by John Lyman
Looking through the windows of the helicopter, they all stared out at the blackened spot in the distance, a stark reminder of what can happen when a hurtling state-of-the-art piece of modern technology comes into contact with a billion-year-old wall of solid rock at almost five hundred miles per hour.
A knock on the left side of the chopper made everyone inside jump. Turning around, they saw several smiling men and women dressed much like college backpackers on holiday in Europe. A tall, blond-haired man wearing a tie-dyed T-shirt, shorts, and hiking boots, reached out and opened the helicopter’s rear door.
“Professor Wasserman?”
“That would be me,” Lev said, grasping the back of the seat as he climbed from the chopper.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. We’re from the university in Madrid. My name is Dr. Javier Mendoza. These are some of my associates. Please, come with us ... there is no longer any danger from the pathogen.”
Slowly, the surprised group inside the helicopter stepped out to an enthusiastic welcome from what appeared to be a group of academics.
Mendoza walked up to Leo and bowed slightly from the waist as he extended his hand. “You must be Cardinal Leopold Amodeo. I recognize you from your pictures. It’s an honor to meet you, Your Eminence.”
“Thank you. Likewise Javier. Where are all the soldiers?”
“They’re all around us. Their commander has them out patrolling the fields to keep anyone from getting too close to the site. There are several soldiers in that communications van over there watching over us.”
“Is that how you knew who we were?”
Mendoza smiled. “Yes. The Spanish authorities received a call from the Vatican just as the fighters were receiving orders to shoot you out of the sky.”
Nava removed her helmet and threw it into the pilot’s seat while glaring back at Lev. “Sometimes you play it a little too close, Professor. Next time we call ahead.”
“Sorry, Nava. I guess I’m a product of the old school. Back then, Israeli soldiers were taught to think on their feet and take chances. We wouldn’t have won the Six Day War if we had called ahead to our commanders for permission to advance.”
“Excuse me, Doctor,” Alon said, staring at Mendoza’s tie-dyed T-shirt. “But if this site’s safe, why do you still have soldiers patrolling the area?”
“Ah, a good question. You must be a soldier yourself. The soldiers were just preparing to leave when they heard there was a helicopter with Israeli markings headed this way. The army commander thought it might be a cover for terrorists looking to gather samples of the pathogen.” Mendoza paused before looking Lev right in the eye. “We’ve heard rumors that it was artificially engineered.”
Lev cleared his throat and looked at Leo, but the two remained silent. After speaking with one of the female members of the Spanish group, Nava turned and walked back over to them.
“These people are some of Spain’s best scientists. The girl I was just talking to is a microbiologist. They were dropped into the area yesterday in bio-hazard suits to look for signs of the pathogen. They didn’t find anything. Either the virus was never onboard, or it was incinerated in the crash.”
“I think it’s time we offered prayers for Cardinal Orsini and the others who were onboard,” Leo said. “Can we move a little closer to the site?”
Mendoza motioned them toward the grassy mountain pasture. “Of course, Cardinal ... please, follow me.”
“Are you a medical doctor, Javier?”
“I’m an anthropologist. Our group is part of a multi-disciplinary rapid response team formed by the Spanish government to investigate bio-terrorist threats.”
“So you think this was an act of terrorism?”
“Who knows, but after the events in New York and Italy, we’re not taking any chances, especially since this aircraft was flying directly from New York.”
As they neared the site of the crash, they could all smell the unmistakable odor of burnt jet fuel lingering in the air along with the smell of something else not so easily identified. Except for the tail section of the aircraft, none of the other wreckage was recognizable. Looking ahead at the rock wall at the end of the field, they saw the starburst pattern of a high-speed impact and the dark evidence of an intense post-crash fire. Tendril-like sections of burned grass extended outward from the site, along with pieces of metal mixed in with churned and blackened mud still moist from the efforts of the first firefighters at the scene.
Leo walked ahead and stopped. The others watched as he raised his right hand in the sign of the cross and said a brief prayer before motioning them forward. Slowly, hesitantly, they all walked forward across a debris field usually inhabited by grazing sheep. Quickening his pace, Mendoza soon caught up with the cardinal and walked beside him in silence for a moment before speaking. “Our team has been instructed from the highest levels in the Spanish government to give you any assistance that you might need, Your Eminence.”
“Thank you, Javier. Were you able to recover any bodies?”
Mendoza lowered his eyes. “Only parts, Your Eminence. They were removed to the morgue in Barcelona. I’m afraid we’ll have to rely on DNA testing for identification.”
“Anything else?” Alon asked. “Sometimes we find papers from the aircraft scattered around the impact site.”
“We found some napkins, but that was about it. Oh, we also found a small crucifix, but it looked so old we weren’t sure if it was from the crash or had been here in the ground for years. People have lived up here since Medieval times. We sent it to Barcelona with the human remains.”
“What about that?” The others turned to see Nava pointing to the ground twenty yards from the center of the impact zone. Following her gaze, they saw something reflecting the sunlight. There, in a patch of unburned grass, lay a gold ring radiating a bluish light. Looking closer, they saw that the ring held a brilliant blue sapphire.
