by Greg Ballan
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Erik and Martin were escorted to a large opulent office in St. Martha's Chapel. The Greek officer, to his credit, was acting more like a tour guide than a babysitter. The officer clearly knew all the history and interesting factoids surrounding the holy city and Erik found the man's excitement contagious.
Several men joined Erik, Martin and the two police officers. Martin and Erik stood and exchanged greetings with the eight men. The leader of the eight, Bishop O'Malley, motioned everyone to a formal sitting area and began speaking as soon as everyone was settled.
"Mr. Denton, may I offer my sincerest apologies and deepest regrets for your horrible loss. The Holy Father's deepest sympathies and prayers are with you and your family."
Denton nodded, struggling to keep his composure. "Thank you, Bishop O'Malley. I'll relay your kind words to my family upon our return home. I didn't get all the details regarding the attack. Can you fill in the gaps before Agent Knight and I examine the crime scene?"
O'Malley shifted his position. His eyes darted toward his peers as if seeking approval or confirmation to tell his story. At some unseen gesture he answered. "We really don't know all that much, Mr. Denton. The Holy Father instructed his guards to check the lower chapel. They immediately returned and reported what they found and we called our law enforcement agencies and investigators. A forensic team analyzed the bodies and moved them to our mortuary. We did later learn that one of the brothers managed to escape through a little known passageway that leads to an old air shaft that was used to channel fresh air into the basement chambers before the dehumidifiers and fan systems were installed. Brother Finn is in our hospital receiving the best of care from our finest physicians."
"You said guards were told to investigate the chapel. I assume an alarm was triggered notifying the Pope of the theft."
O'Malley looked away momentarily. "Not exactly, but the Holy Father knew almost immediately and acted quickly."
Erik shook his head. "Video surveillance then. We'll need to see the tapes."
"There is no video, Agent Knight."
Erik frowned. "Okay, help me out, then. If there is no electronic surveillance and no alarm system of any kind, how was the theft discovered? Did somebody just happen to go down to the chapel and find this massacre?"
"As I said, Agent Knight, the Holy Father knew the relic was stolen. He sent his guards to investigate and that's when the bodies were discovered."
Erik knew they weren't getting the entire story. They were being fed bits and pieces of what really happened. O'Malley's deliberate obtuse responses to his questions were frustrating and the detective did his best to maintain his composure. "We're going to need to question the survivor after we've studied the crime scene."
"Brother Finn has been through an ordeal, Mr. Knight. I don't know if he'll be up for answering any questions."
The detective leaned forward. "Was he injured?"
Bishop O'Malley shook his head no.
"Is he in some sort of catatonic shock?"
Again the bishop shook his head.
"I'm not going to interrogate the poor man. I just want to know what he saw, and hear what happened through his own words. We can learn a great deal from a direct eye witness account rather than second hand recall." The detective countered with a cool, level tone. It was becoming obvious to both Erik and Martin the Papacy didn't want the men to do a full investigation. This was just a courtesy trip to soothe diplomatic lines and claim they had cooperated with US authorities.
"We're not looking to pry, Your Excellency, but if that survivor can help shed light on the identity of my son's murderer I'd sincerely be in your debt if we could talk to him. If you're afraid we're going to push him into revealing something you feel we shouldn't know, then have one of your people accompany us." Denton leaned forward. "My government and the representatives from Vatican City agreed that we were to have unfettered access to any and all information pertaining to these murders." Something happened to Denton's tone, there was an icy chill Erik never heard before. "I'm not as young as I once was, Your Excellencies, but I'll raise the gates of Hell if you even think about stonewalling me."
"I don't respond to idle threats, Mr. Denton! You cannot come here with your American swagger and bully an official of the holy city." One of the other bishops shouted clearly not used to anyone countering their will."
"You misunderstood me, sir," Denton snarled. "I made no threat. I simply stated my intentions, very clearly and concisely outlining my intended course of action should you and your peers attempt to block the investigation into my son's death. The next course of action is entirely up to you. You can cooperate as was the promise made to our government or Special Agent Knight and I can investigate on our own." Denton gestured toward the formidable cooler. "I don't think you really want Special Agent Knight turning the holy city upside down looking for clues.
