The Third Trumpet

by Anthony R. DiVerniero

  The eight-hour flight on the Italian-registered Gulfstream V soothed Giacomo’s nerves. He looked forward to being with his wife. Her due date was only two months away. The reunion would be difficult, as Emily was tired and had feared she’d be a widow. What drove Giacomo? What was the unseen force that continued to propel him forward, a strength that ignored danger? Why risk his life, his family?

  Mystified, Giacomo stared out the oval window into the darkness over the Atlantic Ocean. Why did they kidnap me? I didn’t have the journal. What information do I have that my enemies want? Enemy? Who is my adversary? A thought occurred to him as the whine and rhythm of the jet engines eased him to sleep. There must have been a tracking device in Tony’s airplane when it was shot down. How else would they have gotten to Rio?

  A hint of light in the distance slipped through the clouds as the sun rose over Europe. Giacomo’s mind took him to Paris. Another vision, if that’s what these were . . .

  He was sitting on a park bench by the river Seine; the Eiffel Tower loomed above him. Tourists climbed aboard sightseeing boats as street vendors sold trinkets. A man sat beside him, but Giacomo realized he was invisible to the man. Another person sat next to the first. They talked. Giacomo recognized the second person . . . but what was his name? The first man opened his briefcase, took out a red envelope marked SHRED, and handed it to his companion. The second man ripped open the packet in anticipation, and paper floated to the ground. Eten Trivette’s familiar face materialized. He held the stolen journal!

  The seat belt sign chimed.

  “Mr. DeLaurentis, we will be landing in fifteen minutes.”

  He awoke, bothered by what he’d seen. Could it be? Do I have my father’s gift? It feels more like a curse. Giacomo adjusted his seat in the upright position, fastened his seat belt, and said aloud, “What do I do now?”

  * * *

  The view of the Seven Hills of Rome dazzled Giacomo. A smile came to his face as he descended the steps of the plane—Emily!

  “What an excellent surprise, mon ami.” The two hugged.

  Emily’s eyes filled with tears. She touched his face. “Does it hurt?”

  “No, other than a bruise on the chin. I feel great. I’m glad you’re here.”

  Sergio stood behind her. “Hello, Giacomo.” He patted his arm. “I’m happy you’re alive.”

  “Thanks.” His eyes darted as he absorbed the surrounding environment.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing, honey—just a little paranoid.”

  They entered a black Mercedes SUV with blackened windows. Attached to the fenders were the diplomatic flags of the Vatican.

  “Sergio, did you receive Jason’s email?”

  “Yes.”

  “Any answers on the satellite telephone numbers?”

  “I just got the email.”

  “Let’s get our people on that. Also, I need a telephone log on my sister’s phone.”

  Sergio nodded.

  “What’s going on, Giacomo? Why did they kidnap you?”

  He placed his hand on his wife’s knee. “I don’t know, Em. Richardson’s behind it.”

  “You mean President Richardson?”

  “Our evidence suggests he’s involved with the disappearance of Dad’s journal.”

  “I guess we’re not going back home anytime soon?”

  “Not now. Everything will be all right.” He tried to use his calmest voice to assure her.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Emily turned her head to gaze out the window. Giacomo glanced at Sergio and shrugged.

  “Let me ask this question. In the last ten years, who has remained unscathed by the tragedies and economic ruin?”

  “Us, of course, because we invested in gold.”

  “Like my father suggested—right?”

  “Yes.” Emily continued to stare at the Roman scenery as she replied to his questions.

  “The first journal was true. All that Dad wrote occurred.”

  “Yes.”

  “We gave the journal to the president, who supposedly gave it to his successor. Which didn’t happen.”

  “Where are you going with this, Giacomo?”

  “Where is the journal?”

  Giacomo recognized Emily’s displeasure. “Em, relax. Sergio?”

  “No idea?”

  “No idea? Or have we known and just didn’t recognize it? Who prospered the most during this time?”

  The driver honked his horn as they entered the congested Rome traffic and traversed the narrow roads to the Vatican.

