Sign of the Cross

by Chris Kuzneski

  ‘My turn,’ Maria said boldly. ‘Why was my mother killed?’

  ‘Why?… Because of you.’

  ‘What? What do you mean?’

  He raised his finger, telling her to stop. ‘Did you translate the scroll?’

  Maria wanted to lie. Yet she knew if he sensed it, he’d stop giving her information about her mother. And that was something she couldn’t risk. To her, the mystery of her mother’s death was more important than the secret of the scroll. ‘Yes. We translated it in Milan.’

  He had expected as much. ‘Then you know the truth. The hero of the crucifixion wasn’t Christ. The real hero was Pilate, your ancestor. His con created the biggest religion of all time.’

  She shrugged, refusing to give him a reaction. ‘Why was she killed for me?’

  ‘Didn’t you hear what I said? You’re related to Pontius Pilate. He was your forefather.’

  ‘So? I’m more concerned with my mother. Why did you kill her?’

  He grinned at her audacity. He decided to reward it with the answer. ‘Why? Because she wanted you back. You were her little girl… From the moment you went to school, she became increasingly difficult to handle. She knew I wasn’t going to give in to her, so she decided to apply some outside pressure, hoping to change my mind.’

  ‘What kind of pressure?’

  Benito shook his head. Her turn was over. ‘When Roberto was tortured, what did he reveal?’

  ‘I don’t know. I wasn’t there.’

  ‘Maria,’ he said sternly, putting his hand on the glass shard.

  ‘I’m serious. I wasn’t there. That’s why Payne cut off Roberto’s finger for identification. If I’d been there, I would’ve identified him myself.’

  Benito considered this, then nodded.

  ‘What kind of pressure?’ she repeated.

  ‘Your mother found information about the Catacombs in my office. She threatened to go public unless I let you return home.’

  Finally, everything started to make sense. That’s the reason her mother had called her at school and told her to pack her bags. She figured the info about the Catacombs would be enough to buy Maria a ticket home. Obviously, she was wrong. ‘So you had her killed?’

  ‘No, I killed her myself. Right here in this room.’ He smiled, thinking back to that day. She was his wife, so he felt his actions were well within his rights. Just like putting the family dog to sleep. ‘No woman was going to tell me what to do. Not in my home.

  Not over Orvieto. This was my family’s secret, not hers. She had no business getting involved in this. She deserved to die.’

  73

  Payne briefed Nick Dial en route to Lake Albano, warning him what type of guards Benito Pelati had on his payroll. Ex-military, ex–Swiss Guard, the type of guys that two ex-MANIACs knew how to handle. Dial realized he’d be screwed without their help, so he said a few words and made them official Interpol deputies. Somehow Payne and Jones didn’t think it was very legal.

  Dial called for reinforcements, too, but they managed to beat the local police to the scene. Too bad. They weren’t waiting for anyone. Not with Boyd and Maria in captivity.

  An iron gate greeted them at the front of the property, as did an empty guard station. Payne helped Jones and Dial over the wall before he climbed it on his own. The yard was dark and spacious. They dashed through the bushes and trees, keeping an eye out for the security staff. They weren’t even sure that anyone was home until they heard a gunshot. Then another. Two identical sounds coming from somewhere inside the house. It was time to make their move. They didn’t know who was involved or what they were facing, but they didn’t care. Gunshots in a house were never good. So they decided to put a stop to them.

  Jones led the charge to the front door, while Dial covered his back. Payne crept along the perimeter, looking in windows, trying to get a feel for the interior. He plotted escape routes, spotted weaknesses, estimated room locations and dimensions. Lives were on the line, and he knew it. The more information he had going in, the more corpses they’d have coming out. The enemy’s corpses, not their own. Payne refused to let his guys get killed during missions.

  Payne reached the front porch just as Jones had sprung the lock. Payne briefed them on what he’d seen and volunteered to take the lead. There were no objections. Dial went next, followed by Jones. A sweeping staircase went up both sides of the foyer and met on the second floor. Paintings and statues lined the walls. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, though it gave them no light. They were standing in near darkness, thankful for the faint glow that came from deeper in the house. They decided to follow it.

