“And that is with the elimination of Spain and Italy as home to these medalists?”
Yes.
Niles was slow to proceed. He knew he was shooting from the hip; after all, all they had to go on were written accounts of rumors that had started as far back as 1534. He surmised along with Pete that since the diary had been delivered to Spain by Father Corinth himself, they could safely eliminate that nation as one of the hiding places for the map or the reputed ore samples. And obviously, since Helen said that these papal medalists were all foreign born, they could also subtract Italy, the home of the Vatican. Now it was simple, that left only the rest of the world as their haystack.
“Access Vatican Network,” Niles said.
Access has already been gained by the Computer Sciences Department, P. Golding authorization.
So Pete had already started sifting through the archives. Niles knew he should leave Pete to it, since he knew his way around not only Europa but all the security that had to be in place in the Vatican, which was there to keep someone from doing exactly what they were doing.
“Is there any correlation between San Jerónimo el Real, in Madrid, Spain, in 1874, and papal medalists?” Niles asked, as he was interested in verifying the fact that one of these knights did indeed deliver the diary to Spain, and to a knight there for the diary’s safekeeping.
Formulating.
Niles was thinking of eliminating coincidence from his obvious guesswork. Catholic cleric Father Sergio de Batavia, papal medalist, 1861, for actions while serving with the Battalion of St. Patrick’s during the time of his service in Ireland, when he was asked to join the Papal Guard in 1862 as a reward for services at Castelfidardo, Ancona. He was awarded the Pro Petri Sede and Ordine di San Gregorio medals ofSaints Peter and Gregory, for bravery. At the time his service to Pope Pius IX was ended, he was given leadership of San Jerónimo el Real in Madrid, Spain.
“I wonder what the odds had been that it was he who was given the diary for safekeeping,” Niles said as he thought aloud.
Is the question directed at Europa for answering? the female voice asked.
Niles let out a small laugh. “Not unless you can calculate the odds.”
Formulating.
Niles lowered his glasses and stared at the large liquid crystal display. It went dark for a moment, sending the entire room into blackness. He couldn’t believe that Europa was going to figure the odds.
The number of papal medal recipients who received orders to Spain in the year ad 1861, according to Vatican archives, was four. The calculated odds are three to one.
“Pretty good, low enough to place a bet on,” Niles said. “Question. How many recipients of the papal order were from the Battalion of St. Patrick’s?”
Six received the order of Pro Petri Sede, two the order of Ordine di San Gregorio, and two received both honors.
Niles quickly reread the letter from Helen and made sure of the facts she had mentioned about the trail’s leading to the map would be found through research of the medaled knights of the papacy. He refolded the letter and looked back at the screen. Helen had given him a starting point for trying to find something that she had claimed was unrecoverable, but it was the only real lead they had as to her whereabouts.
The last words spoken by Europa were still there, written on the large screen. Niles unzipped his clean suit and let in some air.
He pursed his lips as he thought. The odds were in favor of the map and diary having gone to highly placed men who Pope Pius IX had trusted, which would most likely have entailed the pope’s having met them in person. So, papal medalists seemed the appropriate road to search, and that was how Helen had tracked at least the diary, and supposedly the map also. And since they would never have access to the diary, thanks to Farbeaux, they would have to follow the same trail as Helen had. The legend stated that the diary was separated from the gold samples and map by sending them in different directions—the diary to Spain, the map to the New World, and the samples to the Vatican Archives under lock and key. The diary and map had been despatched their separate ways in 1874. He removed his glasses and bit on the ear piece.
“Question,” he said. “How many papal medalists were still alive on North and South American continents in 1874?”
Formulating.
Niles knew it was a long shot, but hoped anyway.
According to public records, seventy-five medalists were in the United States, sixteen in Canada, twenty-one in Mexico, and one in Brazil.
“Question. How many served with the Battalion of St. Patrick’s and received both papal medals?”
Formulating.
Niles placed his glasses back on and looked at the screen.
Four recipients of both papal medals were also veterans of the Battalion of St. Patrick, Europa answered. One recipient in Canada, one in Mexico, one in Brazil, and one in the United States.
Niles sat up. It couldn’t be that easy. “Question. How many of the four were stationed at the Vatican in 1874?”
Formulating.
Niles waited.
No recipients at the Vatican in ad 1874.
Niles felt deflated, but then decided to take a shot in the dark. “Question. Number of the four alive in 1874?”
Formulating, Europa said as the screen flashed again.
Niles started to stand, feeling his side investigation was going nowhere.
According to Royal Canadian death records, the general census of citizens of Mexico, the official census of Brazil, and the state and territorial records of the United States, one member was still alive in 1874, Europa answered.
Niles looked at the printed answer on the screen with renewed hope. “Question. What was the last name of recipient?”
Formulating.
Niles knew for a fact it had to be a priest, probably in the very same order of St. Patrick’s as the Spanish father’s where the diary was sent. As he watched, he could hear through the glass in front of him Europa’s robotic systems pulling programs at a fantastic rate. Normally he loved to watch the Cray system in action, but right now it would only make him more anxious.
