by Bobby Akart
Henry took the floor again. “We will be gathering at Hohenwerfen Castle in Salzburg next week to host the Bilderberg Meeting. Of course, I will attend. Sophia will make her best effort to be present. Our focus at the conference will be to plant the seeds of doubt concerning America’s ability to function as the world’s sole superpower. Our actions, while in our self-interests to be sure, will benefit the global world order immensely.”
Bauer nodded. “We’ll be focused on strengthening our financial ties to the world’s greatest financiers.”
“That’s correct,” added Henry. “Friedrich, along with Jorge, will focus their efforts on the economic aspect of our long-term goals. I will handle the politics.”
“Good for you, brother,” quipped Derek. “I always said you missed your calling.” The group shared a laugh.
Henry smiled and continued. “I learned from Mother that government is best controlled from outside the cesspool. Let the people who enjoy government undertake the role of doing our bidding. We manipulate them. Pay them. And then discard them when they are no longer useful.”
“Because there are always a new set of willing participants to take their place, am I right?” asked Derek.
“Natürlich,” replied Henry with a sly grin and a wink to his brother.
Chapter Four
Teatro dell’Opera di Roma
Rome, Italy
Ancient Rome began as a small settlement in the middle of the boot-shaped Italian peninsula. The region was protected from outsiders by the Alps and the Apennine Mountains. This extraordinary geographic location and fertile lands resulted in the Roman Empire becoming one of the largest and wealthiest in the history of the world.
Over the millennia, despite wars and turmoil, many of the historic, ancient structures remained standing. The Colosseum, the Roman Forum, and the Sistine Chapel were just a few of the highlights that attracted millions of tourists annually.
Roman culture, both historic and modern, helped define Rome as the Eternal City. Rome had a unique mix of historic architecture and religious sites coupled with high fashion and performing arts. The Teatro dell’Opera, Rome’s Opera House, was designed and built in the late nineteenth century in a Renaissance Revival fashion. Builders took the architectural style of ancient Roman structures, inserted an interior look common in the fifteenth-century Baroque era of Handel and Vivaldi, and the result was a performing arts theater that now seated sixteen hundred people.
Bear drove Gunner and Cam to the opera. The duo fit the part of an elusive, mysterious couple as their black sedan with darkened windows pulled up to the entrance. It was still daylight when they arrived, and the two wore dark sunglasses to help shield their identity from any security cameras. After their experience in Germany, they got the sense their adversaries had eyes and ears everywhere. Facial-recognition software was capable of identifying them within minutes.
They were early, allowing them to become familiar with the Teatro dell’Opera. They’d studied the floor plan on the flight from the States, but it was important for them to get a feel for their surroundings. Plus, they wanted to be in place to observe the arrival of their target—Bianca Morosini.
“It appears she plans on being fashionably late,” said Cam sarcastically as she sipped a glass of wine outside their box immediately adjacent to the long-standing seats of the Morosini family.
Gunner shrugged and took a sip of his club soda on the rocks with a lime. He needed to keep his head straight.
“She’s a social hotshot. Probably making a grand entrance for the paparazzi.”
Cam glanced at the Romanesque clock near the grand staircase leading to the main floor. It was approaching eight. Soon they’d be dimming the lights to alert attendees to take their seats.
Gunner was getting antsy. He was definitely out of his element. Certainly, he could dress and play the part of a sophisticated blueblood heir or trust-fund baby. In other words, he cleaned up real well, as they say. However, if anyone asked him a single question about the opera or classical music or ballet, he’d fold like a cheap tent.
Cam was better suited for this type of operation. She could rub elbows with the aristocrats, talk their talk, and schmooze them enough to fake her way through a conversation. The longer Gunner waited, the more he questioned his plan to approach the Morosini woman himself.
“Game time,” whispered Cam into Gunner’s ear, causing him to snap his head around.
Morosini, wearing a gown that was undoubtedly made to fit her tall, slender frame, glided up the stairs on the arm of a handsome man complete with a chiseled jaw and a five-o’clock shadow of a beard.
“I see,” said Gunner.
Cam studied the couple. “They’re beautiful. Graceful. How do they do it?”
“Practice,” said Gunner condescendingly. “That’s all they do every day. Play dress-up and rub elbows at stuff like this.”
Cam whispered, “Be cool. Here they come.”
Gunner made eye contact with Morosini, whose black eyes and olive skin drew him in like an enormous magnet. She locked eyes with him and didn’t break her gaze until she provided him an imperceptible wink.
It was subtle but powerful. It was a clear signal to Gunner—I could have you if I want you.
As they sashayed past Gunner and Cam, her perfume caught Gunner’s nose. He was captivated by her beauty and her confidence. They disappeared into their second-tier box just as the lights dimmed for the final time to indicate the opera was about to start.
Cam leaned into her friend and took his glass from his hand to set it on a passing waiter’s tray. “Are you gonna be okay? I saw the way she looked at you.”
Gunner motioned toward their box. “You did?”
“Duh. Women notice these things. She’s lucky you and I aren’t a thing, or I would’ve knocked her on her perky little ass.”
