The white taxi, an electric Nissan Leaf, drove silently past Castel Sant'Angelo. It continued along Via Di Porta Angelica and stopped illegally on the side of Viale Vaticano. The 39 foot high defensive stone wall stood concealing the Vatican City on the opposite side of the road. Behind it, St. Peter’s Basilica protruded high into the skyline.
It was the world’s smallest independent nation-state. Covering 109 acres within a 2-mile border, and possessed another 160 acres of holdings in remote locations around the world. Along with the centuries-old buildings and gardens, the Vatican maintained its own banking and telephone systems, post office, pharmacy, newspaper, and radio and television stations, web sites and satellite feeds. Its 600 citizens included the Gendarmerie Corps, who were the Vatican’s civil police officers and also members of the Swiss Guard, a security detail charged with protecting the Pope since 1506 — who, in spite of their silly-looking uniforms, were as well-trained and dedicated as a Seal Team.
Sam gave the taxi driver forty Euros and stepped out without waiting for the change. The pungent and ubiquitous aroma of coffee and cigarette smoke wafted through his nostrils. Dust from the ancient ruins of what could arguably be one of the greatest civilizations to have ever lived, drifted from the central ruins.
Zara followed him and looked up at the entrance. A long line of tourists, queuing to visit the sacred city, stretched several hundred feet before disappearing inside the arched entrance to the Vatican Museum.
She bit her lower lip. “We could be here for hours!”
“No we won’t.” Sam started walking directly for the arched entrance. “Come with me and don’t stop until the Swiss Guards arrest you.”
“That’s your plan?”
“Yep.”
She asked, “You’re certain this guy’s going to be interested in talking?”
Sam said, “Certain.”
“How do you know about this person?”
“He used the alias of Testimonium Architectus.”
“Witness to the builders?” she sounded incredulous.
Sam nodded. “Three months ago we followed an ancient celestial map to the Falkland Islands. There we dived the inside of a blowhole and discovered a hidden room made entirely of obsidian. Constellations of stars glowed on the walls, depicting the night sky from different angles of the planet. Beneath the obsidian vault, we found a hidden tunnel. We followed it and at the very end we found an open book.”
She grinned slightly. Like she knew she was being intentionally pulled into the story. “What was inside the book?”
“A series of entries spanning more than two thousand years. Each one a significant event in the lives of the Master Builders. The most recent entry being made only weeks earlier. So, instead of taking the book, we decided to watch the obsidian vault.”
“For what?”
“For someone bearing witness to the Master Builders, and providing us with a link. Six weeks went by and our decision to wait and watch paid off as another entry was made. In that entry a single note was placed — The Book of Nostradamus has been found.”
She nodded but said nothing.
Sam continued. “At the time we thought little of it. The witness was followed, all the way back to the Vatican. I figured I’d go and introduce myself and see what I could find out, but then I got distracted because an agent went missing in the Sahara.” He shook his head and smiled. “In retrospect, I might have been better off coming here first.”
She smiled at him. “You may have been, but I would have been killed.”
He shrugged. “There is always that possibility.”
“But will he listen to you?”
“He won’t want to. My guess is the Swiss Guards will try to blow us off.”
“And if they do?”
“Then we mention the Nostradamus Equation has been found.”
Sam reached the main entrance to the Vatican Museum, cutting through the crowds as though he and Zara belonged inside. The trick was not to hesitate for a moment. Only a fool or a person who was meant to be there, would push through a crowd who’d been waiting hours to enter.
He stepped beneath the large entrance arch. Above were statues depicting the two great artists who spent so much of their lives adding to the richness of the Vatican. On the left was the genius of the Renaissance, Michelangelo, represented with the sculptor's mallet in his hand. On the right, the young painter Raphael, with his palette and brush.
Zara glanced at the two great artists. “Amazing what those two achieved in their time on earth.”
Sam nodded, without listening. He was still trying to plan his next series of responses if the Swiss Guards weren’t interested in his story. Or worse, still — if he was wrong about the Witness to the Master Builders.
He stepped inside and through the metal detectors, monitored by two Vatican police officers. In their blue uniforms, the Gendarmes wore a Glock 17 on their side holsters as they waved tourists through.
Sam and Zara pushed forward, through the swathes of tourists. Passing the Atrium of the Corazze on the left, and crossing the Atrium with its Four Gates, they entered the Courtyard of the Pigna. Sam recalled learning that the courtyard was built to connect the Palace of the Innocent with the Sistine Chapel. There were three levels, joined by elegant stairways and flanked by galleries characterized by pilasters surmounted by broad arches. Both the paving and the galleries were slightly angled towards the Sistine Chapel, so that from the papal apartments the courtyard looked even bigger than it actually was.
He turned to the left and stepped through the second archway into a quiet courtyard. Zara glanced at him, her face showing her unconscious disappointment to go all this way and skip the Sistine Chapel. At the end of the courtyard two Pontifical Swiss Guards protected a wooden doorway. At a guess, that doorway led to the real Vatican City. The non-tourist city, where the smallest city state in the world performed the sometimes mundane and everyday tasks of running the state. They wore the traditional dress uniform of blue, red, orange and yellow with a distinctly renaissance appearance.
Bodyguards to the Pope, the Pontifical Swiss Guards were maintained by the Holy See and responsible for the safety of the Pope, including the security of the Apostolic Palace. Both men were equipped with traditional halberds, as well as modern firearms. Since the assassination attempt on Pope John Paul II in 1981, a much stronger emphasis had been placed on the guard's non-ceremonial roles, and had seen enhanced training in unarmed combat and small arms. Recruits to the guards must be unmarried Swiss Catholic males between 19 and 30 years of age who have completed basic training with the Swiss Armed Forces. They served as the de facto military of Vatican City. Established in 1506 under Pope Julius II, the Pontifical Swiss Guard is among the oldest military units in continuous operation.
Sam smiled at both men. “I’m sorry to interrupt. My name is Sam Reilly, and I need to speak with Mr. Testimonium Architectus.”
Both men shot glances at each other, which suggested they’d been placed in an unexpected and dangerous situation. Sam sighed in relief. If they’d never heard of the name they would have told him so and dismissed him. Their hesitation was nothing but confirmation the man was inside. Each of the guards appeared uncomfortable. One lowered his right hand, possibly in preparation of retrieving his pistol.
Sam stood his ground. Speaking with the authority of a man used to leading, he said, “Very urgent business, gentlemen. The sands of time are quite literally being washed away.”
The two guards made a quiet, and rapid exchange of words in their own language. One then disappeared behind an archway at the end of the room, while the second stepped forward. “Please wait here while we talk to our superiors.”
Sam smiled, warmly. “Thank you.”