Saint Peter's Soldiers (A James Acton Thriller, Book #14) (32 page)

Giasson Residence, Via Nicolò III, Rome, Italy

Mario sipped on a coffee, adrenaline no longer enough to keep him
awake, his attempts at rest merely tortured excuses. He had to know who had
betrayed him. As he cycled through the photos of his staff, of those involved
in the two incidents so far, and of everyone involved in the kidnapping of the
Pope several years ago, he realized there was no way to know.

The
Keepers had a way into the Vatican that had been cut off, though that was only
the one he knew about. There could be others. In fact, nothing stopped them
from merely taking a job there. The Vatican employed thousands. Who knew how
many might be Keepers inside the massive walls? The organization was apparently
created by St. Peter himself to protect the Church from outside dangers. They
had targeted the new Pope because he was Triarii, but what could they possibly
want with a painting by da Vinci? How could it possibly be a threat to the
Church?

He
looked again at the vacation photo of his second-in-command, Gerard Boileau,
the discoloration on his chest in the same location as the tattoos found on the
two victims of the Vatican shooting and the other Keepers’ bodies they had
found after the rescue of the Pope.

Could
it be him? A man I have trusted for years?

He
sighed, reaching for his phone.

There’s
only one way to find out.

Northbound E80, Italy

“Goodbye, Dad, you take it easy.”

“Your
mother isn’t letting me lift a finger, so there’s no worry about that. I feel
fine, just weak, but they said that’s normal. Don’t worry about me, just take
care of yourself and that wife of yours.”

“You
know I will. Can you put Dylan back on?”

“Sure
thing.”

There
was some rustling from the speaker, the conversation now routed through the
car’s Bluetooth.

“Hiya,
Doc.”

“Hey
Dylan, are they secure?”

“Yup. I
won’t be leaving their side and I’ve got two trained people with me. They’re
perfectly safe and so are the Miltons.”

“Thank
you, Dylan. I don’t know what I would have done if they had been killed. And
thank you—” He paused, his voice cracking, tears filling his eyes as he drew in
a deep breath, struggling to regain control. Laura squeezed his arm and he
looked at her, nodding. “Thank you for saving my Dad’s life.”

“Nothin’
doing, Doc. You can stop worrying. Now, we’ve got the two who were following
Greg in custody, but they’re not talking, and outside of dropping them in
Guantanamo, we’re probably not going to get anything out of them legally.”

“Have
you checked their chests?”

“Huh?”

“Check
if they have a tattoo of a cross on their chest. If they do, then they’re part
of the Keepers of the One Truth, if they don’t, then they probably aren’t.”

“Just a
second, I’m sending a text.” There was some noise then Kane returned. “No
tattoos.”

Acton
nodded, not expecting there to be. “I’ve been thinking about how they knew so
much about me. The Keepers would have had a few years to gather intel on me
after our first encounter. Two of their members were killed with the portrait,
then it was stolen by this other group. Could they be working together?”

“Doesn’t
sound like it to me,” replied Kane. “If they were, then they’d just hand it
over. Why kill them?”

“Maybe
they aren’t working together, but there’s a mole inside the Keepers.”

“Now
that’s possible. Your thieves manage to infiltrate the Keepers, then when the
portrait they’re after surfaces, the mole lets them know, and then there’s a
takedown that goes bad. That same mole could have provided your Führer lovers
any intel they had gathered on you.”

Acton’s
head nodded slowly, his mind racing with the possibilities. It was all
conjecture. Pure conjecture. These two organizations were clearly working at
cross-purposes. One wouldn’t kill the other if they were cooperating. And for
the thieves to know where and when the drawing was going to be at the Vatican,
they must have an inside source.

He
caught his breath as his mind caught up with something Kane had said. “I want
you to stop interrogating the prisoners.”

“Why?”

“The
reason we got into this is because we found out something we weren’t supposed
to. Our entire goal here is to end this. We have no idea who these people are
or how big their organization is. Even if we had everyone in the castle
arrested, there could be dozens or hundreds more around the world.”

Reading
nodded. “True.”

“The
only thing we know about them is where they are. If we can nullify that piece
of knowledge, then our leverage over them ends.”

“And so
does the threat,” said Kane. “That’s smart thinking, Doc, you’d make a good
spy.”

“Ha!
I’ll leave that to the youngsters.”

“More
than happy to oblige. Now, BD and the crew are going to meet you when you
arrive. I understand you’ve got some hotel rooms arranged with a good view?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent.
They’ll set up surveillance there and come up with a game plan.”

“Sounds
good.”

“Okay,
just one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Laura,
take his cellphone away, just in case he gets tempted to stuff it down the
pants of one of them when they try to run away.”

