The Cup (8 page)

CHAPTER 17

Count Alessandro Mercurio knelt in his private chapel and prayed for the soul of Antonio Bellini, dead in Sweden. The cold stones of the floor bit into his aged knees, sending shocks of pain through his body. He was grateful for the pain, a small redemption for Antonio's death.

Mercurio was
Commandante
of the
Compagnia del Santo Graal,
the Society of the Holy Grail. The society marched in parades and carried banners during religious holidays, performed good works and contributed to the Church. For most of its members, it was little more than a social club. For Mercurio, it provided the central purpose of his life.

The society had been founded in the fifteenth century by a wealthy merchant named Rossini. An angel had appeared to Rossini in a vision, telling him that finding the Grail would fulfill God's plan for humanity. Rossini had spent his fortune and the rest of his life searching. He'd ended in a pauper's grave without finding the elusive cup.

Mercurio raised his head and gazed at a renaissance painting hanging on the wall behind the altar. It was by a student of Caravaggio and depicted the crucifixion. A man dressed in the colorful robes of a rich merchant knelt at the base of the cross, looking up with an expression of terrible sorrow. In his hands he held a cup to catch the blood flowing from Christ's wounds.

Joseph of Arimathea, holding the Holy Grail.

Mercurio had begun looking for the Grail because a voice told him to. The first time he'd heard the voice was during a month-long retreat of silence and fasting. He'd been praying in his small cell when a great warmth flooded over him and the whisper began. There'd never been a doubt in his mind that God was speaking to him. When he emerged back into the outer world, his purpose in life had become clear.

That had been more than forty years ago. Like others before him, Mercurio's search had been fruitless until a few pages of a fourth century manuscript had come into his hands. It claimed the Grail had been in the possession of Theodosius I, the last emperor to rule an undivided Roman Empire.

Mercurio was a powerful and wealthy man with many connections, some less than legitimate. He'd let it be known he'd buy artifacts from the time of Theodosius. An acquaintance from the criminal underworld of Milan had put him in touch with Bergstrom.

When Bergstrom sent the picture of the Anastasius tile, Mercurio's heart had begun pounding in his chest.

What made the tile special was not just the depiction of the Grail. There were many of those, although not from that time period. What made it special was that it identified Anastasius as the confessor of Theodosius. That tied in with the manuscript claiming the emperor had possession of the cup. The confessor of the emperor would have been present at his death, when all trace of the Grail had vanished.

The tile was a clue.

Bergstrom had demanded an exorbitant price and threatened to sell the artifact elsewhere. Antonio Bellini was a fellow companion in the society. Mercurio had sent him to Sweden in the hope he could persuade Bergstrom to see reason. At the time, it had seemed a good decision.

Now Bellini was dead, and it was on his soul. It was why he knelt on the hard stone of the chapel floor, praying for forgiveness. Mercurio was a devout man. He thought of himself and Antonio as soldiers in a war against Satan. Soldiers died in wars, but that didn't make him feel any better.

He got up with difficulty, his aging joints protesting, and made his way from the chapel to the library on the other side of the villa. He rang for a servant and told him to bring a café Romano.

Mercurio stood at the glass doors of his library, looking out at the garden of his villa. The glass reflected the image of a distinguished looking man. Tall, erect, somewhere in his 70s, Mercurio had a long, narrow nose that went with his aristocratic features. His hair was a perfect silver. His brown eyes were so dark they were almost black. He wore a dark blue suit of silk made for him by the best tailor in Rome. The third finger of his left hand bore a large, gold signet ring with words in Latin circling a cross and a cup, the sign of the society.

The garden enclosure was bordered by a high brick wall lined on top with sharp shards of colored glass. It was cold in the hills outside of Milan, where the villa was located. Winter was fast approaching and the garden had turned mostly brown. At  the moment, it was bathed in the luminous light unique to Italy and beloved by Renaissance painters. A winding path of white gravel led to a fountain at the far corner of the garden, where water poured into cascading basins during the summer months. For now, the fountain was dry. A stone bench nearby provided a place for quiet contemplation.

The servant brought the coffee and left the room. With practiced motion, Mercurio twisted a piece of lemon peel to spray oil over the coffee. He sipped. The bitter taste of the espresso and pungent smell of lemon stimulated his senses. He turned from the window and picked up a picture of the tile from his desk. He hadn't known about Anastasius until he'd read the manuscript. Now he had an image of him, holding the Grail.

God has shown me the way. He revealed the tile to guide me in the quest.

He would follow in the footsteps of Anastasius.

CHAPTER 18

Lamont looked out through Elizabeth's office windows at a foot of new snow covering the grounds.

