The Secret of Fatima (32 page)

“Okay, let's have a look. We'll need to move the ladder.” Toby jumped off first.

Kevin's walkie-talkie squawked.

“Somebody coming!” Max whispered. He was panicking. “Maybe it's a security guard.”

Kevin and Toby turned off their flashlights. In the distance they could hear the sound of heavy footsteps. The two quickly scrambled down the monument.

“They've got security sensors,” Toby whispered, pointing to the ceiling. “Let's hope they don't call for backup.”

They darted to the pews in front of the altar. At the end of one of the pews, Kevin knelt quietly. Toby crossed the aisle and positioned himself behind a massive stone pillar. Without moving, they listened carefully to the clickety-clack of the approaching steps. From the direction of the steps, a beam of light was zigzagging up and down.

Kevin, in plain sight, remained calm, kneeling … praying.

As the man approached, the beam of light marked Kevin's back. “You!” the man shouted. “What're you doing here?”

Kevin slowly turned around until he was facing the guy. “Praying.” His words were deliberately calm.

“May I see your identification, señor?”

“Certainly.” Kevin rose slowly, moving to retrieve a wallet from his jacket.

Toby was now moving behind the guard. The fellow was rotund, past his prime. This shouldn't be hard, Toby thought.

Putting his hand over the man's mouth, Toby stuck a gun in his back. “Don't move,” he said in English.

The guard nodded agreeably.

Kevin felt sorry for the old guard.

“Be gentle with him. I'll finish up,” Kevin said. “Please get him out of the way.”

With the gun pressed to his back, Toby escorted the guard to the rear of the cathedral. The man's legs trembled. Toby assured him there'd be no trouble.

Out of sight, Kevin climbed the ladder until he was facing the statue of Aragon. With both hands, he grabbed the crown, pulling it upward. At first it resisted, then loosened, giving way. Kevin peered into a small crevice on the top of Aragon's head. Nothing. Scurrying down the ladder, at the bottom he moved it to the next statue, Navarro, and started up again. This time, the crown wouldn't budge at all. Kevin tried again, but still it wouldn't budge. He reached for Toby's crowbar on the second step and tried again. Now the crown moved. Kevin laid it on top of the tomb and pointed his flashlight deep into the opening.

His heart nearly stopped beating.
Oh my God!

Inside the opening was a leather folder with a wax seal. Kevin exhaled with relief: He knew he'd found what he was looking for. He lifted the folder, replaced the crown, and climbed down.

Kevin quickly put the tools and the ladder away, and called for Toby, who was waiting at the rear of the cathedral. “Got it!” said Kevin. “C'mon, time to get out of here.”

Toby directed the guard back to the Christopher Columbus tomb where Kevin was waiting.

“Check the bag,” Toby said to Kevin. “You'll find rope and masking tape in there.”

When Kevin retrieved the rope and masking tape, Toby tied up the guard and pressed the tape over his mouth. He left him in a pew where he could lie down and sleep. He wouldn't be found until morning.

“You got it?” asked Toby.

“Yes, I think I found it,” Kevin whispered.

“C'mon, then, let's get the hell out of here!” said Toby.

The men fled the cathedral the way they'd come in.

On seeing them, Max, who was pacing in anticipation of the worst, breathed a sigh of relief.

They walked quickly back to the hotel, excited and relieved to have uncovered the secret pages. Inside the suite, Kevin's phone buzzed.

It was Katie. She apologized for calling so late. His first thought was Maggio. But Katie assured him that he was under control. He wasn't pleased but he had reluctantly accepted the story that Katie couldn't travel for a while. And, yes, he was still getting billed. Kevin asked about the baby boy.

“He's fine, Kevin. The doctors will examine his clubfoot tomorrow. We hope it's not serious. Anyway, that's not why I'm calling.”

There was an awkward silence. Then Katie continued, “I'm sorry to ask this, Kevin, but it's bothering me.” She paused again. Kevin waited. “Did you tell me the whole truth about your court martial?”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm not sure … I just—”

“Who's putting you up to this, Katie?”

“I just want to know the truth. The whole truth. Did you kill an American soldier in Iraq?”

