“We’ll make sure you don’t. I won’t make you come into the tunnel. There probably won’t be room for you anyway.”
Sana regarded her husband in the half-light of the car’s interior. Headlights from the multitude of passing cars played intermittently across his face. “Are you sure you won’t need me in the tunnel?”
“If we’re down there and you don’t want to go into the tunnel, we’ll deal with it. Let’s think positively. Can I count on you?”
“I suppose,” Sana said, without a lot of confidence.
At quarter to nine Shawn started the car and eased away from the curb. With the windshield wipers struggling to keep up with the rain, he had to strain to see. The traffic entering the piazza careened past them at breakneck speed. Entering Saint Peter’s Square, he drove along Bernini’s Colonnade toward Arco delle Campane. “If the Swiss Guards question why you don’t have a Vatican ID card, let me do the talking,” Shawn said. The two dark-brown guard shacks loomed out of the mist ahead. The guards stepped out, wearing dark rain capes over their black-and-orange uniforms. They didn’t look pleased to have pulled guard duty on such a night. Shawn lowered his window as he came abreast of the guard shacks and stopped. A few wayward raindrops immediately blew in through the open window and danced in the swirling air.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Shawn said pleasantly, making an effort to suppress any nervousness in his voice. As he had expected, the shift had changed. They were different guards.
As was the case that afternoon, the guard took Shawn’s Vatican ID card without a word.
He examined it with a flashlight, comparing the photo to Shawn’s visage. As he handed it back, he asked, “Where are you going?”
“To the necropolis,” Shawn said, while handing over his access permit. “We’re going to do a little maintenance work.”
The Swiss Guard studied the permit for a minute before handing it back. “Pop the boot,” he said, disappearing toward the rear of the car.
Sana sat uncomfortably as the second Swiss Guard shined his flashlight in her face.
Prior to that, he’d used the flashlight and a mirror on a long stick to inspect the underside of the car for bombs.
Shawn heard the trunk slam, and a moment later the guard returned to Shawn’s open window.
“What are the tools for?” the guard asked.
“For our maintenance work,” Jack said.
“Will you be entering through the Scavi office?”
“We will indeed.”
“Should I call security to open it?”
“No need. We have keys.”
“Okay,” the guard said. “Just a moment.” He returned to the tiny guardhouse for a parking permit. A moment later he was behind the car to copy down the license plate number, before returning to the open window. There he tossed the permit onto the dash.
“Park straight ahead in the Piazza Protomartiri and leave the parking permit visible on the dash.” He then saluted.
“Phew,” Sana voiced as they pulled away. “I was afraid we were already dead meat when they looked in our trunk and saw the tools.”
“Me, too. During the months I worked here I never got that kind of attention. They’ve certainly beefed up security.”
Shawn parked where he’d been told but as close as possible to the Scavi office. “I’ll get the tools. You get yourself over to the shelter of the portico. I don’t want you getting wet, like this after noon.”
“Will you be able to manage?” Sana asked while getting an umbrella from the backseat.
Shawn grabbed her arm. “The question is: Will you?”
“I’m better now that we’re here.”
Sana was about to climb from the car when Shawn tightened his grip. “Wait for these cars,” he said. Sana turned to see a line of cars bearing down on them in the darkness.
They went by with a
“That must have been one of the bosses, maybe even the big boss himself,” Shawn commented.
“Thank you for keeping me from opening my door,” Sana said. “I would have been drenched.”
A few minutes later they were inside the darkened Scavi office. Shawn had carried the tools and other paraphernalia in the two buckets. Now that he was this close, his excitement and anxiety ratcheted up several degrees.
“What should I do with the umbrella?” Sana asked guilelessly.
“Jesus H. Christ!” Shawn exploded. “Do I have to tell you what to do with everything?” He’d been pushed beyond his patience. First, she threatened not to go through with their plan, and now she was asking stupid questions.
“You don’t need to speak to me like that. It’s a reasonable question. If I leave it here, someone may come along and then suspect someone is down in the excavation.”
“Why on earth would someone jump to the conclusion that a trespasser was down in the Scavi when an umbrella is left in the Scavi office? That’s ridiculous.”
“Fine!” Sana snapped back. She extended her arm and let the Hassler Hotel umbrella fall to the floor. She felt that Shawn’s concern for her feelings had descended to a new low.
Shawn was equally unhappy. Over the last year, as her career blossomed one moment she was an independent firebrand, cutting her hair short against his wishes; in another she was as petulant as a child dropping the umbrella as she’d just done.
For several beats they stared daggers at each other. Sana was the first to relent. “We’re both being foolish,” she said. She picked up the umbrella and leaned it up against a wooden bench.
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he said, but without much sincerity. “I’m uptight because I was afraid you were not going to go through with this, which is of vital importance to me.”
In Sana’s mind any benefit of Shawn’s halfhearted apology melted away like a snowball in the tropics. Instead of taking responsibility for his behavior, he blamed it on her. In other words, the reason he’d hurt her feelings was her fault, not his.
“Let’s get this over with,” Sana said. At this point, the last thing she wanted to do was get into an argument. What she really wanted to do was get back to the hotel and go to bed.
“Now you’re talking.”
Each picked up a bucket and passed through the glazed Scavi inner office door. The corridor beyond was illuminated only by a series of low-intensity night-lights along the marble baseboards.
When they arrived at the flight of steps that descended to the necropolis entry, Shawn paused to look down the corridor toward the basilica’s crypt. He saw no one.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s do it.”
They descended the stairs. At the bottom, Shawn opened the grate with the appropriate key, let Sana pass, then stepped in himself before locking the metal barrier behind him.
With only scant illumination descending from the night-lights in the corridor above, the couple immediately took out their respective construction helmets and switched on the headlamps.
“Not bad,” Sana commented, using the headlamp to look down the narrow stone passageway to the solid, humidity-proof door to the necropolis. Just a moment earlier, she’d experienced a touch of claustrophobia. The headlamp changed everything.
“Here, take this in one hand and the bucket in the other,” Shawn said, after switching on one of the flashlights.
“I don’t think I need it with the headlamp.”
“Take it,” Shawn insisted.
Shawn squeezed past Sana and quickly descended to the solid door. With every step he felt his excitement grow. He couldn’t help feeling optimistic. He was convinced that the ossuary would be where Saturninus said he’d
