Bauer raced down this road frantically sounding the Lancia’s horn as he dodged in and out of traffic. A bus pulled out of a bus stop in front of him and he sounded the horn cursing. The bus driver saw the blue light and stopped.
“Turn right here,” Dennis ordered.
Bauer swung the steering wheel and with a squeal of tyres the Lancia changed direction and careered off down the via Dei Fori Imperiali.
“Hey there’s Trajan’s coloumn,” Dennis shouted excitedly. Then he looked ahead. “Oh shit there’s the Colosseum!”
Bauer looked ahead at the massive building dominating the Roman skyline.
“So what?”
“The colosseum is one big roundabout.”
“Then get us off.”
“There’s nowhere to go. These roads to the right double back on us. This is ancient Rome. Over there is the Palatine hill.”
“What’s to the left?”
“There’s one more road and then nothing until we get to the Colosseum.”
“Where does it lead?”
“Hang on,” Dennis said turning the map this way and that.
“Too late,” Bauer said turning at speed down the road to the left. Dennis fought the g-forces to hold onto the map.
“Which way?” Bauer asked.
“I don’t know. Hang on.”
Bauer looked across at the map as Dennis turned it and held it closer to his face to read it. Bauer spent a second too long looking at the map. Movement ahead caught his attention. A refuse lorry had pulled out into the street they were now on regardless of the other traffic it forced to stop. Bauer was a hundred metres from it and gaining fast. He sounded the horn as he caught up to the tail end of the jam. The driver of the refuse truck heard the horn being sounded and ignored it. He looked into his mirror and saw the blue flashing light and heard the siren. He shrugged and continued to watch in his mirror for a bit longer. Other road users were doing their best to move out of the way. Bauer nosed through stationary vehicles until he was close to the refuse lorry. The truck driver leaned out of his window and shouted his innocence at the situation. Bauer pulled the parking brake on and threw the driver’s door open and flashed his police I.D. The refuse lorry driver continued to protest his innocence and begrudgingly moved out of the Lancia’s way. Dennis was listening to the police radio as Bauer squeezed through the gap now provided by the lorry. He pointed his finger at the driver who was still unconcerned. Dennis now pointed at the radio.
“That was De Luca,” he said, “They’ve lost contact with the unit stationed at Santa Croce.”
“Are we still heading the same way?”
“Yes. Take the next right. Follow ahead,” Dennis said as parked cars whipped by in a blur, “Take the next right….”
Bauer was encouraged by the time they were now gaining. The streets Dennis was taking them down were much quieter. Then suddenly Bauer had to slam the brakes on as a large group of football fans in red shirts, Roma followers, were crossing the road for the metro station. By the look of them they had been drinking and the last few raised red and yellow scarves and chanted a football song at Bauer as he raced away.
“Football is a passion in Italy,” Dennis said helpfully.
“The next person who gets in my way will get run down. You would think that a siren and flashing blue light would be enough.”
“This is Rome. Everything here happens at a fast pace.”
“I suppose.”
A carabinieri police car with flashing blue lights and siren sounding went racing past in the other direction.
“Get on the radio,” Bauer said, “See if they’re sending back up.”
Dennis got through to Sonnenburg.
“As soon as we can,” was the reply.
Dennis went back to the map. To their right were the Terme de Traiano, the baths of Trajan. Next Dennis saw a large sign for the national museum of oriental art.
“Turn right here!” he shouted as Bauer spun the wheel.
They were now on the Via Merulana.
“Follow this road, straight, for about one kilometre.”
The traffic was heavy on this road but Bauer was able to weave in and out without much difficulty. Three public buses in convoy stopped for him as they fast approached the end of the road.
“Left at the end!” Dennis shouted.
They raced past the Lateran palace. Once the home of the popes until their residence was moved to Avignon in France in the fourteenth century.
Now the Lancia was on the Viale Carlo Felice road.
“The church is at the end of this road,” Dennis said, “It’s just over a quarter of a mile.”
Bauer turned off the siren and reached out and plucked the flashing blue light off the roof and switched that off also. He looked into the rear view mirror. The sky behind was still bright but ahead it was getting dark. Bauer slowed the Lancia to a more appropriate speed as they completed the last few hundred metres. He brought the Lancia onto the piazza in front of the church and pulled up under a tree. A carabinieri Alfa Romeo was parked ahead also under the trees. Dennis and Bauer got out of the Lancia and headed towards them.
“Stay behind me,” Bauer said unclipping his gun holster on his belt and resting his hand on his gun.
Dennis could see the officers moving about inside the car. One of them suddenly glanced in the door mirror and saw the Austrian and the journalist approaching. Both doors on the police car opened and two uniformed officers stepped out.
“Can we help you?”
Bauer released his grip on his gun and showed them his I.D.
“They’ve been trying to radio you from the Vatican,” he said, “They said they’d lost contact with you. Do you have a problem with your radios?”
The two officers looked guiltily at each other. Dennis peered into the police car. There was a small portable television on the seat. On the nine inch screen were three men in suits in front of an empty stadium talking. Dennis reached in and took the television out and showed it to Bauer.
“Tonight’s game?” Dennis asked.
Bauer frowned at them.
“We turned the car radio down to hear the commentary,” one of the officers said.
“And your lapel radios?”
“Switched off,” the other officer replied.
“What are your names?”
“Officer’s Bossano and Angelo sir. Will you be reporting this matter?”
“Probably.”
For the first time since arriving Bauer now looked at the church. He noted the large double doors were closed.
“Is the church closed?” he asked the carabinieri officers.
“Yes inspector,” Bossano replied.
“When was this?”
“Possibly half an hour ago Inspector.”
“You saw it close. The doors were open before then?”
“Oh yes. Like I said it was about thirty minutes ago.”
Bossano looked at his colleague for approval. Angelo nodded.
“The priests closed the doors when, presumably, the last visitors left.”
Bauer looked at his watch. It was just after seven o’clock.
“What time does it usually close?”
“Usually at seven thirty.”
Bauer showed him his watch.
“Yes sir but sometimes the church does and has closed suddenly and without warning before. All churches in Rome have been known to do this.”
Bauer was concentrating on the church still.
“And you definitely saw the priests close the doors?”
“Yes sir.”
Bauer continued watching the church for another minute.
“Well it does appear to be quiet.”
“Yes Inspector.”
“Have you noticed anything else unusual?”
“No.”
“How long has that Hummer been parked there?” Dennis asked.
“I beg your pardon signori.”