"So, how did they do it?" Tommy asked.
"Parkour," Sean said. "I've seen guys on videos climbing two or three stories that way before jumping through an open window. Someone with the right training could have done this. Heck, high school and college kids do it just from practicing all the time. Take someone who's an expert in that sort of thing and a killer to boot? Wouldn't be all that daunting."
"That's a long drop," Bodmer countered. "Not to mention he'd have to somehow land perfectly on the narrow ledge outside the window without falling, then pry the window open."
Sean shook his head and pointed at the windowsill. "No sign of forced entry." He instantly realized he sounded like a cop when he uttered the words. "There are no scratches, no evidence that the window was broken or tampered with. Just like the commander said.“
Bodmer agreed with a nod of his own. “Exactly. We found no evidence of that. And the window was locked when we arrived."
“That’s interesting,” Sean agreed. He didn’t voice his curiosity further, but he found it odd that the window was locked when investigators arrived on the scene.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Bodmer sounded irritated, almost as if he understood Sean's insinuation, but the question indicated he didn't.
Adriana crossed her arms and listened as her husband explained. Tommy, too, paid close attention to his friend.
"There are no signs of forced entry because there was no forced entry. The killer was invited into the cardinal's apartment."
Bodmer scoffed with an audible “Pfft.” He looked incredulous. "What? You're saying the cardinal invited his own killer into the apartment?"
"It's the only thing that makes sense…unless you have a better theory."
Bodmer pinched his lips together.
Sean continued in order to answer the next question he knew was coming. "The victim invited the killer here, but not so the visitor would kill him. I'm not suggesting the cardinal was suicidal. He had another reason for his guest to visit that night, but something went wrong." Sean slowly pivoted and looked around the room; his eyes scanned the walls, the corners, the ceiling, the floor, and every inch in between within seconds. It was an old habit, one that he'd developed during his first year in training with the government. Now he did it all the time, even when he was going out to eat at a nice restaurant. Always assess every situation. That's what he was trained to do. It was the best way to ensure the safety of himself and others. In this case, it was his way of making sure he hadn't missed a tiny detail.
Bodmer appeared irritated, bordering on angry. "Are you suggesting that the deceased cardinal, a man ordained by God to lead his church and oversee one of the largest parishes in the world, was involved in some kind of criminal activity?"
Sean rolled his shoulders. "If the shoe fits."
"This is an outrage!" Bodmer roared. "You can't just walk into the Vatican, the seat of the Holy See, and make wild accusations like that!"
"First of all," Sean said, keeping his tone firm but calm, "you brought us here. We were doing just fine back in the old US of A when you came knocking. You wanted to know what we thought, what I thought. Well, there it is. That's what I think happened. I understand," he cut off Bodmer as he was about to speak again, "how you all feel about these priests and cardinals and whatnot. I get it. They're holy men to you, people who are infallible. What I'm suggesting is that, perhaps, he didn't realize what his visitor was up to until it was too late. Maybe it was someone who he thought could help him attain the papacy, take over for the pope when the time came."
"The pope will not die anytime soon."
"Good. That's wonderful." Sean tried to sound like he cared, but he was focused on his task, and right now his brain was running faster than he could keep up. "I'm just saying that the only way in here without detection was the window. You said the cameras went out for a short amount of time, but enough time for someone skilled enough to climb between the two walls and get through into this room. The window wasn't pried open, so that means it was either wide open for some fresh air to get in, unlikely, or the cardinal left it open for his visitor. What we need to know is why he had that visitor and what that visitor wanted."
"It is also highly unorthodox for a killer or any criminal to leave a calling card," Adriana chimed in, "unless of course they wanted to be caught. Seeing that the murderer has not yet been found, I would say that isn't the case."
"But they did want us to know something about them," Tommy added.
"Indeed."
Bodmer's head was spinning. He was doing his best to keep up, but there was so much information coming so fast that it made the job difficult. He felt like he was watching a tennis match between superhumans, his eyes and head twisting back and forth as the information passed between them.
"We need to see Cardinal Klopp," Sean said abruptly.
The others turned to face him.
"No, that can't happen," Bodmer said.
"We need to know what he has, what he knows. Where is the cross you found on the body of Cardinal Jarllson?"
"The cardinal, he is safe, here on the grounds of the Vatican in a secure location."
"Well, we need to see him, and I want to have a look at that cross you were talking about. Or we can just let you guys continue your investigation without us, but I think there is something going on here that you don't know about. I'm sure Klopp won't mind that you just sent the three of us back to the States without solving anything."
He let the words hang in the air for a couple of seconds. He knew that he'd struck a nerve.
Bodmer couldn't afford to let these three go without getting a few answers, something he could share with the cardinal and the rest of the higher-ups. They wanted information, and the three people in the room with him were the best chance of getting it.
Bodmer sighed reluctantly. He'd brought them there with the intent of taking them to Jarllson's quarters to see if they could find anything, but that was starting to feel like it wouldn't bear fruit. Besides, Bodmer and his men had already gone through the apartment with great diligence and still dug up nothing. Perhaps taking these three to see the cardinal would yield something useful.