“I killed a rapist. The rapist's country of origin, his nationality, is of no importance. The truth is that I didn't know he was an American when this happened. And I don't think it would have mattered. Where's this coming from, Katie?” Kevin's jaw was clenched.

“Jimmy told me.”

While Jimmy's name sunk in, Kevin paused. “I have nothing else to say about this, Katie, except you might want to ask your boyfriend why he's digging up dirt on me and recommending questionable clients to you.”

Silence again.

“I'm sorry,” Katie said. “Good-bye.”

“What was that about?” asked Toby as Kevin pressed his cell's off button.

“Nothing,” said Kevin. “Seems like Katie's fiancé is spinning webs about me.”

“What webs?” asked Max.

“Jimmy told her I'd killed an American soldier in Iraq.”

“Remember, Kev,” said Toby, “I told you that Jimmy Stein guy was snooping around your Army record.”

“Yeah, I remember. And he also referred Maggio to Katie.”

“We need to figure out what his game is.”

“I'll deal with it.”

Max was looking at him with big eyes. Kevin was always surprising him.

Kevin couldn't think about this right now.

“Have we heard from MC?” asked Toby.

“No,” Kevin said. “Let's wake her up.” He put the phone on speaker.

MC answered on the first ring. Right away, she assured Kevin she was safe and comfortable, thanks to the safe house Toby had arranged in the Parioli district.

“Did you see your friend?” Kevin asked.

“Uh, yes, last night.”

“Well? What did he say?”

“Kevin, we have to help him. I promised.”

“We'll deal with that later.”

“He said that Alameda, who he also called Columbo, and some of his people are planning an operation in the United States.”

Toby said, “Why, MC? Did he say?”

“I asked,” she replied, a tremor in her voice. “He doesn't know. He swears he doesn't.”

“Well, we'll see about that,” Kevin said. “We're coming back tomorrow.”

“You can't torture him, Kevin. I know him, he's telling the truth!”

Kevin wasn't about to debate about whether Sister Mary Catherine's friend was telling her the truth. “I just want to talk to him,” he said. “Go back to sleep.”

In bed that night, Kevin tossed and turned, barely sleeping. They'd stayed up late making travel arrangements to get to Rome the next morning. Toby had suggested getting out of town early, since the guard at the cathedral probably would be found after sunrise. It'd be nearly impossible for the Seville police to trace the incident to them, but it was pointless taking a chance.

Kevin took inventory. First, he'd successfully recovered the missing pages of the secret—a major accomplishment. The leather envelope lay securely under his mattress, its wax seal intact. Second, he uncovered Opus Mundi's plan to go to the U.S. for an “operation.” “Operation” was deadly when it came to Opus Mundi.

Third, Kevin wondered about Katie, if she was in danger.
And who was this Jimmy Stein? Could he be setting up Katie to get at Kevin?
Perhaps. If that was the strategy, it would get his full attention.
And if so, how was Jimmy Stein involved? Who was Jimmy Stein? What was his game?
Too many unanswered questions.

Fourth, Kevin had decided to talk to MC's priest friend, get whatever information out of him he could, regardless of the cost in lives, or in lofty principles.

Fifth, soon he and Toby would have to go release the prisoners at the apartment building.
Or, maybe they should just leave them
, he thought.
But no, not possible, bad idea. He wouldn't want them to die of dehydration
.

The next morning, Kevin and Toby awoke early and went to the apartment. Entering, they could see Roberto and his friend weren't there—they'd escaped!

“Well, that's either good news or bad,” Toby said.

“Meaning what?” Kevin asked.

“Well, either they got free by themselves and have split town; or some of their Opus Mundi operatives found them, which means they're now hunting for us,” said Toby.

“Another reason to get out of Seville,” said Kevin.

The two hustled back to their hotel and started packing. Already packed, Max was patiently waiting for them. He asked if Kevin was going to try to see the pope.

“Yes, as soon as we get back to Rome,” Kevin replied. “I've got something he wants.” Kevin smiled and held up the pouch. He then put it in his leather briefcase and locked it.

“Aren't you going to read it?” Toby asked as he closed his suitcase and put it on the floor.

