Payne pushed through the crowd of onlookers. ‘An assassination? How do you figure?’
‘Because it’s too coincidental to be anything else. This town hasn’t seen violence in years, now there are three deaths in two days. Plus the latest victim just happens to be someone with proof of the crash site. C’mon! What else could it be?’
‘So let me get this straight. We started with one case, and now we’re up to three: Dr Boyd, the stolen crash site, and Donald Barnes.’
‘Yep, that about sums it up.’
‘Damn! We aren’t very good at this.’
Jones laughed. ‘Any ideas on where to start?’
Payne nodded. ‘Let’s stick to Boyd, since that’s the reason we’re here. Let’s assume it was his truck at the bottom of the cliff. I mean, no one’s come forward to claim it. Plus there was a police chopper hovering above it and rumors of a grave robber in the area. That means either he died in the explosion, he’s still in Orvieto, or he left town some other way.’
‘Makes sense to me.’
‘And unless he had an accomplice, he either stole a car or bummed a ride.’
‘Or used public transportation.’
‘And since there aren’t any airports in town, the odds are pretty good that he used a bus.’
Payne looked at Jones, then both of them looked at the row of buses parked on the far side of the
Jones said, ‘I’ll talk to the guy at the front counter and show him Boyd’s picture. Why don’t you look for a map so we know where we’re going?’
Payne glanced around the lobby and spotted a rack of brochures leaning against the far wall. Restaurant guides, museum tours, and hotel listings — most of which were written in English. A pamphlet for La Badia, a twelth-century ecclesiastical complex that had been converted into a local hotel, caught his eye. The blend of wooden beams and tufa walls reminded him of ancient times until he noticed a television stuffed in a tiny stone alcove. Talk about a
Payne returned the brochure and picked up another, this one for the Grand Hotel Reale. It wasn’t as well- maintained as La Badia, yet he got the feeling that it used to be something special. He marveled at the beautiful frescoes and the antique furniture in the lobby, plus the large fountain that was carved out of a shade of marble that -
‘Jon? Are you ready?’
Payne turned toward Jones who was standing near the entrance. ‘Yeah, I’ll be there in a second. I was just — ’ He stopped in midsentence, thinking back to Saint Patrick’s Well. Payne couldn’t believe it had taken him so long to put everything together.
‘You were just what?’ Jones walked toward him. ‘I got some good information from the front counter and… Are you OK? You look kind of puzzled.’
‘Not at all. In fact, I’m feeling rather enlightened.’ Payne handed him the brochure for the Grand Hotel Reale. ‘What do you think?’
Now Jones was the one who was puzzled. ‘About what?’
‘The hotel. Could this be where Barnes was staying?’
He flipped through the brochure. ‘I have no idea. Why?’
‘Remember the young cop in the well? What did he find in Barnes’s pocket?’
Jones replayed the incident in his mind. ‘A key with his initials on it, right?’
‘Close, but not quite. It had someone
‘Yeah, that’s right: GHR. But what’s that have to do with — ’
And that’s when he realized the same thing that Payne had. The key chain didn’t have Barnes’s initials on it because he didn’t own the keys. And where does a tourist get keys? At a hotel. And what hotel in Orvieto had the initials GHR? The Grand Hotel Reale.
‘Holy shit! Do you think the cops are there yet?’
‘Probably not,’ Payne guessed. ‘They lost one of their officers on Monday, and the rest are probably at the well. No way they’re there yet.’
‘So?’ The mischief in Jones’s eyes told him everything he needed to know. He was going to the hotel whether Payne was joining him or not. ‘What do you think?’
Payne smiled. ‘I think we should see how long it takes you to pick an Italian lock.’
28
Maria Pelati was a woman torn, an archaeologist with a guilty conscience. She was possibly sitting next to the most important document ever written, yet all she wanted to do was set it on fire. But how could she? If it was real, it would bring her more fame and fortune than she’d ever dreamed possible. At the same time she knew she’d never be able to enjoy it because of all the suffering the scroll would cause.
A billion Christians suddenly doubting the existence of Christ because of her discovery.
There were so many thoughts swirling through her brain she didn’t know what to focus on first. The scroll. Its ramifications. Her beliefs. The truth was, she needed to think about everything, but before she could do that, she needed to ask Dr Boyd one simple question. And his answer would help determine her plan of attack.
‘Sir,’ she said quietly. ‘Are you sure that the scroll is real?’
The sound of her voice startled Boyd, who was lost in thought. ‘I believe so, yes. I still need to run some tests to be certain. However, the grandeur of the Catacombs seemed beyond reproach, too real for this to be a ruse.’
‘And your translation… is it accurate?’
‘There’s always a chance that I misinterpreted a word or two. Still, the basic message would remain the same. Tiberius handpicked Jesus as the Jewish Messiah and did so for the financial gain of the Empire.’
‘But how is that possible? I mean, how does someone create a Messiah?’
‘That, my dear, is a mystery that wasn’t addressed in the scroll.’
She nodded, a million questions racing through her mind. ‘And what about you? What do you think? Is any of this feasible?’
He paused, looking for the courage to answer. ‘The possibility had crossed my mind. Although I was raised a Christian, I’m also a scholar, which means I’m forced to leave myself open to a world of possibilities. Even if the evidence goes against my beliefs.’
He paused, figuring out what to say next. ‘Maria, the truth is we found Tiberius’s seal on the cylinder and his handwriting on the parchment, which gives us plenty of reason to believe that he composed the note. And if he wrote it, then we’d be foolish not to examine every alternative, including the possibility that he found a way to pull this off.’
Maria swallowed hard. ‘Even if that means Jesus wasn’t the Son of God?’
Boyd nodded.
Silence filled the room for several seconds. The only thing heard was the rumble of the room’s air conditioner. Finally, Maria said, ‘I’m sorry,
Then, before he could say anything, Maria left the library and went on a long walk, oblivious to the fact that she would soon be making a key discovery during her journey through Milan.
Tourists marveled at the view from the roof of
After pondering the scroll for over an hour, she emerged from her trance and realized she was dripping with perspiration. In an attempt to cool off, she eased down the thirty-degree slope of the slate roof toward a portal in one of the spires, yet found neither the breeze nor shade she was hoping for.