  “Eten Trivette,” Emily replied.

  “Of course—Trivette and the EU,” Sergio chimed in.

  “Exactly. Trivette stole the original and the second journal.”

  “What makes you believe that?”

  “Simple. I dreamt it.” Giacomo smiled.

  Chapter 74

  The Mercedes SUV arrived at Vatican City. St. Peter’s Square was filled with throngs of people. The Swiss Guards, outfitted in bright blue, red, and yellow uniforms, waved the car through St. Anne’s entrance.

  “Why are all the television trucks here? What’s going on, Sergio?”

  “One of the most important days in the history of Christianity.”

  “Don’t tell me! Andrew did it?”

  “Yes, he did. On Christmas Day, the churches will once again be one. The Holy Father and the patriarchs of the Orthodoxy will make the announcement today.”

  “I can’t believe nobody told me.”

  A grin lit up Sergio’s weary face. “There’s been a lot going on.”

  The car came to a stop in front of the Vatican papal apartments.

  * * *

  Giacomo, Sergio, and Emily entered Rio’s room. Victoria sat by her daughter’s bedside, her head bent as she prayed the rosary.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Giacomo, Emily.” Victoria greeted them. She gave her son a hug and touched the bruise on his face.

  “I’m fine, Mom.”

  “You don’t seem fine. Does it hurt?”

  “A little.” Giacomo changed the subject. “How’s Rio?”

  Victoria ignored the question. “Excuse me. Sergio, how are you?” She gave him a long hug.

  “I have good days and bad days, Victoria. And Rio?” Sergio’s eyes welled with tears.

  “I think better. Today she held my hand.”

  “Rio will wake up, Mom.”

  “What do you mean, will wake up?” a small voice asked. “I’m awake.”

  * * *

  Giacomo, Emily, Victoria, and Sergio were overjoyed as a nurse ushered them to the hallway to wait while the Vatican doctor examined Rio.

  “I told you, Mom. Dad said she’d wake up.”

  Victoria wiped her eyes. “Thank God.”

  “Giacomo, she’ll have a lot of questions.”

  “That she will, Sergio. She’s gonna want to jump out of bed and kick ass.”

  “You got that right, honey.”

  “Em, between you and Mom, we can keep her here.”

  “Giacomo, why don’t you tell her the truth?”

  “Rio will want to go back to the States—that can’t happen. Look what they did to me.”

  Emily touched her husband’s forearm. “Giacomo, I’m sure the doctor won’t release her for at least a few weeks. She’s been in a coma for such a long time. She’s going to need rehabilitative care.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.”

  Dr. Adinolfi emerged from Rio’s room. Dressed in black pants with red suspenders over his white shirt, a stethoscope wrapped around his neck, the older man with the peppered gray beard addressed the gathered family.

  “It is a miracle.” The physician shook his head as he plucked one of the red straps.


  Victoria asked, “How is she, Doctor?”

  “As expected, she’s weak. The muscles in her legs have atrophied, so she will need to learn how to walk again. There is no brain damage. She remembers being on the airplane. After that—how do you say? Her mind is empty. Rio understands she is in Vatican City. She said she could hear voices while in the coma.”

  “Wow.”

  The doctor squinted as he spoke. “Yes. I’m certain it was frightening for her. She might need psychological help. I will arrange for a psychiatrist to speak with her in a couple of days. You can go in now. Keep nothing from her—it could only add to her confusion.”

  “I guess that answers that question. Thank you, Doctor.”

  “One added thought . . . you might want to take her back to the States. The familiar surroundings will help her recovery.” Adinolfi’s eyes connected with Giacomo. “I’m sure you and your wife would like to be home as well.”

  The words unsettled Giacomo, and he couldn’t hide a grimace of displeasure. “Who the hell do—”

  Emily interrupted, “Thank you, Doctor.”

  Giacomo caught the stern look from his wife. “I’m sorry, Adinolfi.”

  “Giacomo . . .”