“I've got orders from the pope not to read it,” Kevin said.

“Look, pal,” Toby said. “As far as I'm concerned, there may be something in those pages having to do with national security. You've got some extremely radical Catholic group killing people based on whatever's written in there. I'd vote to go ahead and read it.”

Kevin shook his head. “It's sealed, Toby. I gave my word. I do a lot of questionable things, but countering a direct papal order isn't one of them.”

“Kevin, think hard about this. Uncle Sam financed this little expedition. I need to account for it.”

“Okay, I'll think about it,” Kevin said.

“It's a wonder we're all alive,” said Max.

“Well, it's not over yet,” Toby said. Max looked at him with terror in his eyes. Toby laughed and punched him in the arm. “Just kidding, big guy. We're safe … I hope.”

The three men grabbed their bags and left quickly for Seville's airport. In the taxi, Kevin's cell buzzed. He didn't recognize the number but answered it anyway.

“Father Thrall, this is Ivan Koncik.” “Who?”

“Ivan. Your friend from Medjugorje. I showed you around when you were here.”

“Of course. Sorry, Ivan. Bad connection,” Kevin fibbed. He remembered now.

“Kevin, I have a message for you.”

“A message?”

“Yes, one of the visionaries came to see me. She said that I must tell you something.”

“Who is it?” Kevin asked.

“I'm sorry. I can only tell you the message comes from one of the visionaries to whom Mary appears.”

“What's the message, Ivan?”

“I wrote it down. Please hold.” There were sounds of paper crumpling. “Here it is,” Ivan continued. “You will soon have answers to questions important to you. Follow your destiny.”

“Follow my destiny? Ivan, I can get advice like that from a fortune cookie. Was there anything else?”

“That's all, my friend.”

“Thank you, Ivan.”

“What's that about?” asked Toby.

Kevin shook his head. “A message from heaven,” he said. “Allegedly.”

Chapter Forty-Four

Rome, Italy

Among the CIA's many qualities, one that goes uncelebrated is its keen eye for valuable real estate. If the CIA were to cease to exist, it'd reap a fortune from its exquisite residential real estate holdings acquired over the years in some of the world's most beautiful, coveted spots. These properties were lumped under the misnomer of ‘safe houses.' Lodged in one of them, a nineteenth-century townhouse in the Parioli district of Rome, was Sister Mary Catherine.

When Kevin had first studied in Rome, he enjoyed dinners and receptions in Parioli, a residential area of parks, tree-lined streets, and a mix of old villas and modern luxury apartment buildings. It's Fellini rather than Borghese, Ferrari instead of Michelangelo, a modern twist on residential luxury.

When the three arrived from the airport, an official minion opened the door. He looked for the approval of a CIA officer standing behind him. Recognizing Toby Beck, he allowed them entrance.

Dressed in her usual spray-on jeans, Sister Mary Catherine greeted them in the drawing room, activating her brightest, toothy smile.

“It's good to see you guys,” she said, smiling and hugging them.

“MC, I need to meet your friend,” Kevin said.

“He's upstairs,” she replied. “But, Kevin, remember what I asked you …”

“Don't worry,” said Kevin.

“We'll be on our best behavior,” added Toby.

Toby and Kevin made their way upstairs. An attendant pointed to a room on the right of the staircase. Before entering, Toby said, “Your turn as bad cop.”

Kevin nodded.

Kevin knocked on the door, but didn't wait before entering. Father Francesco Garibaldi was propped in a wing chair. As they entered, he turned to face them. Garibaldi was youthful, svelte, with long black hair, an aquiline nose, and the look of the fetching playboy models in Gucci ads.
No wonder MC liked him
, Kevin thought.

After introductions, they invited the priest to join them at a nearby card table.

“May I smoke?” Francesco asked with a pseudo-British accent. He didn't wait for a reply before pulling out a Marlboro and a shiny gilded lighter.

“We need to talk and don't have much time,” Toby began.

“I am at your disposal,” Father Garibaldi replied with a guarded smile. He opened his arms, bowed slightly, and simultaneously exhaled a heavy stream of smoke.

Kevin thought he was quite full of himself.