The Bone Chamber

“No. That was the gist of it, and they left.”

“Anything else you can tell me?”

“About Alessandra? No.”

“What about the other student?”

“Xavier, the young man Alessandra had befriended. Normally I don’t encourage my assistants to become so closely involved in the projects of my students, but Alessandra had said she’d seen something in his work, something she’d like to explore further.”

“What sort of something?”

“Two things, actually, the first being the conspiracy report I gave to your partner. What Alessandra saw in it besides the usual rubbish found on the Internet, I’m not sure.”

“And what was the other?”

“An odd thing on genealogy he’s working on with another professor who is away on sabbatical. It was, in fact, the reason that Alessandra befriended him.”

“My partner see that report?”

“Actually, no. I didn’t think of it at the time, because she specifically asked if he was working on conspiracy theory.”

“You don’t still have it, do you?”

“Of course.” She opened a file on her computer and printed something out. “Here it is, along with a copy of the conspiracy report.”

“Mind if I copy it?”

“If it helps you in your investigation, it’s yours.”

“Thanks,” Carillo said. “One other thing. You have the name of this professor on sabbatical that your student was working with?”

“Francesca Santarella.”

Carillo handed Professor Woods a card, asking her to call if anyone else inquired into the matter, regardless of what governmental agency they said they were from. He left, sat in the car and sipped at his lukewarm coffee he’d picked up earlier that morning, and read the papers he’d been given.

The odd thing on genealogy turned out to be a report on family trees and the skeletons one might find in their closets if they dug back far enough in their research. It was titled: “Six Degrees to a Serial Killer or King.” Starting with the fact that everyone has two sets of grandparents, who each have two sets of grandparents, who have two sets of grandparents, and so on and so on. A tongue-in-cheek look at the pyramidal scheme of family trees. Even those who might lay claim to royalty no doubt had some nefarious relatives tucked in their closets. And to prove his point, the author researched his own history, discovering that, while there were no serial killers in his tree, he was directly related to the Prince of Sansevero, reported to be the first Freemasons Grand Master in Naples.

Carillo flipped through the report, and there were a couple of things that bothered him. The biggie was that the kid was missing after drafting such a report, whether it was this report or the other one he’d done on conspiracies. Now maybe it was merely coincidence that the kid happened to be friends with the daughter of the ambassador to the Holy See, who also happened to be missing-well, was missing, now dead. But Carillo didn’t like coincidences, and this thing smacked of conspiracy all over the place. The other thing that bothered him was, as Professor Woods mentioned, under the list of references on his report, the kid noted a Professor Francesca Santarella. That in itself wouldn’t bother him, since he had no idea who she was. It was her current address at the American Academy in Rome that made him look twice, something he might not have noticed if not for the fact Sydney was looking into the death of the ambassador’s daughter. First thing he did once he found out that little tidbit was look up the ambassador’s residence on a nice, big, fat Internet map. That, of course, was the only reason he even knew that the American Academy was directly across the street.

And that was one hell of a coincidence he wasn’t about to overlook.

He hit a number on his speed dial for the San Francisco office. Michael “Doc” Schermer picked up on his end of the phone. “I need you to check into something,” Carillo said. “It’s below the radar. That thing Fitz is working on. We need you to work your research magic, figure out what the common thread in all this is.”

“Between you and Fitzpatrick, I should be getting paid double time.”

“That’s the beauty about government salaries. No double time. Saves the taxpayers’ money.”

“Yeah, well, I suppose they have to give me a lunch break sometime. What’dya got?”

“I’m gonna fax you over a couple reports,” he said. “And I want you to dig up some information on a Professor Francesca Santarella.”

About an hour later, Doc Schermer called him back. “These look like college term papers.”

“They are.”

“Some of this conspiracy stuff’s swiped straight from the Net. I have to admit, the one he’s working on with this Professor Santarella on six degrees of separation? At least it’s interesting.”

“And your point?”

“This stuff is pretty far out there. Any idea what you’re looking for?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

Griffin, not trusting Sydney for an instant, handed her his cell phone, then listened intently to her conversation with her partner, Carillo, while she told him that she was booked on a flight out that very night. Suddenly her voice dropped, and she turned her back. Griffin should have put her on speakerphone, but he didn’t want to tie up the secure line, and a good thing, too, because a moment later, it rang. Griffin grabbed it, hoping it was Marc with more information on Tex, now that the carabinieri had made a tentative ID on the man at the morgue as their missing person, Enzo Vitale.

It was Dumas. “We have a situation.”

“What is it?” Griffin asked, shaking his head at Giustino to let him know it was not about Tex.

“The professoressa. She slipped out of the Vatican.”

“Slipped out for what? A cappuccino?”

“Somehow I don’t think that is foremost on her mind.”

“Great. This is all I need right now.”

“Something else going on?”

“Nothing,” he said, not willing to share his hopes that Tex might be alive. Not yet. “Why would the professor leave?”

“According to Father Martinez, who was assisting her with her research, he noticed her taking numerous notes, and happened to walk past to see what had caught her interest.”

“I don’t suppose you happen to know what her notes said?”

“Actually I do. She only took the top sheet when she left. Father Martinez was able to bring up the remnants. The name Raimondo di Sangro came up. Apparently she was looking at transcripts that had to do with this prince in the 1700s, who managed to find himself jailed for matters that now would seem inconsequential, but back then were the height of scandal. Something to do with his involvement with Freemasonry.”

“Freemasonry was a jailing offense?”

“Let us just say that back then the church held far more sway when it came to dissuading its congregation from embarking down the path of darkness. The other matter she was looking into had something to do with columbaria.”

“Columbaria?”

“Ancient burial sites.”

“She did say she was doing research on ancient burial sites. Anything else?”

“You have the same information I have.”

“I appreciate the call.”

“I know you would do the same.”

Griffin wasn’t so sure about that, but he muttered, “Of course. I’ll let you know if we hear anything.” He disconnected, trying to determine if it was even worth their effort to try to find the professor. “Santarella took off,” he said to Giustino, who was busy perusing the book on the Egyptian influence on Roman history in hopes of discovering why it was sent.

“If she is stupid enough to leave on her own after being shot at, she deserves her fate.”