The venetian code, p.3
The Venetian Code, page 3
“Obstacles?” And then: “Collateral damage. Innocent lives to be stolen. People of authority who try to intervene. None of these matter to me as long as I get the Cup of Miracles. If you feel a need to terminate people at will and those of your choosing to achieve the means, then be my guest. Is this agreeable with you?”
“In a military situation, I’m the team leader.”
After a pause, Novikov said, “Agreed. In volatile situations, then you command your forces. When it comes to the strategy of seeking out the treasure, however, then it is I who has all the say on how we proceed to the site of the Templar’s Vault. So, a mutual leadership under certain conditions. Acceptable?”
After a pause, Rabinovitch, though not entirely willing, said, “Acceptable.”
“Excellent.” Novikov, for the first time, looked away from the pages and locked eyes with Rabinovitch. “We leave in a few days.”
Rabinovitch nodded.
CHAPTER THREE
The Papal Chamber
Apostolic Palace
Vatican City
Father Auciello, who was one of the co-directors of Vatican Intelligence, or the Santa Alleanza, meaning Holy Alliance, was being escorted to the pontiff’s chamber by two members of the Swiss Guard. In his hand was a briefcase with information about a particular book that had been stolen from the Abbey of Santa Maria di Rovegnano in Milan nearly a decade ago, after a monk appropriated the tome and disappeared. Recently, the diary had appeared on the black market where it was sold for—allegedly—fifteen million euros to a German philanthropist, a man by the name of Maximillian Müller.
When the chamber door closed behind the priest, Pope Innocent IX stood behind his desk and proffered his hand to Father Auciello. The priest, after accepting the hand and kissing the Fisherman’s Ring in respect of the pope’s position, sat in the vacant chair across from the pontiff.
“And how are you today, my friend?” the pontiff asked him.
“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”
Pope Innocent IX pointed to the briefcase. “I understand that you have information about the diary of Giovanni Chiaravalle regarding the Templar treasure.”
Father Auciello, nodding and then unhitching the clasps to the briefcase, opened the top and produced a manila file. Placing the folder on the desktop and sliding it towards the pope, he said, “As you know, Giovanni Chiaravalle’s diary was under the safekeeping of the monks at the Santa Maria di Rovegnano when it was stolen ten years ago.”
The pontiff opened the folder and saw the documents. “And the monk allegedly involved with its theft?”
“He was never found. Not even with today’s technology to locate him.”
“And yet the book suddenly reappears on the black market, I see.” He flipped the page over and began to pour over another page. “And the person who sold the diary?”
“Unknown. But we were able to trace the book to a philanthropist in Germany. To a man by the name of Maximillian Müller, who purchased the item for fifteen million euros. Money trails and banking information back this up with the transfer of money appearing in several accounts before the accounts disappeared, leading us to believe that it was a black-market sale.”
“How do you know that it was Mr. Müller who wound up with the book?”
“Nearly three weeks ago, a man by the name of Dr. Anton Engel was attending a seminar when he met with Müller. According to Engel’s notes and emails to a Russian oligarch by the name of Ivan Novikov, Engel was offering Novikov information that might be of great value to him in exchange for complete exoneration from debts owed.”
“How did you happen to obtain this information?”
“As you know, we’ve been monitoring messages from oligarchs in coordination with our allies in the United States and Europe since the conflict. So far, Ivan Novikov remains untouched by the seizures since he docks his yacht in Dubai. So, we placed more effort to monitor his attempts should he decide to leave port so that the allies can move in and seize the property. Though Novikov is staying put, he continues to manage his industries through his telecommunication system onboard. When the words ‘Chiaravalle’ and ‘diary’ were flagged on our system, our team quickly tracked down the IP address, broke through the firewalls, and seized the communication.”
The pontiff nodded, the gesture saying, ‘go on.’