Gunner chuckled. “Easy there. Let’s extract the information we need first.”
“Doesn’t matter. I have a plan, though. At the intermission, I’ll find a way to separate pretty boy from Morosini.”
“Do you think you can do that?”
“Sure,” she replied. “Little Miss Medusa had you staring into her eyes, so you missed the roving eyes of her date. These two are bored with one another and are definitely interested in straying.”
“You figured all that out already?”
“You would’ve too if you hadn’t been turned to stone by that evil vixen. We’ll have thirty to forty minutes to get what we need. My question is whether you can get her to talk.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
As the overture music found its way through the Teatro dell’Opera, Cam took a deep breath before they entered. Her response was sincere. “Because I haven’t seen you look at another woman like that in a long, long time.”
Chapter Five
Teatro dell’Opera di Roma
Rome, Italy
Gunner and Cam sat in the first row of their box overlooking the main-floor seating. He was positioned against the railing next to Morosini, who sat next to her date. Periodically through the first act of Verdi’s Attila, Morosini would glance in Gunner’s direction in an attempt to make eye contact again. He noticed it, but didn’t acknowledge her by returning the glance. Now it was his turn to reel her in. She was apparently smitten with him as well.
The act was coming to a close as the magnetic soprano was bludgeoning the eardrums of the audience with her vocal cords as she hit stratospheric high notes with ease. The orchestra brought Verdi’s music to a fever pitch, swelling louder until the combination of artist and musicians created a deafening roar.
The soprano, a beautiful Italian actress playing the role of Odabella, raised her knife to strike down Foresto, the would-be killer of her lover, Attila. Suddenly, three of Foresto’s conspirators called out to warn him, and the stage went completely dark.
Damn. A cliffhanger. Gotta love ’em.
An intermission was announced, and Gunner steeled his nerves. I
t would be the longest break between acts, so it was time to make his move.
He and Cam wandered into the mezzanine, slowing their approach to the bar to allow Morosini to catch up. Cam initiated a casual conversation as the two couples stood side by side. She began in Italian, but Morosini’s date, the soccer player, immediately moved to place her at ease by speaking English.
“Are you enjoying Rosa’s performance of Odabella?”
“I am, although I’m awestruck by the beauty of the Teatro dell’Opera. I wish I could come back another time just to take a tour.”
Morosini’s date hesitated for a moment and then assessed the long line of attendees waiting for a cocktail. He bravely asked a question of his date that would ordinarily get him dumped. However, under the circumstances, it suited Morosini just fine.
“Bianca, may I escort this nice American around the theater during the intermission? This will be her only opportunity …” His voice trailed off as he questioned whether he should have suggested the idea.
“Yes, of course. I will keep her friend company.” She eased next to Gunner and ran her right arm through his left until her chest pressed against him. Gunner stopped breathing as he fought to keep his wits about him.
Cam and the boy toy excused themselves before wandering about the mezzanine until they disappeared. Gunner took control.
“This line is long. Do you really want a drink?”
“No, not really,” she said in a soft voice as she squeezed herself a little closer to his body. “Come. I will show you around, and you can tell me what brings you to Roma.”
Gunner escorted her out of the line, and they walked slowly through the second-level mezzanine. “This is my first visit to Rome. Without a doubt, it’s one of the most beautiful places in the world.”
“Naturally, I will say it is the most beautiful. It’s a city of history and love. What brings you here?”
Gunner hesitated. He led her to a part of the mezzanine that was lacking any other attendees so they could be alone.
“I’m an author writing a treatise on the geopolitical relationship between Germany and Austria following World War II.”
Morosini let out a hearty laugh. “Oh my. Are you a professor? You are too handsome to be a professor.” She rubbed her hand gently on Gunner’s clean-shaven face. It caused goosebumps to rise on the back of his neck. Her power of seduction was unparalleled.
Gunner turned La Bambolina toward him and studied her olive skin exposed by her low-cut, V-necked gown. He overpowered Medusa’s powerful gaze and took a chance.
He leaned into her and whispered, “Professors can be sexy, too.”
For the first time since Heather’s death, Gunner kissed another woman. It was soft at first, as if he was asking permission. When she responded, he kissed her harder. Seconds later, the two were tucked away in the shadows of the opera house, pawing all over each other. For several minutes, they acted like two teenagers in the back seat of a car up on lovers’ lane.
Their brief, passionate tryst was eventually interrupted by passersby and the flashing lights indicating the next act was about to begin.
She broke their embrace and then breathlessly asked, “Is that your wife?” She reached for his left hand and ran her fingers over his to check for a wedding ring, not that it mattered.
“No, just a friend. Is he—?”
She shook her head side to side. “As you Americans would say, he is a playdate.”
Gunner genuinely thought this was funny and started laughing. It was the combination of her accent and her casual approach to swapping dates that struck him.
“I have an idea,” he said to her. He pulled his phone out of his jacket.
Gunner’s mind raced. He had the opening he was looking for. He needed to get close to Morosini in order to gain access to the truth about the relationship between the Catholic Church and Nazi Germany. In order to do it, it meant he’d be betraying his love for Heather. He grimaced and then he sent a text to Cam.
