"Hello."
"The priest escaped," said the voice.
It wasn't the contractor himself, it was his asshole emissary, a low-level concierge.
"We want him back before he contacts the woman."
"He couldn't do that, he doesn't know she's here," the bogeyman said.
"Still, change of assignment for you, find him, he is not far off."
"Did you put a tracker on him?"
"Of course."
"And what should I do about the woman, she just went into the church?"
"We'll be sending people over to handle that."
"I'm on my way."
The bogeyman packed his guitar case and swiftly went down a ladder at the back of the building.
He left in a black Chevrolet Silverado.
A black van pulled up in front of the church minutes later. But no one came out of it.
—
The monument wasn't supposed to be so hard to find. From what Olivia had read, the pope met with his Cardinals here regularly. The monument of Nicholas was essential to the gathering in some ritualistic way that was peculiar to Catholics.
If so, the monument was supposed to be in the middle of the Church. Right here in front of the pews.
Olivia turned back from the back of the Church, where there was a flight of steps going up.
"May I help you?" asked a plump priest.
Shocked, Olivia only stammered.
The priest smiled, he looked like a large, white cockroach in his garb. He walked towards her, his outfit spread around him.
"You speak English, father?"
"I see you are American, so I speak English for you, si."
"Yes," Olivia prayed the other guys don't show up just now, "where is the Nicholas Poussin monument, please?"
"Oh, it was moved, signora."
Olivia said, "oh, really, where is it now?"
"Follow me."
The priest moved like a vacuum cleaner. His feet were completely hidden under the yards of stuff clothing. Olivia perceived a faint smell of incense in the air around him. He hummed a song as they went down a stair, the same one Olivia was going to earlier.
Olivia turned around and saw Miller and Liam Murphy coming.
"But why was it moved?"
The priest laughed. He waved his hand in the air in a very Italian way.
"How do you say, unfounded fear," he said, "We got news from the Vatican that we should move it, so we move it, capisce?"
"Yeah, capisce."
Olivia didn't know what the word meant.
"Er, father?"
"Yes, signora."
"Er, I have some friends with me, I hope you don't mind?"
The steps ended in a lighted corridor. The air was fresh there, and the walls covered with rococo art. The priest turned around slowly. His genial eyes registered a little worry, but nothing was menacing about his voice when he spoke.
"Who are you people, by the way?"
"We are researchers, Padre," Miller said, he shook hands with the cleric, "my name is Frank Miller."
"And you?" he asked Liam.
"Liam Murphy, sir, Padre."
The smile was back. The cleric started off down the hall again.
"Researchers come here all the time, some think there is something here to steal, but they always disappointed, common thieves, ladro, just plain ladro!"
Liam whispered behind Olivia, "buglers, that's what he's saying, buglers."
"No, Liam, thieves, that's what he said," said Miller.
The priest stopped before a hall. There were more rococo, more arcs, and statues. In the middle of the room sat the white limestone of the monument.
It was about six feet high. The grave was missing from the base, of course. The bust of Nicholas Poussin sat in the groove above the monument.
"There you are," said the priest.
"Gracias, father."
"How long is this going to take?"
Olivia looked at Miller for help. Miller came near the father, he held the man's hands together.
"Father, we should take a while. But I assure you that the church of San Lorenzo will benefit greatly from the proceeds as we shall be back to show our appreciation," Miller smiled.
The priest grinned from ear to ear and left them alone.
Liam shook his head, "congratulations, Frank. You just corrupted a priest with mammon."
Diggs and Borodin joined them. Miller said, "we don't have much time left, let's get to it, shall we?"
—
He had to reach Olivia. Somehow Andrew knew his sister was involved in this new trouble. Olivia either seemed to start them, or she finished them. He used a payphone again and got the answering machine.
She's not in America, he concluded. Then where was she?
The people who abducted him must be watching his apartment now. There was a scrapbook there with sheriff Tom Garcia's telephone number. Except…
Andrew has been on the move all day, never eating in the same place. He's been watching the shadows for other shadows he knew would come. The shadow that usually followed would have attached to it, a gun.
On second thought, he'd like to see who was after him.
But first, he walked into the Studio Legali Parenti. The computer there was an antique but workable. The guy who ran the place said he could use it for a bit, then he asked Andrew Gilmore if the dude in black across the street was with him.
Andrew said no, he went into the toilet and vanished.
—
The engraving on the monument said, HERE LIES NICHOLAS POUSSIN, IF YOU WANT TO SEE HOW HE LIVED VIEW HIS PAINTINGS.
Below that were the engraved images of the Shepherds, three men, and a woman. It was the same in the painting that Olivia now spread on the cool terrazzo. Anabia measured the gap between the two hands of the Shepherds with a calibrated ruler.
He drew an imperfect triangle, rotated at 225 degrees, on a paper. Now the two diagrams Anabia Nassif made, placed side by side, were an imperfect triangle and a convex.
"These are the shapes between the hands of the two Shepherds," said Anabia, "I believe these are the clues."
