Sign of the Cross

by Chris Kuzneski

  Boyd discussed things with Maria for several seconds before answering. ‘There’s a lovely research facility in Küsendorf that might be able to aid our cause.’

  Payne glanced at Jones. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘What do I think? I think we’d be crazy to fly right there. The odds are pretty good we’re being tracked by radar, and I can’t risk flying underneath it.’

  ‘So what do you suggest?’

  A smile crossed Jones’s lips. ‘Don’t worry. As long as we have some money and a few credit cards, I’m confident they’ll never find us.’

  The squadron of black helicopters hovered over the Bern-Belpmoos Airport (six miles southeast of Bern, Switzerland’s capital city), searching for their sister chopper. When one of the pilots spotted it at the far end of the airfield, he ordered the tower to redirect all current air traffic to other Swiss facilities. Planes, he informed them, shouldn’t be landing in a crime scene.

  A dozen men, each dressed in military fatigues and carrying automatic weapons, circled the craft, then stormed the chopper, searching the cockpit, backseat, and rear hatch for any available clues. Nothing turned up except a cold engine, which meant it had been on the ground for at least twenty minutes. Maybe more.

  The team leader spoke into his headset. ‘The bird is clear. Starting ground surveillance.’

  ‘Be careful,’ the command post warned. ‘These men are clever and quite dangerous. Double-check all leads, then radio back to me. Is that understood?’

  ‘Don’t worry, sir. We’ll find them or die trying.’

  After figuring out a way to get to Switzerland, Payne and Jones realized they had a decision to make, one that was more important than where they were going to spend the night. The sole reason they were in this mess was their agreement with Manzak and Buckner. Now that they were dead, Payne and Jones had to decide if they wanted to stay involved.

  ‘What do you think?’ Payne asked. ‘Have we completed our end of the deal?’

  ‘Technically, I’d say yes. We found Boyd and delivered him to Manzak, just like we agreed. Of course, you did kill Manzak during the exchange.’

  ‘Hey! Don’t pin this all on me. You blew up their chopper. Then stole another.’

  ‘Yeah, but only after they trashed our Ferrari. Come on, someone had to pay for that.’

  Payne didn’t want to think about the car because his gut told him he was going to pay for it. ‘So what do you think?’ Payne asked again. ‘Should we stay involved with this mess?’

  ‘I think we better. At least until we know who’s running things and why they wanted us involved. I mean, if we don’t, we’re gonna have to watch our backs for a very long time.’

  46

  Küsendorf, Switzerland

  (eighty-two miles southeast of Bern)

  Clinging to the southern slopes of the Lepontine Alps, Küsendorf is a village of nearly 2,000 people in Ticino, the southernmost canton (or state) in Switzerland. Known primarily for its scenic views and local brand of Swiss cheese, Küsendorf is also the home of the Ulster Archives, one of the finest private collections of rare documents in the world.

  The manuscripts themselves are housed in a well-guarded chalet. Built as a temporary haven for Austrian philanthropist Conrad Ulster, it eventually became his permanent home. During the early 1930s, Ulster, an avid collector of rare artifacts, sensed the political instability in his country and realized there was a good chance that his prized library would be seized by the Nazis. To protect himself and his books, he smuggled his collection across the Swiss border in railcars, hidden under thin layers of lignite, a low-quality brown coal, and dropped from public view until after World War II. He eventually died in 1964 but expressed his utmost thanks to the people of Switzerland by donating his estate to his adopted hometown of Küsendorf – provided that they keep his collection intact and accessible to the world’s finest academic minds.

  Payne wasn’t sure if his ragtag group of fugitives would qualify under those high standards, but they were planning to find out the instant the facility opened in the morning. While they waited, he booked a large suite at a local lodge and bribed the night manager to open the lobby store so they could get a fresh set of clothes and something to eat. They took an hour to get cleaned up, then met in the main room of their suite to discuss Boyd’s affiliation with the CIA.

