"You think we need to have another go at them because they're foreigners?" he snapped.
Sofia rounded on him. "You know that's not it, and I resent the implication, Pietro. I said exactly what I think; I think we should go back and investigate them all again, Italians and foreigners both, and if you pushed me I'd say the cardinal too."
"We'll all go over what we've done so far, and we won't close off any line of investigation," Marco interjected, to cut off their escalating debate.
Pietro squirmed angrily in his seat. "What is this, we're going to make everybody a suspect?"
Marco didn't like his tone. "We're going to continue our investigation," he repeated. "But I'm going back to Rome now. I want to talk to the ministers; we need to get their green light on the Trojan horse plan. I'll try to come up with some way to turn the mute loose sooner rather than later, without him suspecting that something's up. I want two or three of you to stay here for a few more days. The others will go back with me, but I want it clear that everyone is still on the case. Work it into whatever you've already got on deck. Okay, then-who's staying?"
"I will," said Sofia.
"Me too," said Giuseppe and Antonino simultaneously.
"I think," remarked Minerva, "that I'll be more useful with my computers back in Rome."
'All right. Minerva and Pietro will go with me. I think there's a plane at three."
Sofia and Pietro sat in silence. Marco had left to stop by the office of the chief of the Turin carabinieri before he went to the airport, while Minerva, Giuseppe, and Antonino had decided to go down to the bar on the corner for coffee, to give the couple some privacy. Everyone had noticed the tension between them. She busied herself with papers, while he stared out the window.
'Are you angry?" Sofia finally asked.
"No! You don't have to tell me everything you're thinking."
"Come on, Pietro, I know when you're upset."
"I don't feel like arguing about it. You came up with a half-baked plan that I could have helped you with if you had talked to me about it. But you talked Marco into it, so that's a gold star for you. And now we'll all work to make sure your Trojan horse works. Don't brood about it, or we'll wind up in a stupid fight that won't get us anywhere except pissed."
"Is your problem with the plan that it came from me? Or do you really see weak spots?"
"It's a mistake to turn the mute guy loose. He'll figure out that something's not right and he won't lead us anywhere. We'll probably wind up losing him. As for investigating the workers again, go right ahead. Let me know if you find anything."
Sofia didn't bother to respond. She was glad he was going back to Rome. If he stayed, they'd wind up really fighting, and neither of them needed that, especially right now. Not to mention that the work would suffer, and although the shroud wasn't an obsession with her like it was with Marco, she was challenged and intrigued by the case and looked forward to solving it. And she had a feeling that the Trojan horse might just lead to that solution.
Yes, the best thing was for Pietro to go back to Rome; a few days would pass and everything would go back to normal. They'd kiss and make. up…
8
THE MAN RAISED THE TRAPDOOR AND turned the beam of his flashlight into the darkness of the subterranean chamber. Three haggard faces stared up at him. He clambered down the rough-hewn ladder, suppressing a slight shudder. He was eager for the un-speaking ones to be on their way, but he also knew that any rash move could land them all in prison and, worse, add to the shame of yet another failure, guaranteeing Addaio's eternal contempt-even, perhaps, his order for their excommunication.
"The investigators from Rome have left. Today they had their last meeting with the cardinal, and their chief, Valoni, has had a long meeting with Padre Yves. I am hearing that the carabinieri have concluded that our dead comrade was working alone and have pretty much wrapped up their efforts. So I think that it is safe for you to begin to make the journey home. As Addaio instructed, each of you will follow a different escape route."
The oldest of the unspeaking ones, a man in his mid-thirties who appeared to be their leader, nodded as he wrote a note on a piece of paper.
Are you sure there is no danger?
"As sure as I can be. Do you need anything?"
The man wrote again. We need baths, shaving equipment. We can't leave here like this. Bring us more water, a tub to wash ourselves in. And what about the trucks?
"You leave first. Between midnight and one tonight, I will come down to get you, and I will take you through the tunnel to the cemetery. From there, you will make your way to the Merci di Vanchiglia station, on the other side of the piazza. A truck will be waiting there, but it will wait no more than five minutes." He handed the man a piece of paper with a number written on it. "This is the license-plate number. It will take you to Genoa. There you will embark as a sailor on the Stella di Mare, and in a week you will be home."
The leader nodded again. Through all this, his two comrades had sat expectantly. They were younger, hardly into their twenties, one tall, broad-shouldered, muscular, with black hair cut in a short military style, the other shorter, lanker, and not as muscled, with brown hair and a face twisted with tension.
Their contact then turned to the black-haired young man.
"Your truck will come to pick you up tomorrow between one and two in the morning. You and I, again, will follow the tunnel to the cemetery. When you come out on the street, turn to the left, toward the river; the truck will be waiting for you. You will cross the border into Switzerland and from there make your way to Germany. Someone will be waiting for you in Berlin; you know the address of those who will see that you get home."
The last of the three was looking fixedly at their emissary, who suddenly was frightened by the rage he saw in the young man's eyes.
"You will be the last to leave. You must remain here for two more days. The truck will pick you up at one or two, as before, and you will be taken directly home. I will have more details when I come for you. Good luck to you all. I'll be back with the things you need."
The leader grabbed his arm and signed that he had another question, which he wrote out quickly on the piece of paper.
"Mendib?" the go-between responded. "He is in prison, as you know. He behaved like a madman; he would not wait for his brothers to arrive but went into the cathedral alone and reached the chapel. I do not know what he did there, but he must have tripped the alarm. He was caught as he was running from the cathedral. There is no more to tell. I have orders from Addaio not to take any risks, so I cannot help him. None of us can.
"Now, follow instructions and you'll all be fine- there should not be any problems. No one knows about this cellar or about this tunnel. Take care to keep it that way. There are dozens of these tunnels crisscrossing under the city, but not all are known. It would be a disaster if they ever find this one-the beginning of the end for all of us and our sacred mission."