Jones said, ‘Right before we were attacked, we received some information from the Pentagon. Data that I was able to print out. It seems that one of you has been keeping some secrets from us. Secrets about your involvement with the men from Milan.’
Boyd looked at Maria, and she looked at him, neither sure who he was talking about. It was a tactic that sometimes revealed secrets from both parties. Maria asked, ‘Can you give us a — ’
‘Just come clean,’ Jones demanded, glancing back and forth. ‘We need to know everything, right here, right now, or we’re turning you over to the authorities. Consequences be damned.’
Boyd and Maria stared at each other. Neither of them talking. Both of them paranoid.
Finally, Boyd said, ‘Enough with the games. I’ve been through enough training to recognize your tactics. It’s obvious that you want one of us to break and provide you with something substantial. However, I can assure you that neither of us has a hidden agenda.’ He pointed to the paper in Jones’s hand. ‘Tell us what’s on the sheet. I’m sure it can be logically explained.’
Jones glanced at Payne, and Payne nodded. It was time to reveal their cards.
‘Back in Milan,’ Jones said, ‘when Maria picked up the rent-a-car, what were you doing?’
Boyd answered, ‘I was waiting at the warehouse.’
‘Maria, did you call anyone at the airport?’
She seemed startled by the question. ‘Who would I call? It was the middle of the night, and I was trying to sneak out of town. Why would I use the phone?’
Jones nodded, still hoping she was innocent. ‘Did either of you recognize the men from the choppers?’
Boyd shook his head. ‘Not I.’
‘And Maria? What about you?’
She looked at Jones, confused. ‘You were with me the entire time. You know damn well that we couldn’t see anyone. It was too dark, and we were too far away.’
‘True,’ he admitted. ‘Very true.’ He paused for a moment, letting them soak in the tension. It was more than enough to frazzle Boyd.
‘That does it. We demand to know what’s going on and demand to know now. We’re on your side, for heaven’s sake. Not theirs.’
‘Is that so?’ Payne asked, entering the conversation. ‘We’d like to believe you, but this information causes us to have doubts. Especially since we know the enemy is Maria’s brother.’
Both Maria and Boyd went pale. Slowly, they looked at each other, searching each other’s eyes for the slightest hint of guilt. Then they turned toward Payne and Jones, speechless.
Jones asked. ‘What’s the deal?’
‘There is no deal. I don’t even know which brother you’re talking about.’
‘Roberto,’ Payne said. ‘We’re talking about Roberto. He was the guy who came to Pamplona and claimed to be Richard Manzak. The same one who showed up in Milan and pulled a gun on us.’
‘The one you killed?’ she gasped.
‘And tortured. And maimed.’ Payne was trying to get her to lose her cool, so he poured it on thick. ‘Did I tell you what I did to him while you were on the chopper? I needed to get his name, but he wouldn’t tell me, so I was forced to improvise.’
Without warning Payne leapt to his feet and grabbed her hand, slamming it down with such force that she gasped in terror. Then he spread her fingers on the dirty floor and used the barrel of his Luger to tap the main knuckle of her index finger. Tapping it over and over, again and again, letting her feel the cold metal, letting her imagine what her brother went through in Milan. And he did this in hopes of getting her to talk. He hated to be so rough with her — especially since she could be on his side — but he was doing it for the safety of others.
He had to know where her allegiance was. It was imperative.
‘The blade went in here. Right through his skin and veins and bone. I sawed his finger in two, then put its tip in my pocket so I could fingerprint it. That’s right, while we were in the chopper, I was carrying your brother’s finger, dripping with your family’s blood.’
Maria’s olive skin turned pale, which Payne assumed was because of his monologue. But when he pushed her further, she pointed out something that they had overlooked, a simple fact that told Payne and Jones a lot about her family and whose side she was fighting for.
‘You’re forgetting something,’ she said. ‘That night in Milan, when you made contact with Roberto, you told him that I was in the Ferrari, right? Hiding with D.J.?’
Payne nodded. That’s what had happened.
‘And how did he respond?’
Oh, shit! Payne thought to himself. How could he have been so dumb? How could he have overlooked that? Roberto had pushed the button on his detonator like he was stepping on an ant. No guilt. No remorse. No indecision. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it. For some reason the thought of killing his baby sister had brought him immense pleasure.
Suddenly Payne had all the proof he needed. Maria and Roberto were not on the same side.
60
Benito Pelati didn’t shout. Or scream. Or lose his cool. He simply leaned back in his chair and smiled. It was a reaction that Cardinal Vercelli and the rest of the Council hadn’t expected.
‘Am I missing something?’ Vercelli asked. ‘Your reputation will be ruined if we allow the blackmailers to tell the world about the Catacombs. You understand that, don’t you?’
For years he had kept the secret of the Catacombs to himself. Partially out of respect for his best friend, Cardinal Bandolfo, who would’ve been devastated by the betrayal; partially because he was waiting to uncover the first-person account of the crucifixion from the tomb in Vienna. But now that Bandolfo was gone, the Viennese vault was being unearthed, and his son Roberto had been killed, Benito realized it was time to act.
‘Why are you smiling?’ Vercelli demanded. ‘You have no reason to be smiling.’
‘Actually, it’s you who has no reason to be smiling.’
Vercelli remained quiet. There was something about Benito’s tone that was disconcerting. It was cold and assured. Like an assassin who was ready to strike. And everyone in the room sensed it. All eyes followed Benito as he stood from his chair and moved toward Vercelli.
‘The Council asked me to find the person responsible for Father Jansen’s death and for the blackmail scheme, and I have done so. Why shouldn’t I be happy?’
‘You know who’s responsible?’ asked the Brazilian. ‘Then tell us. Who?’
Benito stared him in the eyes. ‘It was me.’
‘You?’ shouted Vercelli. ‘What do you mean, you?’
‘Just as I stated, I’m the man behind his death. In fact, I’m behind all the crucifixions.’
It took a moment for his words to penetrate the fog that clouded the Council’s thoughts. Once it happened, though, outrage filled the room. Unadulterated venom. And Benito reveled in it. He soaked it up like applause, enjoying every last insult that was fired in his direction. Somehow it made him feel better about what he was about to do. Then, when he reached the end of the table, the seat reserved for the Council leader, he leaned toward Vercelli’s ear and whispered softly, ‘You’re sitting in my chair.’
To punctuate his point, Benito put his hand on the cardinal’s head and slammed his face into the hard table. Blood gushed from Vercelli’s nose and mouth, dousing the bright red of his clerical robe with even more red — a color meant to signify that he was willing to die for his faith, if necessary. Yet Benito didn’t get that vibe from Vercelli. His point was proven when Vercelli abandoned the chair without further provocation. Meanwhile, none of the other cardinals dared to move, secretly wondering if Benito was armed and planning to kill them.