The Genesis Cypher (Warner & Lopez Book 6)

by Dean Crawford

  The troops aimed more carefully, thin streams of red laser–light catching on dust motes swirling silently in the air as the elevator reached the entrance level and the gates rattled open.

  Twenty or more men flinched as they prepared to open fire, and then one of them stared at the elevator in shock for a moment before he spoke into his microphone.

  ‘The elevator is empty. Repeat, the elevator is empty.’

  He stared for a moment longer at the empty elevator car and wondered what the hell was going on.

  *

  ‘The elevator car is empty.’

  Rossi stared blankly into space, unable to believe his ears. He stared at his men, all of whom had accompanied him down the central aisle having swept the entire basement. Nobody had been seen and yet three of his men were dead and the elevator had been sent up by somebody. He tried to ignore the superstitious chill rippling up his spine.

  ‘Why would they kill the guards and then not use the elevator?’ he asked out loud.

  The answer snapped to his attention even before his men could suggest a reason.

  Distraction.

  ‘They’re still here somewhere,’ he said finally.

  ‘But where?’ one of his men asked helplessly. ‘We searched everywhere. Two people couldn’t have slipped past us.’

  Then from somewhere at the back of the archives Rossi heard a faint noise, a scraping sound as though a box were being dragged across the floor. The troops raised their weapons and whirled toward the noise as Rossi rushed past them in pursuit.

  *

  ‘Y’know, most times I think you’re a dork but then every now and again you really impress me.’

  Lopez’s voice followed Ethan in the pitch darkness as they hurried up a flight of narrow stone steps, and he smiled to himself before he replied.

  ‘The Vatican was built centuries ago,’ he said. ‘They didn’t have much in the way of elevators back then, so I figured there had to be a stairwell somewhere that led down to the basement. I just looked for plaster work that might conceal a doorway.’

  ‘Damned lucky we could heave that shelving out of the way and get through the door in time,’ Lopez replied. ‘How long do you think before they figure it out?’

  ‘Not long,’ Ethan said as he fumbled his way through the darkness in the narrow, medieval stairwell. ‘Chances are this will bring us out alongside the Cortil de Belvedere, and if we’re lucky we can get across the car park there and back to St Peter’s Square before the Gendarmerie can follow suit. With a bit of luck they’ll capture the Russian down there too.’

  Ethan reached the top of the steps and a large, heavy locked door. Beside him Lopez pulled out her cell phone and flipped it open. The glowing screen illuminated a wide, old fashioned iron lock. Ethan crouched down and peered through it to see an ornate corridor, with windows overlooking a courtyard beyond.

  Ethan once again pulled out the small bag of lock–picks and began working the door in front of them. He was in the process of unlocking it when they both heard the sound of something scraping the floor at the bottom of the darkened stairwell far below them.

  ‘They’re coming through,’ Lopez whispered softly as she shut off the light from her cell to avoid giving away their presence. ‘Any time now please, Bond.’

  Ethan focused on the lock, feeling his way with his eyes closed even as he heard footsteps rushing up the stairwell toward them. The sound of a man’s heavy breathing was behind it, moving fast, pursuing. Ethan felt the picks catch on the lock inside the old door and then it clicked loudly.

  Ethan twisted the picks and then pushed on the door and it creaked open even as the footsteps rushed up the last few steps and he caught a glimpse in the light of the burly Russian, his cold blue eyes fixed upon them as he pointed with one hand at Ethan. Ethan yanked his picks out and barged through the doorway even as he heard the whisper of a throwing star that flashed past behind his head and smacked deep into the wall where he had been standing.

  Lopez stumbled through behind him as Ethan turned and slammed the door shut, then cranked the handle and tried to lock the door once more with the picks as Lopez looked up and down the corridor and saw nobody.

  ‘We won’t have long before they close the whole place down,’ she said breathlessly as the Russian tried the door handle on the other side.

  Ethan tried to lock the door but he couldn’t force the pins back into place. Instead he stepped back and drove the sole of his boot against the picks, ramming them into the lock and jamming them in place.