O'Malley stared at both men. Denton's eyes were set like icy granite and Erik mimicked his gaze perfectly. Erik knew Denton was deliberately playing 'Bad Cop'. He had no intention or roughhousing over Vatican authority but the old man detected the barricades being erected before they even got started and decided the best way to move forward was the 'Wrecking Ball' approach. Erik had never seen Denton use it before and enjoyed seeing the normally stuffy and stalwart counselor throw down a verbal beating. O'Malley remained silent. They needed something else over the top. If an act of brute force and bravado was needed to snap the bishops out of their sense of secrecy he'd gladly provide the required shock and awe moment.
"Bishop O' Malley, how thick is the wood on this table top?"
O'Malley tilted his head puzzled at the 'Out of Left Field' question. "Its four inches thick made from common North American Rock Maple. It has no real significant dollar value. Why do you ask?"
The CIA cooler didn't answer, he simply raised his left fist and rained down a hammer blow that exploded like a thunderclap reverberating off the marble walls and high, domed ceilings. The large conference table crumbled under the sheer force of the blow. The eight bishops gasped as the thick wooden surface split in half and collapsed toward the center. Several books and papers slid into the long V-shaped canyon created by the two severed halves. Erik sat back in his seat, his eyes burning like two balls of lightning. The bishops looked over at the CIA agent with a mixture of awe and fear.
"What else is going on Your Excellencies? What are you trying so hard to hide? Don't make me break something else that may be of more significant value."
Martin took his cue and stepped in. "That won't be necessary, Special Agent Knight, the bishops were about to escort us to the crime scene." Denton looked over at Bishop O'Malley, the man's eyes were wide and his mouth hung open. "Right, Your Excellency?"
O'Malley looked over at Denton and back at Erik. He sighed. "I'll be blunt with you, gentlemen. I disagreed with the Holy Father and the cardinals regarding outsiders investigating this delicate matter. But as you say, we have agreed, or rather the Holy See has agreed and I am forced to honor that agreement against my better judgment and prejudices." The bishop sighed as he gestured toward his colleagues. "Take them to the basement tabernacle."
Martin and Erik were escorted by two bishops and their police escort to a small service elevator at the far end of St. Martha's. A bishop tapped in a key code on a glowing number pad and the heavy elevator doors opened. Erik studied the mechanism as they entered. The metallic chrome finish was bright and unmarred, each number on the keypad bold and vibrant, and the keypad lock was new. The detective also observed several creases and indentations on the outer doors.
"The doors were forced and the keypad lock is new. I'd say this is how our murderer gained access to the basement." Erik whispered to his friend.
Denton nodded and made an exaggerated gesture with his eyes toward the ceiling. A panel had been replaced and the inner wall console seemed new as well.
Erik nodded in appreciation. Martin had his eyes open too. Erik often forgot
that the elder man was one of the best field investigators in the firm.
The elevator descended five levels into the earth. The doors opened exposing a dimly lit stone and earth corridor with heavy wood buttresses and supports. There was a damp chill that marked all subterranean environments. Erik's heightened senses triggered. Something horrible had happened here. His danger sense rang like a five-alarm fire. The Sentient Staff too sensed a disturbance and began to hum and moan an eerie harmonic which the detective knew was some sort of warning alarm.
I know, he projected to the weapon, be ready. The staff purred in his mind then fell silent.
"Are you okay, Erik?" Denton placed a hand on his shoulder.
Erik nodded. "I'm good, Counselor, just making a few mental notes."
The party slowly moved down the dimly lit corridor. The subterranean hallway reminded him of a mine tunnel hundreds of feet beneath the ground rather than a basement hallway leading toward a religious room of worship.
"Is this an ongoing construction project?"
"No, Mr. Knight, it was decided to leave the hallway unadorned and purely functional rather than ornate. We believed it would ward off anyone seeking treasure."
