GENESIS (GODS CHAIN) (40 page)

Her mind slid quickly
through
the data
like a well
-
oiled machine.
She was going in for the kill.
A
nother minute passed
as
she waited for the computer to retrieve her final analysis
.
W
hat next
,
another dead end?
Francesca felt her anticipation drop a little, had she failed again
...
?

WAITING
...

RESULTS

Epostol A 196.196.66.6

‘Eureka!’
Francesca blasted out as her result appeared on the screen
.

Here we are!
This explains all
the
hidden entries in the file.
Anything with 196.196 or 200.221 and 200.232 will not appear in any of our own logs!
When my friend Apostol was in his own account or in the epostol logs
,
this is his real internet address
—
196.196.66.6!
Who the hell in Frankfurt belongs to this?
And w
hat is the “ecb.int” domain? Let me
see
if they have a website
,
first.
That’ll be easy.

Francesca used her internet browser and typed in the following website uniform resource locater (url)
:
www.ecb.int
.
Her screen filled quickly with a picture of a large blue Euro symbol
imbedded
with a picture of a skyscraper
—
the Euro-tower!

Wow! Handy tool
,
that
.
H
ang on girl, this is it
—
it
’
s the European Central Bank!
We’ve been hacked by an account holder known as “epostol”
from
the ECB!!!

Francesca slowed down her self-congratulation as she realised what this mean
t
.
I
might
never
learn
who epostol is!
Maybe
someone at the ECB can help
me
find out
, though....
Christ
,
this is big
—
much bigger than I can handle. I don’t get paid near enough for this shit!
I
’d
better inform Anatolio
—
this is a definite lead and something we can
stand
on
for our investigation
.
He should be pleased with this and get those blood hounds off my tail! How the hell
Michaelangelo
got mixed up in this, God only knows
...
unless he found out something else?

Francesca had
another moment of inspiration as she tried to unravel the mystery
.
Si,
I’ll ask Ciriaco tonight over coffee. I think the helpdesk guys have some dealings with the ECB
.
O
h
,
w
hat time is it? Bloody hell
—
Massimo will be cursing me now!!!
Francesca,
realising that she had neglected Massimo,
was flooded with guilt
.

I should be with him downstairs!
She scooped up her gear, and then thought better of it.
I’d b
etter send this
e-mail
to Anatolio
,
first
,
with some details to cover my smart ass.
It would be best to keep this stuff from the others at the moment for now
,
until I speak with the boss.
No point
in
involving them
,
for their own protection!

**********

Massimo had entered a long
,
curved corridor
—a
passageway
winding
far
beneath
the Plazzo del Governmantorato building
. He crawled like a rat under the earth
as most of
his
co-workers
still
slaved
in the office
,
oblivious to his wanderings.
The grimy passage descended slowly and then
spat him
out at a dusty plateau.
It was m
ore dark than light here
,
and
a dim orange
glow
cast uncanny shadows on the rough walls
that surrounded him
.

Power and communications cables passed along this passage
,
sunk below the stone floor
,
while the communication data cables ran along a shielded trunking along the tunnel
’s
ceiling
.
Its white protective trunk could be seen easily above, secured to the surface of the top of the ceiling arch. The low arch above
Massimo
was near head height. The ceiling then began to gradually lower
and
the walls narrowed as the man
progressed
slowly along the dingy passageway.

Massimo was unaware that this corridor was also part of the old catacombs that continued onwards toward the Church of Santo Stephano and then on further to St Peter’s Basilica.
The main corridor trail
ed
far below St Peter’s Basilica and beyond in a complex subterranean mesh. This was an old and relatively well
-
used main route for communications, estates and computer personnel like
the
T&O team.
No grim discoveries would be found
here,
since archaeologists and clergymen had discovered everything
there was to find
many years ago and
had
removed any macabre
reminders of history
. Th
e lack of dead bodies
did not
make much of a difference, however—the tunnel
was still a lonely place with an unhappy atmosphere.

Any deviation
from the main tunnel
was prohibited by locked grilled
-
iron doors with signs.
The thick iron bars were old and pockmarked with rust. Some catacombs were open to the public
,
but these were few
in number
and
required
guided tours
.
H
istorians, archaeologists
and
men of the faith
were the only
people
who
would visit
the
more
remote areas
of
the city. Not
many found these places comfortable
,
so hardly any visited.
It was cold and quite literally as quiet as the grave
...
.

Massimo always
felt that he never wanted to speak much
when he was down in the combs, even when he was in company
.
He did not
want to disturb the slumbering silence
.

The only sound right now was
that
of feet walking
...
his
.
Sound did not travel well
through the tunnels—it
seemed to be absorbed by the spongy and porous rock that form
ed
in a calcium carbonate incrustation
on the
walls.

The passageway trailed the main communications fibre channels and power cables under the city and extended out to various spots all over the old Vatican City, feeding off the essential technological services and main electrical power throughout. There were many other such pathways underneath the city used for this type of thing, and so several times a year someone was required to descend to perform routine maintenance of equipment and infrastructure expansion—usually a communications company or T&O. These tunnels were usually dry, cold, and dimly lit to save on electricity costs. One thing was always true about anyone that worked in this remote place. No one would hurry back!

The technician had been walking along for ten long minutes and
was only
half
-
way along the low and narrow subterranean passageway.
He
had
to crouch like a soldier on the battlefield for a few minutes at this midway point
,
where the ceiling dropped for no apparent reason.
Being c
areful not
to
bang
his head on
the stone above him, Massimo stoop
ed
further
,
feeling
his laptop and tools
weigh heavily on his back
.
The man
was finding his journey quite burdensome; his breathing
became
heavier
as the walls closed in around h
im
.