“I think it’s safest if we leave it here with you. You’re the one with the awesome security system.”
“Agreed. And that will give me more time to work with it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll photograph it and then have Yoda search for symbols or text in the engraved silver. During the eighteenth century they were into that trompe l’oeil and optical illusions. We’re just seeing decoration at the moment, but you can’t trick Yoda.”
Riley got up off the stool and walked to the aft-deck doors that stood open. The stern of the big yacht was tied to the stone wharf. Beyond the wharf were some old stone buildings that looked abandoned. They had probably been part of the Lazaretto complex once. A barbed-wire fence divided them from the marina. There was no one on the dock, not a single person in sight.
Cole came up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Are you okay?”
“I wonder if we’re being watched right now.”
“It’s possible.”
“And will they know it when we fly to Rome?”
Cole had been thinking the same thing. “It occurs to me that if our old friend Gavino Ebejer was able to find other men Tug had told his story to, it’s probable the Knights know the story as well.”
“What they don’t know is that the shield was simply a key to something they’ve had in their possession all along.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Mercato Trionfale
Rome, Italy
April 25, 2014
Cole had been checking behind them all morning, and if there was somebody tailing them, he must be good. They had rented a room in an Italian family’s home via an app called Couchsurfing that Riley had downloaded to her phone. They’d used fake names, and the father who showed them to their room had not asked to see ID. Cole and Riley were up and gone before any of the rest of the family had stirred. They had taken the Metro and cabs and then walked, separating and meeting up again later. Cole had followed Riley, and she had tracked him. They hadn’t seen anyone taking any special interest in them.
They were traveling light, with just the one backpack holding a change of clothes for each of them and a few toiletries. But they intended to buy more things while in Rome, so they’d made sure the backpack was big enough to carry everything home.
Once they were certain they weren’t being followed, they took a cab to pick up the replica of Joseph Roux’s sea atlas at the graphics shop near the Piazza Cavour. It turned out to be owned by a couple of brothers. Cole had told them they needed the old atlas of sea charts for a commercial they were filming. The brothers had had fun with the job, weathering the leather cover and making it look very much like the edition of the atlas pictured on the web. Whether it could pass for the one in the Magistral Library was something they expected to find out that afternoon.
The brothers had recommended the Mercato Trionfale, up north of the Vatican, when they’d inquired about shopping for clothing. They said it had once been an outdoor market, but that it had recently moved into a big building. There were a few stalls that sold clothing.
Cole was surprised that the building was so ugly. It looked more like a gray concrete box. It appeared very un-Roman. But inside, the place was a feast of colors and smells. Most of the stalls sold food—everything from seafood to sausages and cheeses to fruits and vegetables. The vendors were shouting and laughing in Italian to customers who seemed to shout back with equal vehemence. It was the first place in Rome they could not find anyone who spoke English, but using a combination of French and sign language, they found their way to the clothing stalls.
“So, what do you think I should wear?” Riley picked up a teeny white tank top that said “I ♥ Rome” with the heart made of red sequins. “How about this?”
“Maybe. No man would be looking at your face if you were wearing that.”
“I think not.” She folded the shirt and placed it back on top of the pile. “You know, I don’t know if we’re going to find something here. I’m not even sure what to look for.”
“Think about what you see on the streets in Rome.”
“Yes, but I won’t be on the streets. I’m going into a library to do research. I need to look like one of those.”
“Okay, but don’t stereotype. In academia, I found researchers came in all shapes and sizes.” He thought about the characters who had been in the Maritime Archeology program at Eastern Carolina University with him. “In fact, I guess you could say academics are often an odd-looking lot.”
“I like this.” She held up a man’s shirt screen-printed with an image of the Colosseum. It was at least two sizes too big for her.
“Good. Now we need some pants. And keep your eyes open for a wig or a hat. And glasses.”
Cole found some imitation Doc Martens boots next, and they settled on denim overalls. They asked the woman who sold them the boots about wigs. She gave them directions to a stall way on the far side of the market. The people there mostly sold their services of braiding hair with beads and shells in it, but they also had a few wigs of long braids. Riley chose a black one. It had a fringe of black hair across her forehead and shoulder-length braids all around. When she tried it on, Cole wasn’t even sure he would recognize her if he didn’t know it was her. They bought it.
When they left the market, Riley said, “At any other time, I’d suggest we cut through the Vatican and walk through Saint Peter’s, but judging from the mobs of people heading that way, I think the Vatican is the last place we want to go this week.”
They skirted their way around the Vatican walls and made it to the Piazza del Risorgimento.
“I’m hungry,” Cole said. “What do you say we stop in a restaurant, order some lunch, and then you can change in the restroom before we go.”
They walked back in the direction of the Piazza Cavour until they found a little hole-in-the-wall pizza place. Cole ordered a seafood pizza, and Riley insisted they have an antipasto plate as well. After walking through all the tempting food in the market, Cole pounced on the food when it arrived. There was too much of it, and he ate too fast, but Cole couldn’t resist. When Riley went to change, he belched and waved for the bill. The waiter looked like he’d seen one too many bad-mannered Americans.
