Heidi was driving, keeping half an eye on what the headlamps picked out on the road and half an eye on Butcher. “They couldn’t have changed their name yet again?”
“No. Tracelyn are associated with that address and that address only, once you’ve surfed through a hundred digital waves of misinformation to find them. They believe they’re safe.”
“All right,” Pang said. “So who the hell are this shell company?”
“Of course,” Butcher said, “the information here is still disguised in the cleverest possible way. It seems they funnel cash to various areas around the world, depositing it in banks for—I assume—the use of their employees. Just recently, deposits have been made in London, Mexico and Casablanca. Deposits are pending in Scotland, China, Canada and several other places. They all seem to come under one umbrella—a product description with one word: Sanctum.”
“Sanctum?” Heidi repeated. “That’s odd.”
“It means nothing without the proper context,” Pang said.
“It’s Latin. Means shrine,” Butcher said. “But in what context I don’t know. Other activities include making deals with unnamed men and women in well, places of power, I guess. I’m talking Washington DC, New York, London and Geneva. Communications between all the major cities, emails to and from various figures...” He frowned. “Quite possibly prominent figures, judging by the tone of conversation. A lot of formal language and even the odd ‘highness’ or two. This is some underhand, high-level shit.”
Heidi liked the disparity of his description. “Keep looking. We need specifics.”
The long, dark road stretched out in front of her, twin patches of utter dark penetrated only by two powerful headlamps. Stark hedgerows and fields stood out to either side, highlighted when they turned corners. The vault above was blacker than the bottom of a well, with no moon or stars. They were every much alone on this midnight drive through Italy.
“Specifics are scarce,” Butcher admitted. “This company—or the people that run it—are in charge. Their language speaks of control, of domination even. Most of their communications are management exchanges.”
“Names?” Pang asked. “How do they sign off?”
“Another good question.” Butcher sounded surprised, albeit not intentionally. “But it’s all initials. One person signs ‘B’, another ‘A’, and another ‘P’. I have found something though...” Butcher went quiet.
Heid spoke up before Pang grew angry and turned on him. “Better keep talking, techie.”
“Yeah, sorry, I was just checking. Out of, say, two thousand emails, they appear to have slipped up just twice. Or maybe it was deliberate, I don’t know. But this ‘A’ person has twice used the farewell phrase: ‘Ave, Satanis.’”
Heidi gripped the wheel tighter. “Are you sure?”
“Why?” Pang caught the sudden tension in her voice. “What does it mean?”
“Basically, it means ‘Hail, Satan,’” Heidi said.
“And how would you know that?” Pang asked.
“Well, I know,” Butcher said. “One of my infatuations is old horror movies. Remember that chilling, beautiful music from the classic, The Omen? That was called Ave Satani and, man, it makes my blood run cold every single time.”
Heidi nodded quickly. “Yeah, yeah, me too.”
Pang stared at her, not fooled. When she didn’t elaborate, he turned back to Butcher. “Anything else?”
“We have a ton of language to go through. That’d be best done by a proper analyst back at Langley, you know someone who can interpret what people mean and who they are by what they say? It’s a pretty clever skill.”
“Whatever,” Pang grunted. “What can we use now?”
“I’m still going through reams of information, Mr. Pang, but you’re welcome to take over any time. Oh, wait, there’s another data center in southern Italy. I found a maintenance thread—whatever this organization is, it’s strung throughout the world like a vast, inescapable spider’s web. It touches everything. Anyway, they maintain their physical assets on a regular basis, whether that be data centers, buildings, fronts or whatever...” He tried to imitate Pang’s tone. “And another data center is about a five-hour drive south. We could glean a lot more information there.”
“They could be waiting for us,” Heidi pointed out.
“Maybe.” Pang shrugged. “But it can’t hurt driving south while Butcher here keeps searching that laptop. What else can we do?”
Heidi knew he was right. She plotted a route into the satnav and guided them through the long night. Chasing the relic hunters was about as hard a task as she could ever remember. Of course, she should have expected that and... truthfully... did she really want to catch them with Pang in tow?
The answer was clear. It was also highly unsettling.
*
They cut through the night for hours, arriving at a point south of Naples as the first crimson streaks of a new day refreshed the eastern horizon.
Heidi tapped the satnav then glanced at Pang. “We’re eighteen minutes out.”
“Good. Anything else, Butcher?”
“I’m tacking a lot of disjointed information together, and it’s taken hours,” Butcher said. “But I’m coming up with several new lines of interest. First, this group are big and powerful enough to control governments. We’ve stumbled across something vast here. Second, they recently suffered some kind of big loss. Possibly within the last couple of years. They seem to be regrouping, rebuilding. That’s clear from the wording used. They’re still a powerful entity but are used to far more. There’s reference to a terrible night, a Spear of Longinus thrust right through the side of the organization—it says here—but not through its beating heart.”
Heidi bit her bottom lip as she drove and the sunrise bloomed. The intense gnawing feeling deep in her chest was growing, becoming more evident and unshakeable. The certainty that she knew the identity of this organization was increasing by the minute.
“And third, this
