her, maybe even a position here. She took the assistant’s job with me until one opened up in the archeological department.”
Syd stared at the grainy newsprint photo of a woman who resembled her sketch. Said woman was either whispering political figures or sweet nothings in the representative’s ear. Hard to say unless one was actually there, listening to it. What was it Scotty had told her? The explanation for all this? Diplomat’s daughter being sent home to prevent an international scandal in the press?
That whole coincidence thing again. Easily bought if one didn’t look too closely at the more obvious circumstances, the biggest being that if the girl in the photo was the girl in her sketch, then she was very much dead. “Did Xavier ever mention any specifics on this conspiracy theory of his?”
“He offered up several theories, the main gist being that Freemasonry was running amok in our country, about to start wars or ruin the banking system and government all in one fell swoop. One of his main points was that a Masonic lodge called the Propaganda Due, or P2, had emerged again, after being shut down in Italy back in the 1980s for political corruption. This time, however, he thought it was happening right here in the capital. Oh, and they were instrumental in the deaths of a number of microbiologists, who were working on bioweapons research. In other words, classic conspiracy theory stuff you can find on any Internet site.”
Microbiologists? What were the chances that field would crop up a second time in as many days? “So how far out there was he?”
Professor Woods gave Sydney a somewhat patronizing smile. “Do you ever read your horoscope?”
“Occasionally.”
“Ever wonder how it is that your daily horoscope can fit into your life, as though there is some truth to it all?”
“Because it’s so general.”
“Exactly. The theories I teach are more a way of illuminating history throughout the ages. They’re themes that recur over and over, but when looked at very closely are no different than what is going on today. Conflict in history revolves around the same issues. Money and power. And those without, blame it on those who have it all.
“I liken the conspiracy theorists,” she continued, “to those who read the Bible and interpret it to suit their own needs. One can look anywhere, grasp a word that is vague in one context, or might have a dual meaning in another, and twist a phrase to mean something completely different from what the author intended. Xavier’s paper was returned to him for being too general. I asked him to do a little more research on the start of Freemasonry, and why the Catholic Church was so opposed to it back when it first surfaced. You could say he came back enlightened.”
“How so?” Syd asked, wondering what, if anything, this would tell her about her missing student.
“He discovered a theory that Freemasonry started much earlier than the eighteenth century as originally believed. It was, he said, a means of hiding and protecting the Templar Knights who escaped the persecution, imprisonment, and execution by Pope Clement V and Philip IV of France in 1307. According to Xavier’s research, the Templars went underground, only to emerge in the early 1700s as Freemasons, a group that believes in a supreme being, but does not affiliate itself with any church or specific religion. What this new secret society did espouse was something the church found extremely dangerous at the time: freedom of religion, the separation of church and state, the education of children by laymen, and the right to choose one’s own government. You might recognize those as the very tenets that this nation was founded on.”
“So Freemasons aren’t the mastermind behind all evil in this country?”
“If you’d asked my mother back when I was a kid, she’d tell you it was rock-and-roll. Don’t get me wrong. The church was right in some respects. If you have a secret society and they meet in secret and there is an inner circle of powerful men running it, and one or more is corrupted, it doesn’t matter if they are church members, Freemasons, or politicians. There will be conspiracy, and unless it is caught, bad things can happen, just as history has proven again and again.”
Which told her exactly nothing. But her list of names had grown to two. “Mind if I keep this article?”
“Feel free.”
“Any chance you have a copy of these conspiracy theories Xavier was working on?”
“I’ll print one up for you. My students are required to turn a draft in electronically before the final draft is due. Gives me a chance to look it all up on the Internet, see if anyone’s doing too much cutting and pasting,” she said, returning to her computer. She scrolled through some files, then printed out a copy, handing it to Syd. “Unfortunately, he never did turn in the final draft, so I don’t know if he ever found the proof he was looking for.”
“Proof of what?”
“That there was a conspiracy going on in our government at this moment, and someone in power should know. He said he needed a few days to get the information together. Whatever that might be, I have no idea, as he never returned to class. But I recall that when he and Alessandra were walking out, I overheard her telling him that he needed to leave this harebrained scheme of his alone, as he had no idea what he was getting into and it was going to lead to-her words exactly-‘a big bunch of nothing and a whole lot of trouble.’”
“Thanks,” Sydney said, flipping through the pages, too numerous to quickly scan. “Can I call you if something else comes up?”
“Sure,” she said, digging a card from her desk drawer, and writing her numbers on it. “My home and cell. Normally I don’t give them out, but I find the fact the FBI is asking questions a bit intriguing.”
Sydney opened the door, then hesitated, turning back. “You don’t happen to have the address of your assistant who had to return to Italy?”
“She lived on campus.”
“I mean her home address.”
“Should be easy enough. She’s the daughter of the U.S. ambassador to the Holy See.”
“The Holy See?” Syd stared at the newspaper photo, not sure what to think. “As in the pope?”
“Yes. So you can imagine her father wasn’t too pleased when he heard the rumors of her…involvement with a married man. No doubt that’s why he ordered her home.”
“No doubt,” she said, though that wasn’t what she was thinking at all. She folded the newspaper and report, putting both in her purse. “Thank you very much for your time, Professor.”
Scotty was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, when she exited. “Are you ready to go to breakfast?”
She pulled out the card Zach Griffin had given her. Breakfast was the last thing on her mind.
9
“About breakfast?” Scotty asked again when they reached the car.
Sydney slid into the front passenger seat, glanced at her watch. “I need to pack a few things I forgot the first time around. Maybe you could drop me off at my apartment, grab us some fast food, come back, get me, and we can head straight to the airport.”
“Special requests?” Scotty asked, backing out of the parking space, then having to stop for two young women who darted in front of the car, probably late for a class.
“Anything.”
Which seemed to suit Scotty fine, especially the part about heading straight to the airport, no doubt because he thought it would keep her out of trouble. The moment he dropped her off in front of her building, she ran upstairs with her briefcase and overnight bag, shoved her key in the lock and threw open the door, tossed everything down, then opened her cell phone. Several phone calls later, Sydney was no closer to learning Zach Griffin’s true identity. He wasn’t answering his phone, and his so-called boss at the “newspaper” he worked for said he was leaving the country on an editorial assignment. Her next call was to a contact at CIA. Which netted her zero results. If Griffin was CIA, they weren’t admitting any association to him. But Griffin definitely worked for a governmental agency, because someone had to fund all the bells and whistles to his so-called newspaper job, and no way could he step onto the grounds at Quantico, arrange for a private plane and a forensic drawing, never mind the cooperation of her bosses, if someone high up the food chain wasn’t pulling some strings.