  Boyd said, ‘I realize I don’t possess the suave looks of a spy. But there’s no need to. The fact is I’ve spent the better part of three decades working at Dover as a professor. The only time I do otherwise is when I’m asked to complete a task. Sometimes it’s something simple like smuggling documents out of a country. Other times it’s more complicated like convincing a diplomat to defect. The truth is, I never know what it’s going to be until I’m notified.’

  Payne asked, ‘And what were you told in this case?’

  ‘That’s the amazing thing – this isn’t a case. This was strictly an academic dig. Or at least it was supposed to be. This had nothing to do with a CIA agenda. Absolutely nothing.’

  Payne grimaced. ‘See, that’s where I’m having a problem. Unless I’m mistaken, most academic digs don’t involve helicopters, guns, and exploding buses. Right?’

  Boyd was about to explain the legend of the Catacombs when he realized he could do better. Instead of dealing in myths and theories, he could use Maria’s video as the ultimate visual aid. Payne and Jones watched, speechless, as the tape documented the grandeur of the Catacombs and the bronze casing of the Tiberius scroll. Boyd chirped in whenever he felt it was necessary, but the truth was they barely listened to him, for the details on the screen were more than enough to convince them that Boyd and Maria weren’t a modern-day Bonnie and Clyde.

  When the video ended, Jones focused his attention on Boyd. ‘Back in Milan you said something about your discovery killing a religion. What were you talking about? I didn’t see anything on this tape that would have a negative effect on the Church.’

  Boyd shook his head. ‘The last object you saw – the bronze cylinder we found – contained a papyrus scroll with a very significant message. A message that casts doubt over the entire world of Christianity. If made public, people would simply stop believing. Churches would crumble. Coffers would turn to dust. In a word, ruin – both spiritual and financial.’

  Jones glanced at Maria, then back at Boyd. ‘That seems a bit dramatic, doesn’t it? I mean, I’m not the most religious guy in the world, but even if I was, I certainly don’t think an ancient piece of paper would have that much effect on my beliefs. If any at all.’

  ‘Well,’ Boyd sneered, ‘we’ll have to see about that. You wait right there, and I shall fetch the document that will make you feel the fool.’

  Maria kept quiet until Boyd left the room. Then she apologized for Boyd’s tone. ‘Don’t take that personally. I just think it’s his way to blow off steam… Besides, the fact is you should have some doubts about this. I know I did – even about the Catacombs themselves. Of course, there’s nothing like some visual proof to contradict a childhood of lectures.’

  Jones smiled. ‘A childhood? Just how long have you known Dr Boyd?’

  ‘Oh, not his lectures. My father’s. He’s always been a disbeliever when it came to the Catacombs. And trust me, his words carry more weight than most. He’s something of an expert.’

  There was something about the way she said ‘expert’ that made Jones flash back to their conversation in Milan. Maria Magdalena Pelati. Her name was Pelati, and her father was an expert on Orvieto. Suddenly, Jones realized that wasn’t a coincidence.

  ‘Maria,’ he stuttered, ‘is your father’s name Benito?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, confused. ‘How did you know?’

  Jones rubbed his eyes. ‘Holy shit! You’re his daughter. Benito Pelati’s daughter!’

  Payne winced. ‘What? Why didn’t you tell us you were his daughter?’

  ‘I didn’t know you knew who he was. Besides, what does he have to do with anything?�
��

  Payne looked at her in disbelief. ‘You can’t be that naive. He has everything to do with this. He’s the goddamned godfather of Orvieto! He runs the whole town.’

  Boyd heard the commotion and emerged from the other room. ‘People, what is it?’

  Payne answered. ‘We just found out who she is. She’s Benito Pelati’s daughter.’

  ‘And that upsets you? Why would that upset you?’

  Payne gaped at his response. ‘You gotta be kidding me! Her father runs Orvieto. He controls its security. You don’t think that’s relevant?’ He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. ‘Did it ever occur to you that the soldiers who shot at you in Orvieto might’ve been working for Benito? That maybe they shot at you because they didn’t want you digging there?’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Boyd scoffed. ‘His office gave us permission to dig there in the first place. You can’t start digging without the appropriate paperwork. If you did, you’d be arrested on the spot.’