“We’ve been over this area at least ten times with metal detectors,” Mendoza said, “and the only things we found besides that crucifix were pieces of the aircraft.”
Lev bent down and picked it up. “That’s probably because your detectors weren’t adjusted to look for gold, Doctor. When I was a new archaeologist, I quickly discovered that metal detectors can be very unreliable when it comes to looking for certain metals.” He briefly examined the ring before handing it over to Leo. “Have you ever seen a ring like this?”
Leo raised his right hand. On his ring finger was a ring that looked identical to the one they had just found. “It’s a cardinal’s ring.”
Turning the bent and slightly scorched ring over in his hand, Leo peered down at the inner side of the bezel. “This ring bears the arms of Pope Michael. Each cardinal’s ring is conferred on each cardinal by the pope himself in the consistory in which the new cardinal is named to a particular title. Monetarily, they’re usually of no great value, but these gold rings are always set with a sapphire and bear the arms of the pope conferring them. This is Cardinal Orsini’s ring.”
CHAPTER 19
Sarah Adams peered through a window of the baby blue jet as it broke through the clouds and descended over miles of vineyards tucked between the rocky hills of the Loire Valley. Their descent took them directly over an immense chateau as the little jet made a sweeping, low-level turn and circled down to a private airstrip surrounded by acres of forest.
Sarah continued watching as the plane rumbled across the tarmac and stopped next to a long, dark blue Mercedes limousine. Turning to the short man sitting across from her, she saw that he was staring directly at her with an unwavering gaze. Returning his unconcealed stare, she waited for him to say something, but he remained silent. This guy’s kind of creepy. “Are we in Italy?”
Emilio stood and retrieved his briefcase. “No, my dear. We’re in France.”
“France? I thought you said we were going to the Vatican.”
“Just a brief stopover. Unfortunately, one of our engines seems to have a slight pr
oblem, so we were forced to land here until they can repair it.”
Emilio immediately noticed the first signs of doubt beginning to cross Sarah’s face.
“I can assure you that there is no cause for alarm. A close friend of mine owns a beautiful chateau nearby. As you can see, he’s already sent a car for us. The pilots have informed me that we will be here overnight, so my friend has instructed his staff to prepare a lovely room for you. I’ve been told that their new chef is one of the best in all of France, so you’ll be able to enjoy a nice dinner and finally get some uninterrupted rest. Our plane should be ready in the morning for our flight to Rome.”
“Dinner at a French chateau?” Maybe this guy wasn’t so creepy after all. “That actually sounds pretty good right now. All I’ve had for the past week is hospital food, and I threw most of it in the trash can. It’s totally inedible. You would think they would feed their patients food that was nutritious and tasted good ... like in a restaurant ... something to stimulate your appetite and help you get well, but it just makes you feel worse.”
She saw that the man continued to study her in icy silence. He was obviously not interested in making small talk about hospital food. Sarah decided to probe him with another question.
“Must be nice to have rich friends who own the kind of place where you can just drop in on them at a moment’s notice in your private jet.”
“Yes, such things do seem to make life a little easier.”
This guy was a block of ice.
The two descended the aircraft stairs and entered the back of the limo. After a short drive along a narrow road shaded beneath a canopy of trees, the long car pulled up to the main entrance. Staring up at the front of an enormous French chateau that had remained virtually unchanged since it was constructed in the 16th century, Sarah noticed that its thick stone walls had taken on a golden hue from the slanted rays of the setting sun. Stepping from the car, she was wondering how many sunsets this Renaissance structure had seen over the years when the bark of a large dog startled her. Glancing to her right, she saw a man in a dark suit restraining a massive black dog at the end of a leash.
Sarah’s fear of large dogs caused her to wince as she stepped to the side and followed Emilio up the worn stone steps into the chateau’s grand foyer. Standing just inside the door, she instantly spotted a handsome, dark-haired man with eyes that seemed almost black. His appearance was striking.
Walking toward her, he carried himself with the assurance of someone who was used to getting his way, and an air of power seemed to radiate all around him. Bowing from the waist, he took her hand and bent to kiss it in the manner of a patrician gentleman, all the while watching her response, his dark eyes narrowing in an expression she had seen before on men’s faces—men she had quickly turned down when they had asked her out on a date.
“Good evening, Miss Adams. My name is Rene Acerbi. Welcome to my humble home.”
Before she could utter a reply, a shiver ran down her spine.
CHAPTER 20
After several hours of searching, the two teams at the crash site concluded that, short of digging up the entire area, they had done all they could to uncover anything else of importance.
“We need to think about heading back to the Carmela,” Lev said. “It will be dark soon, and the accident investigation team that just arrived will be moving the rest of the wreckage into a sealed warehouse in Barcelona tonight, so there’s really not much else left for us to do here.”
“Excuse me, Professor,” Mendoza said, “but we were all hoping that you would be our guests this evening down in the village.”
Lev hesitated just long enough for Nava to step forward. “I’ve got more time flying in the dark than I do in daylight. Besides, we haven’t eaten all day.” Nava leaned close and whispered in Lev’s ear. “I’d like Alon to see the village ... I want us to spend our honeymoon here someday.” One look into her pleading eyes made it impossible for him to say no.
