by Tom Haase
“I’ve been doing some more investigation since Scott called me,” Jonathan said. “The trail you are following seems to lead you to someone here at the Vatican. I’ve nothing concrete, but something has emerged that I believe may warrant your attention. I’m in no position to do it myself for reasons that pertain to my station here. I do want to help, though.”
The coffee arrived, including one for Matt, and once the cups were filled and the server departed, Jonathan continued. “Captain Grossman, whom I believe you remember from our trip to Washington, has provided me with some information that he believes is the singular link to any type of conspiracy here in Rome.”
“He’s the guy who helped you swindle—sorry, acquire the Bible of Constantine,” Scott said as he did a mea culpa on his chest.
“The same,” Jonathan said, “and he’s the one who provided me the single shred of evidence that may lead you somewhere. The curator of the Vatican Museum, who would hear rumors about that sort of thing a long time before I would, couldn’t help in this matter, even though he did attempt to find out about any rumors he heard.”
“So, what have you got for us to go on?” Matt asked. They needed to find out the name, and then get moving. He wanted the man who’d put the hit on Bridget.
“There is a group, one I thought had gone dormant. However, it appears still to be active and extremely secretive. It is the remnants of the Agnus Dei society.”
“Oh, no. Not those bastards,” Scott blurted out.
“I take your point, Scott,” Jonathan said. “They were the ones who almost got you and Bridget killed when you recovered the Crown of Thorns. I can understand your hatred of them. But remember, I was one of them, and I did save you both from certain death at the hands of that insane cardinal.”
“True,” Scott conceded.
“Well, there appears to be another cardinal, who has assumed the leadership mantle of the society. Cardinal Pedro Menendez, a member of an important curia of the church, has a residence here. The intelligence we gathered suggests he and some of his followers have expressed hatred against you Donavans for your role in humbling the Vatican into altering its position concerning the objects you discovered.” McGregor stopped while he took a sip of his coffee.
“You may want to pay this cardinal a visit. I’ve not tried to contact him in order not to tip off anything you might plan. Would you like for Captain Grossman to accompany you? It might be prudent to take someone familiar with Rome and the Vatican with you. I briefed him on your mission here.”
Matt rotated his head toward Scott with a questioning look. He wanted to know what he thought of the idea. Scott nodded his approval and then said, “Sounds like a plan. How do we get there?”
“I arranged for a special car for your use. It has all the modern electronics. Grossman will drive to keep what you are doing known only to the four of us.”
“Great,” Matt said. Finally, they would be taking action.
Jonathan went over to his desk and pushed a button on the console.
A few seconds later, a knock came on the door, and Captain Alfred Grossman, a commander in the Swiss Guard, entered. A strikingly handsome man with a military bearing, standing over six feet tall with blond hair and shining blue eyes. He wore a tailored blue blazer, tan pants, and a pale yellow open-collar shirt.
They shook hands since formal introductions were unnecessary, as Captain Grossman had interacted with them in the past.
“May I suggest we get going?” Matt said, but it was more than just a suggestion. He wanted to move, and now.
The drive through the crowded Roman streets took three quarters of an hour before they arrived at the address Grossman sought. The residence sat on the top of a rise in a luxurious sector of the city. The walls of the various villas fronting the road displayed guarded gates with security cameras visible to anyone who looked up.
Matt occasionally looked over at Scott, who didn’t take his eyes off the laptop screen now that he had connected to the car’s Wi-Fi. Grossman hadn’t spoken during the drive, and this had given Matt time to think. He’d failed to identify any strong motive for the Vatican to murder Bridget. Opportunity and means, yes, but motive appeared almost nonexistent. That remained to be seen, though, and this cardinal might provide that missing link.
Scott interrupted his thoughts. “I’ve localized the IP used to send the email. We’re close. I’ll have the address in a few minutes.”
“You sure?”
“Just wait a second.”
The car stopped in front of a gated entrance. “May I suggest that if the cardinal isn’t at home, I present my credentials and we position ourselves to wait for his arrival?” Grossman said.
“Great. Let’s do it,” Matt said.
“I got the street address from where it looks like the emails originated,” Scott announced. “It’s Six Via del Peperino.”
Matt looked at the plaque on the wall beside the entrance gate. It read 6 Via del Peperino.
19
Cardinal’s Residence
Captain Grossman presented his Vatican credentials to the guard at the entrance to the cardinal’s residence, and the gates opened. He drove the short distance to the house, ending in a circular road in the anterior of the house. He stopped the car in front of the main entrance. Matt and Scott followed him up the steps to the entry door and waited while the Swiss Guard pulled on the cord to announce their presence. It took a full minute before a gray-haired lady in a maid’s uniform came to the door.
“Good day,” Grossman said in Italian. “We are looking for Cardinal Menendez.” He showed her his Vatican credentials.
The maid looked a little put out, standing with her arms akimbo. She grimaced and shook her head. “Don’t you know the cardinal is at an Agnus Dei meeting?” she responded in the local language.
Grossman translated for Matt and Scott.
“Ask her when he’ll be back,” Matt said.