All records of identity of medalist erased from former system hard drive 11/18/1993. No further account remains in center files.
“What? You mean the old Cray system file was erased?” Niles asked as he leaped to his feet in anger.
Affirmative. All records of case file beyond census data for 1874 of Vatican papal medalists has been dropped from the Nellis file system.
“Authorized user of last data query on current subject matter?” Niles asked but already knew the answer.
Professor Helen M. Zachary, 11/18/1993, clearance—
“Goddammit! You left us a dead end!” he said gritting his teeth.
Europa has failed to adequately understand question and/or statement. Please restate.
Niles didn’t respond to the confused Europa; he stormed out of the clean room knowing they may have lost their one clear chance of finding Helen’s team.
Alice sat and listened to the phone conversation between Niles and Senator Garrison Lee.
“The only thing I remember about some of those old files Dr. Zachary made off with is what I personally put into one of them in 1942. At the time of the theft I couldn’t figure out, other than the obvious fact it was about Brazil, why she would have been interested; the file was just the After Action Report about the recovery of some scientists from the States. The rest were army and Corps of Engineers field reports from some sort of South American field operation that held no interest for the OSS or, later, the Event Group. Our part was to pull them out, nothing more; we weren’t anywhere near the Amazon when the rescue occurred.”
“If you weren’t anywhere near the Amazon during the rescue, how could Helen have come up with anything that helped her in those files? The papal medalist leads, I can see her eliminating as a way to trace her actions, but this OSS file of yours, I don’t get it,” Niles said, leaning toward the speaker box on his desk.
He was hoping beyond reason that Lee, having been one of “Wild Bill” Donovan’s best OSS agents during the war, could come up with something to help.
“I haven’t a clue, Niles; maybe she discovered something in the army paperwork that was forwarded with the file, I just don’t know. And now that we’re positive the file was erased from our former Cray archives along with any medalist’s clues, you may never find out. But then again, although she knew she had covered her tracks, she knows you’ll be able to uncover her tracks. But how, is the question.”
“Perhaps the men you rescued in 1942 said something to you after you pulled them out, that could shed some light on this, Garrison,” Alice suggested.
“Sorry, old girl, but army and navy intelligence kept those boys pretty much hushed up about their activities down there. There is one thing, though; we were supposed to be pulling out far more people than we ended up rescuing. And even as we made our way out of that hellhole, the men we rescued weren’t much good; they were in shock and two of them were close to death from exposure. The only reason they were found is because they left their radio on and the army triangulated their position. That was when the military asked for help from the OSS contingent in South America to assist in recovering their team. That’s all I have for you, Niles, with the exception of one item.”
“And that is,” Niles asked.
“This trouble in South America, with the file on that particular subject of papal knights being deleted from our files—where would you go to get something that is that old? Remember, the original file was transcribed from what to what?”
“Paper files to electronic,” Niles said, knowing the answer to the senator’s riddle immediately. The Event Group’s original facility, built by then president Woodrow Wilson, was now a storage facility for all its paper files originated before 1943. They had all been entered into the original Cray system back in 1963. And that system was housed in Arlington, Virginia, at a place hidden far beneath the National Cemetery.
“There’s your lead, my boy. There is no way Helen could have gotten into that facility, and she knew you could. She was smart enough to know where the paper files were stored in a closed-loop computer system. She knew that and the fact that you would have access to them when you hit the dead end here on Europa. You remember where the facility is, I take it?” the senator asked facetiously.
Of course Niles knew, and had to smile at the old subterfuge. Imagine, having the original Event Group housed in an underground facility not unlike the current complex. Woodrow Wilson had authorized the first complex built in 1916 and had placed it where no one would ever suspect.
“Yes, sir, I remember.”
“Good, just be careful of the ghosts. And remember the first thing I taught you about the Group, Niles? We are what?”
“Alone and not trusting of anyone, and assume everyone is three steps ahead of us. I remember.”
“Bingo. But there is one man you confide in, you know who?”
“Jack,” he answered with a small smile.
“Right, tell him everything. Give him every detail, because I don’t like the way this smells ever since you told me about our French friend.”
“I will, and thank you.”
“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help, Mr. Director,” Garrison said on the other end of the phone.
“Well, I guess all we can do is keep looking with Boris and Natasha, and hope the satellite comes up with something. In the meantime I’ll get over to Complex One and see if I can find a certain file. Thanks, Garrison.”
“Anytime, Niles; by the way, tell that old woman to bring home some real milk and not that soy crap,” he said as he hung up.
9
BOGOTÁ, COLOMBIA
The Banco de Juarez building was a glass and steel monstrosity, very out of place in one of the poorest neighborhoods in all of Bogotá. It stood towering over the shanties as if it were a dark tower from the pages of a dark fairy tale.
Henri Farbeaux stood looking out of the plate glass window on the thirty-second floor, which afforded a panoramic view of the city below. They were far above the filth and poverty that permeated the city.