The second bishop shot his companion a seething glare. The detective gathered there was more to this than murder and this confirmed his suspicions. Erik noted that Denton also picked up on the young bishop's faux pas.
"How long is the tunnel?" Erik did his best to diffuse the sudden tension and hopefully convince both men that the slip had gone unnoticed.
The young bishop was mute, clearly intimidated into silence.
"The tunnel meanders on a good way, Agent Knight."
They moved on in silence for several more minutes. Erik calculated they'd already covered enough ground to be on the other side of the street and well into the office complex the next block over. Only his Esper sense of direction allowed him to detect the slight changes in their direction and the angular shifts in the overhead buttresses. The detective leaned in close to his colleague. Martin appeared to be winded.
"How are you holding up, Counselor?"
Denton perspired but shook his head. "I'm okay, thanks. We must be halfway to Sicily by now. How long is this damn tunnel?"
"We're moving in ever-increasing angles, Martin. About every hundred feet or so, we change direction. Each change has been no more than twenty degrees. The positions of the beans and braces are angled to give the impression of a straight line but every few meters one beam and support is true to the overhead support lattice. The near dark helps to maintain the illusion. This reminds me of a maze. I half expect a wall to slide closed or the floor to drop out from under us."
"Let's hope not." Denton stumbled, catching his footing. "They're obviously hiding something down here—something of immense importance to set up such a labyrinth."
Erik placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, steadying him. "Indeed. We'll sort through it, Martin. We're not leaving until we have the answers we came for. You have my word on that."
Denton's smile was visible even in the dark tunnel. "Thank you, Erik. I have truly missed you, my young friend."
"Likewise, Martin." Erik pointed ahead to a large, well lit steel door. "Looks like we've arrived."
The older bishop produced a key from a concealed pocket and opened the heavy door. The hinges squealed with protest as the half-ton steel panels slid on rusted hinges. The bishop gestured toward the massive chamber. "St. Martha's basement chapel, gentlemen. This is one of the most holy, consecrated areas within Vatican City. Please tread lightly and with reverence. God is watching all of us."
Erik nodded as he stepped inside. He remembered his days going to Sunday Mass. The CIA cooler knew that an act of respect and reverence at this point would go further in gaining the trust of the bishops than any bullying or intimidation. He placed a hand on a nearby pew, dropped to one knee, and genuflected toward the massive cross mounted on the far wall. Martin repeated the gesture and both men slowly entered the chapel.
Erik took a moment to study the cavernous chamber. It rivaled any cathedral he'd ever seen. The detective tried to imagine the feats of technical and engineering skill that went into creating such a structure five stories underground. The walls were sheathed in heavy white marble and adorned with intricate stained glass murals. The detective noticed the Stations of the Cross positioned around the walls.
Light appeared to be radiating from the colored glass, casting rainbow hues on the pews and basking the white marble sheathing in a cacophony of color.
"Backlighting," Denton muttered in awe.
Erik looked on the floor and spotted the first indication of why they'd been summoned. A three-foot circle of dried blood stained the marble floor tiles. Dried blood splatters radiated out from the large dark red stain. In one heartbeat, the sense of awe was put aside and the detective snapped himself back to business. He tapped Denton's shoulder and gestured toward the crime scene. Denton focused on the dried blood.
"Another one here, Martin." Erik pointed several feet further into structure. "The blood trickles away from this central mass and towards the altar." The detective gestured toward several heavy droplets blazing a trail of death.
As Erik studied the second, larger blood stain, a chill enveloped him, and he sensed something dark. The only other time he'd felt such a chill was when he first encountered the Seelak warrior in the remote Hopedale Mountain. The detective looked toward the tabernacle. The polished stone top had been overturned and several statues had been forcefully tipped from their heavy support bases.