  ‘That won’t hold him for long,’ Lopez said.

  ‘Long enough,’ Ethan shot back. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  *

  Rossi dashed to where they had heard the scraping sound in the basement, but he and his men came up short as they looked up and down the east wall and saw nothing but empty aisles.

  ‘What the hell is going on here?’ he uttered out loud.

  He was about to start cursing when his eyes were drawn to a semi–circular scratch on the floor nearby. His men saw it a moment later, along with the shelving that was out of place, poking further out into the corridor than the others around it.

  ‘What’s this?’

  Rossi moved across to the marks on the floor and crouched down, then looked up at the shelving unit.

  ‘Get this out of the way!’ he snapped.

  His men dashed forward and heaved the shelves back to reveal a wooden doorway concealed behind them. Rossi saw that the locks had been forced on the door, which must have been hundreds of years old, and that the shelves had then been pulled back into place as far as possible before the door was once again closed.

  Rossi turned back to face west, where the elevator gates were.

  ‘They’re cornered here, they get past us, then kill the guards only to come back here again?’

  Rossi’s second in command shook his head.

  ‘They’re insane,’ he uttered.

  ‘Where does this lead?’ Rossi demanded.

  ‘We’re under the archive and the Cortil de Belvedere. If they get up there they could make it back to St Peter’s Square and out of the city.’

  Rossi wasted no more time. He grabbed his microphone and spoke into it quickly.

  ‘Alert all guards and local police, the Americans are out of the archives and will attempt to escape the city. Shut down all exits immediately!’

  ***

  XIX

  Ethan hurried with Lopez out of the archives and along the di Porta Angelica, heading for the Basilica. He forced himself not to look behind as they walked as fast as they could without appearing suspicious, the ceremonial Swiss Guards paying them little attention as they passed by and entered the Basilica. Two tourists, both with backpacks slung over their shoulders, mixed easily with the countless others around them.

  The vast marble halls inside were filled with a venerable silence punctuated only by the soft echoing whispers of tourists and the occasional hushed voice of a translator or guide pointing out major artefacts. Ethan led the way, taking a chance and looking behind him.

  Beyond the crowds he saw the Russian’s powerful form loom as he entered the building a hundred yards behind, looking around briefly before he spotted them and struck out across the Basilica.

  ‘He’s out,’ Ethan reported as they walked. ‘Probably brute force.’

  ‘You want to split up?’

  Ethan shook his head. ‘Not in a city we don’t know well. We’re going to have to move fast before the Gendarmerie shut the exits.’

  Ethan led the way out onto St Peter’s Square, the vast open plaza now filled with crowds of tourists milling in their thousands. They hurried down toward the Via Della Conciliazione where Ethan could see the traffic splitting either side of the piazza.

  ‘He’ll follow us there,’ Lopez said. ‘He’ll assume we’ll make for a vehicle.’

  ‘I’m counting on it,’ Ethan replied. ‘Come on.’

  ‘We should disguise ourselves,’
Lopez argued, ‘he could lose us in this crowd.’

  Ethan looked back and saw Gregorie already jogging down the oval steps in front of the Basilica.

  ‘Too late for that,’ Ethan replied. ‘Move, now!’

  Lopez increased her pace as they crossed to the far side of the square and reached the Via Della Consiliazione, rows of low fences patrolled by armed Gendarmerie, bright blue police vehicles parked nearby.

  ‘We could use their help,’ Lopez said.

  Ethan knew that if they went to the police to deny the Russian his prize, the police would question them and the evidence on their cell phones would reveal their presence in a secret section of the Vatican archives along with several dead bodies. If their Russian pursuer saw the commotion of a police presence he might choose to slip away quietly, leaving Ethan and Lopez to face the music.

  ‘We can’t chance the exposure and the Gendarmerie might not know anything about the Russian being in the archives,’ Ethan replied. ‘We’ve got to do this on our own.’