“So, are we prepared?”
Farbeaux turned to see Joaquin Delacruz Mendez standing in his doorway. The chubby banker was dressed ridiculously in a tan suit with jungle pockets in the front. The clothes were impeccably pressed and Mendez wore a brand-new pair of work boots. With great effort, Farbeaux kept himself from smiling. He, himself, was dressed in Levi’s and a long-sleeved denim shirt. His black boots were broken in and waterproof.
“Yes, we are ready. The supplies have been received and are being loaded as we speak. Our helicopter is awaiting us on the roof.”
“Excellent, and what of the boat?” he asked.
“We have chartered the Rio Madonna, a worthy ship that has plied those waters for twenty years. Her captain is a man who knows how to keep silent about certain aspects of our journey. His family has worked the river for generations,” Farbeaux said as he turned away from the window and retrieved his Windbreaker. He didn’t mention how much it was costing Mendez for the captain’s silence.
“The weapons and my security staff, they are all ready?”
“All in place,” Farbeaux answered.
“Very good.”
“Shall we go, then,” Farbeaux said.
“Yes, please go on, I will meet you upstairs. I must take my Dramamine for the flight down to Peru,” Mendez said, the lie flowing easily from his lips.
Farbeaux bowed, catching the lie. He knew his employer never took Dramamine, as the man lived most of his life in one aircraft or the other.
Mendez watched the Frenchman leave and then he picked up the phone.
“Yes, señor?”
“Has there been any activity at Stanford?” he asked.
“No, jefe, we are monitoring every minute of the day. The phone rings but no one has answered, and no one other than the janitorial service has entered the professor’s office.”
“If there is in the future, use your own judgment as to the danger they pose, and adjust your reaction accordingly. I do not want interference in any way once we are on the river, is that understood?”
“Yes, señor, it is understood.”
“Good,” he said and hung up, and then rubbed his hands. Just thinking about El Dorado and its being him that discovers its hidden whereabouts—after all those centuries of men having looked for it, from Alaska to Argentina—was mind-boggling. The drug lords of the past would never have thought such wealth was possible. And that, coupled with the new information that the Frenchman had in his possession about a possible source of new energy in the same mine, was too much to dream for. No, no one could have the vision he had. He was the only man who always had the imagination to dream of higher things. Higher things that demanded he have the most advanced security force and black operations team in private employ in all of South America, not to mention most of the world. Yes, he thought, the adventure he had always craved was now upon him and the mysteries of Padilla would soon be his.
EVENT GROUP CENTER NELLIS AFB, NEVADA
“That’s where we are right now. Since I’m the only one not assigned to any research, I’ll take Mr. Ryan and head for Virginia to see what we can uncover in the old files. And Everett, I have a job for you also. You are to meet our former Mrs. Farbeaux in San Jose and escort her to Stanford. Once in Palo Alto, you’ll gain access into Professor Zachary’s office and see what you can uncover; she may have left some clue there.”
Carl wanted to protest about being the one to escort Danielle, but held his tongue.
“Yes, sir,” he answered instead.
A knock sounded on the conference room door, and a blue-clad lance corporal walked in and gave Niles a note. He unfolded and read it, and then gave the note to Alice.
“More potatoes have been added to the stew,” Niles said, looking around the table. “We ran the security footage recovered from the San Pedro shippi
ng company responsible for getting Helen and her team into place. We now know her starting point was Colombia; from there all we can assume is that she went south toward either Brazil or Peru. But we have uncovered something else. It seems she may have had a second source of financing from someone we must assume has accompanied her on her trip.”
“Second source?” Jack asked.
“According to the ship’s manifest taken from a copy that was filed at their offices, the articles loaded onboard included several that did not belong to Helen and her team, but were in fact signed for by someone not on the original team roster and do not show up in any university records. This man, his name is Kennedy—he and five others were issued two cabins onboard Pacific Voyager.”
“Helen, what did you get yourself into?” Alice murmured, shaking her head.
An hour later, Niles had their lunch brought into the conference room, where they made detailed plans on who and what equipment would be needed for an expedition if the Event Group found the route of Padilla.
“Before we get into what Boris and Natasha has or has not come up with on her latest pass, and before Carl has to leave,” Niles said as he looked at his watch, “I want to discuss river transport. I want a secure vessel if at all possible, not a local river traveler. I want something that can be in place in a day, if and when we go. Jack, Commander Everett, any ideas?”
“Best if you ask the swabby,” Jack said, looking at Carl.
Carl stopped toying with his plate of potato salad and looked up. “As a matter of fact, I may have just the man that can supply us with something along those lines,” he said as he thought. “He’s somewhat eccentric, but he’s one hell of a designer. Built assault craft for the navy; he was in on the hydro-foil development until it was canceled by the Defense Department. I think the navy hid him away in Louisiana someplace, developing experimental river craft. But mostly they stashed him there to keep him out of trouble.”
Legend: An Event Group Thriller Page 15