"Seen by whom?" Father Thomas said.
"Me," Holliday answered bluntly.
"Really?" Father Thomas said. "You are a resourceful man, Colonel Holliday, to know such things."
"You don't know the half of it," said Holliday. "Peggy and your man Brasseur were in the company of a thug named Massimo Conti. He works for a criminal organization known as La Santa. The same people who were apparently transporting the Rauff bullion out of Libya and into Marseille. Your hirelings, in fact, just like Pesek and Kay, the husband-and-wife team who took out Valador.
"It took us a while but my friends and I finally figured it out. Alhazred found the gold that the Vatican ratlines lost in 1944. He got in touch and you did a deal, but you betrayed him. The only trouble is Alhazred had already hidden the gold again. Now Alhazred's disappeared and so has the bullion."
"A fanciful tale, Colonel."
"But pretty close to the truth, I'll bet."
Father Thomas let out a long-suffering sigh. "So, you have a proposition?"
"Give us Peggy, we give you the gold. About three tons of it, by my calculations. That would finance a lot of your nasty little group's operations for a while."
"And what nasty little group are you referring to?" Father Thomas asked mildly.
"You've had a lot of names over the years," said Holliday. "During the time of the Templars you were known as Organum Sanctum, the Instrument of God. During the twenties and thirties you were called Sodalitium Pianum, the Brotherhood of Pius. During the Cold War it was Propaganda Due. The Church has always needed plausible denial, like Nixon's Watergate plumbers. You're it, whatever you call yourself, the Vatican's version of an arm's-length CIA. Bullyboys answerable to no one. In the twelfth century Henry the Second said, 'Who will rid me of this troublesome priest,' and four guys just like you went out and murdered Thomas a Becket, the Archbishop of Canterbury. Ax men. Every big corporation needs them. You're up to your ears in it. Holy crap, as Peggy would say."
"Why would an extraordinary organization such as the one you suggest have any interest in kidnapping a news photographer like Miss Blackstock?" Father Thomas replied.
"Ask the bald guy who was on the helicopter, the one who almost beat my friend Rafi to death a year ago. Ask the dead guy in that back alley in Jerusalem, the one who tried to kill me and Peggy because of the Templar sword. You knew what the real secret of the Templars was even then: the secret was their continued existence, the secret contained in that little book Helder Rodrigues gave me as he lay dying. Ten thousand connections to a trillion dollars in assets. A great deal of power for anyone who could wield it. That's why you kidnapped Peggy when the opportunity fell right into your laps. Bait. You knew I'd come looking for her and you were right." Holliday stood up. "Well, here I am," he said. "Make your play."
"Do you have proof of any of these peculiar allegations?" Father Thomas asked calmly, staring up at him.
"I don't need proof," said Holliday. "I've got the gold."
Father Thomas stood. "You're at the Alimandi Hotel?"
"Just across the street."
"We'll be in touch shortly," said Father Thomas. "A pleasure to meet you, Colonel Holliday." The priest turned on one expensive heel and walked away.
"Did they buy it?" Rafi asked when they met back at the hotel.
"Some of it," said Holliday. "I think they were worried that I was wired."
"The man with the attache case?" Tidyman asked.
"I think so," Holliday said and nodded. "Carrying a bug detector in the briefcase."
"They're being careful," said Rafi.
"They could stonewall till the cows came home," said Holliday. "That's what worries me. They know we've got more to lose than they do. They don't have to play along at all."
"I'm not sure of that," mused Tidyman, sipping a cup of excellent room service coffee. "These people are greedy, just like others of their kind. Like Alhazred. Like the unfortunate Mr. Valador of Marseille, the one smuggling the gold."
"Which makes them very dangerous," reminded Holliday. "Our Czech assassins Pesek and Kay put a hatpin through Valador's brain, remember? They tried to kill me and Peggy once-they'll try again, I guarantee it."
"Certainly," agreed Tidyman. "Greed makes people dangerous. It also makes them vulnerable. And that is how we win this game, my friend; we play to their vulnerabilities."
24
Father Thomas called the following morning to arrange another meeting.
"We were on your turf before," said Holliday. "How about somewhere else this time?"
"Where do you suggest?" Father Thomas asked. Holliday could hear the muffled sound of traffic in the background. Thomas was on a cell phone, probably sitting in a car.
"You could come here," said Holliday.
"I think not, Colonel," the priest replied with a laugh.
"You're welcome to bring along your techno-geek with the attache case. We've got nothing to hide," said Holliday.
"As the Beatles were so fond of saying, Colonel Holliday, everyone's got something to hide except me and my monkey."
"All right then," said Holliday. "How about a restaurant? They've got a nice roof garden here."
"Again too close for comfort," said the priest. "And too well known. Somewhere a little more discreet, perhaps."
"There's a pizzeria around the corner," suggested Holliday. "On the Via Candia. It's called Piacere Molise, a little family place."
"You know Rome, Colonel?" For the first time the priest seemed surprised.
"We ate dinner there last night," explained Holliday. "The concierge at the hotel suggested it."
There was a moment's silence. Holliday could hear the up-and-down wail of a siren coming over the phone. He could also hear it coming through the open balcony doors. The priest was close by. They were being watched.
"All right," said Father Thomas. "When?"
"Early," replied Holliday. "It gets crowded quickly. Five okay?"
"Of course," answered Father Thomas.
"How many do I make reservations for?"
"I shall be bringing a colleague," said Father Thomas.
"The techno-geek?" Holliday smiled.
"Yes, but only briefly. The other man will be a principal in our discussions."
"You mind if I bring a friend along?" Holliday said.
"The more the merrier," answered the priest. There was a smile in his voice again. "It's always wise to know one's enemies."
Via Candia was a nondescript street of old apartment blocks with shops and restaurants carved out of their ground floors over the years. Piacere Molise was located in a salmon-colored building at number 60, across from a knockoff perfume store and a knockoff sportswear store. It was late summer, and by five o'clock, with the exception of the restaurants and coffee shops, most of the stores had drawn their gates and rolling shutters. The cars parked at the curb were uniformly small and relatively cheap; Via Candia appeared to cater to the middle class; the men and women on the streets were all dressed like secretaries and clerks. There didn't seem to be many children.
Once upon a time Piacere Molise had been the building concierge's apartment, located beside an old-fashioned porte-cochere that ran through to a courtyard in the back. Now it was three narrow rooms and a kitchen painted a friendly yellow with perhaps a dozen tables inside and four more on the sidewalk outside. The decor was made up of framed prints of famous impressionist painters scattered everywhere interspersed with decorative plates. The rooms were lit by a few modern chandeliers. The tablecloths were yellow and the place mats matched the rust and yellow marble checkerboard tiles on the floor. As the name suggested the restaurant was clearly informal, piacere-come as you are.
Not surprisingly Father Thomas was already there when Holliday and Rafi stepped into the little pizzeria. He was sitting at one of the double tables in the middle room along with two others. One was the bald man they'd spotted getting out of the helicopter on Santo Stefano; the other was the young priest with the attache case they'd seen at the Egyptian Museum the day before.