“The communication states—and you have all that in front of you,” said Father Auciello, “that Dr. Engel spoke with Müller who professed to him about having the book that contained validated parchment pieces, along with maps, that are believed to have been written by a Templar Knight that spells out, cryptically, the location of the treasure, presumably in Venice. But you and I know that already.”
“That it’s in Venice—yes—if it exists.” After a beat, the pontiff asked. “Please, continue.”
“Not too long after the communications where Engel is offering an exchange of the book for relief from his debt, he was found dead in Austria. It appears that he was a victim of torture. He was found tethered to a chair and was missing two fingers; perhaps that’s all it took for him to talk. The method of his death was a single bullet to his forehead.”
The pontiff winced at this.
Father Auciello continued. “A few days later, Maximillian Müller was found dead inside a secreted room in his library along with his detail, three men, all who were victims of professional hits.”
“And the book in question?”
“Gone. The room was filled with podiums that exhibited rare and expensive books that totaled tens of millions of euros. One podium, however, was vacant. Of all the books, only one was taken.”
“The diary of Giovanni Chiaravalle.”
“We believe so, Your Holiness.”
The pontiff appeared to be mulling over his thoughts. And then: “And this man, Ivan Novikov, what do you know of him.”
“Ivan Novikov is an extremely wealthy man who made his fortune mainly in palladium and nickel processing and has a net worth of more than thirty billion dollars. He does have a taste for adventure, however, always funding excursions to countries in search of lost cities. The hobby of a wealthy man.”
“A treasure hunter.”
“He is.”
“And now, we may presume, Ivan Novikov hired a kill squad to appropriate the diary of Giovanni Chiaravalle, its maps, and the clues to locate the Templar treasure, which includes the Cup of Miracles. Once the book was stolen, everyone who was involved with the book was terminated to keep his objective safe, which is to seek out the treasure.”
“That’s the conclusion of Vatican Intelligence as well.”
“If the treasure exists as the diary indicates that it does, the only true value would be the Cup of Miracles. Such a relic of greatness that served as the facilitator of Jesus’ miracles that united His apostles belongs here inside the Vatican’s Vault. It is not a trinket to be displayed inside a glass jar in someone’s parlor.”
“Agreed.”
“The question is: the treasure, if it exists in Venice, then where exactly?”
“If the diary is in the hands of Ivan Novikov,” said Father Auciello, “then he has it for a reason and it’s not for good reading. He has it to serve as a map to the treasure.”
“The Templar Knights were creative in their methods to hide their troves. If Novikov intends to use the writings and the maps to achieve the means of getting his hands on the treasure, the task won’t be an easy one. It is my understanding that the manuscript was filled with alchemical and mysterious symbols that are too difficult to decode.”
“Perhaps at one time,” Father Auciello told him, but with today’s technology to analyze and decipher cryptograms within fractions of a second, there is always that possibility of doing so.”
The pontiff nodded in agreement with this statement. The advancement of technology was passing him by with new state-of-the-art applications being utilized daily. What appeared to be novel today could be antiquated by tomorrow.
Putting aside a page, Pope Innocent IX was viewing the photograph and biographical history of Ivan Novikov. He was a man in his early forties, thin with pewter-colored hair, black eyes set too close together, and a hawklike nose. Yet there was something about his photo that reached off the page that communicated that Ivan Novikov was a man of incredible power, despite his delicate appearance. And not only was Novikov an astute businessman but he was also a person who delighted in the use of his collection of expensive sidearms, such as gold-plated Desert Eagles, a gold-plated AK-47, platinum Colts, and many other weapons made from precious metals. But he was also an expert marksman who rarely missed his target, even when that target was considered well beyond the distance of the weapon’s range.
“Your Holiness,” Father Auciello intervened, “there is no question of Ivan Novikov’s intentions after he sanctioned the hits on Engel and Müller. I believe he obtained the manuscript to follow its clues to the Templar treasure.”
