House of Acerbi

rather face an enemy they can see.”

“From a security standpoint, a biological attack has always been one of our worst fears,” Francois said. “Men, women … even children. This invisible thing from hell doesn’t care what it kills!”

Walking next to the Swiss Guard chief, Leo was watching a line of dark clouds flowing in over the Eternal City. “Unfortunately, Francois, a virus has no soul, and thus no conscience. In fact, a virus is barely considered a life form.”

“Good. Then we shall have no guilt when we kill it, Cardinal.”

Walking into the center of the courtyard, they spotted an ominous-looking, black Chevy SUV with a small forest of antennas sprouting from its roof.

“I’ll be driving and monitoring the radios,” Francois continued. “We’ll be in constant contact with the Swiss Guard units that have been moved into position along our route. They’ll be able to get to us relatively quickly should the need arise. I also stocked a few supplies in the back.”

“It seems like you’ve thought of everything … as usual,” Leo said.

Francois forced a tight smile as Morelli jumped into the front passenger seat and Leo and Lev slid into the back. Gunning the engine, he threw a departing wave to a group of uniformed Swiss Guards standing in front of their barracks before speeding through the tightly guarded Porta Sant’ Anna and squealing out onto a narrow street known as the Via Di Porta Angelica-the street of angels.

Behind them, Vatican City was still filling with people, leaving the medieval hodgepodge of alley-like streets in this section of Rome practically empty. The absence of people in the usually teaming streets was eerie as the SUV crossed the river Tiber and continued up the Via Pinciana, a wide boulevard that ran along the eastern border of a huge park that surrounded the famous Villa Borghese.

The Villa and the grounds around it were constructed in 1613 for the hedonistic Cardinal Scipione Borghese, nephew of Pope Paul V. It had been the first park of its kind in Rome, containing foreign academies and a school of archaeology, plus museums, art galleries, fountains, and even a zoo. Usually filled with gelato-slurping tourists, on this day the park stood virtually empty. Looking out over the beautiful grounds, Leo was once again struck by the duality between those who dedicated themselves to creating objects of beauty and those who seemed equally dedicated to depraved acts of cruelty.

Scipione’s villa was now known as the Galleria Borghese, a world-class art gallery filled with sculpture, including an especially beautiful marble version of a recumbent and semi-nude Venus. It was said that the model for the sculpture was none other than Pauline Borghese, Napoleon’s sister, but as soon as the brilliant work of art had been completed, her jealous husband locked it away. Even its famous sculptor, Canova, was never permitted to lay eyes on it again, and so it remained in darkness until long after Pauline Borghese and her husband had died.

As the tree-lined grounds of the magnificent park flashed by the left side of the SUV, Leo leaned over the front seat and peered through the front windshield. “Now that we’re away from the Vatican, does anyone care to share with me where we’re headed?”

“Spain,” Morelli replied.

“Spain! Why Spain?”

“A private jet on a mission for the Vatican crashed there yesterday.”

Leo and Lev traded looks.

“Could you elaborate on that, Anthony?”

“I’m afraid I have some bad news, Leo. Cardinal Orsini was onboard.”

“Orsini? The Vatican’s Secretary of State?” Leo paused as the news sank in. “Were there any survivors?”

“Sadly, no … the cardinal is dead, Leo.”

Leo pulled a small, wooden rosary from his pocket and ran his fingers over the beads. “Orsini was one of the brightest, most insightful men I’ve ever known. Why wasn’t I informed of this earlier?”

“His Holiness didn’t want the news of his death to be made public yet. With everything else that’s happening, I couldn’t seem to find the right time to tell you. For now, that’s all the information we have. The Spanish authorities have cordoned off the area as a precaution.”

Francois turned the speeding SUV onto the Via Salaria and continued on through the seemingly deserted city until they passed under Rome’s ring freeway and headed north on the A-1 highway. Sitting back in his seat, Leo stared out through his window at the ruins of an ancient aqueduct in the distance. The rapidly vanishing campagna, the countryside around Rome, was filled with reminders of a glorious past, but as the city continued to grow, it was becoming obvious that the encroaching urban landscape would soon envelope them and dilute their solitary glory. At least they would still be there, Leo thought. Man needed his monuments to remind him of what had been before. Orsini’s final monument would surely be less grand, but he would be remembered just the same.

“A precaution against what?” Leo asked, shaking off his thoughts about distant ruins and monuments to men long gone.

“I beg your pardon?” Morelli said.

“You said the Spanish authorities had cordoned off the crash site as a precaution … a precaution against what?”

“Probably against whatever killed all those people in America. Did I mention the plane was returning from New York? Undoubtedly there’s some concern from the Spanish authorities that the people onboard could have been infected.”

“That’s a good point, which makes me wonder why the pope is sending us there. We could be headed right into a biological hot zone.”

“We thought of that, so we called some experts at the CDC in Atlanta this morning. They believe the Spanish authorities are being overly cautious. They informed us that, if there was a danger from an unknown pathogen at the site of the crash, it has long since passed. Whatever killed all of those people in America quickly flamed out and hasn’t reappeared. Also, the wreckage of the aircraft was apparently consumed by a very hot fireball that would have virtually sterilized the wreckage.”

“That still doesn’t answer the question of why the Holy Father is sending us to a crash site, a site where, in most likelihood, nothing recognizable remains.”

Morelli breathed in deeply before reaching into his cassock. He removed a folded sheet of paper and handed it over his shoulder into the back seat. “Here, Leo … this might help clear things up for you.”

Leo’s eyes narrowed at the back of Morelli’s head as he reached for the paper. For some reason, Morelli was holding back. He wasn’t sharing everything he knew, and as a ranking cardinal, especially one who was in line to replace Orsini, Leo should have been informed of Orsini’s death right away.

Without warning, Francois braked and swerved the SUV to avoid hitting a wild-eyed man who had just run out onto the highway in front of the vehicle. Looking outside, Leo and the others could see other wild-eyed people running out onto the road from a nearby field. In a matter of seconds, a large mob had surrounded the SUV after Francois had been forced to stop to avoid running them over.

The people around the vehicle were screaming something at the men inside, but their speech was garbled and unintelligible. Shockingly, their hands appeared to be covered in blood, and as they reached out to touch the windows, they left behind wide swaths of brownish-red streaks.

Shrieking and groaning in a primitive litany of pain and hopelessness, the mob began to rock the vehicle back and forth, almost tipping it on its side. The men inside braced themselves, their hearts racing as they peered from behind their windows at even more panicked-looking people streaming toward them from the fields.

Their way forward was now blocked, as was the road behind them. The occupants of the SUV were totally surrounded by a growing mob that had been driven stark-raving mad by something, and they seemed intent on getting at the men inside the big Chevy.

Francois frantically motioned to the crowd and laid on the horn as he tried to inch the vehicle forward, but the crowd refused to move. Some began beating on the vehicle, while others began pushing against it, lifting it up on two wheels. With more and more crazed people flooding onto the highway, Francois realized that, within seconds, the SUV would be on its side, its occupants doomed.

The Swiss Guard chief had been tagged as their driver for a reason. He was intimately familiar with the defensive capabilities of this very special SUV. Reaching under the dash, he pulled a lever, releasing a cloud of tear