  Noises could be heard as they moved down the hallway. Screams of agony. Sounds of torture. The crack of fist meeting face. The thud of flesh being pounded. There was no doubt in Payne’s mind that it was Dr Boyd. He was being interrogated. By more than one man. The door to the office was closed and locked. A crack of light was shining around the frame. Its glow had led them to this spot like a beacon.

  Jones examined the lock and realized that it was a hundred years old. A type he had never seen before. He told Payne he might be able to pick it but wasn’t certain. Furthermore, he didn’t know if he could do it quietly. Payne shook his head to let him know it was too risky. Payne felt the same about kicking in the door. He had no experience breaking down something that old. If it didn’t shatter on his first attempt, the element of surprise would be ruined. And since they didn’t know who was inside and what weapons they had, it wasn’t worth the risk.

  Payne turned toward Dial and whispered, ‘We need a mirror. One that’ll fit under the door.’

  He nodded in understanding. ‘Give me two minutes.’

  Before Payne could argue, Dial scampered deeper into the house. Darkness be damned. Safety be damned. The only thing that mattered to Dial was meeting his objective. Ninety seconds later he returned with a chunk of glass from a broken mirror. Payne wondered how he’d shattered it in silence but didn’t have time to ask. Instead, Payne dropped to the floor and slid the glass under the door. By tilting the edge back and forth, he was able to see everything in the office. Boyd was unconscious, blood dripping from his face. Maria sat next to him, being questioned by an old man Payne didn’t recognize. He immediately assumed it was her father.

  Armed guards were positioned throughout the interior. One stood next to Boyd. One stood next to Maria. Another stood behind the old man, watching the interrogation.

  Strangely, Payne didn’t see Dante anywhere. He slid the glass in further, hoping to get a better view of the far corner of the room. His boldness almost backfired when he realized he had pushed the glass between the feet of one of the guards. Unbeknownst to Payne there was a fourth guard standing next to the door. He’d been studying the room through his legs the entire time.

  With his heart in his throat, Payne pulled out the mirror, then dragged Jones and Dial down the hall where he described the layout. Four armed guards. One boss. Two hostages. A couch and some chairs. A large desk. No windows or side doors. One entrance that was being guarded. Boyd was out cold, and Maria was being questioned. No gunshot wounds on either hostage.

  ‘What do we do?’ Dial asked.

  Jones looked at Payne. ‘Fast and hard?’

  Payne nodded. It was their only choice. If they tried to draw the guards out of the office, they might summon additional guards from the lake. Or the fence line. Or somewhere they didn’t know about. And if that happened, they were screwed. On the other hand, if they waited for the local cops to arrive, there was always a chance that one of the hostages could be killed.

  No, they needed to attack. Right away. With lethal force.

  Payne explained what he had in mind, and Dial looked at him like he was crazy. Meanwhile Jones nodded his head, impressed. Not only with Payne’s idea but with the size of his nuts. Regrettably, Payne wouldn’t know if he was stupid or courageous until he saw the outcome. Payne knew they only had one chance at the element of surprise. That meant they had
to get through the door on their first attempt. Simply had to. And picking the lock was out of the question, since a guard was standing next to it. Not only might he hear them, but there was a chance that his ass was actually touching the mechanism that Jones would be working on, meaning the slightest vibration might lead to their deaths.

  On the other hand, Payne wasn’t quite sure if he had the strength to kick down the door. It was big and thick and sat on old iron hinges that looked like they were made by Leonardo da Vinci. Therefore, he had no idea what they could withstand. The same thing with the lock. Would it shatter like a modern one or could it withstand the force of a medieval battering ram?

  Either way, Payne didn’t want the entire success of this mission to ride on his right foot, so he decided to stack the deck in his favor. Instead of attacking the door alone, he told Jones to fire a round into the lock a split second before Payne’s foot made contact with the wood, hoping the gunshot would weaken the bolt. Of course, if Jones fired too late or the bullet ricocheted back toward Payne, the odds were pretty good that he’d lose some toes.