"Sometimes I wonder why I ever left Georgia," he said.

"They have snow in Georgia," Ronnie said.

"Not like this, not often."

"They're predicting a bad winter on the East Coast," Stephanie said.

"What else is new?"

Steph sat in a chair beside Elizabeth's desk, leaning back to take some pressure off her  swollen belly. She didn't look comfortable. Her complexion was marred with red blotches.

"You look like you're getting ready to pop," Ronnie said.

"Can't be too soon for me. The baby has been kicking the heck out of me lately."

"When are you due?"

"The last week in November, but we might've gotten the dates wrong. It feels like it will be sooner."

Elizabeth tapped her pen on her desk. "All right. Let's talk about Sweden. Nick, there have been developments since you got back."

"That doesn't surprise me." Nick shifted his position on the couch to get more comfortable. "I don't think Bergstrom was the only Swede involved in that smuggling operation."

"You may be right. Gabriel is dead."

"Selena packs a mean kick."

"That's not what killed him. Someone gave him a shot of potassium cyanide."

"That'll do it," Lamont said.

"That's not all. The mosaic tile you found in Bergstrom's house has gone missing. It was supposed to be in the police evidence locker, but it's gone."

"I told you so," Selena said to Nick.

Elizabeth looked at the two of them. "You thought something like this might happen?"

Selena nodded. "I wanted to keep the tile but Nick overruled me. I thought it might help explain why Bergstrom was killed."

"It might have been to stop him from talking about the smuggling operation," Stephanie said.

Nick nodded. "That's possible."

"What about the other guy, the Italian?" Ronnie asked. "Anything on him?"

"There's nothing in the criminal database about him," Steph said. "I'm working on it."

"The Swedish police matched the bullets that killed Bergstrom and the Italian to Gabriel's pistol," Elizabeth said.

"I'm wondering about Gabriel," Nick said. "He had time to leave but he was still there."

Selena said, "Maybe he was looking for that tile."

Nick nodded. "Now that it's gone missing, you could be right."

Elizabeth said, "A clue to finding the Grail would be enough motive to murder Bergstrom."

"You believe the Grail's real?" Lamont asked. "I think it's a myth."

"A lot of myths have a basis in fact," Selena said. "We know Christ ate and drank with the disciples before the Romans took Him. Even if most of what we know about the Grail is a myth, He would've used a plain cup to drink from, just like the one on the tile."

"It's a Swedish problem now," Nick said. "It doesn't concern us any longer."

"I'm afraid it does," Elizabeth said. "Think about it. What would happen if ISIS found the Grail? What about that prophecy in the scroll? Half the world is ready to explode and the Grail could light the fuse."

"You think finding the Grail would start a new holy war?"

"I don't know, but I don't want to find out the hard way. Steph, I want you to look for anything you can find about the priest on the tile, Anastasius. What happened to him after Theodosius died? Where did he go? There must be something about him."

"There are some collections of early Christian documents I can search through," Stephanie said. "If Anastasius was confessor to Theodosius, he might be mentioned."

"I've been thinking about that gold ring," Selena said. "Bellini was wearing a large gold signet ring. It was unusual."

"I noticed that. It's in one of the pictures Ronnie took," Stephanie said.

"It was quite large, round, with a sword and a cup. The cup could be a representation of the Grail. There was a Latin inscription on it."

"What did it say?"

"I don't know, I got distracted by everything that was happening."

"It must be religious," Elizabeth said. "Steph, find out what you can about it. It will tell us more about Bellini. I want to know why he was there."

"Got it."

"In the meantime, the rest of you get some range time in. I don't want you getting rusty."

"We going somewhere anytime soon?" Lamont asked.

"You never know," Elizabeth said.

CHAPTER 19

It snowed overnight. The next morning found the ground covered with six inches of new snow. A few paw prints outside the patio doors of Elizabeth's office showed where Burps had ventured out for a few seconds before deciding he wanted nothing to do with it. Now the cat was curled up in a corner of the couch, sound asleep. Snoring.

Elizabeth sat at her desk drinking coffee. The morning briefing wasn't due to start for another hour and she was already on her third cup. Stephanie came in and poured herself a cup. She sat down next to the cat and breathed a sigh of relief.

"It always feels good to get off my feet." She sipped at her coffee. "How was dinner with Clarence last night?"

"Good. We went to that Thai restaurant over by Dupont Circle."

"How are things going with him?"

Clarence Hood was Director of the Central Intelligence Agency. He and Elizabeth had been seeing each other. Stephanie thought something more than a casual relationship was developing between them.

