Wanke continued, ‘The nameless man did everything he could to be accepted in the community — giving jobs to the peasants, teaching religion to the children, donating his time and treasures to anyone he deemed worthy. In fact, he was so loved and cherished by the locals that they dubbed him the Saint of Vindobona.’
Boyd asked, ‘Are you familiar with him?’
Wanke nodded, putting the book aside. ‘I am, although the myths I have heard might not match the facts that you are looking for. According to history, the Saint of Vindobona was one of the first believers of Christ. He was an ardent preacher of Christianity.’
‘Christianity?’ everyone said in unison.
Wanke smiled. ‘I warned you it might not fit.’
Stunned, everyone debated this development until Boyd brought their attention back to Wanke. He said, ‘Tell us about the statue. Who built the statue?’
‘Good question, Charles. One that I was just getting to.’ Wanke flipped ahead in Eugene’s book. ‘A few years after the saint’s arrival, Vindobona was visited by a team of Roman artisans sent by Emperor Caligula to honor this man in a series of marble sculptures.’
‘Did you say Caligula? How bloody brilliant! That means we have a date! The sculptors arrived here within four years of Tiberius’s death, some time between 37 and 41 AD.’
Gaius Caesar, better known as Caligula, had a four-year reign that started after the death of his great-uncle, Tiberius, in 37 ad. One of Caligula’s first acts as emperor was to publicly honor Tiberius’s bequests — including the commissioning of several works of art — in order to win favor of the Roman citizenry. However, he did all this while nullifying Tiberius’s will and destroying most of his personal papers to protect the reputation of his family. He was forced to do so because Tiberius spent the last few years of his life acting like a madman.
Ironically, it was Caligula who did more damage to the family name than Tiberius. Caligula’s four years as emperor were stained by tales of insanity and sexual depravity that are still shocking to this day. They included flaunting the incestuous relationship he had with his sisters, torturing and killing prisoners as dinnertime entertainment, delivering political speeches while dressed in drag, seducing the wives of officers and politicians in front of their dismayed spouses, and honoring his favorite horse by making it a Roman senator.
Wanke continued his summary. ‘Following Tiberius’s final wishes, Emperor Caligula ordered several statues to be constructed from local marble. The face on each was to reflect joyful triumph, as if mocking the world with knowledge of an extraordinary secret. Then, upon completion, one was to adorn the saint’s home high atop the white hills of Vindobona. The others would be spread evenly across the lands of snow and sun.’
Maria gasped at the word choice. ‘Snow and sun’ had appeared in the Orvieto scroll as well.
‘In time the saint grew weary of looking at his own face. Citing humility, he had the statue removed and ordered it to be destroyed. But his centurions didn’t have the heart to demolish something so exquisite. Instead they placed the statue on the far edge of town, where it became a shrine for the townspeople, a place to honor the saint’s kindness and charity. And it stayed there for several centuries, until construction of the Hofburg began, at which time it was moved across town and placed in a position of honor on the outer shell.’
Silence filled the library. Time to ponder what they had just learned.
Eventually, Boyd spoke. ‘Is there anything else? Anything about the man’s name or deeds?’
‘No, nothing like that. Later there was mention of the centurions burying the saint’s secrets in the ground of the white hills, but that’s probably just a reference to his gravesite.’
‘Yes, probably.’
Wanke stared at Boyd for several seconds before he spoke again. ‘Charles, forgive me for being so bold, but what exactly are you looking for? It must be something extraordinarily important, or you wouldn’t be showing your face in public.’
Boyd stared right back, refusing to acknowledge anything. Partially to protect Wanke, partially because of greed. To Boyd, this was his discovery and the thought of anyone stealing his glory, especially this late in the chase, made him nauseous. ‘Hermann, do you trust me?’
‘Believe it or not, I don’t make it a habit to assist fugitives.’
‘Then believe me when I tell you this: You don’t want to know what we’re looking for. Dozens of people have died during the past week, innocent people, and all because of this secret.’ Boyd thought about all the victims on the bus and how they screamed in agony. He didn’t want that to happen to one of his friends. ‘Hermann, do yourself a favor and forget you even saw me today. Once this quiets down, I promise I’ll get in touch and explain everything. But until then please keep our meeting to yourself. Your personal welfare depends on it.’
67
They stayed at the Hofburg for a few more hours, until paranoia crept in and thoughts of armed guards bursting into the library fueled their desire to leave.
Besides, at that point most of them needed to use a phone. Petr Ulster needed to call Küsendorf to check on fire damage. Jones wanted to call the Pentagon to get an update on Orlando Pope’s crucifixion and anything else he could track down. And Payne promised to call Frankie with a fax number so he could send his information. The only call-free people were Boyd and Maria, who were so intrigued by the journal that they’d borrowed from Prince Eugene’s collection that they were content sitting in the back of Ulster’s truck discussing it.
The group settled on an Internet café in the middle of Vienna, smack-dab in the center of the Ringstrasse, a two-and-a-half-mile boulevard lined with monuments, parks, schools, and the world-famous State Opera. To the northeast they could see the top of Saint Stephen’s Cathedral, its 450-foot tower thrusting out of the building like a Gothic stalagmite. The café itself was large and bustling, filled with tourists who were getting food and caffeine while checking their e-mail.
Payne got in touch with Frankie at his office and told him to send the fax with all the information that he had discovered. Payne wasn’t willing to tell him the café’s fax number, just in case Frankie’s phone was tapped, but they figured a way around that. The only problem was, Payne had to wait until Frankie drove down the street and accessed a clean line.
Meanwhile, Jones reached Raskin at the Pentagon and learned that a fourth crucifixion had just occurred in Beijing, a case receiving serious airtime around the world. He told Payne to find a TV that was broadcasting CNN while Jones got background info on the other three murders. The television coverage was stunning. A man nailed to a crucifix was floating through the air while blood oozed, in slow motion, from wounds in his hands, feet, and side. An announcer droned on about the recent rash of tragedies, followed by an interview with an ‘expert’ who claimed he had no idea why any of these murders had taken place.
Payne watched for several minutes until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Not a threatening hand, just a tap. He turned and saw Ulster, his skin pale and his cheeks streaked with tears. He had just gotten off the phone with Küsendorf and was obviously shaken by the news. Payne helped him to one of the chairs and sat next to him, not pressing him for details until he was ready to talk. He had comforted enough grieving soldiers to know that was the best approach.
A few minutes passed before Ulster talked about the damage to the Archives. They were more severe than he had anticipated. All the vaults had held, protecting his most valuable collections from fire and water damage. Still, many of the building’s outer walls had been destroyed, making the Archives structurally unsafe. That meant even though his artifacts were fine for the moment, they would be destroyed if the building collapsed.