Rose shook his head. ‘The chair won’t be necessary. I promised Nick that I’d be brief, and I intend to keep my word.’
‘Suit yourself, Your Eminence… I admire a man who can keep his word.’
Rose moved closer. ‘Actually, that’s the thing about secrets that has always bothered me. People never keep their word, meaning a secret is never a secret for very long.’
Pelati nodded, all too familiar with the subject. ‘Cardinal Rose, if I may be so bold, why are you telling me this? Are you trying to convince me that you know my family’s secret? Is that what you’re trying to do?’
‘On the contrary, I wanted you to know that the exact opposite is true. You are alone in this. No one knows your entire secret but you. Do you hear me? Not a single soul.’
Pelati frowned. It wasn’t what he was expecting. ‘And you came here to tell me that?’
Rose smiled in the face of evil. He’d been sent here by the Supreme Council to protect the Church, and he intended to finish the job. ‘No, I came here because I wanted to see the look in your eyes when I told you this…’ Pulling a pistol from the folds of his robe, he said, ‘Your secret dies today.’
Before Dial could react, Rose shoved the gun against Pelati’s head and fired. A thunderous roar filled the room, followed by the splash of blood and brains against the wall.
Instinctively, Dial lunged for Rose’s weapon, but the Cardinal was too quick to be stopped. Backing away to the far corner of the room, Rose pushed the hot barrel against his own temple and ordered Dial to stay put.
‘Don’t do it!’ Dial screamed. ‘Please don’t!’
‘I have to, Nick. It has to end this way.’
‘Why?’ he demanded as a wave of cops burst through the door. ‘Tell me why!’
Rose smiled knowingly and tightened his grip on the trigger. ‘Because Christ is my savior.’
75
Payne and Jones never heard the gunshots. They were out by the pool, discussing the week’s events when Cardinal Rose opened fire. The sound was drowned out by a hovering chopper and all the police sirens that were migrating to the area.
Later, when they found out what happened, Payne was disappointed that he didn’t get to see Benito’s execution. That might sound morbid, but when you’ve seen as many good men die as he had, sometimes it helps to see the death of a devil. Somehow that helps balance the equation. At least for a little while.
Then again, Payne realized if he’d been inside for all the fireworks, he would’ve missed the biggest surprise of all. Something so unexpected that he still didn’t know what to think of it.
Sitting between Jones and Dr Boyd, Payne was staring at the twinkling blue water, thinking about religion. He had learned more about Christianity during the past few days than he had during the rest of his years combined. Yet he was thirsting for more. For every question that had been answered, ten new ones had popped into his head. And each of them was more complicated than the last. Payne mentioned this to Dr Boyd, who claimed that was the paradox of religion. Boyd said, the more you learn, the less you know.
Joking, Payne said, ‘Damn! Then I guess you don’t know shit compared to me.’
Surprisingly, Boyd laughed louder than anyone.
Payne turned toward Jones, expecting a smile on his face, too. Instead he noticed a dazed look in his eyes that said he was still trying to piece everything together. The Catacombs, the scroll, the Pelati family secret. To him, they were pieces in a jigsaw puzzle that still didn’t fit.
‘You all right?’ Payne asked.
He nodded, even though Payne knew he wasn’t. Something was bothering him. Something big. Finally, Jones said, ‘Doc, out of curiosity, what do you think happened to him?’
Boyd grimaced. ‘Him? Who do you mean?’
‘Jesus,’ he answered. ‘If Jesus didn’t die on the cross, what happened to him?’
‘Ahhh.’ The sound suggested that Boyd had been expecting that question all week. ‘I guess that depends on who you ask. Different experts have different opinions, though some of them are a little daft. The most popular theory is that Christ was a married man who shipped his family to Marseilles right after his trial in Judea. I’ve read many French manuscripts that refer to Christ’s royal blood still living in France today.’
They had heard that theory, too. Payne knew some experts believed that Christ’s wife was Mary Magdalene. Of course he had no idea if that was true or a brilliant piece of fiction. ‘So you think Christ went to France?’
Boyd shrugged. ‘That’s what some believe. Others feel the risk would’ve been too great. The truth is, if Christ had been discovered, his whole family would’ve been slaughtered on the spot.’
Jones winced. ‘Then where did he go?’
‘According to Islamic traditions, he headed east, where he eventually died several decades later in the Indian city of Kashmir. Others believe that he went to Alexandria in Egypt, where he helped convert that city to Christianity. I even read one account that claimed he was killed at Masada in 74 AD when the Jewish fortress fell to the Romans.’
But none of those theories sat well with Jones. Frustrated, he tossed a stone into the deep end of the pool. The splash sent ripples in every direction. ‘In other words, no one really knows.’
Boyd shook his head. ‘I guess not.’
‘So all of this,’ Jones made an exaggerated hand movement that suggested everything they had done, ‘and we still don’t know for sure.’
‘Not conclusively, no… And the truth is, we probably never will.’
Dr Boyd excused himself and headed to the house. His face was swollen and misshapen, and his sterile gauze was no longer doing the trick. It was time for a bag of ice and a bottle of Tylenol.
Payne and Jones watched him go inside before their focus shifted to the helicopter that was hovering above. At first they thought it was a police chopper assigned to protect the grounds. Then they figured it was the media, possibly the paparazzi trying to get a picture of the murder scene. They continued to believe this until Jones pointed something out. The chopper was running dark. No searchlights. No taillights. No lights of any kind. For some reason it was trying to blend in with the dark sky above. Trying not to be seen. ‘You don’t think that’s…’
Jones nodded. He knew what Payne had in mind. ‘The second chopper from Vienna.’
Before Dante left the marble mine, he had given orders to his men to wait until the weather had cleared before they loaded his discovery from Vienna onto the next chopper. After that, they were supposed to fly to the villa where he was planning to meet his father.
Suddenly it dawned on them that the chopper had never arrived. Or, at the very least, had never landed. If their theory was correct, the pilot was still hovering above them, wondering what to do next. Jones grinned. ‘Let’s see if he’s willing to join us.’
Payne bowed in his direction. ‘After you, my devious friend.’
Dante’s personal chopper was still sitting on the helipad at the back of the estate. There was plenty of room to land a second chopper in the yard. It was just a matter of convincing the pilot that it was the right thing to do. Payne suggested using a light to flash him Morse code, but Jones thought of something better. He climbed into Dante’s chopper and slipped on the headset. A couple of buttons later, he was barking orders.
‘What are you waiting for?’ Jones screamed in Italian. ‘Set her down now!’
Thirty seconds passed before the pilot responded. ‘What about the police?’
‘They’re not here for you. There was a shooting at the house. Dante’s taking care of it.’