  “Thank you, Doctor Adinolfi.” Giacomo stretched his arm out.

  The doctor ignored his hand. Instead, he answered his cell phone as he paced the hall.

  “There’s something about that guy I don’t like.”

  “Giacomo! He can hear you.”

  “Good.”

  They entered the room as a nurse held a glass of water with a straw to Rio’s mouth. Giacomo could see her eyes brighten when the family entered. She was able to push the nurse’s hand away as a tear trickled down her face.

  The nurse left. They sat on either side of the bed. Victoria held her hand.

  “So, little sister, did you enjoy your sleep? Are you ready to go back to work?” Giacomo chuckled.

  Her voice was weak. “Kiss my butt.”

  “Yep, she’s back, Mom—her spunky old self.”

  “Giacomo, please.”

  “Giacomo, what is wrong with you today?” Emily chastised her husband.

  Giacomo held up his arms. “Sorry, sorry.” He retreated to the window.

  “Hi, Em. How are the twins?”

  Emily touched her stomach. “They’re fine . . . waiting for their aunt to speak to them again.”

  She smiled a weak smile.

  “Hi, Sergio.”

  “Hello, principessa.” Sergio turned away and grabbed a tissue to wipe his eyes.

  As Rio’s gaze moved from one to the other, she grew confused. “What’s going on? The blackness, the silence within my head . . .” She began to cry.

  “You’re awake now, Rio.” Victoria squeezed her hand.

  “Rio, we can talk tomorrow. We’re not going anywhere.”

  His sister’s eyes alarmed Giacomo. Frightened, she beckoned him to come closer. He leaned forward.

  “What is it, Rio?”

  “Be careful who you trust. It’s not what it seems.”

  Rio was agitated. Her eyes once again darted. Her arm shook. Giacomo touched her.

  “Try to relax, Rio.”

  She began to sob.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Enough, Giacomo. Go, leave us alone. You can talk tomorrow. I want to be with my daughter.”

  “We’ll stop by tomorrow, Mom. Rio, nothing is going to happen today.” He kissed his twin on the forehead. Sergio and Emily did the same.

  “Mom, can I have a glass of water? Do you know where my cell phone is?”

  “What do you need your cell phone for?” Giacomo questioned.

  “None of your freakin’ business.” Rio snarled at her brother.

  “I was only joking. Jeez.”

  “Giacomo, enough with the questions. Go,” Victoria said.

  They headed for the exit as Sergio lagged behind. Husband and wife held hands as their footsteps echoed in the hallway.

  “Giacomo, what did she say?”

  “Did you see how angry she got when I asked her about the phone? Damn, she can be nasty.”

  “You’d be the same. Now tell me, what did she whisper to you?”

  “‘Be careful who you trust. It’s not what it seems.’”

  “‘Be careful who you trust.’ Your dad said that in the letter.” Emily mused. “And ‘It’s not what it seems.’ Isn’t that what the monk said to you when he was shot in St. Peter’s Square?”

  “Yes.” He looked around. “Where’s Sergio?”

  “Emily, Giacomo.” A voice from behind caused them to stop.

  “Cardinal Angeloni.”

  He trotted up to them as Sergio followed. “What great news—the Holy Father is thrilled.”

  “Yes, fantastic news, Andrew. Thank you again.”

  “Please—no big deal.”

  “Congratulations are in order.”

  “For . . .”

  “The reunification.”

  “Oh that.” He smiled. “Yes, I just came from the joint announcement. The unification will be good for the church and the people of our world. I’m having a dinner party tonight. Could the three of you come? Sergio, please bring your wife. We’ll celebrate Rio’s recovery as well.”

  “Thank you, Your Eminence.”

  “Sergio, his name is Andrew.”

  “Giacomo!” His wife slapped his arm.

  “Fine. Your Eminence, at what hour would you like us to attend the sumptuous dinner?”

  Emily rolled her eyes.

  “Why, my good man, how does seven o’clock sound?”

  “Excellent. My wife and I shall see you then.”

