blood mist and brain matter all over the tapestry.

  Quinn screamed.

  “My God!” Amy said. “You bastards!”

  Neverov was in the center of the room, submachine gun gripped in his hands as he scanned the cases. “That one!” he yelled at one of the men. “Get it. Don’t damage it.”

  Lugovoy stomped over to the case and smashed the glass with the stock of his compact machine pistol. He stepped forward, his boots crunching on the shards of glass, and reached into the case to extract the statue. “It’s ours.”

  Medinsky violently pushed Quinn toward Amy. She tripped over Gallo’s dead body and fell to the floor, landing in some of the smashed glass. Jodie ran to her and picked her, bringing her back over to the rest of the team.

  “All of you!” Neverov said. “Get up against the wall and lower your guns.”

  Hunter unshouldered his weapon. “We know who you are.”

  “You know nothing.”

  “You have old weapons,” Hunter said, looking at the base model gun in the other man’s hands. “I know that much. That Steyr must be twenty years old.”

  “They beat your handguns.”

  Neverov was walking backwards now, never once taking the barrel of his weapon off the team. The rest of his men scrambled into position and streamed out of the door back onto the corridor. When Neverov reached the door, he opened fire, wildly sweeping the Steyr from side to side and spraying everything in sight with lead.

  “Down!” Hunter yelled.

  The team moved like greased lightning, throwing themselves behind display cases and hitting the deck with seconds to spare. With her hands clamped over her ears, Amy winced in fear as the bullets ripped and drilled and raked into the wall behind her. Plaster burst into clouds of dust and flakes drifted down onto her as Neverov lowered his barrel and shredded part of the display case she was hiding behind.

  “No!” she screamed, tucking her head down and shielding her eyes from the wood splinters and glass fragments. “He’s going to kill us all!”

  “No, he’s not.”

  She looked up and saw Blanco standing over her. He was offering her his hand. She took it and he pulled her up. “They’ve gone?”

  The Brooklynite nodded. His expression was grave. “They’ve gone.”

  “And they have the lion statue!” Jodie said.

  Hunter was up on his feet, dusting himself off. “We have to go after them.”

  “Are you nuts?” Quinn said. “Their guns are way bigger than our guns!”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Amy said. “Max is right. We can’t let them get away with the statue. We haven’t even had time to study it yet. If we lose them, we lose the mission.”

  “Then let’s rock and roll,” Lewis said. “They can’t have gotten too far away.”

  Hunter led the way out of the room and then they followed the trail of broken glass, wood splinters and gun smoke along the corridor until they found a shredded panel of torn and smoking wood.

  “Looks like this used to be a door,” Quinn said. “What happened?”

  Blanco leaned closer. “I’d say nine mill rounds and a muzzle velocity of around nine hundred rounds per minute is what happened. They blew the door down with their guns.”

  “They must know something we don’t about how to get out of here then.” Amy looked through the blasted door and peered down a narrow flight of steps. “It goes down to some sort of basement.”

  “Our schematics never said anything about a basement.” Jodie gave Quinn a look. “Were they up to date?”

  “Yes, they were up to date,” Quinn said. “Get off my back.”

  “Let’s get on with it,” Hunter said. “We’re losing time.”

  “Wait,” Quinn said. “You want me to go into a dark basement owned by a member of the Creed with a chimera tapestry on his wall?”

  “Problem?”

  “Do German castle dungeons and broken human bones mean anything to you? What if he’s got the same thing down there?”

  “Only one way to find out, Quinn,” Hunter said. “Anyone coming with me?”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Unarmed and on edge, Hunter led the way, stepping carefully down the wooden steps until he reached the basement. He angled his flashlight around the space and saw nothing but old tea chests and yet more oil paintings covered with old, frayed hessian sacks.

  “No ancient beasts,” Blanco said, relieved.

  “But there is another door.” Hunter moved across the room cautiously. “Call me crazy, but I’ve developed a serious fear of angry, armed Russians jumping out of the dark at me.”

  He reached the door and pushed it open with his boot.

  “Anything?” Amy asked.

  “Only if you think a wall made of human skulls is something.”

  Jodie gasped. “Holy shit.”

  “It’s the catacombs,” Lewis said. “I should have known.”

  “What are the catacombs, Ben?” Amy asked.

  “It’s where the early Christians of Rome buried their dead. Basically, they’re an extensive network of tunnels and crypts under the city, full of the dead. They had to do it this way because they were persecuted and not allowed to build churches until around 300AD
.”

