Sign of the Cross

by Chris Kuzneski

  But Payne chose not to answer. Instead, he simply leaned back and laughed as Maria, Ulster, and Boyd tried to attach meaning to Payne’s lucky discovery.

  54

  Frankie was the official spokesman for Università Cattolica, so he was well-known at the campus police building. He nodded at the man behind the front desk, a sergeant who had more important things to worry about than the midget from the PR office. It was the reaction that Frankie had hoped for. If his plan was going to work, he needed to be left alone for the next few minutes.

  After checking the roll-call sheet, Frankie knew which officers were gone for the day and went to one of their offices. Acting quickly, he turned on the computer and accessed the police database, which allowed him to search for the identity of the men who died in Orvieto.

  Shortly after spotting the first victim, Frankie found visual proof of a second soldier twenty feet away. That meant four people had died in the accident, not two, a fact that struck Frankie as suspicious. What were the two soldiers doing at the time of the crash? And why in the world were they outside the helicopter? That didn’t make sense. Neither did the cover-up in the middle of the night. Why remove the wreckage before anyone had a chance to examine it?

  From his perspective, it reeked of conspiracy, even though he didn’t have much to go on.

  He scanned the photo of the first corpse into the police computer, then narrowed the parameters of his search by eliminating men over forty-five years old. It was tough to determine the climber’s exact age because of his bruised and bloodied features, yet Frankie assumed that he had to be young. An officer with any seniority wouldn’t have been climbing the cliff face.

  Pictures started flashing across the screen. Sometimes they lingered for an instant as the program examined distinguishing marks on each person

  – the slope of the man’s brow, the curve of his jaw, the length of his nose – only to be discounted a half second later. This went on for several minutes. Face after face whizzed by like passengers on a speeding train until the computer beeped, a sound that told him it had found a name.

  Jean Keller, thirty-three, was born and educated in Switzerland, then moved to Rome in his early twenties to join the Guardia Svizzera, an elite fighting unit known as the Swiss Guard. According to tradition, the Guard had only one mission – to protect the pope – although Frankie couldn’t understand what that had to do with modern-day Orvieto. In fact, he was so confused by the guard’s dossier he double-checked Keller’s address and read the details of his career before he was finally convinced that Keller was a member of the Guard.

  Which left Frankie with even more questions than he had started out with.

  But instead of jumping to conclusions, he scanned the next picture into the computer and started a second search. The details of this photo weren’t as clear as the first one – Keller was in the sunlight, whereas this victim was in the shadows – but he still hoped to find something.

  Ten minutes later Frankie found the type of data he was looking for, evidence so shocking it made him run to the phone.

  The picture of the Lipizzaners had been hanging on Ulster’s wall for decades. He had passed it thousands of times and had never noticed anything other than the stallions themselves. At least not until Payne pointed out the statue of the laughing man behind the horses. A statue that decorated a famous Viennese building known as the Hofburg.

  As Boyd, Maria, and Jones argued its significance, Ulster went downstairs to dig up information on the photograph. He knew his grandfather had taken the picture in the 1930s. What he didn’t know was if the statue was still in Vienna or if it had been a casualty of World War II. But even if that was the case, they still had visual evidence of the laughing man and could always contact historians at the Hofburg for additional information.

  Strangely, while excitement erupted around Payne, he found himself sitting in the corner, trying to decide if he wanted to stay involved. Two weeks ago he and Jones were eating lunch in Pittsburgh. Now they were in one of Europe’s premiere research facilities looking for evidence that would obliterate the world’s most popular religion.

  Did he really want to be a part of this?

  And if so, which side should he be fighting for? For the Christians or the Romans?

  On the surface, it seemed like a no-brainer. He should be fighting for Christ, right? Yet this issue wasn’t as black-and-white as it seemed. What if they found indisputable evidence that Tiberius had pulled this off, that he handpicked Jesus as the Messiah and managed to trick the masses of Judea? If so, what was the morally responsible thing to do? Should he allow Boyd and Maria to announce their findings? Or should he do everything in his power to suppress it? Should he call the Pentagon and ask for their advice? Or should he call a priest and ask for his?