  “Men . . .”

  Giacomo and Andrew laughed. Sergio’s eyes distant, he forced a slight grin.

  “I’m going to visit your sister.”

  “She will appreciate it, Andrew. See you later.”

  “Giacomo, I’ll head to the office. Maybe I can track those satellite numbers.”

  “Sure. I’ll wait for your call. Sergio, are you sure you’re up to this?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Sergio’s head hung. His shoes dragged across the floor.

  “Poor man.”

  “Yeah, he’s having a tough time.”

  Chapter 75

  The fourteenth-century Vatican dining room with its eighteen-foot ceiling evoked another era. Gold-trimmed wood with ornate carvings of cherubs decorated the ceiling. At one end of the room hung a Raphael tapestry of St. Peter. Three Murano chandeliers were suspended over the twenty-seat maple dinner table. The final course of fruits, nuts, and cheeses was served. Giacomo sat to the right of Andrew with Emily by his side. Sergio and his wife were at the opposite end of the table next to the Italian diplomatic envoy to the Vatican.

  “Andrew, the food is excellent,” Emily said. She took her fork and stabbed Giacomo’s remaining piece of cheese.

  “My wife, she’s always hungry. I have to protect my food, or I’ll starve to death.”

  Everyone around the table laughed as Emily punched her husband in the shoulder. Giacomo sat back. Taking his napkin, he folded the linen in half and placed it on the tablecloth. “Andrew, nice digs.”

  “Thank you. My office is close by. I’ll give you the ninety-nine-cent tour when we’re finished.”

  “About time.”

  “Giacomo! I’m sorry, Andrew—I can’t take him out in public.”

  “My mother told me the Holy Father visited Rio.”

  “Yes, he told me.”

  “We’re very grateful.”

  Giacomo touched the cardinal’s arm. “Yes, Andrew, thank you.”

  “My pleasure.”

  * * *

  The dinner guest
s left. Emily was exhausted, so Sergio and his wife accompanied her back to the apartment. Giacomo and Andrew strolled the halls toward the cardinal’s office.

  “Giacomo, how’ve you been holding up?”

  “What do you think? You’ve seen the news.”

  “Yes—what can you tell me?”

  “Long story.”

  They arrived at a dark oak, arched doorway. “My office.” Next to the entrance, a black-and-white stenciled sign read: Papal Nuncio Cardinal Andrew Angeloni, Camerlengo.

  “Camerlengo? Since when?”

  “Two months ago.”

  “Should I congratulate you?”

  “No, it’s no big deal.”

  Giacomo shook his head. “No big deal? If I remember correctly, if the pope dies, you become Vatican City’s acting head of state. That’s a big deal. In fact, you’re the one who pronounces his death.”

  “Yeah, but it’s just a title.”

  They entered a reception area. A brown leather couch sat against one wall. They circumnavigated a white birch desk. With the key in hand, Andrew opened his office door. An automatic sensor turned on the lights. “Take a seat, Giacomo.” He directed him to one of the two chairs and sat opposite him. Strewn on a coffee table were papers and books on Christendom.

  “Welcome to my sanctuary. Would you like a drink?”

  “No thanks.”

  “So, tell me, my friend, what’s going on?”

  Giacomo told him about the abduction, and when he was finally finished, thirty minutes later, he said, “Andrew, can I ask a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “After everything I told you—based on your knowledge of my father’s writings, do you think, as Time magazine stated, he was a messenger from God?”

  “Hard question to answer, Giacomo. Your father was insightful; that is indisputable. A gift from God?” He leaned back in the chair. “You and I’ll be dead before we find out.”

  Giacomo rose and walked behind the cardinal’s desk as he picked up a picture. “You and your father—”

  “Your Eminence? Your Eminence!” One of the Swiss Guards entered the office, his face distraught.

  “Yes, Roberto. What is it?”

  “Your Eminence, come—the Holy Father!”

  “Roberto, what happened?”

  “He collapsed.”

  “Is he dead?”