The Pilate Scroll

by M. B. Lewis

  “Well, this is awkward.”

  Duke chuckled. “Yeah.” He looked back and forth between the beds. “Do you—”

  She sat on the one closest to the bathroom. “This one will work.”

  “Okay. I’ll just take this one.”

  He reached in his bag and pulled out two chem lights and handed one to her. “These are kind of old, but they should still work. I don’t think they’ll let us take a flashlight into the church. These at least will get past the metal detectors.” He paused. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?”

  Kadie sighed. “As best I can tell from the clues. Someone wanted the vase to be found sometime in the future. It just makes sense, given the history and the clues we have.”

  “At least your initial hunch was right.”

  “I hope so,” she said. “How are we to know which vase is which?”

  “You’re the expert. It’s supposed to have Aramaic writing on it.”

  “True, but lots of vases have writing on them.”

  “Well, we are looking for a specific vase.” Duke rubbed his thumb and forefinger on his chin.

  Her mouth fell open. “Do you have something you’d like to share?”

  Duke nodded. “Isaac told me what to look for. It’s a medium-sized vase about two-and-a-half-feet tall with four handles. It’s formed from an earth-baked clay with a lid made from the same.”

  Kadie stood from the bed and put her hands on her hips, and she didn’t look happy.

  “That’s kind of important information, don’t ya think?” She was louder than usual. “When were you going to tell me about this?”

  “Shhh. I didn’t say anything yet because it wasn’t the time for it. If they thought we had information that specific, they might kill us and go look for it themselves. And it’s not like we’ve had much of a chance to talk.”

  He was right. The only time they’d been alone, they were either chased by bad guys or looking for Brian. Except for last night, when she became a Christian.

  “What about last night?”

  Duke appeared flummoxed. “I didn’t think it was the right time.”

  She stepped forward and poked him in the chest. “You don’t get to make that call. It’s my brother they’re holding hostage.”

  “I know. And I’m as concerned about him as you are. But the more information we control, the safer he’s going to be.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “I’m trying to say when they get their hands on the Scroll, they won’t need us anymore.”

  47

  Venice, Italy

  Piazza San Marco

  * * *

  The overcast sky capped the unique city like a beanie on an adolescent—firmly in place, but it could disappear in an instant. The cool afternoon breeze gave her skin goosebumps, and the three of them marched along the backstreets of Venice. Occasionally they passed a waterway and caught a glimpse of happy couples in the gondolas. Kadie wondered when she would make time for a man to ride in a gondola. Her eyes fell on the back of Duke’s head. Maybe?

  It was a twenty-five-minute walk from the Hotel Papadopoli to the Piazza San Marco, known as la Piazza—the Square. Americans usually called it Saint Mark’s Square. They headed south out of the hotel, then southeast, through a residential area until they reached the Grand Canal. At the canal, they took a ferry across to Sant’ Angelo, and from there, zigzagged through more residential areas until they found themselves on the northern side of la Piazza, one of the biggest tourist attractions in Venice.

  Kadie walked behind Curt, and Duke trailed right behind her. They had been warned that any attempt at escape, or notifying the authorities, would result in Brian getting hurt. Or worse. Kadie and Duke said they understood. They had both discussed it the night before; they knew the danger and made a pact not to make a break for it. But their curiosity was piqued as well. To find a two-thousand-year-old document that validated the resurrection of Christ was enticing.

  Kadie took in the spectacle of the crowded Square outside Saint Mark’s Basilica. A cruise ship had unloaded its passengers earlier in the day, and la Piazza overflowed with tourists, clearly demonstrating its place as the social, political, and religious hub of the city.

  They wandered into the center of the Square. To their right, on the southern border, numerous tables lined up in front of Caffe’ Florian, the preferred restaurant of the Venetians during the Austrian occupation in the 19th century.

  “Follow me,” Curt said.

  Duke grabbed Kadie’s elbow, breaking her concentration on the beautiful spectacle. More pigeons than tourists inhabited the Square, and the noisy birds fluttered out of their way, then back to their spot, as the trio moved across the gray blocks toward Saint Mark’s Basilica.

  They moved just short of the three tall flagpoles that stood in front of the church. The western façade of the basilica was beautiful. Five arches of molded terracotta, with horizontal moldings, mounted on stone columns. Each arch contained a mosaic relief lined with gold. The central arch over the main entrance was more significant, the gable above displaying a golden-winged lion, the symbol of Saint Mark. Various statues of angels and cherubs lined the roof; the five domes over the primary sections of the church pushed heavenward. Above the central arch, a replica of the four bronze horses the Venetian soldiers brought back from Constantinople stood guard over the plaza.

  “It’s breathtaking,” Kadie said to Duke as they followed Curt to a café on the left side of the square.

  Curt sat at a table on the outside of Ristorante Quadri. When Duke and Kadie sat, the waiter was upon them.

  “Espresso,” Curt said. Duke asked for water; Kadie ordered a cappuccino. Curt checked his watch. They had thirty minutes until they were supposed to meet their tour guide.