  “Great,” Jodie said. “We have to chase insane armed Russians through a giant underground graveyard. And they say birthday wishes never come true.”

  “You know what I’m wishing for right now?” Hunter said. “That lion statue.”

  “Max is right,” Amy said. “Let’s get after them before they get too far ahead of us.”

  Hunter led them along the narrow stone tunnels. The air was damp and close and everywhere they looked, the skulls of thousands of ancient dead Romans stared back at them with empty black eye sockets.

  “I see them!” Hunter called out. “And they see us… get down!”

  Gubenko was at the rear of the Russian team and now he turned and fired. Yahontov and Turgenev turned and added to the fusillade. They threw themselves down into the dirt just as the Russians’ rounds tore into the skulls all around them and blasted an explosion of splintered bone fragments all over them.

  Quinn screamed again, but Gubenko was louder, howling like a crazed maniac as he raked the walls full of bullets. Then he and the other men turned and fled back along the tunnel after the rest of his unit.

  “Damn it!” Amy said. “Are they trying to kill us or what?”

  Jodie crawled up out of the dirt. “Funny.”

  Up on their feet, they ran forward again, keeping their heads low and trying to stay safe while not letting the Russians out of their sight. Then, they turned a corner and saw Neverov leading his men up a flight of stone steps.

  “They’re leaving the catacombs!” Amy said.

  Hunter was first up the steps, carefully peering around as he poked his head up through a manhole and scanned the street for any sign of them.

  “They up there, Max?” Blanco called up.

  “Now we know why they used the catacombs.”

  “Huh?”

  The roar of several powerful motorbike engines drowned out his reply, and when Amy got up to street level, she was just in time to see the tail lights of a black Ducati Diavel cruiser bike tearing around a corner up ahead. The low roar of its engine echoed in the night streets all around them.

  “There were four of them,” said Hunter. “All part of the plan.”

  “Damn it again!”

  “I’ll give them one thing,” he said. “They know how to plan an operation. In and out of the palazzo in minutes, an underground egress route and four high-speed bikes as the getaway vehicles.”

  “Maybe if you think they’re so great you could ask to join them, Hunter.”

  He looked over to Jodie. “Depends on their pension plan.”

  She shook her head. “The only funny thing about you is how funny you think you are.”

  “We need to get after them, Max!” said Amy.

  “Unfortunately, Colonel Neverov neglected to include some extra bikes in his escape plan, so we’re shit out of luck.”

  “No wait,” Jodie said. “I think I have the answer.”

  Amy followed her pointing arm to what she had seen. “What the hell is that thing?”

  “It’s an Estrima Biro,” Lewis said. “A two-seater electric city car. Meg and I hired one when we came here before. They’re for rent all over the city.”

  Amy regarded the tiny doorless vehicle. No bigger than a golf cart, its occupants were protected only by a two roll bars supporting a reinforced glass roof. Leaning forward, she peered through the open vehicle at Lewis who was on the side. “There aren’t even any doors on it. It’s ridiculous.”

  Quinn shrugged. “It’s whimsical.”

  “It’s our only hope,” Jodie said. “I can get this thing fired up in seconds and it’s the only vehicle in sight.”

  “It’s a meter wide!” Hunter said.

  Jodie looked at him, waiting for him to catch up. “And that’s a good thing because..?”

  “Ah.”

  “Exactly.” Jodie climbed into the Biro and broke open the ignition panel. “We’re chasing bikes.”

  “She’s right,” Amy said. “And they’re getting away fast so get in, Max!”

  “Me? I’m not getting in that thing. I have my reputation to think of.”

  Quinn pushed a stick of chewing gum in her mouth. “You sure you’re not a blue blood, too?”

  “C’mon, Max!” Amy said, with a reassuring pat on his shoulder. “You’re our best shot.”

  “What about the rest of you?” he asked.

  “Don’t worry about us,” Amy said. “Just get the lion statue back and call us when you’re safe. We’ll meet up and jet out of here as soon as we can.”

  “But it looks even more dangerous than the bikes!” Hunter looked at the rest of the team but found no support to his objections. Behind them, the sound of the Ducatis roared as Neverov and his team made their escape.

  “Max?” Amy’s eyes widened. “For me.”

  When Jodie touched the ignition wires together, the Biro came to life. She moved fast, strapping herself in and taking no credit for the successful hotwiring. Blowing the horn, she leaned her head outside of the roll cage. “Hey Hunter! You want another minute to do your makeup?”