"Those statues must weigh half a ton, easy. Who could have done that?" Denton knelt down, studying the second blood stain. When he looked up at his friend, a tear rolled down his cheek. "I wish I knew which one was William's. They all must have died horrible deaths to have bled out so much. What kind of man would do such a thing, Erik? What kind of ghoul would kill in a house of worship?"
Erik shook his head. "I don't know, Martin. This doesn't make sense. Nothing adds up here." Erik knelt by the nearest pew and observed deep, fresh scratches in the wood. The detective could still smell the scent of the exposed pine. Keen Esper vision spotted the long wood shavings scattered along the length of the marble aisle. "Look at this!" He pointed toward the pews. "Every pew going back to the doorway has a series of deep scratches along the sides, like someone deliberately gouged them as he made his way toward his victims."
"To instill fear, I'd wager." Denton slid a gloved finger over the indentations. "Four separate grooves; possibly some kind of metallic claw."
Erik knelt down and studied the gouges. He spotted something inside one of the grooves—a black fiber. "Martin, get me an evidence bag from the kit … I've got a fiber." Erik studied more of the grooves. "Several fibers. Get me some tweezers too. We'll gather up as much as evidence as we can for the boys at the labs. I'm sure our friends here would like a few samples as well."
Martin came back with the case he'd set down as they admired the chamber. Erik carefully removed and packaged several fiber samples. "It's not much, but it's a start."
The detective stood and made his way back toward the altar. Something drew his attention to a fallen cross mounted on a long pole. He slipped his hands into some blue, latex gloves and gently picked up the sacred object. Even though the gloves he felt the violent psychic feedback. He shuddered involuntarily and the object fell from his grip, clanging on the stone floor. The sound echoed off every surface.
"Are you okay?"
Erik shook his head and exhaled. "Yeah, I just picked up an impression from this cross. I need to hold it again." Erik bent over and tensed as he prepared himself for the upcoming violent shock. He firmly grasped the cross and hefted it in both hands. His entire being was awash with terrible panic and fear. The terror from the man holding this cross had been so powerful, the impressions imprinted upon the object. But there was something else, a sense of purpose entwined with the panic. Erik did his best to focus on that sensat
ion above the background hum of terror. Try as he might, he couldn't get a lock; only brief flashes. In order to read the object, he would have to partially open himself up to his Esper half; something he hadn't done since the battle of Groom Lake.
Erik looked over at Denton. The old man did his best to keep his composure, but he could sense the waves of despair and agony radiating off his friend. Erik should have forced Martin to wait upstairs. The old man was already suffering a tragic loss. Seeing blood stains and splatters, some no doubt belonging to his own son, was more than any father should have to endure.
"Martin, you don't need to do this. I can work this while you interview our witness."
Denton shook his head. "No, Erik. I want to be here. I need to do this for my own sake. I have to find out firsthand what happened to my boy."
Erik nodded. "Okay, Counselor. It's your call, but the crime scene has already been disturbed. The bodies are at the morgue and it looks like somebody's done some kind of cleanup here. Nice of them to leave the blood splatters for us to study."
Martin looked at his friend. "You have that look on your face. The one that says you're contemplating something. Dare I ask what?"
Erik motioned for Martin to join him. Both men sat in a pew, their backs facing the two bishops and the Vatican policemen. "There are powerful psychic disturbances in here." Erik pointed back toward the cross lying on the floor. “Do you remember the Lisa Reynolds case about six years back?"
Denton nodded. "That was the first Seelak abduction. She's the girl you found in that mine shaft Pendelcorp had dug looking for minerals. It was filed as a kidnapping case originally."
Erik nodded as he looked straight ahead. "I found her locket at the Hopedale Park. It fell off her neck during the abduction. Her fear was so great that her emotional state left an imprint on that object. I was able to channel that imprint and follow the impressions back into the Hopedale Parklands. Martin, I was able to experience what she went through during her abduction to some degree before my change. With my current power level I should be able to get an idea of exactly what went on here by taking hold of that cross again. But I don't know if I'll get lost in the metaphysical riptide generated by tragic events. I don't know if I'll get totally swallowed up by what I'll experience."