Giasson Residence, Via Nicolò III, Rome, Italy

“I have the files you asked for, my friend. But why the urgency?”

Giasson
said nothing as Chief Inspector Riva entered his bedroom, a tired Marie-Claude
closing the door behind her as she left to prepare more coffee.

You’ll
have to make it up to her when you’re better.

“Show me
your chest.”

“Huh?”

“Unbutton
your shirt. Now.”

Riva frowned.
“Fine.” He unbuttoned about halfway, pulling the shirt open, revealing a hairy
chest and a good starter set of man boobs. “Satisfied?”

Giasson
nodded, motioning for him to button up. “I am. I’m sorry, but someone betrayed
us, though I don’t think it was you.”

Riva gave
him a look, clearly offended. “I can’t believe after everything we’ve been
through that you could think it was me.”

Giasson
sighed, raising a hand. “I know, I know. But I’m going to trust you now, so
please take that as assurance I no longer have doubts.”

Riva pursed
his lips, raising his chin slightly. “But you still do.”

Giasson
smiled. “You know me too well.”

Riva slapped
his knee, laughing. “We both do!” He held up a file. “So now that you
are
trusting me, I assume you think it’s him?”

“I pray
it isn’t but I fear it could be. What can you tell me?”

Riva flipped
open the file, scanning it with his finger as he gave the highlights. “He has a
completely clean record, of course. He’s Swiss by birth, but his mother was
Italian. His father left his mother when he was young, but young Gerard seemed
to keep out of trouble. His father had no record, nor does his mother. There’s
nothing of interest on his paternal grandparents, but his maternal grandfather
is a little more interesting. He was a devout member of the National Fascist
Party, rabid apparently. After the liberation, he was hung by a meat hook in
the market square in Bologna. That’s when the family moved to Switzerland.”

Giasson’s
head was bobbing through the entire summary, his lips pursed. “Interesting, but
we can hardly condemn a man for the actions of his grandfather.”

“No.” Riva’s
eyes narrowed. “Wait, why did you want to see my chest?”

“I was
looking for a tattoo.”

“What,
like the one on the two victims?”

Giasson
nodded.

“Hold on!”
Riva flipped through the file and pulled out an old black and white photo,
holding it up. “This is a photo of his grandfather after he was executed.” He
rose and gave Giasson the photo. “Tell me what you see.”

Giasson
took the photo and examined the grisly scene.

Then
gasped.

For the
bare chested man, hung like a piece of meat, had a large tattoo that matched
those of the victims.

Approaching Malpensa International Airport, Italy

“What are these massive heat signatures?”

Dawson
and the others were examining satellite images of their target, sent to them by
Langley. A senior analyst they had dealt with on several occasions, Leroux, was
briefing them on the latest.  “We think they’re extremely powerful computers.
This facility is a medieval castle in outward appearances only. Inside it’s
state of the art. They have their own generators plus a massive tap into the
local grid, large data pipes plus satellite uplinks, along with quarters for several
hundred, most of which appear to be occupied.”

Dawson
frowned, exchanging glances with the others. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“As near
as we can determine a significant proportion appear to be working at desks, so
might not be trained in combat.”

“Uh huh,
somehow that doesn’t make me feel any better.” Dawson leaned back in his chair,
pointing at the laptop. “This basically makes my idea a necessity.”

“You’re
a genius, BD!” cried Jimmy.

“Tell
the world!” shouted Niner.

“What’s
your plan?” asked Leroux.

“I
intend to use a scalpel rather than a sword.” He looked at the large heat
signatures occupying almost half the structures within the castle walls. “Do we
have any idea what these computers are doing?”

“No, but
we’ve been tracing shipments to the area and they’ve had an incredible amount
of medical equipment shipped in over the years. Whatever it is, it’s probably
biomedical in nature.”

“Really?”
asked Niner. “Then what the hell would they want an old painting for?”

“We’re
not sure, but my guess is this costs a fortune to run, and we can’t find any
source of funding for whoever they are.”

“So
they’re financing it through art thefts?” Dawson pushed his lips out, drawing
in a deep breath through his nose. “Possible, but I’ve got a feeling there’s
more going on here than just art thefts.”

“It’s
the only thing we’ve been able to come up with. The owner is a mystery. It’s as
if the man has never left the castle. His father is even more of a mystery. We
can’t find any record of him before the end of the war. He paid for the castle
with cash and he too was never seen since. All we know is he was apparently a
German, based on his last name and a record scanned into the archives of a
meeting between him and the town council at the time of purchase. It described
a man who spoke near perfect Italian, with a Bavarian accent.”

Dawson’s
head bounced. “Uh huh, the birthplace of the Nazi Party. So what we’re probably
dealing with is a man who was a Nazi, escaped with a new identity, well-funded,
and is now doing something biomedical.”