Liam asked, "so what do we do with these diagrams, what do they mean?"
Anabia shrugged, "I don't know, we just gotta figure it out together."
Liam shook his head in mock disgust. "Are you fucking with us?"
Olivia wasn’t listening to the two men however, she crouched before the monument. She gazed at the inscriptions. The same alphabets in the half burnt painting she had:
O U O S V A V V
Below these letters, there were two more that Olivia thought didn’t follow the rest:
D
M
If you want to see how he lived, view his paintings, Olivia mused. View his paintings… how he.
How did he live? He was a Templar or a mason. View his paintings.
Olivia looked at Miller, "was Poussin, a shepherd?"
"No, he wasn't."
Then suddenly it occurred to her that she's been neglecting something. The book Dean Anson had left for her at the train station. Heart beating so bad she thought her ribs would break, she struggled the book our of her bag. She had seen something in it that now jumped from her recollection without a face. Maybe if she looked harder, thought harder, she might be able to make head or tail of the clues before them.
It occurred to her also that the alphabets on the monuments may be the names of people, not coordinates like Anabia assumed. And The names of the people in this book must begin with the alphabet. That was in a distant past before languages slightly changed. Her hands sweated as she riffled through more pages.
She stopped.
If you want to see how he lived.
Olivia looked at the sculpted head of Nicholas Poussin, and back at the names in the book. None marched his name, except one.
The names in that column were:
Nicolas Poussin
Coteas Poussin
Edwardo Pou
lard (who changed his name in 1448 to evade suspicion by the pope)
Victor Poulard (Coteas's son)
Then on and on till the name of:
Nathaniel Pierre.
"The letter P remained constant," Olivia said out loud, "that's some coincidence."
She showed her findings to others. They all thought the correlation was quite striking.
"There are almost a million Nathaniel Pierre on earth," Diggs said from his computer, "only six live in Rome."
"Well, that narrows our options down a lot, right," said Liam.
Right, everyone agreed.
Olivia went to the monument. She touched the stone head.
"Poussin was a Templar, he knew the secret, he, in fact, carried it till he died," she said slowly, "and she left the secret here, on this monument. And with one of those people whose names in the book."
Soft footfall behind them, "are you sure, signora?"
They all turned to see the cleric standing at the entrance, his somewhat clownish smile still on. He walked almost shyly to the monument and stood beside Olivia. He was a head taller than her.
He looked around and said, "quite a lot of you for such little research."
Olivia smiled but said nothing.
The cleric went back to gazing at the head of Poussin, reverentially, like he would the face of the pope, or maybe of the Christ. Olivia noticed the man's double chin now. And how liver spots covered them.
"Of course, Poussin knew the secret, he lived his life like a pauper till he died," his voice dropped to a tone reserved for the pulpit, "and he lived to show us that wealth means nothing before the eyes of the Lord."
He looked at Olivia.
"He was a true disciple of Christ. That is why his body was brought here, he had no home of his own," the man shrugged, sorrowful, "he kept a lot of secrets, but the most important one of them was that his son wasn't his."
Olivia frowned, "what is the name of this son?"
"Signora, you know already."
"Coteas Poussin?"
"What many did not know —but I'm sure you do, signora is that the Poussin's controlled enormous wealth, hence the enormity of his ascetic life. Because he knew that, with great wealth came great responsibility. And this responsibility, I think, drove him to the edge sometimes."
"What are you trying to tell me, Padre?"
"The treasure you seek will bring you sorrow, nothing more."
A great silence followed. The cleric looked around at the men, he gave each one a fatherly smirk. Then to Olivia, he said again, "you can take your time with Nicholas here, he's been in this church for more than a century, so be doesn't mind, si."
"Si."
"I'll go now, call if you need me," he looked at Miller and said, "we will be expecting the fulfillment of your promise, yes?"
"Yes, Padre, very much."
When the father was gone, Olivia said to Diggs, "put a location on Nathaniel Pierre."
"On it."
—
"Do you think this Nathaniel guy has the treasure," Liam asked Olivia as they came out of the church.
"I don't know, but if he does, I'm hoping he'd tell us."
"I don't believe anyone had the treasure, Olivia."
"Then why did you come along, Liam?"
"The adventure," he grinned.
Diggs was in the lead. He put his hand out as they neared the corner. They stopped walking. He got his field glasses and scanned the top of the building on across the street. The black hump of the assassin was not up there for sure. He checked the windows as well. There was no one behind them as far as he could see. The sun was shining from the back of the church, the glare would ruin the assassin's focus, was that why he's gone? Perhaps to get a new vantage? But there was no one.
A black van that was down the road started backing up the street.
"Shit, they are here," Diggs hissed.
"Come on, back into the church!"
Five men, tactical dresses, automatic weapons, jumped on the curb and advanced in the team.
The cleric was waiting as they rushed into the church again.
"Follow me."
"Father, what's your name?"
"Ah, signora, names matter not in these circumstances."