  Ethan led the way to the exits and with Lopez they filed patiently through and out of the piazza. Ethan checked behind him again and saw that the Russian was now closer behind them but also obliged to join the exit queue to avoid drawing unwanted attention from the police.

  Ethan turned back to the exit and filed out, the queue moving agonizingly slowly. Two policemen were standing idly beside the exit with their hands clasped before them, eyes hidden behind designer sunglasses and watching the tourists as they left the Vatican.

  ‘They must know we’re out,’ Lopez said.

  Ethan nodded but did not reply as he waited for the Italian Police to get the call that would shut the Vatican down. There was no way they could vault the fences surrounding the square in plain view of so many police.

  The tourists ahead of them slowed, asking for selfies with the police. Ethan gritted his teeth but said nothing as a pair German holidaymakers posed with the officers, rare smiles on their faces and thumbs jabbed up at the camera as an elderly woman snapped shots of them.

  Ethan slid past the German tourists and strode out of the square with Lopez alongside him, the police engrossed in their picture taking. Even as he passed by he heard the officers’ radios crackle and an urgent sounding voice speaking quickly in Italian. He heard among the jabbering one word that he recognized. Americano.

  As the police looked up in shock at the tourists filing past the exit Ethan turned to Lopez.

  ‘Ou allons–nous aller maintenant?’

  Lopez replied smoothly to his French, loudly enough to be heard by the police alongside them.

  ‘Allons à l’restaraunt, s’il vouz plait.’

  The eyes of the police passed over them and Ethan saw the officers move and stop a pair of Amercians just behind them in the queue. Ethan kept walking with Lopez, headed toward the nearest alley he could see that would take them out of the line of sight of any law enforcement or street cameras around the Vatican.

  The police officers suddenly began shouting at the crowds as the metal gates to the square were hauled shut, the officers jabbering into their radios as tourists began complaining and asking questions.

  Ethan led the way across the street and directly away from the Vatican. Lopez hurried alongside him and as soon as they were alongside the Libreria Ancora and out of sight of the Russian and the police Ethan ducked right into a side street. He looked over his shoulder at the last moment to see the big Russian staring at him from the queue.

  The police officers began vetting the tourists leaving the Vatican, the crowd slowed but not stopped as they began looking for two Americans.

  ‘He’ll get through,’ Ethan said. ‘The Italians are looking for us, not Russians. Let’s go!’

  They broke into a run onto the Borgo Santo Spiritio and headed down it. Lopez caught him easily as they sprinted down the street, ignoring the surprised looks on the faces of tourists strolling casually in the warm air.

  ‘Where to?’ Lopez asked as they ran.

  Ethan hit another junction in the cobbled streets and then he saw what he was looking for.

  ‘Oh, not again,’ Lopez uttered.

  A pair of Italian scooters were parked against the sidewalk, neither of them chained or locked in any way. Ethan leaped onto one of them and quickly used a small key from his DIA pack to free the steering lock before he started the engine. Lopez mimicked his actions nearby, and both of the scooters rattled into life as Ethan turned and pulled away, heading south for the river.

  He heard a commotion to his left and saw the Russian running toward them in full sprint as he pulled a pistol from beneath his jacket and aimed at Ethan as the scooters accelerated. Tourists screamed as they saw the gun, the Russian not much more than ten meters from Ethan’s scooter.

  Ethan had no time to think, only briefly calculating that even at a full sprint the range was close enough that the Russian would be unlikely to miss. As Lopez soared away south, Ethan turned the scooter and wound the throttle fully open as he aimed directly at the Russian’s madly sprinting form.

  The gunman’s eyes widened visibly in surprise at Ethan’s unexpected move, and running at full tilt he had little chance of avoiding the scooter now rushing toward him at full throttle. Ethan saw the gunman’s aim shift slightly to try to shoot Ethan in the head or upper body and then it was too late and the scooter was upon him.

  The Russian hurled himself to one side to avoid the scooter, and Ethan threw himself off the saddle and slammed into the gunman with enough force to throw the man down onto his back on the cobbles with a deep thud.