“We would be happy to have dinner with you, Javier. Lead the way.”
With that, the two groups piled into several waiting cars and made their way down the twisting mountain road into the village of Setcases. Alongside the main street, a clear mountain stream had been channeled right through the middle of the village, providing a gurgling backdrop to the sights and sounds of the main square as they entered a quaint-looking inn.
Inside, beneath a ceiling lined with carved wooden beams, a long table bathed in candlelight and draped with fine Spanish linen sat in front of a massive stone fireplace that crackled with the drippings from various meats on a spit being roasted over an open fire.
Once seated, the owner and his staff rushed forward with bottles of Spanish wine and an assortment of tapas that included local sausages, olives, sardines, and steaming earthenware bowls full of Trinxat, a traditional Catalan dish made with potatoes and cabbage.
Leo took a large green olive and popped it in his mouth.
“They serve the best Spanish olives in the country here, Cardinal,” Mendoza said, beaming like a proud father.
“I’m relieved to hear there’s been no report of illness in this area, Javier. We were worried when we didn’t see any people in the streets when we flew over earlier.”
“The military told them to remain in their homes until we were sure there was no longer any danger from the pathogen. They were more than happy to oblige.”
Mendoza sat back and surveyed the scene, happy that he had been able to persuade this world-famous group to dine with him and his friends. “I’m still curious, Cardinal. What did you hope to find back at the crash site?”
“To be perfectly honest, Javier, we have no idea. We made this trip at the request of the Holy Father.”
A murmur went up from the Spanish scientists, along with a few gasps from nearby patrons who were listening in on the conversation.
“No idea whatsoever?”
“No. I believe our mission was a matter of faith ... faith in ourselves and faith in God to lead us in the right direction.”
“Surely you must have been looking for something connected to the pathogen, yet there is no evidence of it here.”
“True,” Leo said. “But I believe His Holiness had hoped that we would find something here that would help us in the battle against this new kind of plague. He sent us here for a reason, and he’s never let us down yet.”
Eavesdroppers at the surrounding tables nodded their approval as waiters flowed from the kitchen with steaming bowls of Civet De Senglar, wild boar in a stew, along with heaping platters of Carn A La Brasa, a mixture of lamb, quail, sausage, chicken, and artichoke, all grilled on an open fire.
Mendoza leaned across the table and spoke quietly to prevent those nearby from hearing. “I’d like to go back to something I mentioned earlier, Cardinal. Was the pathogen artificially engineered, as we have heard?”
With a spoonful of hot stew halfway to his mouth, Leo looked up from his food and fixed Mendoza with a look that backed him away. “I’m afraid that is something I am not at liberty to discuss at the moment, Doctor.”
“My apologies, Your Eminence. I see that I have offended you. I only ask out of scientific curiosity.”
“You haven’t offended me in the least, Javier. I wish I could be of more help to you, but we have to be careful not to spread panic based on unsubstantiated rumors.”
A barely perceptible smile crossed Mendoza’s lips, a sign that he understood the cardinal’s dilemma.
Leo was beginning to like this man ... a fellow academic like himself, but no matter how much he wanted to help the Spanish scientists in their quest for the truth, he was bound for the moment by secrecy born of necessity.
“This food is delicious,” Alon said, coming to Leo’s rescue. “We should come back here someday.” Nava nudged Lev and winked.
As the evening wore on and the remaining guests filtered out into the crisp night air, the group of scientists saw that they were the only patrons remaining in the restaura
nt, and as the wine continued to flow, they found their discussions were taking on a decidedly more philosophic tone.
Mendoza picked at the last of his dessert, a delicious Flam Blanc made from milk and berries. “You know, Cardinal, I have to say, I find it very interesting that the College of Cardinals picked a Norwegian for your current pope. Of course, although I am not a Catholic myself, I believe it would be safe to say that the people of Spain would like to see a Spanish pope again one day.” The twinkle in Mendoza’s eyes betrayed a slight mischievousness. “However, after the behavior of the last one, I can understand the hesitancy.”
Leo nodded his head at the obvious reference to the last Spanish pope, a man who had the distinction of being the most notoriously corrupt leader in Catholic Church history.
“Well, times have changed, Javier. The Church, not to mention civilization itself, has come a long way since 1492, when the pope you’re referring to, Rodrigo Borgia, became Pope Alexander VI. Personally, I believe the Church is long overdue for a pope with Spanish blood, especially if he brings food like this to the Vatican.”
Mendoza and the others laughed as they raised their glasses in Leo’s direction. Once again, the unconventional cardinal had proven his ability to win the hearts and minds of everyone around him.
“Pope Michael is very popular here in Spain,” Mendoza continued. “But we find it strange that he comes from a country that is made up of mostly Protestant Evangelical Lutherans.”
“Yes, that’s true. That demographic makes up almost eighty-five percent of Norway’s population. Do you know what the second largest religion in Norway is?”
Mendoza’s good-natured but self-assured demeanor began to collapse. “Catholic?”
“I wish. No, actually it’s Islam ... at 1.9 percent. We Catholics come in third at only 1.1 percent.”