  Permission? They had permission? That didn’t make sense to Payne. If Benito Pelati was trying to protect his reputation like Frankie claimed, then why would he allow anyone to dig in Orvieto? And of all the archaeologists in the world, why his daughter? Wouldn’t he look even more foolish if his own child – his own female child – showed him up in the public eye?

  Then again, maybe she was selected because she was a relative. Maybe Benito knew the Catacombs were there all along and figured if Maria made the discovery then he could bask in her spotlight. Benito could tell the media that he had discovered new evidence about the Catacombs and sent his own child into Orvieto to uncover the truth once and for all.

  Payne and Jones discussed the possibilities until Boyd changed the subject, assuring them that there was something more important to discuss. The message on the scroll.

  ‘Jonathon,’ he said, ‘I was wondering if you could assist me for a moment. I’m afraid I’ve forgotten the exact terms that your friend Manzak shouted at us in Milan, something about fighting a war. Do you recall with any clarity what he said?’

  Payne nodded. ‘There was no compassion during the Crusades, nor during this holy war.’

  ‘Holy war, yes!’ Boyd jotted the phrase. ‘And Christ? What did he say of Christ?’

  ‘Something about how I thought he was fighting for Christ. Then he said he didn’t care about Christ because he knew what actually happened back then and realized who the real hero was.’

  ‘Real hero! Yes, those were his words! Splendid job, just splendid!’

  ‘And that means something to you?’

  ‘It might. It just might.’ He flipped to a clean sheet of paper. ‘And once I left, did he say anything else? Anything about God, or scrolls, or this holy war?’

  Payne looked back on his conversation with Manzak and tried to recall what he’d said. Ultimately the tough part of being an interrogator is sorting through all the nonsense in order to expose value. ‘He said something about the truth at one point that kind of confused me.’

  ‘The truth?’ Boyd glanced at Maria for help. The term didn’t make any sense to her, either.

  So Payne continued. ‘He said his pain would be temporary because he knew the truth and assured me that my pain would be eternal because I didn’t.’

  ‘Is that what he told you, that he already knew the truth?’

  ‘Or words to that effect.’

  ‘How bloody confusing! If he already knows what the scroll says, then there must be more than one. But how?’

  Maria spoke up. ‘If Tiberius sent multiple scrolls to Paccius in England, couldn’t Paccius have sent several scrolls back to Rome describing his success?’

  ‘Paccius?’ Jones mumbled. ‘Tiberius?’

  ‘Of course!’ Boyd exclaimed. ‘How foolish of me! Paccius would certainly feel the need to update the emperor on everything that he accomplished in Jerusalem, and anyone reading those messages would become fully aware of their plot – even if they had no knowledge of our scroll!’

  ‘But wouldn’t –’

  ‘Hold up!’ Payne demanded. ‘You two are getting way ahead of us. You’re starting to talk about other scrolls before you’ve even explained this one.’

  Jones nodded. ‘Jon’s right. If you want our help, you have to fill us in. And the only way to do that is to start at the beginning.’

  ‘That might take a while.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Payne assured Boyd. ‘We bought ourselves some extra time at the airport.’

  Lars knew his commander was expecting an update, but the truth was, he didn’t want to deal with him. At least not yet, not with such disappointing news.

  At first he thought their mission was going to be simple, especially when they learned that Payne had used his credit card to buy four tickets to Geneva at the local train station. Unfortunately, while they were busy flagging down the angry conductor near Fribourg, they received a report that Jones and Boyd had both rented cars from an agency back in Bern. Confused, he ordered half his men back and told the others to continue their search of the train.

  But that was only the beginning.

  Before his men returned, Lars was informed that Maria Pelati had rented a limo to Zürich, and any attempts to contact her driver would be pointless, because of cellular interference in the Alps. Then he was told an American named Otto Buckner, a gentleman matching Payne’s description, had purchased eight pairs of tickets on eight different buses, and all of them were currently on the road and heading in opposite directions around Switzerland.