They went past the hall with the monument of Nicholas Poussin, into the toilets.
"Wait."
He opened a stall and said, "push that seat, there is a step down there it will take you into the city. Come on, do it now."
Victor Borodin pushed past Olivia and pushed the commode. It held at first but slowly began to shift. The sound was like the one a grinding made. A dark void appeared underneath as the whole column of the toilet seat and tank disappeared into the wall.
The team quickly rushed down the step, and they'd see the amiable father no more.
—
9
Andrew Gilmore saw the man following him again in the mirror of his taxi. He was running and weaving through traffic, puffing white vapor. The man carried a guitar box on his back. He wore a black cloth, lose fitting around the arms. His face was white, and his hair cut so low.
He looked like a mariachi. An excellent cover for what he really did.
"Take me to the Borgo," said Andrew to the driver.
Before he got off three blocks away from his apartment, he made sure there were no taxis in sight, nor a mariachi with crew-cut hair.
This was his world, he could disappear here. He had to get into his apartment too, he needed to reach Olivia. A continuous awareness that he was involved in something big worried him.
A second worry was the possibility that he was being tracked.
—
Olivia was hit by the raw familiarity of underground Rome, not the actual image of it, but the feelings they called up. It appeared now that she would never be rid of specific memories, no matter how she tried.
The passage was very much like one in which she had seen someone dear to her heart transform into the devil himself. And she had almost lost the only family she now has.
She had not still been contacted by either the one who calls himself the Financier or Talbot. If Andrew was still alive, she wasn't sure.
Diggs stopped suddenly.
They crowded behind him. The passage split into three prongs before them. The passages on both left and right were dark holes; a light shone from the one in the middle. Diggs was contemplating their options.
Liam whispered in Anabia's ear, "what'd they say about the light at the end of a tunnel?"
"That when you see it, you are dead," Anabia said.
"Do you think we'd ever find this Poussin dude?"
"For Olivia's sake, I hope we do."
Diggs looked back and nodded at the group, "ready?"
They followed again as he went into the tunnel on the left. Liam asked why they had to go in the dark tunnel.
"Because today, we are not dying," said Anabia.
—
The bogeyman caught his breath from his hike up the cabonierri building, a pawnshop for antiques. He leaned his guitar box against the ledge and looked over the busy street below. The smell of garlic garnished Kebabs floated up to him, and he would have sent saliva down into the sidewalk.
He loathed meat. He loathed garlic even, and he was becoming increasingly disenchanted with Rome every hour the man Andrew Gilmore evaded him.
He'd like to get his capture over with or his inadvertent death. The bogeyman intended to kill Gilmore in the simplest way, then tell the contractor it was a mistake. The woman and the treasure were his white bronco, not a worthless priest. Oh, he wasn't a priest anymore. Even better, that way, he'd feel no scruples for taken a clerics life, not that he had so much of a conscience.
He answered his ringing phone.
"Yes?"
"What is taking so long," asked a calm voice.
This wasn't the concierge. It was a heavily accented voice, thick with importance; it was an Italian Don's voice.
"The ta
rget is close by now, I'll get him."
"Good, the woman and her friends escaped from the church. I need what they found if they found something."
"Understood."
"Good."
Click.
The bogeyman's jaw tightened; this time, he would put a bullet through the running man's head, point-blank. Finesse be damned.
—
The tunnel took the team by the city's sewer dump. The smell hit with a strong draught. Liam retched. Anabia hit him on the back.
Moving on, they came to an end and the opening of an old aquifer. A man-made step went up out of there to street level. The smell of kebabs murdered by garlic and onions wafted to them.
Olivia inhaled. But not for long. Someone was coming from behind them.
She frowned. Diggs said this route was out of circulation. The blueprints said it too.
"Come on, everyone. We have to hide," Miller ordered.
The team ran back the easy they came. Sensing that whoever as coming was likely escaping the undergrounds too, and would probably avoid the sewers, Miller led the way into that tunnel.
Liam hissed, "Seriously."
"Shut up!" Olivia said.
The bogeyman stalked past as the team entered the shadows.
—
Andrew Gilmore knew his stalker was close, but he had to reach Olivia fast. To do that, he had to lay his hand on his notebook. Andrew went up the back through a ladder. He came in through the window, dropped as noiselessly as a feather on the floor.
In and out in seconds, that was the plan.
He opened his drawer and found his notebook lying beneath a few other miscellaneous things.
He took one more look around the place. The door was slightly opened, from there he could see the living room and the door. He took just one look under the door there and saw dark movements there.
His stalker had arrived.
He took one lounge and was out of the window.
—
Ten minutes later, they were up the steps again after they had made sure the stranger had gone entirely out of sight.
Diggs set a map on the rough floor and touched a spot on the map.
"This is Borgo, a sub-province of the main city. We are here on the edge of it. Nathaniel Poussin is supposed to be here," he touched a spot, about a hundred feet from their location.
Gold of the Knights Templar Page 16