  The impact stunned the gunman as Ethan crashed down on top of him, one hand reaching to push the man’s weapon down against the hard stone as he saw the Russian’s eyes briefly lose focus with the impact and the pistol skittered away across the stones. Ethan jerked his head back and then slammed his forehead down into the Russian’s face, bone smacking against bone as the blow impacted the gunman above his right eye.

  The Russian’s head crashed again into the unforgiving cobblestones but he heaved one leg up and forced Ethan to roll aside as a blade flickered in the sunlight. Ethan quickened his escape as the thick steel weapon clashed against the stones alongside him and he scrambled to his feet, the Russian’s clumsy blow just missing Ethan’s flank.

  The Russian sprang into a crouch and glared up at Ethan as he recovered from the attack. Probably ten years younger and ten pounds heavier than Ethan, he had former Spetsnaz written all over him. Ethan could see muscle barely contained by the man’s suit as he prepared to launch himself into a fresh attack, and Ethan turned for the dropped pistol and hurled himself toward it.

  The Russian dove for the weapon and rolled over it, beating Ethan by inches as he came up and turned, aiming the pistol directly between Ethan’s eyes from scant inches away. Ethan froze, knowing that there could be no escape, and then he heard the sirens.

  The Russian glanced to one side briefly as the sound of police vehicles rushed toward them, sirens wailing as concerned members of the public huddled inside cafes and doorways and pointed at them.

  ‘The tablet,’ the Russian growled in accented English.

  Ethan glared at the gunman, who aimed more closely at his forehead. Ethan reluctantly shrugged his backpack from his shoulders and retrieved the densely packaged tablet and held it out. The Russian retracted his pistol slightly out of Ethan’s reach before he snatched the tablet away and tucked it under his jacket, feeling this time the weight inside the box.

  ‘And the camera,’ the Russian added.

  Ethan’s shoulders sank and he pulled the camera from his jacket pocket and handed it over.

  ‘Another time, Ivan,’ Ethan said bitterly.

  The Russian scowled and put his weapon away. ‘Your time is done, Warner.’

  Before Ethan could ask the Russian how he knew his name, the gunman whirled and dashed away down a side street. Ethan watched him go as a scooter rushed up to his side and Lopez waved at him to hurry.


  ‘Get on!’

  Ethan leaped onto the back seat and the scooter accelerated away, Lopez pushing hard as they exited the street onto the Ponto Vittorio Emanuele bridge across the River Tiber. Ethan checked behind them to see if the police vehicles were following, but he could see nothing and assumed that the police had stopped to question witnesses.

  ‘They’ll be onto the scooter quickly,’ Ethan said above the warm wind rushing by them. ‘We need to lose it.’

  ‘We’ll dump it in a side street,’ Lopez promised. ‘Who was that guy?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Ethan replied. ‘He was Russian, but he knew my name.’

  ‘Your infamy precedes you,’ she chortled back. ‘Luckily for us, my ingenuity doesn’t.’

  Ethan saw her tap her jacket, wherein was tucked the tablet they had stolen from Vatican City, minus the packaging. The stacks of papers and a hefty tourist guide to the Vatican that Ethan had stashed in the package he’d handed to the Russian would be sure to disappoint when he opened it up.

  ‘They got the camera,’ Ethan said.

  ‘Nothing we can do about that,’ Lopez called back as she accelerated the moped down a narrow side street. ‘It looks like the unit Nellis warned us about is already on the same trail as we are.’

  ‘Let’s get back to the safe house and see if Hellerman can figure out what’s on this thing,’ Ethan said. ‘If there are Russians here in Rome already willing to kill for it, we need to stay one step ahead of them or this is all going to be over real fast.’

  ***

  XX

  Ethan sat down at a small glass table in a hotel room in Rome, the setting sun streaming through the open balcony and glowing through the apartment. Upon the table was a laptop that he and Lopez had brought with them from Washington. Equipped with very high–technology security software and equally powerful satellite live–streaming, the laptop could connect directly to the DIA Headquarters via military communications satellites rather than the conventional Internet.