  Hunter sighed and climbed into the tiny electric car, pausing to make the sign of the cross. “God help me.”

  “I don’t know about the big guy upstairs,” Jodie said, “but I might be able help you. Buckle up, cupcake.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Hunter grabbed the side of his seat, trying desperately to hold on for dear life as Jodie stamped on the throttle and sent the tiny electric car swerving around the corner into the Piazza della Rotonda. The Pantheon loomed into view ahead of them, its enormous Corinthian column portico bearing down on them like a mouth full of teeth.

  The granite and marble marvel was an impressive sight, but not tonight. Not for Jodie Priest and Max Hunter. She was focussed on weaving the Biro around the famous fountain and obelisk in the center of the square and not hitting any of the tourists milling around with cameras. He was scanning for any sign of the fleeing bikers.

  “There!” he called out. “To the east!”

  “Huh?”

  “Left! They’re going down the road to the left of the Pantheon.”

  “If they’re going left then just say so, Hunter.”

  She spun the wheel and jerked the Biro violently to the left, spinning the wheels on the ancient cobblestones. Only the seatbelt stopped Hunter from flying out the side of the car. Tourists shook fists and swore at them.

  “I nearly fell out, Jodie!”

  “Oh yeah,” she said sarcastically. “Hang on.”

  He shook his head, reached into his jacket and pulled out his Glock. Now, the angry tourists turned on their heels and started screaming. When safely out of the way, some reached for their phones and began calling the police while others filmed them as they raced across the piazza in pursuit of the Ducatis.

  “Where do you think they’re heading?” she asked. “Airport?”

  “Maybe, but I doubt it.”

  “Why?”

  “Neverov is too good. This whole operation is just too slick. In and out of the palazzo in minutes and bikes all set up waiting for the escape. Even a private airfield has security protocols that are really going to slow him down. I’d say keep an eye out for another escape. Chopper, most likely.”

  Jodie said nothing. She had the answer she wanted, and now dumped her foot down on the throttle and sent the Biro lurching around the left-hand side of the Pantheon.

  “Doesn’t this thing go any faster?’ Hunter said. “What gear are you in?”

  She rolled her eyes. “There are no gears in this, Hunter. Can you even drive?”

  The Ducatis weaved around passers-by and roared down into the next square, the Piazza della Minerva. By the time Jodie got there, the bikes were already vanishing into a side street to the left. One of the men riding pillion on the rearmost Diavel casually rotated his upper body around and pointed a Steyr compact machine pistol at them.

  “Incoming!” Hunter yelled.

  The gun rattled
and clicked in the hot night. The muzzle flashed. Pedestrians screamed and dived for cover as Jodie spun the wheel to the right and sent the Biro skidding across the piazza into another side street.

  “That was close!” she said.

  “And we lost them.”

  “Never,” she said with a smile. Spinning the wheel to her left, the tires squealed on more cobblestones as she drove the little car into a tight skid and down another narrow lane lined with traditional Roman townhouses. “This road runs east-west so we should be able to cut them off.”

  He gave her a look. “Shouldn’t that be this road runs left to right?”

  Jodie fought her smile back and quickly flashed him her middle finger. “Bite me, Hunter.”

  His response was cut short when he saw the Ducatis burst out of a street directly ahead of them. They were only in sight for a second, crossing the end of the road, but at least they knew where they were again.

  Jodie got there fast. Tapping the brakes and spinning the wheel to the right, she was once again right on their tails. At the front, Neverov turned in his seat and saw them gaining speed. He made a hand signal and the three rearmost riders peeled away from the pack and turned in formation like jet fighters.

  They flashed past the Biro, one on each side. Hunter fired on one of them but missed and buried his rounds into the plasterwork of a restaurant. Then, they heard a roar of engines and falling revs, and then rising revs and an even louder roar.

  “They’ve turned around and are on our tail, Hunter!”

  Hunter turned and saw Neverov give them more orders with another hand signal. Each bike accelerated while the men riding pillion raised their machine pistols and rotated their upper bodies to aim at the Biro.

  Then they were alongside them.

  “Do something, Hunter!”

  “Hit the brakes!”

  “Huh?”

  “I might be bloody amazing, but not even I can shoot in two different directions at the same time with one gun. Hit the brakes!”

  The men fired.

  Jodie hit the brakes and the two pillion riders raked each other and their riders with nine mil rounds. As the rounds exploded in their chests blasted the four men from their seats, the Biro juddered and jerked and shook. Cursing loudly, the Californian woman struggled to keep it under control.