  Anyway, he was about to ask Jones for his thoughts on the topic when his cell phone started to ring. Payne checked the caller ID and saw an unfamiliar number. An international number. He showed it to Jones, and he didn’t recognize it, either.

  Payne asked, ‘Are you sure your encryption program will work?’

  Jones nodded. Several weeks ago he placed a microchip in Payne’s phone that prevented it from being traced – something to do with tricking the relay stations into misinterpreting his signal location. Ultimately it prevented his cell phone from being used like a homing beacon. ‘The chip should buy you a minute. Maybe more. It all depends on who’s looking for you. To be safe, hang up within forty-five seconds.’

  Payne hit the timer on his watch then answered the phone. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Signor Payne? Is that you?’

  He recognized the sound of Frankie’s voice. ‘Yes, it’s me.’

  ‘Oh, I so glad. I no sure you gonna answer the phone.’

  ‘No time for small talk, Frankie. This call can be traced.’

  ‘But this be important. Life or death.’

  Payne glanced at his watch. ‘If I hang up, wait an hour before calling back. Got it?’

  ‘Si, no problem. One hour.’

  ‘So, are you all right?’

  ‘Si, signor, I be fine. It’s you and D.J. that I be worried about.’

  ‘Us? Why are you worried about us?’

  ‘I just learn something you not know.’

  Twenty-five seconds left.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I know why they kill your American friend.’

  Payne raised an eyebrow. ‘Friend? You mean Barnes?’

  ‘Yes, the red-necked fat man. Is that how you say?’

  Twenty seconds.

  ‘Frankie, I thought I told you to stay out of this. It’s not safe.’

  ‘Yes, and not for you either. I learn why they hide bodies.’

  ‘Bodies? What bodies? What are you talking about?’

  ‘When I look closer at film, I see them. There be two bodies at crash. One, two!’

  ‘Yeah, the pilot and the shooter.’

  ‘No, signor, not inside. Outside.’

  Ten seconds.

  ‘Outside? What do you mean? Outside the chopper?’

  ‘Si! Like they fell from cliff.’

  ‘There were four corpses? Two inside and two outside?’

  Five seconds.

  ‘Si! And you no believe who one of them be!’

  ‘Who? Tell me who!’

  ‘I go to police station and I –’

  ‘The names!’ Payne demanded. ‘Tell me the names!’

  Unfortunately, the second hand on his watch hit zero before Frankie could reply.

  ‘Shit!’ Payne cursed as he hung up the phone. He didn’t want to hang up, but he had to. It was either that or risk being found. ‘Why didn’t he say the damn –’ Payne stopped his rant midstream and took a deep breath. It didn’t help that everyone was staring at him.

  Jones asked, ‘What did Frankie say?’

  Payne focused on Boyd and Maria, hoping to catch their reaction. ‘It turns out Dr Boyd’s toolbox was more deadly than we thought
. Frankie put Barnes’s photographs under the microscope and discovered four people had died. Two in the chopper and two on the rock face.’

  Maria said, ‘But that doesn’t make sense. Why were they there if they had a helicopter?’

  ‘They were coming to kill you, up close and personal.’

  ‘But the guy in the chopper had the gun.’

  ‘Don’t kid yourself, Maria. They all had guns.’ Payne grabbed a sheet of paper and made a simple diagram. ‘Classic two-by-two formation. The men on the cliff were the assault team. The watchdogs in the chopper were backups.’ He drew a few more lines. ‘They planned to enter the Catacombs, making sure that they silenced you. It’s a good thing that Dr Boyd heard the chopper, otherwise they would’ve picked you off and left you to rot with all the others.’

  ‘But how did they –’

  ‘Yeah,’ Payne said. ‘If your discovery was such a secret, who told them you were there?’

  Boyd looked at Payne, speechless. So did Maria.