The maid turned her face toward Matt. “That’s all right. I understand English. You sound American,” she said.
“I am. Could you help us in a matter of some urgency?” Matt asked.
“Please, excuse my manners. Come in.” She led them into a large sitting room. “I can make some coffee for you if you would like? I’m sure the cardinal would want me to offer his hospitality to Americans. He has done so before.”
“I’d love some,” Scott said. “We’ve been up most of the night on a flight.”
“Please be seated,” she said after she led them into a waiting area. The room was decorated in a simple Roman style and also displayed a massive crucifix on the wall, with a picture of the Virgin Mary hanging beside the window. A table in the middle of the room held a single candle.
“So, he’s not home now. Do you know when he’ll return?” Matt asked.
Grossman looked at Matt, who huffed and paced around the room. He could tell that Matt was wound tight. The man had been rushing and pushing all of them ever since his arrival in Rome.
“In a little while, I believe. You know he’s been away these past three weeks and only returned yesterday. I don’t know exactly when he’ll get home, but he would want me to offer you his hospitality,” she said and left the room.
“I didn’t know about this meeting the cardinal is attending. Like Jonathan said, we hadn’t done anything to warrant raising any flags. Excuse me while I go outside to make a few calls to see about more information,” Grossman offered.
He stood and left.
* * *
Matt noticed Scott signaling him that he wanted to tell him something. He wondered if Scott had bungled something with his reliance on technology, and now needed to explain some error to him.
“What did you want?” he addressed Scott, who now approached.
Scott said, “I can’t use the hot spot from my phone to run this latest program I received from my friend. I’ll need a good Internet signal for it to load. We don’t have one in this room. After I make a connection, it�
�ll restart with the new patch to the software he sent, as there seems to be a previous internal defect it encountered and this should correct the problem.”
“Get on with it,” Matt said impatiently.
The maid returned, ushered them into a living room, and served the coffee. While she poured cups for them, she informed them, “My name is Maria. My daughter lives in America, in San Diego. She married a US Navy doctor. I love Americans. What can I do to help you?”
“We traced some computer usage to this address. Is it possible for us to see the owner’s computer?”
“I think I found another problem.” Scott didn’t explain further, just put down his coffee and went back to the entrance hall. He placed his laptop on the windowsill nearest to the car. Matt followed him.
“The program is now restarting itself. This may take a few minutes. I needed to have a good connection with the Wi-Fi in the car, as it’s much faster than my cell. There appears to be something wrong with my initial findings. The software is finding some sort of a flaw. This is the neatest program I’ve ever seen.”
“What is it? Tell me now.” Matt tried to hide the impatience he felt, but failed in his effort. “We don’t have all day.”
“Matt, you need to slow down. Let me do my work with this new program my hacker friend sent me for finding an IP address. It won’t take long,” Scott said. “You haven’t slowed down since Bridget died. Take a breath, my friend. We’re all here to help you.”
Before he could continue, Grossman returned and said, “Matt, I agree with Scott. It might be a good idea to calm yourself, from what I’ve seen. You’re wound too tight, as we say in the military. You won’t be able to think straight if you stay at this intense level. Just an observation.”
“I agree,” Scott added. “This cardinal is a big deal. You can’t just treat him like some gangster.”
Matt heard them, but in his mind he kept going over what he wanted to do concerning this prelate. The man appeared somehow connected to Bridget’s death. He would take whatever steps he needed to in order to acquire information about her. If it meant roughing up the priest, he would do it. He had to get the name of the person behind her murder. And if the cardinal turned out to be the guilty party, then he would do what he’d told Gerti. No questions asked.
Matt ignored their advice. They didn’t get it. Even though Scott had lost his sister, he still had a wife and a future with a child on the way. Matt, on the other hand, had lost everything important in his life. Someone had killed his Bridget, taken his love and his life from him. Now he didn’t care what he had to do or who he had to hurt to get the bastard—whatever it took, he would do it.
20
Cardinal’s Arrival
They heard a car entering the drive, then a door closed, and the car departed. Matt and his companions stood in a large drawing room when the cardinal arrived. The priest filled the door frame with his massive bulk, nearing sixty years old but with snow-white hair, cloaked in the red garb of a prince of the Roman Catholic Church. He entered without an entourage.
“Who are you? Why are you in my house?” he asked in passable but heavily accented English. Their dress probably gave them away, the shoes being the obvious giveaway. Many observers could pick out Americans by the style of footwear they wore.
Captain Grossman approached and presented his credentials.
“That doesn’t answer my question. Why are you in my house, and who are these men?”
“I’m Matt Higgins, and this is Scott Donavan,” Matt said as he approached the man without extending his hand.
At that moment, Grossman’s phone rang. He looked at it and said, “I’ll go outside to take this. It’s important.” He left.
“Are you the brother of Bridget Donavan?” the cardinal asked Scott, paying no attention to Grossman’s departure.
“I see you know the name,” Matt said. “We’re here to ask you some questions.”
