“Now they’re pissing off Mother Nature?” commented Spock.

  The camera flipped to a different angle showing four policemen forming a human barrier between the mob and what appeared to be a counter-mob. The numbers weren’t large but something was going down.

  Niner pointed as the angle changed again. “There!”

  Dawson cursed. Acton and his wife Laura were clearly visible along with Tommy Granger and Mai Trinh. “Where is this?” he asked, flagging the bartender.

  The bartender glanced at the screen. “It’s a rest stop a few hours north of here.”

  A buxom blonde leaned in. “I’ll tell you what they’re saying if you give me five minutes alone with him.” She winked at Atlas.

  Atlas held up his hands. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m taken.”

  “I don’t care about you. The question is, is he taken?”

  Niner chuckled. “Sorry, darling, but unfortunately his girl back home has a lock on that thing.” He gestured toward the TV. “But those are our friends. Can you please let us know what’s going on?”

  The mischievous smile on the girl’s face disappeared. “They’re your friends?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” She listened to the TV, the bartender having turned it up. “It looks like they’re at a truck stop a few hours north of here. Oh, yeah. This was on the news last night. I remember seeing it. Apparently, some boy fell into a hole and broke his ankle. They found a body inside that was there, they think, for hundreds of years, so a team from the Vatican was sent in to investigate. I guess they found a letter from some pope on the body. They’re saying they believe there’s some ancient document that’s been found. Sorry, I don’t know how to translate that into English.”

  “Treatise of the Three Impostors,” filled in the bartender.

  Dawson quickly googled it as the woman continued to translate.

  “I guess these Muslim youth have shown up and are demanding it be burned because they consider it blasphemous.”

  Dawson frowned. “Wonderful. And the response?”

  She shrugged as the newscast changed to the weather. “I don’t know, sorry.”

  Dawson turned to the bartender. “You said it’s a few hours north of here?”

  “Yeah, on the A1 Highway.”

  Dawson rose, as did the others. “Where’s the nearest car rental place?”

  33 |

  En Route to Padua AD 1239

  Brother Alberto continued north at a steady pace, the long-distance horses they were riding rapidly closing the gap Sir Ricardo’s head start had provided him. A brother embedded within the Templar Order had informed them that Ricardo had been spotted this morning in Sipicciano, a town less than two hours ahead. After Father Francis had informed him of what was in the folio he had given Ricardo, Alberto had met with Keepers leadership, and it had been decided it was simply too dangerous for this document to exist.

  While there was the possibility it could weaken the emperor, there was doubt as to what that might mean. There was a distinct possibility weakening the emperor’s position might cause a war, and wars were unpredictable. With the emperor having a power base in Sicily to the south, and a significant number of allies in the north, the Papal States could find themselves squeezed. And if Rome were sacked once again, as it had been before in history, Christianity could find the emperor sitting in the Chair of Saint Peter rather than the pope.

  He pulled his cloak tighter against the stiffening breeze. The sun was up, though provided little warmth today, the cloud cover thick. But at least it wasn’t raining, as it had for most of their journey. He was cold, damp, and miserable, as were the others with him, yet no one complained, for this was an important mission in service of God. Perhaps at no point in history had the Church ever been so threatened, and it was the Keepers’ job to preserve it, not just from those on the outside who would do it harm, but those on the inside who would do the same, though perhaps unintentionally.

  This was a plan set into motion by people other than him, and when briefed on the treatise and its contents, he immediately knew that anything involving it could come to no good. He had no desire to kill Sir Ricardo, yet the man had to be stopped. Though perhaps the damage had already been done. A messenger had reached them this morning from Padua, indicating the court there was in chaos, the pope’s letter, sent ahead of the actual treatise, apparently having its desired effect. Should the actual text arrive, war might be inevitable, and the emperor, like a cornered animal, might lash out at his greatest foe.

  The Church in Rome.

  Ricardo had to be stopped, and unfortunately, with his orders being issued as non contramand, he feared the man’s life was already forfeit.

  Though only if they could find him.

  34 |

  Discovery Site North of Sipicciano, Italy Present Day

  Acton took in the rapidly escalating situation. Four police officers could only hold back this crowd if they were willing to use their weapons, and there was no way they would, not unless their lives were threatened. He had already seen one of them on their radio, so reinforcements would be arriving eventually, but how long they would take to get here he had no idea. The only way to defuse the situation would be to get the hell out of here.

  He turned to their driver Lombardi then pointed at the terrified Tommy and Mai. “Take the two of them back to our car as discreetly as possible. Call Mario Giasson, let him know what’s going on.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Acton turned to Tommy and Mai. “You two go with Lombardi. Get in the vehicle. We’ll be along shortly. If things get out of control, you leave. Understood?”

  They both nodded and Mai rushed into Laura’s arms, hugging her. “Why don’t you come with us before it’s too late?”

  “We need to get the artifact out of here, otherwise, this mob will destroy it. Don’t worry, we’re not going to risk our lives, but we just want you two safe.”