"Fine," he relented. "Come with me."
7
THE VATICAN
The group stepped off the elevator and into the bowels of the Vatican's Swiss Guard headquarters. They'd made their way through the palace, the immense halls, and the maze of empty corridors, before finally arriving at the main office of the Vatican's elite security forces. At first, Tommy thought that was their destination, but he'd been wrong, unaware that there was a more secure, underground facility that housed an extensive armory, computer terminals, living quarters, and yes, even a jail.
The jail wasn’t like those known to the rest of the world. It consisted of old monastic cells that had been converted to a detention area, and was larger and more comfortable than prison cells.
Bodmer led the way through the short hallway until they reached a closed door at the end. It was wooden, made from lumber that had been cut down centuries ago, and was well oiled and cared for to maintain its luster as well as its strength. There was a hole cut into the top half, with iron bars forming a sort of cross that resembled a tic-tac-toe board. Through that opening, the visitors could see inside the little apartment beyond.
Sean took a moment to absorb his surroundings. The corridor was sparse, made from stone blocks that had been quarried long ago. There were Gothic archways holding up the ceiling, much like he'd seen in other buildings of the Vatican. However, the rest of the facility's underbelly didn't feature the frescoes, the paintings, the sculptures, or the gilded molding and trim that occupied the aboveground areas. It was stark, minimalist, and without seeing inside the cells, you would think you were in the basement of an old castle.
The commander reached out and opened the door. To everyone else's surprise, it wasn't locked.
"Tight security," Tommy quipped.
Bodmer shot him a que
stioning glance, missing the sarcasm.
"Never mind."
The door swung open without a creak, the iron hinges apparently well cared for and well oiled by the caretakers of the holding area.
Candles flickered in the cell, casting a wavering yellow glow throughout the room, barely dispelling the darkness.
"Father," Bodmer said reverently, "you have some visitors." He spoke in English, which told the others their interaction with the priest would be for their benefit. Most of the higher-ranking men of the cloth were fluent in many languages. It was no surprise that someone such as the cardinal would as well, especially considering that he was most likely going to be the one who took over from the pontiff someday. Popes were required to travel extensively and interact with millions of people all around the world. That meant adhering to cultural and linguistic norms.
"Visitors?" Klopp asked. He only spoke a single word, but his German accent was obvious.
"Yes, Father. The men you sent me to find in America. Along with"—Bodmer looked at Adriana with questions in his eyes—"a woman."
"A woman?" The cardinal stood from his place at a humble wooden desk and turned to face the group.
"I didn't mean to cross a line, sir," Bodmer explained, sounding almost pleading.
As Klopp raised his eyes, the man's features came into full view. His face was smooth, belying the years he'd lived. It was tanned but not dark. His hair was gray under his priestly cap and came down just above his ears, brushing them slightly. He was around five feet, nine inches tall and probably 175 pounds, with much of that weight settling in around his midsection, though it was difficult to get an accurate picture because of the flowing robes around his body.
"Ah," Klopp said. "Yes, Mr. Wyatt, Mr. Schultz." The cardinal nodded and took a step forward.
"Yes, sir," Sean said and motioned to Adriana. "This is my wife, Adriana."
She bowed her head low in a show of respect. "At your service, Father."
She wasn't Catholic, but she respected the religion and those who were a part of it. She chose to ignore the scandals and hearsay that seemed to ever-revolve around the church and its clergy, instead preferring to believe that these people, men and women, had given their lives to service and worship.
"Ah, your wife," Klopp said. His tone was the mildest, most calming sound Sean thought he'd ever heard come out of a human being's mouth. Even he felt a strange sense of peace wash over him at the man's words. "Welcome, my child. All of you, actually." He looked around as if assessing his quarters with regret, the way a person would upon receiving an unexpected guest, wishing they'd tidied up first. "I'm sorry our meeting isn't under more…formal circumstances."
"No need to apologize, sir," Tommy said.
"We are keeping the cardinal here for his safety," Bodmer explained.
Sean had already figured that out. The two guards at the top of the elevator and the one by the door were there for the man's protection, although Sean had his doubts about those three. There were other measures in place, he knew, such as cameras, sensors, and other technology to keep a close watch on Klopp to ensure his safety, but if the man who killed Jarllson was anywhere close to as skilled as Sean figured him to be, none of that stuff would be good enough to stop him. The man was an elite, even more so than the Swiss Guard occupying the fortress of the Vatican. He wasn't about to say that, though, since doing so could be perceived as offensive. Sean certainly wouldn't want anyone telling him that his security detail was inadequate against such a threat.
"Yes, well, I don't quite see why that is necessary. God will protect me." The cardinal was insistent, but that theory hadn't worked out so well for Jarllson. That was another thought Sean and Tommy both decided to keep to themselves.
"They are here to ask you some questions," the commander said.
"Ah, about the letter," Klopp acknowledged.