The transformation was amazing. When Riley came out of the bathroom, she walked straight out of the restaurant without stopping at Cole’s table. She had taken a big shopping bag inside with her, and when she emerged, she looked like some Goth university student. Cole paid the bill and grabbed his backpack and the bag with the fake sea atlas. He followed Riley out into the street.
When she saw him approaching, she shook her head and turned away. He sauntered along the Via Crescenzio, stopping to look in windows and peering up at street signs. He turned down a side street toward the Castel Sant’Angelo. Just before they got to the river, Riley passed him on the opposite side of the street. At the next signal, she crossed over and joined him.
“So what did you find?”
“When I left the restaurant, there was a guy with dark glasses loitering in front of that clothing store across from the restaurant. He ignored me when I came out, but he seemed to take notice of you when you came out. When he didn’t follow you, then I wondered if he had just signaled someone else to follow you. But in the end, I couldn’t find a tail.”
“It’s better to be safe, though. We’re not stronger, so we have to outsmart these guys.”
“In that case, let’s pick up the pace. I’d like to get to the Via Condotti before sunset.”
Cole saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Do you want to take a cab?” she asked.
“I ate too much. Let’s keep walking. It’s not that far now, and besides, I don’t want to be sleepy while I’m waiting for you.”
Riley pulled out her phone. The map they had used to find their way to the outdoor market was still on the screen. She tapped and swiped and brought up the pin she had dropped at the Magistral Palace. “You know you ca
n’t be seen waiting for me anywhere near this place, right?”
“I don’t like the idea of not being somewhere close by.”
“I’ll be fine. You stay out of sight, and when I’m done, I’ll meet you here”—she pointed to the spot on the map—“at the entrance to the Spagna Metro station at the top of the Spanish Steps.”
He knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away, but he wouldn’t tell her that. He didn’t like sending her in alone. Something didn’t feel right about it at all.
Villa del Priorato di Malta
The Aventine Hill, Rome
April 25, 2014
Signor Oscura opened the door to the small security office. “Would you step out here? We need to talk about some details for tonight.”
Virgil didn’t normally spend much time in the office, but he had brought his own laptop to the villa that morning, and he was trying to get it plugged in and on the network so he could call Bonnie.
He stepped out into the main entrance foyer of the villa. The ceiling above them was over two stories high and crowned by a glass dome. The grand staircase curved up to the second floor. An enormous arrangement of fresh flowers stood in a vase on the table beneath a fourteenth-century tapestry on one side. On the opposite wall was an original Titian painting of Jesus talking to his disciples.
“Virgil, I just got a phone call from the caterer for tonight’s dinner. He’s got some problem. Will you please call him back?”
“Of course, sir.”
“How are things going with security?”
“No problems, sir.”
“After the meal, make absolutely certain that none of the regular guests interferes with our meeting in the Church of Santa Maria del Priorato tonight.”
“I understand.”
“There is one guest, he is not yet a member of the Order. This Italian gentleman has no one to will his fortune to. Signor Carretto. Do whatever it takes to make sure he enjoys his weekend in Rome.”
Virgil nodded.
“I’m going back to my office for the rest of the afternoon. Let me know if there are any more problems.”
“Yes, sir.”
When the executive director left, Virgil was about to return to the computer when one of his men approached from the back of the house.
“Virg, we’ve got a problem with a guy at the gate.”
“Jacko, you don’t have to bring every little problem to me.”
“It’s a tourist, I think. Insists he wants a tour. He’s blocking the entrance, and he won’t budge. You said white gloves.”
“You’ve got to move him. This is a not only a private estate, it’s a sovereign territory. We do get to make our own rules here. Permission to rough him up a bit.”
Jacko grinned. “Yes, sir.”
When Jacko left, Virgil decided he’d better make the rounds to be certain all was running smoothly. Then he could take a quick thirty minutes to make his call. He walked through the kitchen and the dining room, checking in with staff. He was pleased to see everyone working, and no one jumping to grab his ear with another problem.
When Virgil returned to the foyer, he made the call to the caterer. They wanted to stop by early to check with Mrs. Ricasoli. Something about a dessert. He told them he would inform the gate to let them in early.
Just as he terminated the call, he saw an elderly gentleman slowly descending the stairs. The man smiled and nodded at Virgil, then said, “Scusami.”
“Can I help you with something?”
“Yes,” the gentleman said. “This is my first time here among the cavalieri, and I would very much like to visit the Palazzo Magistral.”
“I’d be happy to call a car for you, Signor . . . ?”
“Carretto is my name. That would be so kind.”
Virgil pulled his phone out and dialed. “Priest? Meet me in the office in the foyer right away. I need you to drive someone down to the Via Condotti.”
It was thirty minutes later before Virgil got rid of the old man and sent Priest off in one of the Bentleys to chauffeur the guy around. He went into the office, closed the door, and locked it.