Gunner: Change of plans. I’ve got this. Trust me. You’ll need to find your way home.
He didn’t wait for a response. He turned back to Morosini. “Is there a way we can sneak out of here without the paparazzi seeing us?”
“Yes, I know a way. Are we …?”
Gunner smiled and nodded.
Morosini blushed and then her face lit up. “How exciting! Come with me.”
She grabbed Gunner by the hand and led him deeper into the recesses of the Teatro dell’Opera. Soon, they were moving quickly down a back stairwell to the ground floor. She led them through a set of double doors until they were backstage. Seconds later, with a swiftness that made Gunner wonder if she’d done this many times before, they exited onto a side street into a crowd of wandering tourists.
Morosini, anticipating a glorious night in bed with the handsome American, gently placed her hands on Gunner’s face and passionately kissed him. She took him by the hand and led him across the street through traffic, much to the chagrin of the drivers, who voiced their displeasure with their horns.
As Gunner allowed himself to be pulled along, he subconsciously touched the left pocket of his tuxedo jacket. Just to mentally prepare himself for what had to be done.
Chapter Six
Rome, Italy
Her designer heels eventually caused Morosini to slow her frenetic pace. She was enjoying the prospect of bringing the handsome stranger back to her apartment in the city, which overlooked the Piazza Barberini, the location of the famous Triton’s Fountain.
She opened up to Gunner as she walked the streets of her childhood. She showed a side of her he hadn’t expected. Like two lovers roaming block after block of the romantic city, Morosini pointed out landmarks and described the history behind them. Her knowledge of architecture and the background behind the buildings impressed Gunner. It became obvious she was not the shallow party girl the tabloids made her out to be.
“Bianca,” he began, as they were now on a first-name basis, although she knew him as Professor Henry Sargent, a random name he pulled out of the recesses of his mind, “I can’t imagine there being a more knowledgeable tour guide. You paint a vivid picture of how these buildings shape Rome.”
She pulled herself closer to Gunner as they approached a group of young people who’d had too much to drink. They blocked the sidewalk momentarily, and then Gunner, who’d identified the leader of the seven inebriated college kids, gave the young man a look that sent a clear message: Get out of our way.
“I owe it to my grandfather. He is a historian, you know.”
“Really? That’s coincidental.”
“Yes, I suppose it is. He is the headmaster at the Vatican’s Pontifical University.”
Gunner furrowed his brow. This was not part of Morosini’s dossier. He understood her father to be the resource concerning the Nazi connection to the Catholic Church. Caught off guard, he tried not to show excessive interest, but rather, he attempted to keep their conversation casual. The long walk had served to calm their passion for one another, and now they acted more like a couple on a first date.
“I’m familiar with the pontifical universities established under the authority of the Catholic Church. Is there one located within the Vatican?”
“Several, based upon the sacred faculties, or field of study. They include canon law, philosophy, sacred theology and sacred scripture. There is also civil law, which is my grandfather’s forte. He is the headmaster, but he continues his role as the head librarian and archivist.”
Gunner stopped and took Morosini by the hands. “I want to say something to you. You are a very impressive young woman. I know who you are from the news and tabloid media. I apologize for not saying something sooner.”
“That’s okay, Professor Sargent, or whatever your real name is,” she said as she became suddenly shy. She looked at her feet and then at her surroundings. “I get bored easily. I’m tired of playing, but it’s what’s expected of me. I’m looking for someone who is dif
ferent from the men I associate with.”
Gunner saw a vulnerability in Morosini that was totally unexpected. He had to be careful to stay on his game. He was beginning to genuinely like her.
“Okay, here come some more apologies. Are you ready?”
She laughed. “Let me guess. You are not an American. Americans never lie to get a woman in bed. Am I right?”
Gunner smiled. She really needed to stop being so charming. “I’m an American. However, I’m not a professor. My name’s not Henry Sargent, and I’m sorry that I’m unable to tell you what it is. Please understand, we, and America, desperately need your help.”
Her eyes grew wide and she whispered to him, “I believe you, Professor Henry Sargent, and I think the name suits you. So, Professor, are you a killer?”
“Not without reason.”
“Are you going to kill me?” she asked in a more serious tone.
“No. Why would I deprive the world of a beautiful, smart woman like yourself?”
She playfully patted him on the chest. “See, Mr. American. You don’t have to lie to get an Italian woman into bed. Your charming nature works just fine.”
The conversation was going well, and she led him into an exquisitely designed entrance to an apartment building. The doorman and security guard immediately recognized her. They gave Gunner a hard look before escorting them to the elevator.
That night, Gunner didn’t sleep with Bianca Morosini. Nor did he have to use the syringe filled with SP-117, the highly effective Russian drug used as a truth serum to extract information from unsuspecting targets. He developed a friendship with her, and by dawn, she’d agreed to introduce him to Giovanni Colombo, her mother’s father—the man with the keys to the Catholic Church’s relationship to Odessa and the Nazis buried deep within the Vatican’s archives.