“The book was guarded by the monks at the Abbey of Santa Maria di Rovegnano in Milan when it was appropriated. How much of this manuscript do we have on digital record?”
“All of it.”
“And the Vatican historians, they’ve yet to decipher the codes?”
“After the manuscript was stolen, I’m afraid that the project of deciphering the codes was placed on the back burner due to the Middle East conflict. With the rise of ISIS, al-Qaeda, and the Taliban, we were forced to devote our time to tracking the global insurgency of members who were considered a risk to the United States, Europe, and Israel. Though hotspots remain, the idea of insurgency had diminished after the United States pulled out of the Middle East. So, when we learned that Engel and Müller either knew about or were believed to be in possession of the diary of Giovanni Chiaravalle and were terminated because of it, we placed an immediate priority for the Vatican historians to examine the digital files of the book in an attempt to decode the Templar secrets.”
“That puts us on the same level as Ivan Novikov, then—starting new and from scratch to discover the whereabouts of the trove.”
“Yes, Your Holiness.”
After the pontiff closed the manila folder, he said, “I will call into council the members of the Society of Seven and bring up the topic of the Templar treasure along with the Cup of Miracles. Since the cup is an interest of the church, we will have to mobilize the Vatican Knights to intercept and retrieve the relic. This will be their optimum objective, to achieve the Cup of Miracles. Five men have already died over this manuscript, meaning a greater plan is in motion. If Ivan Novikov intends to seek the Templar treasure, he will not do it alone. Whatever mercenary unit that was involved with the killings will no doubt accompany Novikov since one man alone cannot move the treasure.” After a pause, the pontiff added, “Worse, time to act will be minimal, and their actions will be swift. There won’t be enough time for the historians to dissect the clues here at the Vatican. They’ll have to do it on the go with the Vatican Knights.”
“We have two elite historians who manage the Archives.”
“Send them.”
“Kimball might not like the idea of sending non-military into a conflict.”
“Kimball’s strength is to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Without the historians’ abilities to pave the way to the treasure, then the goal of the mission will be stopped before it has a chance to begin. Kimball will realize this and do everything possible to see them safe.”
“Understood.”
“I assume that you have a detail looking for Ivan Novikov.”
“We’ve sent a field team from the Santa Alleanza to operate from the sidelines in Venice. They’ll be monitoring Venetian streets and other venues with the aid of CCTV cameras. Novikov’s facial and gait-recognition profiles have already been uploaded to their software system. If he enters Venice, they’ll find him.”
The pontiff nodded with satisfaction. “Inform Kimball of our discussion and have him gather a team. I want the Vatican Knights, along with the historians, in Venice within two hours. If Ivan Novikov shows up, I want the Vatican Knights ready to defend the Cup of Miracles, and to bring it home where it belongs.”
“Yes, Your Holiness.”
Father Auciello, standing, reached for the pontiff’s hand and kissed the ring.
“And Father, may God be with you and the Vatican Knights,” Pope Innocent IX stated softly.
Bowing, the co-director of Vatican Intelligence left the Papal Chamber.
CHAPTER FOUR
Kimball Hayden’s Quarters
Vatican City, The Vatican
In a nondescript building constructed entirely of fieldstone and located next to the Old Gardens stands the barracks of the Vatican Knights. There are several living quarters, all cramped and spartan, but the most revered room inside the building is the Ceremonial Chamber. It is a circular room located in the central part of the structure with a high ceiling, about thirty feet, and a floor that was painstakingly cobbled together with hundreds of thousands of mosaic tiles to form the emblem of the Vatican Knights. The insignia was centered on the chamber’s floor, that of the team’s coat of arms where the Silver Cross Pattée was set against a blue background, the colors significant since silver represented peace and sincerity, and blue truth and loyalty. Standing alongside the coat of arms were two heraldic lions on their hind legs with their forepaws against the shield as though to stabilize it, with the lions’ serving as symbolic representations of bravery, strength, ferocity, and valor—the key values of a Vatican Knight.