He was getting the hang of using Skype now. He’d ignored Shawny’s threats, and he and Bonnie had talked twice more. He couldn’t explain to himself what the fascination was. He’d always hated kids. When Shawny first got pregnant, he’d tried to convince her to get rid of it. That was when the real fighting between them started. He’d relented and told her she could have the kid, but she just couldn’t let it go. After that, every time he came home on leave, all she did was bitch.
Half the time he didn’t even understand what his daughter was talking about. Between her teen talk and the fact that she was smoking-smart, Virgil didn’t even know what half the words she used meant. But there were times, watching her, when he’d seen her move a certain way or caught her in a certain light, and he saw himself in her. She was made out of part of him, and at his age, he now found that fucking amazing.
He heard the familiar ringing tones, and then there was her face. “Hi, Daddy.”
Something was different about her today. She sounded distracted.
“Hey, sweetheart. Is everything okay?”
She looked off the screen at something or someone he couldn’t see in her room. There were questions in her eyes, then he saw her settle on a decision. She looked back at the camera.
“No, everything’s not okay. Mom never respects my privacy. It’s like she doesn’t even know there’s a human right to privacy.”
He didn’t know what to say to her. He said the only thing that occurred to him. “What happened?”
“Like, I should be allowed privacy in my own room, and she has no right to read the diary on my computer. But she says if the government can listen to all our phone calls and that’s legal, and the military can torture people, then I can’t expect any privacy, either. She says life’s not fair, so there. I hate when she says that. It’s just stupid.” The girl’s blue eyes were shining with unshed tears. “She read in my diary that Tony and I have been skipping school and going over to his house and doing it. Like she doesn’t have a different asshole boyfriend over here every week.”
An arm reached in and pushed the girl. “Okay, enough.” Virgil recognized his ex-wife’s voice. “Now your father can see what a little slut you are.”
“And what about you?”
“Stop whining to him. He doesn’t give a flying fuck about you.”
“That’s not true. He cares more about me than you do.”
“Oh yeah? So ask him where he’s been for the last sixteen years.”
Virgil wanted to tell Bonnie that Shawny had forbade him to contact her, but he couldn’t get a word in edgewise.
“You’re just mad because your boyfriend hit on me.”
Shawny flashed into view and slapped the girl across the mouth. “Get out of here.”
Bonnie stood up and ran behind the chair to the door. “I hate you,” she said.
“Well you know what? If you think you can run to him, think again. He didn’t even want you. He wanted me to have an abortion.”
“That’s not true!” the girl screamed. “Daddy, say that’s not true.”
Virgil opened his mouth and then closed it again. He didn’t know what to say.
Shawny said, “You go to my bedroom and wait for me there. Your dad and I have to talk.”
The girl opened the door, then looked back over her shoulder. He blue eyes looked like they were alight with some inner fire, and her cheeks were wet with tears. “I hate you both!” she screamed. She slammed the door.
Shawny sat in the chair and smoothed her fine blonde hair back out of her face. “Listen, that was the last contact you are ever going to have with my daughter.”
“She’s our daughter, Shawny.”
“Not anymore. I found more than just that diary on her computer. I found some old buddy of yours from Iraq has also been emailing with her and talking dirty. Now that’s just disgusting. You old men a
re such perverts.”
Virg felt his whole body tuck up into a defensive position. “What was his name?”
“Let’s see if I can find that email somewhere.” She leaned forward toward the camera. He heard her clicking the keyboard. “Crap, he’s sent her another one. Looks like there’s a photo attached.”
“I said, what’s his name?”
She narrowed her eyes. “It’s weird. Diggory Priest.” He heard the mouse clicks as she opened the email. “Oh my God.” Her face contorted into a grimace. “That’s disgusting.”
He took a deep breath before he spoke. “What is it?”
“This photo.”
“Has Bonnie seen it?”
She didn’t answer him. She was concentrating on something on the screen.
“Shawny, answer me.”
“You dumb asshole, I’m trying to text it to you.”
His screen filled with a photo of him holding a sniper rifle in one hand, a dead dog dangling by his back legs from his other hand.
Virgil blew out a sigh of relief.
Shawny said, “He says in his email that he has lots more pictures to send her of all the fun he had with you overseas. You are a sick fuck, Virgil.”
The computer made a boing sound, and the video window closed.
When Virgil reached up to close the laptop lid, he saw, for the first time in his life, that his hand was trembling.
The Magistral Library
Via Condotti, Rome
April 25, 2014
“Do you speak English?” Riley asked of the tiny woman sitting behind the high desk. Riley had not seen her until the last minute, as the woman’s head didn’t even come up to the level of the desk.
She tipped her head up to look at Riley, looking more like a baby bird than a grown woman. “Yes, of course.”
“Thank goodness,” Riley said, her voice half an octave higher than her normal speech, “because I don’t speak a word of Italian.”
So far, things had gone well. They had transferred her old clothes into Cole’s backpack, and she was now carrying the counterfeit sea atlas and her phone in the big shopping bag. Riley had entered the big portico on the Via Condotti and asked for directions to the library from the plump concierge. He spoke little English, but he understood what she was looking for. He walked her across the courtyard inlaid with a mosaic Maltese cross and pointed to the correct doorway.
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