  Italy, along with the majority of South America, was one of the few remaining bastions of Christianity in the world. Most likely because of the Vatican in Rome. The days of wandering into the church on your own ended years ago. You had to be vetted by a tour group now, and the guide was responsible for his customers while inside.

  They sat in silence, observing tourist interactions in the Square. Kadie ‘s mind drifted back to Brian; she hoped he was okay. She desperately wanted to talk with him about how Curt treated him last night. Was the armed bully as cruel as she suspected? Did he bring her brother to tears again? She and Duke desperately needed to develop an escape plan once they found the vase. Could they bargain with it somehow? Would GDI leave Brian somewhere while they handed it over?

  “Don’t get too frustrated trying to figure a way out of this,” Curt said. “You’ll only make yourself miserable. Just focus on the task at hand.”

  The waiter brought their drinks, and they sat without another word for the next twenty minutes. Curt paid the bill in euros, and the trio rose and walked toward the front of the basilica.

  The setting sun behind them cast a colorful display against the glorious cathedral. Curt steered them toward the front entrance, where they would meet the tour guide. The group was limited to twenty people, and their small party of three was the last to arrive.

  “Ciao. Sono contento che tu l’abbia fatto,” the tour guide said to them.

  Kadie nodded and offered a meek smile.

  “You speak English?” Curt’s voice dripped with disdain.

  “I’m glad you finally made it.” The tour guide transitioned to English effortlessly. “You’re the last ones.”

  Kadie and Duke glanced at Curt, who looked away as if he didn’t hear the guide.

  “I’m sorry we’re late,” Kadie said.

  “Do you have your tickets?” the tour guide said.

  “Tickets?”

  “Si, for the tour.”

  Kadie and Duke turned to Curt, who fished the tickets out of his pocket and handed them over. The guide pulled a hole-punch from his pocket and pierced each of the tickets and returned them to Curt. He gave each of them a portable radio with an earpiece.
The guide was older, around sixty, Kadie thought. He wore wrinkled, baggy pants gathered tight around his waist by a belt almost too big. The collared shirt sat underneath the faded yellow vest, which appeared to hold a pocket watch, the gold chain drooping along the front of the vest. On top of all that, a ragged tweed jacket, no doubt identifying him as an academic.

  The tour guide identified himself as Armando before launching into a rather extensive background on himself as the sun eased below the horizon.

  “All right,” Armando said. “Let’s get started.”

  He turned and walked through the front door of the massive church. The interior was a spectacle, while the vast emptiness swallowed them as they plodded through the cathedral. Armando’s voice chattered over the radio through the earpiece, competing with the echo of the tourists’ nonstop chatter.

  The three lingered amongst the other members of the tour. Kadie’s eyes darted around the interior of the church. Several different tour groups milled about, making the cathedral noisy. Curt trailed behind them a few feet, watching their every move.

  “What are we looking for?” Duke spoke in a hushed tone.

  Kadie clenched her teeth. “The south transept.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. From the corner there, it leads to the treasure of Saint Mark’s.”

  “It can’t be in the treasure room,” Duke said. “We’ll never get access to that.”

  “Just stick with me,” she said. “We have to get to the catacombs.”

  Kadie’s eyes searched the basilica until a slight grin formed on her face.

  “There,” she said, jutting her head in the direction. “There it is.” She left the tour group and slipped across the basilica to the south transept. Duke followed Kadie and scooted next to her, with Curt bringing up the rear.

  The three of them approached a relief containing a mosaic within. The area was cordoned off with a red velvet rope. The relief of the disciple with the raised hand beckoned her. Kadie’s eyes studied the mosaic from a distance. Duke stood attentively while Curt scanned the area around them.

  “Are you sure this is it?” Duke said.

  Kadie glanced back at him, her face expressionless, and nodded.

  Curt moved in closer. “She’s right. You two go. I’ll stay up here and run interference.”

  Kadie’s eyes narrowed. “Are you telling me that you’re afraid to tour the basement?”

  Curt sneered. “I’m not willing to get caught. But if you two are caught, your brother’s life is in our hands.”

  Duke stepped between them, taking a protective stance in front of her. “We’re not exactly thrilled with the prospect of getting caught either, pal. Of course, that would put us in contact with the authorities.”

  The sneer left Curt’s face. “Please don’t misunderstand. You two pull anything suspicious—one wrong move—the boy dies.”

  Kadie moved from behind Duke. “We’re not going to do anything. I’ll do whatever I need to. Just keep my brother safe.”

  “Oh, he’s safe. You two just need to make sure you keep him that way. Get in, find the Scroll, and get out.”

  Kadie’s eyebrows scrunched, and her mouth tightened. She turned to the mosaic, her eyes tracing the outline as Curt slid to the side. Duke moved closer.

  “And you’re sure this is the right place?”

  Her eyebrows raised, and her shoulders hunched. “We’ve got to start somewhere.”

  She stood with her hands on her hips, her head tilted to the side. She gave Duke a subtle grin, ignored Curt, and focused on the mosaic. There had to be a trigger. A lever, a button, something to open the secret passageway.

  She stopped when she noticed the disciple’s hand was at eye level.