Walking across the chamber floor to his quarters, his footfalls echoed off the surrounding walls. When he reached his quarters, he read the Latin that was etched in stone above his door: Fides Super Omnia Praeter Honorem. Loyalty Above All Else Except Honor.
Opening the door and stepping inside, the room was steeped in shadows. Often, when the sun was at a perfect angle during the day, a biblical beam of light would shine through the stained-glass window of the Virgin Mary that was high on the wall of his chamber. The colorful glass image of the Virgin Mother was fashioned in a way that she extended her arms in the invitation for Kimball to enter the Light, but there was no such invitation today, the day cloudy.
Standing in the room’s center and looking upward at the image, he did so on an unseen line that divided his chamber. To his left was his living space: an unmade cot, a locker, a nightstand, a mirror and washbasin, and a bookcase to hold his military magazines, the area appearing lived in. To his right was a votive rack, a kneeling rail for prayer, and a podium that held the Bible. But the candles inside the rack had never been lit, the rail had never been knelt upon, and the Bible never opened, the area appearing untouched.
Going to the basin and washing cool water over his face, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. With skin the hue of tanned leather and cerulean blue eyes that appeared piercing at times, he was looking at someone who would eventually go toe to toe with Father Time, who remained undefeated. But Kimball remained strong and seemingly timeless, though he was giving way by the inches with the telltale signs of deepening crow’s feet and the furrowing of lines on his forehead.
Standing back from the mirror, he took note of his severely burned hand, the result of an incident where he nearly lost his life outside of Baltimore. His right hand, arm, and shoulder had burned until his flesh had melted, and then cooled until his skin hardened into discolored patterns and unnatural contours. After removing his shirt and tossing it onto the cot, he returned to the mirror. Not only did the markings of his burns stand out, but he also took note of the pitted flesh from his bullet wounds, and the diagonal and horizontal scars from the blades of knives from battles that were too many to count. Though his physique was heavily muscled and well sculpted, he couldn't help but think that with all his scars and visible wounds that he had accumulated over his lifetime, he felt that his body was not complete with so many missions left ahead of him. I am an unfinished monster, he told himself.
After putting on his shirt there was a knock on his chamber door.
“Just a minute.”
Opening it, he saw a Jesuit priest from Vatican Intelligence.
“Master Commander Hayden,” he said, “Fathers Auciello and Essex would like to meet you inside the Comm Center immediately.”
“Give me five minutes.
After bowing his head to acknowledge Kimball, the Jesuit was gone, leaving Kimball to close the door behind the priest. Looking high up on the wall and at the stained-glass window, he looked at the image of Mother Mary.
“No invitation today?” he asked her softly. “No offering of the Light?”
Silence.
“Perhaps another time, then.”
Kimball, who added nothing more, left his chamber that remained steeped in darkness.
CHAPTER FIVE
Command Center of Vatican Intelligence
Vatican City
Beneath St. Peter’s Basilica and not too far from the vast underground graveyard of the Vatican Grottoes lies the nerve center of Vatican Intelligence. The co-directors of the agency, Fathers Auciello and Essex, were standing on an elevated tier that overlooked a chamber that had multiple wall monitors that showed live shots of the world’s hotspots, and computer consoles that were manned by Jesuit priests.
When Kimball joined their side, they were looking at live shots from the Middle East and Ukraine.
“I was told that you sent for me,” Kimball stated to the co-directors.
“On behalf of the pontiff,” Father Auciello answered.
“Where to this time?” asked Kimball. “The Middle East or Ukraine?”
“Neither,” said Father Essex. “How about Venice?”
Kimball appeared perplexed. “Venice?”
“It appears that an interest of the church may be in jeopardy which warrants the use of the Vatican Knights,” Father Auciello said. The priest turned to Kimball. “You’ve heard of the Templar treasure, no doubt.”