"He's a wonderful man," Elizabeth said. "He's intelligent and charming, with a bit of that old South courtliness about him. He sends me flowers and little notes. It's something you'd hardly expect from someone in his position."

"Have you slept with him yet?"

"Steph!"

Elizabeth's milk white skin flushed pink.

"You have! I knew it."

"Only once. I'm not sure where it's going."

"It's wonderful. You deserve to have someone in your life."

"It's fun to be with him. I never thought I'd meet anyone again that I could get close to. I find myself holding back sometimes, out of habit."

"You should go for it," Stephanie said.

Elizabeth changed the subject.

"Let's talk about that tile. What have you found out so far?"

"I did a massive search for any records of a priest named Anastasius during the fourth century. I came across only one reference, on a document listing monks at Sumela Monastery."

"Where's that?"

"In Turkey. It was founded by Theodosius in 386 CE and that's one of the reasons I'm pretty sure it's the same man as the one on the tile. It makes sense he'd go to the monastery to get away from the turmoil surrounding the emperor's death."

"That's good work, Steph."

"There's no record of him after that, or what happened to him."

"We may need to go to Sumela to find out," Elizabeth said, "but Turkey is becoming a difficult place for us to operate."

"It may not be worth the trouble. The monastery was abandoned in 1923 when Christians were being persecuted by the Turkish government. There were forced population exchanges between Greece and Turkey, a lot of confusion and deaths. The monks had to leave and they weren't allowed to take anything with them. Sumela Monastery was famous for an icon of the Virgin that was supposed to perform miracles. They buried it under the floor of the chapel to hide it from the Turks."

"What happened to it?"

"A monk retrieved it ten years later, along with other things they'd hidden. They took everything to a monastery in Greece, in Macedonia."

"An icon that performed miracles."

"Well documented," Steph said. "The history of the monastery is filled with miraculous events, especially after Anastasius arrived there."

"Are you suggesting the Grail was responsible for miracles happening at that monastery?"

Steph shrugged. "Who knows? It doesn't really matter to someone who's healed."

"I didn't know you were a religious person, Steph."

"I wouldn't call myself religious, but I had a lot of time to think when I was in the hospital after those bastards shot up our car. It's nothing short of a miracle that Lucas and I are alive. I don't see any harm in thinking a higher power might have had something to do with it."

"The only problem with believing in a higher power is when you think it gives you the right to murder and torture in the name of God."

"What if the legends about the Grail are true? If was at the monastery that could explain the miraculous healings."

"Whether the legends are true or not, if Anastasius took the cup to Sumela and it still exists, the monks would have protected it. They might have hidden it with the icon. If they did, they would have taken it back to Greece."

"That's what I was thinking," Steph said.

"We know Hussein was ISIS. If you tracked down Anastasius, they can as well. By now they must know about the Grail. They'll send someone to Greece. That might not turn out well for the monks there."

"There aren't any monks there, even though it's called a monastery. It's only a church. Tourists and pilgrims go there to view the icon and pray. If the Grail is there, there's no sign of it."

Elizabeth looked at the row of clocks on the wall opposite her desk. It was twenty after seven in the morning, Virginia time.

"Everyone will be here soon. Can you find me some pictures of that monastery or church or whatever it is before they get here? Information on the area?"

"I thought you might want that," Steph said. "It's ready to put up on the monitor whenever you want it."

"What about that ring Selena described?"

"Now that's interesting. It's a ring worn only by members of a religious society in Italy."

"A religious society?"

"The Companions of the Holy Grail. It's been around since the Renaissance."

"The Grail again," Elizabeth said. "First the scrolls, then the tile and then a dead man with a ring, all with the Grail in common. It can't be a coincidence."

"The society seems to be pretty typical," Steph said. "A bit like a Rotary club and religious fraternity combined. They support charities, raise money for the church and get dressed up in fancy costumes a few times a year to march in parades."

"Anything else about them? Something that stands out?"

"Nothing in particular. The commander of the society is an old line Italian aristocrat named Mercurio who lives near Milan. He's an actual count. He's also rich."

"Where's the money come from?"

"Oil."

"Oil? I didn't know they had oil wells in Italy."

"Not that kind of oil. Mercurio's business processes most of the olive oil in the country."

Her computer signaled an encrypted transmission. Elizabeth opened the file. It was from Forsberg at KSI.

After she read it, Elizabeth said, "Talk about perfect timing. This is about Mercurio. He was negotiating with Bergstrom for the tile. The Swedish police found correspondence between them."

"We should talk with him."

"We will, but I want to check out the Greek connection first."