  Oh well, Payne joked, there was always a chance that they would grow back.

  Without delay Jones positioned his gun while Payne measured his approach. He had room for three steps before he hit the door. Three strides that would determine everything. Dial stood behind Jones, ready to charge into the room and take out the guard by Boyd. Jones would get the one by Maria. And Payne would take out the one behind Benito. The fourth guard, the one by the door, was the wild card. Payne was hoping he would eliminate him on impact. If not, one of them would have to pull double duty. And the odds were pretty good it would be Payne. Not that he was complaining. Situations like this had always been his specialty.

  Anyhow, since Dial was the one with the least to do, Payne put him in charge of counting.

  Three. Jones pointed his weapon at the door lock.

  Two. Payne anchored his foot against the back wall like it was a starting block.

  One. He burst from his stance, ready to strike.

  Jones fired his gun a split second before Payne made contact with the door. Metal groaned and wood cracked as the door slammed into the back of the fourth guard, knocking him to the floor. Somehow Payne kept his balance, allowing him to lead the charge into the room. Jones and Dial followed, bursting into the room with their weapons drawn.

  Their attack was so precise that they were able to hit the guards before they knew what happened. Payne clubbed his target with an elbow and followed it with a knee to the chin, knocking him on top of the fourth guard who was sprawled unconscious on the floor. Partially because of the impact of the door. Partially because Jones’s gunshot had gone right through the door lock and into the guard’s ass.

  Without delay, Payne grabbed both of the guards’ guns, then checked on his team. Jones had eliminated his man with a kick to the throat then had gone after the old man in the chair. Dial, on the other hand, was struggling. He was playing martial arts patty-cake with his target until Payne clubbed the guard with the butt of his gun and threw him face-first against the wall.

  Smiling, Dial gave Payne a look that said, My clients are normally dead when I show up.

  Payne gave him a look that said, Mine aren’t.

  Meanwhile, Jones was all over Benito. He dislodged his weapon before wrapping his arm around Benito’s neck and giving it a tug. One little squeeze, and the old man stopped fighting. No threats. No struggle. No bribes of any kind. In Jones’s mind, it was kind of pathetic. He was expecting so much more from the notorious Benito Pelati.

  ‘Kill him,’ Maria begged from across the room. She was tied to her chair, staring at her father. The crazed look in her eyes told everyone she was serious.

  She wanted Jones to snap Benito’s neck like a wishbone. ‘He killed my mother. He killed my brother. He deserves to die.’

  ‘You’re probably right, but –’

  ‘But what? Don’t you get it? They will never put him in jail. He knows too much about the Church! They won’t press charges against him. No one will press charges! He’ll be freed like you were in Pamplona.’

  Payne listened to the two of them as he searched the room, making sure there were no surprises. He found one, though, behind the desk. Dante was lying there in a puddle of blood.

  ‘Maria,’ Jones argued. ‘I wish I could, but I can’t. I just can’t –’

  ‘Then let me do it! Just untie me. We’ll say he died during the rescue. No one will know.’

  ‘I’ll know,’ Dial said from across the room. ‘And since I’m in charge, I’d have to stop you.’

  ‘Besides,’ Payne said as he checked Dante’s pulse. ‘You’re wrong about your brother. He’s still alive.’

  The police arrived a few minutes later, giving Dial a chance to call the NCB officers at the airport. They informed him that one of the crucifixion crews had been caught and were spilling their guts about the other three teams. Dial figured with a little luck that all of them would be captured by daylight. And the whole crucifixion ordeal would be over.

  ‘And what about me?’ Boyd demanded. His left eye was swollen shut. Gauze covered the gash in his forehead. ‘When will I get my reputation back?’

  Dial grimaced. ‘That one might take a little longer. I’m working on it, though.’

  ‘I should bloody well hope so,’ Boyd said, only half kidding. ‘So what are you waiting for? Go work on it. I’ve got things to do and people to meet. I’m a busy man, Mr Dial.’

  Laughing, Dial gave him a mock salute and headed for the dining room.