“Make an appointment with my office if you want to have a meeting.” The cardinal sneered at them. “I don’t want to discuss anything with you, especially about that little…” He searched for a word but didn’t seem to find it, his face turning red with rage. “About that little tart’s fate,” he finally managed. “She inflicted immense problems on our society, and now she is no longer able to.”
Matt moved with blinding speed. He had lost the little patience he had tried to show. This man’s arrogance and defamation of Bridget pissed him off. He slammed the cardinal into a chair behind where he stood. “I like the idea of having a meeting with you right now, and you better watch your mouth,” he shouted, leaning down so he was nose to nose with the intimidated prelate.
The man’s eyes went wide. “Where is that Swiss Guard? You are a maniac.”
At this point, Matt sought information, and he would get it even if he had to kill this man. Rage inflamed his heart. The cardinal had unknowingly pushed the wrong button. Matt felt himself lose it. Now anger and hatred drove his actions.
“You’re a cardinal, and I really don’t want to kill you, but that all depends on your answers. Capisce?” Matt asked.
The cardinal nodded slowly.
Scott opened his laptop and moved out of the room. As he departed, he said over his shoulder, “My program is running now, with the latest patch from my friend. I should get a definite answer soon,” he said. As an afterthought, he added, “Please hold off doing anything rash till I get my results.”
“Cardinal Menendez,” Matt said, never taking his eye off the man, ignoring Scott’s entreaty, “I’ve obtained information that you hired someone to kill Bridget Donavan. The man gave up that detail with his dying breath. Our computer experts traced an email that links the killer to your computer here in Rome. So, you see why I think you’re the killer.” He slapped the man.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re not making sense.”
Matt reached down and grabbed the cardinal by the front of his cassock, pulled him to his feet, and breathed into his face. The man’s eyes went wide, exhibiting real fear as Matt gripped him by the throat. He tried to pull Matt’s hand away but lacked the strength to free himself from the viselike grip. Matt assumed that no one had ever attacked this cardinal in such a manner.
“Come on, quit playing dumb. You’re the man who had reason to kill Bridget for what she did to your society. Your predecessor jumped from a helicopter and, with Bridget’s help, Jonathan McGregor decimated your organization. I now believe you had definite motive. You have the money to contract someone to solve a problem you experienced with the Donavans.” Matt kept squeezing the man’s neck, lessening his stranglehold when he saw him signal with his hands that he wanted to talk.
“No. No, you aren’t correct. Sure, we had reason to hate the Donavans, but after the events surrounding the return of the icon, we have no reason to feel any continued animosity toward them. I tell you, I don’t know what you are talking about,” the cardinal managed to say in halting English. He could, without doubt, feel Matt’s hands applying more pressure to his neck.
Matt squeezed the man’s neck until he saw the pallor of his skin change. The cardinal again wanted to say something, so he lessened the pressure slightly.
“I’m sorry for what I said about Ms. Donavan. We did not do what you are accusing us of. I swear it,” the cardinal rasped out of his constricted throat.
Grossman reentered. “Let the cardinal go, Matt. Now.”
“Wait,” Scott shouted, running into the room behind Grossman. “He’s telling the truth. He didn’t do it.”
Matt somehow managed to hear what Grossman shouted. He registered it. Scott’s pronouncement made an entrance into his conscious mind. He released the chokehold inch by inch. As he reduced the pressure, the cardinal gasped and fell to the floor, clutching at his throat.
“What?” Matt shouted as he regained control of his emotions. “What the hell are you talking about? We know this guy sent the emails.” Matt felt his rage going ballisti
c. “What are you saying? We got all this wrong?” Matt screamed in an irate voice.
“He didn’t do it,” Scott said and repeated it again. He moved over to where Matt stood. “I discovered that he isn’t the man in Rome, because there is no man here, but you were hell-bent on getting here and confronting him. The timeframes didn’t add up. I tried to warn you to slow down. Now, I know where the emails originated. It’s not Rome. Listen to me. It wasn’t Rome.”
“So you’re wrong. What good is your program if it isn’t accurate?” Matt shouted at Scott.
“Why don’t you use your FBI assets? They have more capability than I have. Use them or get off my back.”
“You know I can’t. We’re off-book now, and I’d be fired.” He took a deep breath. “Sorry, I’m making bad decisions without thinking. I simply want to get to Bridget’s killer.”
Scott nodded understanding.
“Grossman, what did you find out?” Matt shouted.
While he waited for Grossman to reply, the maid returned. They all stood still and waited. She had escorted the cardinal to another room. She said, “The cardinal said I should call the police. I must do that now.”
“Where’s the cardinal’s computer?” Scott asked. He moved to intercept her movement toward the phone.
“I’ll take care of that call,” Grossman said to Maria.
“The cardinal has a desktop computer here in his office, but I don’t think he uses it. He is always on his laptop. Come. I’ll show you,” Maria said.
Scott and Matt followed her into a small room with a computer terminal mounted on a small desk with a small screen. “He has a young nephew who comes to visit, and the boy plays games on this computer since the cardinal never uses it.”
Scott powered up the computer and found the IP address of the machine.
“It’s the one the email came from on my original scan.”