"Yes, Father," Sean said. He took a step closer and stopped near the door. He noted the rest of the cell's interior. It was a deep space, going back at least twenty feet or more and was about that wide. A large bed with white linens and a dark oak frame occupied the right side. The bed was made and appeared to have been freshly cleaned. The floors were spotless, made from smooth stone tiles. There were a few chairs situated opposite the bed where the cardinal could receive a guest or two. In the back corner was the desk where the man had been sitting, and opposite it in the other corner was a small kitchenette. There was a door fixed into the far wall that Sean assumed was the bathroom, again another feature that wouldn't be found in any other prison in the world, not that he'd seen.
"Please, then, come in. Commander Bodmer?" The cardinal turned to the leader of the Swiss Guard. The man's head tilted up. "Could you bring in another chair for our guests?"
"Certainly, Father." Bodmer turned and said something in Italian to the guard by the door. The man nodded and hurried into one of the empty apartments and returned a moment later holding a wooden chair just like those in Klopp's room.
"Thank you, Marco," Klopp said with genuine gratitude.
"Of course, Father." Marco hurried past the group and placed the chair next to the others and then retired to his post by the door without saying anything else.
"Please," Klopp motioned into the room as if inviting guests into his house. "Come, sit. I will help you as much as I can."
The three visitors stepped into the room and took a seat.
Klopp waited until they were all seated and then made his way to the empty one across from them. Bodmer stayed at the door, clearly having no designs on sitting down on the job.
Once he was in his chair, Klopp leaned back and sighed as if taking the weight of the world off his shoulders. He steepled his fingers and rested his elbows on the armrests. "I assume Commander Bodmer filled you in on what happened."
"He did, sir," Sean confirmed.
"I also took them to the…to Cardinal Jarllson's apartment," Bodmer added.
"Ah." The cardinal's head tilted back in an affirming nod. "So, what do you think?" He stared straight into Sean's eyes.
Sean didn't have to work hard to assess the man. There was no lie in his eyes, no deceit, no cover-up of some heinous act. His innocence was easy to read. This man had done nothing wrong, committed no crime. Bodmer was right about that—if that was indeed the position he was taking with the matter.
"About the…" He paused for a second. Sean wasn't sure how delicate he should be with the subject of the murder. He didn't want to be insensitive, but things couldn't be changed now. The fact of the matter was, Cardinal Jarllson was dead, and walking on proverbial eggshells wasn't going to bring him back.
"The murder?" Klopp said, easing Sean's mind.
"Yes."
"It's unfortunate, my son, but there is no point in prancing around the subject. We must find the one responsible for this. Jarllson and I had our differing viewpoints on certain subjects, but he was a brother in Christ and a good man. He would have made a fine pope had he been elected."
Sean nodded at the comment and then dove right into his hypothesis. "I believe the killer went in through the window. They would have had to scale the wall using the opposite wall for leverage, maybe even as jumping points."
"They call it parkour," Tommy interjected.
The cardinal’s eyes flitted to Tommy for a moment. The priest was clearly confused by the term, but nodded absently, absorbing the new information as if to store for later use.
"Yes, parkour," Sean said. "It's a sort of…game that people play. They make use of ordinary objects, buildings, railings, park benches, that sort of thing to do exercises."
"Exercises?"
Sean sighed, frustrated. "I don't feel like I'm doing a good job describing it. All you need to know is that people who are highly athletic can do some pretty amazing things with everyday, stationary objects. I believe this person was able to climb the wall with remarkable speed due to those skills."
"And then they broke into the window? Bodmer tells me there
was no sign of forced entry."
"That is correct, sir. I came to the same conclusion. There was no sign that the window had been tampered with. The door, either. That, to me, can only mean one thing."
"What's that?"
"I think the killer was invited into Jarllson's apartment that night. The window must have been left open. The commander said there were several instances that night when the security cameras went out. The disruptions didn't last long, but they were long enough for an expert to ascend the exterior wall of the apartment building."
"Even at the top, a master thief couldn't have balanced there on the narrow windowsill to pry open the window. I would know." Adriana arched one eyebrow.
The cardinal acknowledged her comment with an open mouth that formed an O.
"She is highly skilled in those kinds of things," Sean explained, hoping to avoid more questions about Adriana and her past. "The point is, sir, I usually go with the simplest answer, the one that makes the most sense."
"Occam's razor," Klopp muttered.
"Yes, sir. Cardinal Jarllson knew the killer was coming, though he likely didn't know what the person's true intentions were. The best I can figure, the intruder wanted something, something that Jarllson wouldn't give him. When he refused, it would have been simple enough for a trained assassin to execute the man. Which brings me to the method by which he was killed."
Sean stopped for a moment to assess the priest's demeanor again. Sometimes talking about such things could make a person queasy, unnerving them to the point of nausea. The first sign was typically a loss of skin color as the blood drained, producing a pale, ashen look on a person's face. There was no sign of any such reaction from Klopp, so Sean went on.
"The knife that was used was small, easily concealed. It would be lightweight, also a necessity for someone who intended on climbing walls and doing a significant amount of jumping, even possibly some acrobatics if necessary. The weapon was used expertly, sir," Sean said with an even tone. "It was inserted at the base of the skull and pushed into Jarllson's brain. The man died instantly, I assume."
The Napoleon Affair Page 6