  Mai sniffed hard, wiping her eyes, and Lombardi beckoned them. “Let’s go before they surround us.”

  Acton noticed more were coming through the trees and he turned to Father Esposito, who walked up to them, concerned.

  “My understanding is you two have been in more situations like this than I have. What’s your recommendation?”

  “Abandon everything. If they destroy your equipment, it doesn’t matter. It can be replaced. All we need to do is take the case with the folio.”

  “What about the body?”

  Laura dismissed the concern. “They don’t care about that. All they care about is the document. They might destroy it since that’s what mobs do, but let’s be honest, it’s the document that’s important, not the messenger.”

  Esposito’s head slowly bobbed in agreement. “All right. I’ll go get the case.”

  Acton heard the hesitation in the man’s voice. He was scared, and rightfully so. “I’ll get it. Here’s what we’ll do. I’m gonna get the case, and when I come out of the tent, I want all of your people, including yourself, to join the counter-protesters as Laura and I head to our vehicle. Count to thirty, then leave. Get to your cars then we’ll head back to the Vatican. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  “Okay. Tell your people. We’re doing this now.”

  Esposito gathered his team as Acton and Laura headed for the tent. The case was sitting on the table as it had been left. Unfortunately, it was large and conspicuous, and it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out what was inside.

  “This might not be such a good plan after all.”

  35 |

  St. Thomas’ Hospital London, England

  Reading pressed the button to elevate the head of the bed a little more as his doctor entered the room. Spencer stood, both of them desperate to hear the results of the test taken hours before. “What’s the good news, Doc?”

  The doctor frowned as he worked his tablet. “Unfortunately, it’s too early to tell right now. There’s a marker we look for and it is showing an elevated result. Now, your heart was under a lot of stress during the episode so this isn’t uncharacteristic. What we need to do is wait for eight hours after the initial attack ended and test again. If we’re lucky, the number’s gone down, indicating no damage. But if it stays elevated, then things could be more serious.”

  “Do we need to be concerned?” asked Spencer. “I mean, what are we talking about here? What’s typical?”

  “Typically, the number goes down. It’s just that at the moment, it’s a little higher than we like to see after one of these episodes. How long was it before the paramedics arrived?”

  Reading shrugged. “I’m not sure. Certainly under thirty minutes from when I woke up, but I don’t know how long it was happening while I was asleep. It could have been five minutes, it could have been five hours.”

  The doctor waved the tablet. “Based on these results, I’m guessing it wasn’t five minutes. In the future, if you have another attack, it’s essential you call emergency immediately. Minutes can count.”

  “I understand. So, now what?”

  The doctor tapped his watch. “We wait eight hours from the point you were given the injections.”

  Reading groaned. “Eight hours?”

  The doctor flashed him a grin. “Look at the bright side. It’s already been more than half that.”

  “Yeah, Doc, not to throw cold water on that, but how many hours will we be waiting to see the next set of results?”

  The doctor shrugged. “Unfortunately, we’re understaffed and our hospitals are overwhelmed. We’re doing the best we can.”

  “We know you are, and it’s appreciated,” said Spencer. “Is he allowed to get up and stretch his legs?”

  “Yes. Just watch your IV and don’t be a hero.”

  Reading smirked. “Then you obviously don’t know me.”

  36 |

  En route to Discovery Site Italy

  Dawson ended the call with his commanding officer, Colonel Thomas Clancy, as Spock pulled their rental SUV out onto the road.

  “You got a location for me?”

  Niner leaned between the seats and programmed the destination into the GPS. And cursed. “Three and a half hours. Too bad we couldn’t borrow a Black Hawk.”

  Dawson cocked an eyebrow à la Spock. “We might not be able to get a Black Hawk, but I wonder if we can rent a helicopter.”

  “That’s a crazy enough idea, it might just work.” Niner sat back and worked his phone. “Let me make some calls.”

  “Where am I heading?” asked Spock.

  Dawson gestured ahead. “Just keep heading toward the trouble, just in case there’s no way to rent one.”

  Atlas leaned forward. “What did the colonel say?”

  “He said stay off the news and don’t make what we do on our vacation his business.”

  Atlas chuckled. “That sounds like the colonel.”

  Spock gunned them through a traffic light just as it was about to turn red. “I’ve got a question.”

  Dawson regarded the man. “What’s that?”

  “How the hell are any of us gonna afford to rent a chopper?”

  Dawson frowned. “Hadn’t thought of that. Normally I’d call the professors in a situation like this.”

  “Why don’t you?” said Niner. “They’ll probably just put you in touch with that fancy travel agent slash spy they’ve got working for them.”

  Dawson looked up from his phone. “Good idea. She could probably get us a chopper in a heartbeat.” He brought up Acton’s phone number. “Let’s hope he’s answering.”

