The Bone Chamber

“They’re leaving!” Dumas cried, and he made the sign of the cross.

Not until they’d landed safely at the carabinieri helipad, and Giustino guided everyone into an office, did Griffin agree to let Sydney pull out the map. She spread it out on the table and he studied the portion of the labyrinth she’d cut out, as well as the words listed down the side. “Not bad, Fitzpatrick,” he said. “But it would’ve been nice to have gotten us the whole thing.”

“I was working on a time crunch.”

Francesca ran her fingers against the cut edge, looking sick to her stomach. “Ruined. Almost half of the labyrinth is missing. To be so close…”

“These words,” Sydney asked her. “Any idea what they mean?”

It was Dumas who answered. “Possibly Old French, archaic. They’d need to be researched. That of course can be done once it is rightfully returned to the Vatican.”

“Like hell it will be,” Griffin replied. “And even if it does belong to the Vatican, you think the pope will do a better job protecting the world from the threat of a plague released by a madman?”

“With God’s help.”

“What were you saying earlier about putting all your trust in God? Maybe a little trust in ATLAS’s capabilities?”

Dumas gave a heavy sigh. “Agreed. There has been too much death where this thing has been concerned.”

“Maybe you should put it away,” Griffin told Sydney, taking out his phone to call headquarters. “Less temptation for everyone.”

Sydney removed her sketchbook from the bag Alfredo had returned. She opened it to slip the map in, and Father Dumas saw one of the sketches of the loculi in the columbarium. “May I?”

“Sure,” she said, handing him the sketchbook. “I wish I’d had more time there. It was an amazing place.”

Giustino was talking to a fellow carabinieri near the door, arranging vehicle transportation for Griffin and the others back to Rome. He looked up, stopped when he realized Griffin was trying to make a call, and signaled for the other officer to step out with him. Even so, Griffin moved to the far side of the room for some privacy. The thought of telling McNiel about Ambassador Harden weighed on him, but he had no choice.

McNiel answered.

Griffin heard several people talking in the background. “You’re up late.”

“Damage control,” McNiel replied. “The thing we tried to avoid by keeping Alessandra’s murder from the press? It’s happening now. Ambassador Harden unwittingly started a firestorm at his daughter’s funeral, stating he wouldn’t rest until he learned who had killed her. We barely got him away from the press, before they started asking if he knew if his daughter was having an affair with Congressman Burnett. It’d be nice to bury this thing without exposing ATLAS.”

“About that,” Griffin said, watching as Sydney pointed out the details on one of the sketches, talking avidly about the columbarium to Dumas and Tex. “It might be too late. Who’s there with you?”

“I’m sitting here with the directorate and half the ATLAS oversight committee. What do you have to report?”

“Good news and bad. I’ll give you the good first, which you can relay,” he said, emphasizing the word as a warning. “We found Tex. He’s safe.”

“Thank God.” He heard McNiel repeat the information. Heard the congratulations being passed around the room. After a moment, McNiel said, “And this other news?”

“Ambassador Harden. He’s been passing on information to Adami. And Adami hinted that Harden was reporting to someone higher up.”

A long stretch of silence on the other end, then finally, “Yes, of course we heard about the warehouse and the bioweapons being destroyed. Everyone here is ecstatic.”

Translation: McNiel wasn’t about to reveal to anyone in that room that he knew there might be a mole. “Unfortunately,” Griffin continued, “Adami got part of the map. A very small piece if that’s any consolation. But it also renders the part we have as unusable. There was nothing we could do.”

“Clearly we know your next mission.”

Recover the rest of the map to stop Adami. Griffin realized the others had grown silent, and he glanced up, saw them all staring at him. Tex had an odd look on his face. “I should go,” he said. “I think we should get Tex to a hospital.”

“Tell him I’m glad he’s safe.”

“I will.”

Griffin disconnected. “What’s going on?” he asked them.

“This,” Sydney said, lifting up the sketchbook, showing him her drawing of the mosaic on the columbarium floor. And then she held up the parchment and what was left of the labyrinth beside it.

The map. There on the columbarium floor the whole time.

Outside, he heard the helicopter starting up. He shook himself, ran from the room. Giustino and the other officer were just getting on. “Giustino!”

Giustino stopped, looked back.

“Any chance we can commandeer that helicopter one more time? There’s something important we need to see in Rome. And time is of the essence.”

The following evening,

en route to Fiumicino airport, Rome

Sydney shifted in the front seat of the car, trying to get a glimpse of the Colosseum, its arches lit against the black night sky. “Are you sure we don’t have time to stop? It’s the Colosseum, after all. When in Rome…”

“Not a chance,” he said. “You have a plane to catch, and I intend to make sure you’re on it.”

“There is no way I’m going to miss it. It’s not as if I have a reason to stay this time. I know who killed Tasha, and you now have a complete copy of the map-though Francesca wasn’t too happy to learn you ripped up the floor of the columbarium after you got your photos. I think she would like to have had her own photos to publish, since as far as she knows, no one has ever seen the floor from that high up to determine the pattern on it.”

“She can’t complain too much, since she will be helping us research the Old French so that we can decipher the labyrinth and find out where the map leads to. Once we have the location secure and stabilized, she can publish the photos anywhere she wants.”

“And the scientists you rescued? Do they get any credit?”

“What they’re getting is new identities to ensure their safety and keep their work from falling into enemy hands. According to Dr. Balraj, Dr. Zemke did more to set back Adami’s plans than Adami ever realized. She was genetically engineering a super-plague that was more of a super-dud. It looked virulent in the lab, but its DNA was faulty.”

“No one ever suspected her?”

“One of his scientists did, but she managed to convince him that the test sample he was viewing had been contaminated. She said it was a matter of days before they would have realized that she was working against them. Regardless, Adami had enough material down there to cause some serious damage, even without creating a super-plague. Her fear is that Adami will find this new source and start over again.”

“Any chance he’ll succeed?”

“Since he has very little of the map, I’d say no. Not that we’re about to take any chances, should he have another lab equipped to pick up where he left off. Thanks to Dr. Balraj and Zemke, we have a fair idea where that lab might be,” he said, slowing behind a bus that pulled out from the curb. “Our next step is to recover the lost part of the map from Adami, before he or his associates attempt to discover the location it leads to. And once we discover that location and what the map leads to, our team of scientists will go in and assess exactly what it is we’re dealing with. In other words,” he said, glancing over at her, then back to the road, “nothing that we can’t handle on our own, which means you are no longer needed.”

“You could at least wait until after I’m on the plane to gloat.”

“Trust me. I won’t be gloating until you are well across the Atlantic. Past experience tells me I’ll need all my wits about me to get you on that plane and home for Thanksgiving.”