  Of course what Lars didn’t know was that all of those purchases were false leads. The truth was that Payne and Jones had found their transportation in the long-term parking area at the Bern airport. They simply waited for a businessman to pull into the lot, then had Maria flirt with him to obtain his travel information. Once she discovered he was flying to Paris and would be gone for an entire week, Payne and Jones knew they could take his BMW to Küsendorf and wouldn’t have to worry about the car being reported stolen for days.

  Dr Boyd managed to explain everything they needed to know: his discovery in Bath, his theories on Emperor Tiberius, and his translation of the scroll. Then, once he had answered all of their questions, Maria pointed out the mystery of the laughing man, described the statue on the roof of Il Duomo, and gave them some facts about Tiberius’s right-hand man, General Paccius.

  Needless to say, their heads were swimming at the end of the session.

  Just to be fair, though, they returned the favor by briefing them on their backgrounds, their deal with Manzak and Buckner, the cover-ups at the crime scenes, and everything else they could remember. By the time they finished, there were only two things that everyone was able to agree on. One, all of them were baffled. And two, if they had any hope of learning anything at the Ulster Archives, they needed to get some sleep.

  Because tomorrow would be filled with even more excitement than today.

  47

  Nick Dial rented a hotel room a few blocks from the crime scene so he could walk to Fenway in the middle of the night if he felt the urge to reexamine the evidence. And the truth was, he probably would, since his body was still on European time. Or was it African time? Honestly, he didn’t know, since he’d passed through eight different time zones in the last day alone.

  Dial checked his watch and decided he might be able to catch Cardinal Rose at the Vatican. They hadn’t spoken since Tuesday, and he was hoping Rose had found some additional information on Father Jansen. He already knew that Jansen was affiliated with the Pontifical Biblical Commission (PBC), though he didn’t know his exact role. Dial needed to know if Jansen was interning with a cardinal from Denmark or Finland, or if his position was more substantial.

  The phone rang eight times before someone answered. ‘This is Cardinal Rose.’

  ‘Joe? This is Nick Dial at Interpol.’

  ‘Nick! I was wondering when you were going to get ahold of me. I left several messages.’

  ‘Sorry about th
at. It’s been a busy couple of days.’

  ‘CNN just reported that another body was found in Boston. Is that true?’

  ‘Very true. I just left Fenway Park.’

  ‘Was the victim another priest?’

  ‘Nope. This time it was a Pope.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  Dial clarified his statement. ‘The victim was Orlando Pope, a ballplayer for the Yankees.’

  Rose took a few seconds to absorb the news. ‘That can’t be a coincidence.’

  ‘Probably not.’

  ‘Was there another note?’

  Dial grinned. ‘Are you sure that you’re a cardinal? You sound more like a cop.’

  ‘Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. It’s just that I’m trying to get a clear picture. I figure, with my knowledge of the Vatican and your knowledge of the case, we might be able to help each other.’

  ‘Speaking of which, what did you learn about Father Jansen?’

  ‘Nothing useful, I’m afraid. I talked to all my friends on the PBC, and they were saddened by the loss. It seems Erik was one of the good ones, one of those people that everyone knew and liked. In fact, the more I learned about him, the more I regretted not knowing him.’

  ‘What about his job? Did you find out what he did?’

  ‘A little bit of everything. Part clerical, part researcher, part messenger. He was a jack-of-all-trades, just trying to learn the ropes.’

  ‘What about funny business? Sex, drugs, anything?’

  Rose took a deep breath. ‘The kid was clean.’

  Dial made a note to himself. ‘So this wasn’t about him. That’s what you’re telling me, right? Father Jansen was the victim, but it wasn’t about him.’

  Rose nodded. ‘That would be my guess.’

  ‘What about the Vatican? Anything going on that I should know about?’

  ‘What are you implying? That we had something to do with it?’

  Dial shook his head. ‘I’m not saying that at all. I’m just wondering if there’s anything going on that I should be aware of. Any scandals? Controversies? Bitter feuds? Give me some help, Joe. People are dying, and I don’t know why.’