  37 |

  Discovery Site North of Sipicciano, Italy

  Acton gripped the case tightly as he stepped out of the tent and into the sunlight. He gave Esposito a nod and the priest/scientist joined the crowd of counter-protesters with his staff, thickening the blind for their escape. Acton headed in the opposite direction with the case held in front of him. Laura kept behind him and slightly to his left, blocking the mob’s view of what he was holding as best she could without it looking too obvious.

  Her phone pinged and she checked it as they stepped into the trees. “Tommy and Mai are in the vehicle.”

  “Tell them we’re on the way.” Acton’s phone rang and he cursed as it echoed through the trees. He was forced to lower the case—it was too heavy to hold in front of his chest with one hand. He reached into his pocket and fished out his phone with the intention of turning it off when he noticed the call display said ‘BD.’ He handed the phone to Laura. “You better take it.”

  Somebody shouted behind them and Acton turned to see several of the mob pointing toward them, and he cursed.

  “Time to run!”

  Davide’s heart raced as his fist pumped in the air, screaming the counter chant of “foreigners go home” adopted by the crowd in response to the “burn it now” demand from the Palestinian mob. So far, only insults had been thrown, but one of the pieces of shit had tried to snatch his yamaka.

  “They’re getting away!” shouted one of the Palestinians, pointing toward the trees behind Davide and his friends. He turned and saw the man and woman leaving the area, the man gripping a large case that had to contain the document they were all here about. The mob surged forward and one of the police officers cursed as he drew his baton, the other three following suit, but it didn’t deter the hate-filled group.

  They stormed forward, shoving the police to the ground, some of them kicking the officers as they were down, and it enraged Davide. He pushed through the crowd of counter-protesters and charged at one of the mob kicking the police officer he had spoken to earlier. He knocked the attacker to the ground then began kicking him.

  “How do you like it, you piece of shit? How do you like it?” He continued to kick when from out of nowhere a fist connected with his face. He hit the ground hard, his ears ringing, his world spinning.

  “Davide!” cried Salamone from nearby as somebody kicked him in the side and he cried out. Something dark swung across his field of vision and his attacker screamed in agony, dropping beside him as the officer rolled to his knees then pushed to his feet, hauling Davide up beside him. The man swung his baton again, catching one of the mob in the head, slicing open his cheek. Davide reached down and grabbed a tree branch dropped by one of the attackers and began swinging as Salamone and Zaccaria joined him, wielding their own makeshift weapons. They set upon those attacking the other officers and created a circle, their backs to each other, holding off the mob when a gunshot rang out.

  And everything changed.

  Acton cursed at the gunfire. It was far enough away that they shouldn’t be in danger, but the mob was after them and there was no way to know if any of them were armed as well. He could hear them racing through the trees behind them as Laura spoke to Dawson on the phone.

  “Yes, I’ll have her contact you…I’ve gotta go…running for our lives…yeah, I know…what else is new…good luck to you too.” She ended the call and worked her phone between glances up to make sure she wasn’t about to run into a tree. He didn’t bother asking what was going on. It was more important she focused on whatever she was doing.

  Something hit him in the back and he stumbled, cursing as he lost his footing and tripped over a tree root. Laura reached back and hauled him to his feet. “Let’s go! Let’s go!”

  He pushed forward, his back aching from what must have been a fairly hefty rock. He glanced over his shoulder and grimaced at the sight. At least ten were just behind them, two of them within paces. They were going to be overtaken. These were teenagers and young men in their early twenties, and his legs had seen better days. Hauling this huge case wasn’t helping—it was just too much to keep ahead of them.

  Laura stuffed her phone back in her pocket, signaling an end to whatever she and Dawson had been discussing.

  “What’s going on?”

  “BD and a few of the others are in Italy on leave. They’re heading our way. I just sent a message to Mary to reach out to them to see if she can arrange transport for them.”

  “When will they get here?”

  She did a shoulder check. “Not soon enough.”

  “That’s what I figured.” He could hear the breathing of those behind him. He had seconds at best. He cursed. He swung the case gripped in his right hand across his chest, then back, flinging it to his right as a flurry of gunfire erupted behind them.

  Davide lay on the ground, curled up in a bundle as three of the officers opened fire on the mob while one of their comrades bled out not three paces from where he screamed in terror. Gunfire replied, the mob armed, at least some of them, but most were scrambling to get out of the way of the police response.

  “Where the hell’s that backup?” shouted the officer from earlier into his radio.

  Davide couldn’t make out the response but when the radio was discarded on the ground beside him, it was clear the officer wasn’t happy. Salamone and Zaccaria scrambled away on their hands and knees as Davide pushed up and crawled over to the wounded officer. He pressed his hand on the neck wound just above the body armor. He was certain it was a lucky shot, but that was all a matter of perspective. It was certainly unlucky for the officer.

  More gunfire rang out from the crowd. The counter-protesters had scattered with the first shots but he couldn’t leave. This was now his fight too. These people had to be stopped. They were a scourge on Italian society. There was no loyalty here. These weren’t his countrymen. These were people with their own agenda, their own hatred, and they had no place in civil society.

 

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