  Jones said, ‘Back in Milan, you told us that you had permission to dig in Orvieto. Yet our friend said it was common knowledge that Benito Pelati –’ He looked at Maria. ‘Your dad wouldn’t grant access to anyone… I take it you sweet-talked your old man.’

  Maria blushed. ‘I did no such thing. I’d never ask him for a favor. Ask Dr Boyd. He wanted me to call him the moment we got to Milan, but I refused. I’d rather die than go to him for help.’

  ‘That’s a definite possibility if we don’t find out who’s after you.’ Payne stared at Boyd, who looked frazzled. ‘Doc, how’d you get the digging permit? Or was that just a big ol’ lie? You didn’t you have one, did you?’

  Sheepishly, Boyd glanced at Maria. ‘I swear to you, if I had known about the acrimony with your father, I never would’ve used your name to…’

  ‘What?’ Her eyes filled with anger. ‘You used my name for what?’

  ‘To secure the permit.’

  She jumped out of her seat. ‘Santa Maria! I don’t believe this!’

  ‘Maria, listen to me. I never talked to your father. I swear I didn’t. I tried to get the paperwork through the proper channels, but –’

  ‘But what? You got turned down so you decided to use me!’

  ‘No, it wasn’t like that –’

  ‘You swore that you invited me because I was your best student, not because of my name. Now I find out that was the only qualification you were looking for!’

  ‘Maria, I swear that wasn’t the –’

  Payne grabbed Boyd before he could say another word and eased him into the far corner. Meanwhile, Jones put his arm around Maria and tried to comfort her. It was a good move on his part because the last thing they needed was for her to start hating Boyd.

  ‘Doc,’ Payne said, ‘you can talk to her later, after she calms down. But right now I need you to focus on one thing. Who gave you permission to dig in Orvieto?’

  ‘What?’ he asked, distracted.

  ‘You said you never talked to Maria’s father about Orvieto. So who gave you the permit?’

  Boyd blinked a few times. ‘Some chap named Dante who works for her father. I told him that Maria and I were looking to dig in Orvieto, and he said he’d take care of it. A week later he rang me and told me that he’d made all the necessary arrangements.’

  ‘So you never talked to Benito?’

  ‘No, I swear, Dante handled everything. The permits, the signatures, the guards. He cut through all the red tape for me in less than a week.’

  ‘And you’re sure the permit was authentic?’

  ‘Of course it was authentic. We were required to present the bloody thing the moment we arrived in Orvieto. Moreover, the guards double-checked it before we were allowed to dig. I’m telling you, we had permission to be there!’

  Payne studied Boyd’s eyes and could tell that he was telling the truth. Up until now Payne kind of assumed that Benito Pelati was behind all the violence in Orvieto. He figured they were trying to keep the Catacombs a secret and had done everything in their power to stop Boyd and Maria from telling the world about their discovery. But since they had permission to dig, Payne no longer knew what to think. So he said, ‘What does your gut tell you about this?’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About the violence. Who tried to kill you in Orvieto? Who blew up the bus?’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘Come on, Doc. I don’t believe that for a second. You’re in the CIA, for God’s sake. You have to have a theory. The CIA always has a theory.’

  Boyd shook his head. ‘Not this time. I’ve been too wrapped up in the mystery of the Catacombs to consider my personal safety. My sole focus has been on the scroll.’

  ‘The scroll? Someone’s trying to kill you, and your focus is on the scroll? Give me a break! I don’t buy that at all. At some point self-survival has to enter your mind. It has to. That’s just human nature.’

  ‘Really?’ he argued. ‘If self-survival is so important, then why are you here?’

  It was the question that Payne had been struggling with for the past few days. And the truth was, he didn’t have a solid answer until Boyd forced him to respond. ‘As crazy as this sounds, I think I’m here to figure out why I’m here.’

  ‘A bit of a paradox, wouldn’t you say?’

  Payne nodded at Boyd’s assessment. ‘But if you think about it, it makes sense. Manzak wanted me involved in this mess for some crazy reason. Now I feel obligated to figure out why.’