  Looking to the left and the right, she leaned over the rope and pressed her hand against the mosaic. A distinct click immediately followed, and the entire relief shifted slightly, revealing a passageway that descended into darkness.

  48

  Venice, Italy

  The southern transept of Saint Mark’s Basilica

  * * *

  Kadie glanced at Duke, and he nodded. In a flash, the two stepped over the thick velvet rope and slipped into the opening behind the hidden door. Duke followed behind her and softly secured the door behind them. The space turned black as soon as the door shut. Duke pulled the chem light out of his pocket and snapped it, releasing the substance within, causing a chemical reaction to create bright green light. Kadie did the same as he moved in front of her. She shook the plastic stick and illuminated the passageway in bright green, luminous light.

  Armando’s voice rattled over the radio; Kadie and Duke simultaneously turned off their radios. Duke tucked the earpiece in his pocket.

  “This could be dangerous,” he said.

  Kadie nodded. “It’s already dangerous.”

  Not needing to hear anymore, Duke led the way to protect her from whatever lay ahead.

  They walked about ten feet and found themselves at the top of a stairwell. Duke checked that Kadie was still there, then started down. She trailed close behind, her hand resting on his shoulder. They slowly descended the stairs, which made a ninety-degree turn about every twelve steps. She felt as if they walked down several stories, but they had no way of knowing, other than the chill in the air and the seemingly endless steps.

  When they reached the bottom, the air was damp and moldy with a bitter taste. The steps ended at a hallway with bare light bulbs strung across the ceiling. The soft green glow from the chem lights didn’t give them much help, but Kadie managed to find a light switch.

  “What do you think?” she said, her finger hovered over the switch.

  Duke scanned the area. “These catacombs don’t appear to be a secure area. I doubt there’s any kind of alarm system down here. If so, we’ve set it off already.”

  Kadie flipped the switch, illuminating the series of light bulbs that stretched across the ceiling.

  “That makes it easier,” Duke said. “Now, all we have to do is find a room with vases.”

  Kadie cast him an anxious look. “Right.”

  They crept down the hallway.

  “Isaac said the vase was about two-and-a-half-feet-high with no pedestal. Wide at the top and narrowed as it went to the bottom. And it has four handles, one on each side.” Duke poked his head into the first “room.” They weren’t rooms so much as alcoves, vast spaces with arched, open doorways. The first room had numerous statues and paintings.

  “The four handles represent the four corners of the earth the Roman Empire was supposed to control,” Kadie added. “I don’t know why they would put Aramaic writing on the outside, though. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “I thought you didn’t know anything about the vase.”

  “The Romans commonly used four-corner symbology. It represents the empire stretching across the four corners of the world.”

  Duke shrugged his shoulders. “It’s an unusual design. Should make it easier to find.”

  Kadie nodded.

  The second alcove was more like the first. A few vases, none of which matched the description of what they searched for.

  “They don’t have the fancy climate control here like they do in the Vatican,” Kadie said. “I think the items here are more for storage. They’ve been stuck down here for centuries until someone decides they’re worth displaying somewhere.”

  They picked up the pace. Each alcove had numerous vases, requiring them to enter and investigate. After number six, about halfway down the hall, they discovered an alcove filled with nothing but vases. Tall, short, fat, thin—many with writing on the outside.

  Kadie and Duke looked at each other.

  “I think we found the right room,” Duke said.

  “Yes. A perfect place to hide it.”

  They entered and began their search. There were hundreds of vases. The larger ones in the front blocked much of the light. The two weaved between the multitude of vases, searching for their uni
que objective.

  Kadie’s heart pounded. She knew they couldn’t stay here much longer. Someone would figure out they were missing and notify the police.

  Her eyes danced over the vases, then across the room at Duke. She continued her search and eventually came upon a unique shaped vase with a four-handled top.

  “Duke, I think I found the vase.”

  Curt stood next to the relief with the doorway behind the mosaic. He wondered if he looked as impatient as he felt. The fact he’d stayed in one spot for the past fifteen minutes staring at everyone else in the cathedral made him appear suspicious. Armando and their group were on the other side of the cathedral. A security officer approached him.

  “Sir, is everything all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” Curt replied.

  “I’m going to have to ask you to move along.”

  Curt’s eyes widened. “I’m fine. I—I’m just enjoying this beautiful artwork.” He turned around and faced the relief.

  Where are they? They should be out of there by now.

  He heard the squawk from the radio, and the police officer muttered something in Italian.

  Within a minute, two more officers arrived. One carried a Beretta M12, a 9x19mm Parabellum caliber submachine gun, while both carried the Beretta 92F 9mm pistol.

  “Sir,” the original officer said, “it’s time for you to leave.” Curt turned and knew right away these men meant business.

  The officer grabbed him by the shoulder and steered him toward the exit. The other two carabinieri followed them.

  Curt glanced back at the relief as the police removed his radio and earpiece and escorted him outside.

  Where are they?

  Kadie and Duke stood above the unique vase and grinned. She knelt and held her chem light up to the side.

  “It’s Aramaic.” She could barely contain the excitement in her voice. Their discovery was two-fold: they found what they came to find, but more importantly, they found what would help her brother.