Tommy was halfway across the square when he noticed a sudden movement out of his right eye. His head twitched that direction, fearful one of the North Koreans was rushing at him. It was just a young boy running to meet an older couple. He was followed by a younger couple, probably in their mid-forties. The kid was just rushing to see his grandparents. At least that’s what it looked like.
Tommy shook off the momentary surge of fear and kept walking, picking up the pace of his stride as he neared the base of the giant obelisk.
He and the others figured they needed to examine the altar in Saint Peter’s Basilica since that was what the clue suggested — based on their interpretation. Tommy, however, had insisted they get a closer look at the obelisk, just in case they’d missed something.
The huge plinth was a massive marker in the series of clues that had led Tommy and his friends down a bizarre path in the pursuit of Excalibur. Just thinking about that sent a fresh pang of doubt through Tommy’s mind.
We’re looking for a sword that is mostly a thing of myth, he thought. But his parents believed in the sword. And they’d reached out to the Brotherhood about it. That brought new questions to his mind, mixing with some others that he’d been considering for the last day or so.
Why hadn’t his parents contacted him? Why did they reach out to a bunch of guys they’d never met? They should have found a way to message him. He could have used his connections with the government to negotiate a way to get them out.
Then he reminded himself that the government would most likely not be of any help in negotiating with North Korea. Plus, according to what the Brotherhood said, it wasn’t the Chairman who was responsible for Tommy’s parents’ imprisonment. The leader might not even be aware that they were still being held.
The whole situation was wildly improbable, but he had to try. If there was any chance that his parents were still alive — no matter how remote — he had to try to get them back.
He stopped under the shadow of the obelisk and looked up at the dark side of it, his eyes searching the ancient hieroglyphs for anything about the sword. Then he examined some of the Latin engraved on the base and lower area of the gigantic stone. Nothing there.
Tommy shifted his stance to the next side of the obelisk and repeated the process, occasionally taking his eyes off the ancient monolith to have a fast look around. Sean’s words lingered in his mind. Tommy learned a long time ago that his friend’s instincts were usually dead on. Those instincts had saved their necks on numerous occasions before. No reason to stop trusting them now.
He didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. He pored over the engravings, still finding nothing that seemed helpful.
Tommy repeated the process two more times, checking all four sides of the obelisk thoroughly before deciding the whole exercise was futile. If the monolith contained information on the sword, he didn’t see it.
He’d wasted enough time. They needed to get inside of the basilica and examine the altar. That was what the last clue had said. He should have trusted it.
Tommy looked out across the square and then casually at his friends hiding in the shadows among the rows of columns off to the side. He ticked his head toward the entrance of the basilica, signaling that they should get moving.
He didn’t wait for confirmation that they’d gotten the signal. Tommy knew Sean and the other two were watching his every movement with focused intensity.
He meandered slowly through the growing crowds and found his way to the steps of the basilica. On the left side — close to where he stopped at the base of the stairs — stood a giant statue of Saint Peter. Tommy cocked his head to one shoulder as he stared at the sculpture.
Peter, with a flowing cloak and robes, gripped a key tightly in his right hand. A scroll dangled from the left.
Tommy scratched his head and looked across the way at the other sculpture guarding the entrance to the basilica. It was the image of Saint Paul. From this distance, Tommy couldn’t make out all the details, but one was impossible to miss. Paul was holding a long sword.
“Whatcha doing?” Sean asked as the other three arrived at the base of the steps.
Tommy shook his head, snapping back to the mission at hand. “Sorry. I was just looking at these statues. We should probably get inside.” Sean’s warning about shooters and easy targets kept banging on the walls of his brain.
“Saint Peter,” Adriana said. “Holding the keys to the kingdom of heaven.”
Tommy frowned, suddenly remembering the key he’d found in the man’s pocket. He searched his jacket and found the key still there. He took it out and held it up, examining the similarities between it and the one in the sculpture’s hand. They were a spot-on match.
“The key I took off that guy in the alley back in Cologne,” he said. “It looks just like the one in Peter’s hand.”
The other three looked between the keys, running the same silent comparison.
“You don’t think this has something to do with the sword, do you?” he asked.
“Only one way to find out, buddy,” Sean said, taking a cautious look around the area. “Let’s get inside where we aren’t so exposed.”
Saint Peter’s Basilica was considered by many to be one of the most important locations in the Christian religion. It was the supposed location of Peter’s grave, along with an extensive Roman necropolis from the pagan era. Since one interpretation of Jesus’s words about building His church upon this rock is that the rock was Peter, Constantine decided he would literally build his church on top of Peter’s tomb.
Inside, the four companions stopped and looked around at the incredible scenery surrounding them.
The tallest corridors and naves Sean had ever seen stretched out in multiple directions. The high arched ceilings all connected at the dome hovering over the altar and Saint Peter’s Baldachin.
Sculptures of saints, popes, and apostles adorned the various nooks along the walls. Multicolored frescoes displayed scenes from parts of the Bible. Some sections of the archways overhead were gilded in gold leaf.
“I have never seen anything so opulent in my life,” Sean said as he stared with wide eyes and a wider mouth at the incredible interior.
“And likely never will,” Tommy added.
“Over there,” Adriana said, pointing at the altar and elaborate canopy. “Let’s move.”
If she seemed less impressed by the scenery, it wasn’t because she didn’t appreciate it. It was because Adriana didn’t get distracted by shiny objects. She was here to do a job and get it done as fast as possible. She didn’t need to remind the others of the potential danger lurking outside, or even possibly inside, the basilica. The others followed her lead as she stalked past a cluster of tourists readying their headsets for the guided audio tour of the building.
Voices echoed through the great halls, though none of the conversations could really be heard since all the sounds mixed together to form a sort of ambient noise. Their shoes clicked on the shiny floors underfoot, floors made from multiple colors of marble and inlaid with various designs — some with oddly pagan origins.
“This place must be something to see during mass,” June said as she looked around at the giant naves.
The basilica was designed to be a cross, like the one on which Jesus and Peter were crucified. Saint Peter’s Baldachin and altar were located at the heart of the cross — the intersecting point of all the naves where the pope conducted traditional ceremonies. On such occasions, each of the adjoining halls was packed with chairs and filled with thousands of people.
For the time being, in spite of the tourists, the place was relatively empty.
They approached the altar and slowed their speed, taking in the enormous canopy and spiraled pillars surrounding it. Massive paintings hung from the four corners supporting the dramatic dome above the canopy. Alcoves with more sculptures of saints and patriarchs dotted the walls surrounding the baldachin.