  ‘Good guy,’ Payne said to Jones, who nodded in full agreement. ‘Thank God he’s gone.’

  Payne still didn’t know what had happened during the last few hours and was dying to be debriefed, not only about the laughing man but about the Pelati family. The last time they’d seen Dante he was loading Boyd and Maria onto a chopper. Now she was begging a doctor to save her brother’s life as they loaded him into an ambulance.

  Obviously, they’d missed something important.

  The house was abuzz with activity, so they went out by the pool where Dr Boyd filled them in on everything from the shooting to Dante’s hatred of his father. He also told them about his prior chat with Dante, which pissed Payne and Jones off until they realized that it occurred way before the events at Orvieto and had little bearing on their safety. In Boyd’s mind he didn’t know whose side Dante was on until they’d reached the house, so he kept that information to himself.

  ‘Wait a second!’ Jones blurted. ‘You’re telling me we weren’t in danger at the quarry? Come on, I don’t buy that for a second. His guards did not want us to leave that mountain.’

  Payne agreed. ‘He’s right, Doc. I’ve got bruises all over my body to prove it.’

  Boyd frowned, not wanting to talk about injuries, not with his face looking like that. ‘The guards worked for Benito, not for Dante. That forced him to keep up his ruse.’

  Jones scratched his head. ‘If that’s the case, why did Dante bring you two here? For safety’s sake, you’d think this is the last place he’d want to bring you.’

  ‘If he survives, you can ask him yourself. In the meantime, there are more important things to worry about.’ Payne turned toward Boyd. ‘What did you find out about the laughing man?’

  ‘The who?’ Boyd chuckled at his little joke. ‘Ah yes, the mysterious laughing man. It seems that his identity wasn’t so mysterious after all.’

  74

  Nick Dial was tempted to leave the crime scene and drive back to the airport. It pained him to think that one of his suspects was being interrogated by someone other than himself. After all, he was the one who cracked the geographic relevance to the crucifixions, so he wanted to be present for the fireworks. Nothing gave him greater satisfaction than getting a criminal to talk.

  With that in mind, he knew the opportunity to speak with Benito Pelati was one he couldn’t miss. No attorneys were present, and the local cops were too concerned
with collecting evidence to be worried about a simple interview. In their minds Dial had made the bust, so he should get the first crack at Pelati. In fact, they even offered to watch the door as he did.

  Pelati looked like royalty as he entered the back room. His clothes were flawless, and his stride was unrushed. His chin was high in the air as though he was about to address the peasants from the palace balcony. His hands were cuffed yet hidden by the fabric of his jacket, so they did little to shatter the illusion that Pelati strived to maintain. He was a national icon and expected to be treated as such.

  The moment Dial saw him enter the room he knew their conversation was going to be pointless. In his mind he knew there was no way he was going to get anything from Pelati. He tried anyway, asking question after question about Pelati’s family, the crucifixions, and anything else he could think of. But Pelati didn’t flinch. He just sat there, unimpressed, like he was half disappointed that Dial was the best cop that Interpol could scrounge up.

  Thankfully, a knock on the door changed everything. Dial was tempted to ignore it until he heard the door squeak open behind him. ‘What is it?’ he growled. ‘I’m busy here.’

  ‘Sir,’ a cop whispered, ‘there’s a Cardinal Rose to see you. He says it’s urgent.’

  Dial smiled, realizing he’d get to thank the cardinal in person for warning him about the blackmail attempt on the Church. He also knew that Rose might have additional information that he could use when he questioned Pelati. ‘Yeah, that’s fine. Send him back.’

  Though they had never met, Rose wasn’t difficult to spot. Not only was he dressed like a cardinal, wearing a scarlet robe and a red biretta on his head, but his gait was all Texas. He strolled down the hall like a sheriff heading to a gunfight. If the circumstances had been different, Dial would’ve lifted the cardinal’s garb to see if he was wearing spurs.

  ‘Joe, I’m Nick Dial. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’ The two shook hands just around the corner from the interrogation room. ‘So what’s up? I was told you had something urgent to discuss.’