  55

  Once everyone calmed down, Payne told Jones about Manzak and Buckner’s fingerprints. Jones’s computer was still in the Roman Collection Room, so they headed upstairs to see if Randy Raskin had sent the results from the Pentagon. Thankfully, there was an e-mail waiting for them.

  hey guys,

  i checked our records. neither dude is cia. definitely not the real manzak and buckner. you guys should’ve been more thorough… i ran their prints through some european databases and got 2 hits. the results are interesting. what are you guys involved in now?

  r.r.

  p.s. did i mention you guys should’ve been more thorough?

  Payne read the message over Jones’s shoulder and sensed his stress over the thorough line. If there’s one thing that Jones prided himself in, it was his thoroughness. Then again, that’s probably the reason that Raskin mentioned it twice. Why have friends if you can’t bust their balls? Still, Payne didn’t want Jones to get upset, so he said, ‘Someone at the Pentagon needs to show Raskin how to use the shift key. Seriously, how hard is it to capitalize?’

  Jones laughed as he clicked on the first attachment. ‘OK, who do we have first?’

  Sam Buckner’s ugly mug filled the screen. Or in reality Otto Granz, because that was his real name. Born near Vienna, he entered the Austrian army at the age of eighteen for his mandatory six-month stint and decided to stay on for an additional ten years. From there he bounced around Europe, doing all kinds of mercenary work, before he took permanent residence in Rome.

  Last employer: unknown. Last whereabouts: unknown.

  ‘We should tell Raskin he can update the second category. Otto’s on a slab in Milan.’

  Jones nodded. ‘We probably should, just to be thorough.’

  Payne laughed, while Jones opened the second attachment. They knew Manzak was running the show, so in their minds the organization he worked for would be the key to everything. ‘Richard Manzak, come on down. You’re the next contestant on the –’

  And that’s when they saw the name. A name that ended their joking.

  ‘No way,’ Jones groaned. ‘You gotta be shitting me.’

  Payne looked at Manzak’s face. It was definitely him. Payne never forgot a guy he had recently killed. Jones knew it was him, too. But it took him longer to accept it. Mostly because he had the hots for Maria and realized he had to confront her with the new information. He had to march right up to her and ask her which side she was on. And her reaction would be the key. It
would tell them everything they needed to know. Whose side was she really on?

  Jones skimmed through Manzak’s personnel file as he printed a copy as evidence. When he was done, he said, ‘Let’s get her. We need to talk to her now.’

  Payne nodded. ‘Lead the way. I got your back.’

  Little did Payne know how prophetic his words would be.

  As they hit the front stairs, Payne glanced out the window at a distant peak, half expecting to see snow, even though it was the middle of July. Instead, what he saw was a blur in the corner of the property grounds. Something human. Someone scrambling for cover.

  ‘Hold up,’ he said, grabbing Jones’s shoulder. ‘Check three o’clock.’

  That was all it took. One simple phrase, and he entered war mode. From researcher to soldier in half a second, like Payne had flipped a switch in the back of his head. No debating or questioning. He trusted him enough to know if Payne was worried, then he should be, too.

  They were halfway down the stairs, so Jones hustled to the bottom while Payne ran back to the top, figuring two perspectives were better than one. There was a vertical notch in the wood paneling of the left-hand wall. Payne squeezed his body into the crevice, hoping to get a clean view while still being protected. The sun was fading in the western sky, which meant the overhead lights were bound to give their position away on the stairs. Payne searched for a light switch but saw none. ‘What do you see? Anything?’

  Jones was blessed with eyes that allowed him to see things that other people couldn’t. That was one of the reasons he was such an effective sniper. While most soldiers were busy adjusting their scopes, Jones was pulling his trigger. ‘Not yet… Wait! We have a man down. Eleven o’clock, near the boulder.’

  The notch in the wall obstructed everything to Payne’s left. He dropped to the floor and scurried to the opposite side, where he verified what Jones had spotted. There was a guard lying facedown. The back of his shirt was stained red. ‘Get Boyd and Maria. I’ll get Petr.’