Sign of the Cross

the people on the bus. Don’t you understand that? These guys can’t afford to leave any witnesses. An entire religion rides on this.’

Payne laughed at his claim. ‘Rides on what? A buried treasure? What religion are you talking about, Greedism?’

‘Greed? You think this is about greed? Dammit, man, you don’t know anything! The scroll we found in the Catacombs isn’t about money. It’s about the truth! It will cast doubt over everything that you’ve been taught to believe. Even Christ himself.’

‘Professore!’

He turned toward Maria to explain. ‘They have to hear this, my dear. If he pushes that button, we’re going to die, and so is this secret. It’s as simple as that. The Church cannot allow this to get out. It will shake the foundation of Christianity.’

Payne looked at Jones and whistled. ‘Well, that settles it. I’m pushing the button. I mean, first he claims to be in the CIA, now he says the Church is trying to kill him. This guy’s a loon.’

Jones stared at Boyd. ‘Personally, I’ve always had my doubts about the pope. Anyone who wears a hat like that is up to no good.’

‘Good Lord!’ Boyd shouted. ‘I’m not saying the pope! But someone in the Church is linked to this. They have to be. I mean, they’re the only ones that — ’ Boyd stopped his speech in midsentence and inexplicably turned his head upwards. ‘Oh, no!’

‘What?’ Payne asked. ‘Is God talking to you now?’

‘Shhh!’ he ordered. ‘That sound. Don’t you hear it? I heard the same thing in Orvieto.’

Payne and Jones had no idea what Boyd was talking about, but when they stopped to humor him, they actually heard a rumble above the Fiat’s engine. They weren’t sure where it was coming from due to the echo in the alley. The sound was getting louder, though.

Jones turned off the Fiat and whispered, ‘Did you push the button by mistake?’

Payne shook his head as he walked down the alley, away from the others. He traveled nearly fifty feet before he tilted his ear toward the sky.

‘Choppers,’ he announced. ‘More than one. And they’re coming this way.’

‘How did they find us?’ Jones asked.

‘I don’t know. Maybe this unit’s been tracking us the whole time.’ He slammed the device to the ground and smashed it. ‘Doesn’t matter. They won’t find us if we don’t want them to.’

Payne hustled toward Boyd and rammed his gun under his chin. ‘Where were you born?’

Boyd breathed deep, then said, ‘Do you want the truth, or what I’ve been taught to recite?’

Payne wasn’t in the mood for games so he pushed the Beretta even deeper into his throat.

‘Fine,’ he grunted. ‘Seattle, Washington.’

‘Where’d you go to school?’

‘The U.S. Naval Academy. Then Oxford.’

Payne eased up slightly, just in case he was a fellow midshipman. ‘Bad answer, Doc. It just so happens I know a thing or two about the Academy.’

‘Great! Ask me anything! Just do it quick, or we’re going to die.’

Payne paused for a second, trying to think of a good one. ‘Name a road on the Academy grounds.’

‘What? There are quite a few — ’

‘Name one, or I shoot.’

‘Fine, er, King George Street.’ Which, no matter how inappropriate it seemed, was actually the main road at the Academy. ‘I can continue if you’d like. Wood Street, Dock Street, Blake Road, Decatur Road, College Ave — ’

Payne nodded, half surprised by his response. ‘Where were classes held during the war?’

‘Which war?’

‘You tell me.’

‘I imagine you’re referring to the Civil War, since that’s the only time sessions were held elsewhere. And the answer is Newport, Rhode Island — moved there for safety reasons.’

‘Not bad,’ Payne admitted. ‘But this last one is the clincher. Any red-blooded Academy man would know the answer to this in a heartbeat. Are you ready? Because this is going to determine if you live or die. Got it? When you were in school, what was the name of the women’s dorm?’

Boyd smiled, quickly realizing it was a trick question. ‘Alas, there wasn’t one. Much to my disappointment, females weren’t admitted until after I’d departed. Around 1976, I believe.’

Begrudgingly, Payne lowered his gun. He still wasn’t certain about Boyd, but his gut told him that he was telling the truth. ‘So, you went to the Academy?’

Boyd nodded. ‘I take it you’re an Academy man, too?’

‘Yes, sir. Jonathon Payne, at your service.’

‘Well, Mr Payne, if you’re interested in survival, I recommend we get moving. Otherwise, we will be killed before we leave this alley.’

42

It happened years ago, right after finding the scrolls in the secret vaults. Documents that the Vatican didn’t even know it had. Following their intricate instructions, Benito Pelati journeyed to Orvieto and took pictures of the ground using geological prototypes that he had borrowed from Germany. High-tech stuff that no one else had access to. Equipment that allowed him to chart every inch of the town from the topsoil to more than a hundred feet below. Studies no one had conducted before and hadn’t been allowed to run since.

Needless to say, there was a very good reason.

More than fifty tunnels were detected near the surface, all of them starting in private property and branching through the tufa like a tangle of arteries. Most of them stopped abruptly — either because the locals hit a section of stone they couldn’t penetrate or they ran out of patience and quit looking — while others interconnected with their neighbors’ tunnels. The deepest anyone got was twenty-three feet underground. Impressive, considering their rudimentary digging techniques, yet not deep enough to reach what they were hoping to find: the Catacombs of Orvieto.

Benito knew the Catacombs existed. Or had at one time. The scrolls he found were proof of that. So were all the other documents he’d read in the Secret Archives. But prior to his geological testing, he had no idea if the Catacombs would still be there. Or what condition they might be in. One record at the Vatican mentioned a massive cave-in shortly after the Great Schism. If so, it could have wiped out everything he was hoping to find. All the proof he needed.

But thankfully, that wasn’t the case. One look at the geological report confirmed it. The Catacombs were still there and in great shape. Furthermore, they were more substantial than the Vatican had ever realized. Papal records from the time of the Schism indicated one floor of chambers and tunnels. Nothing else. But Pelati saw more than that on this report. He saw multiple levels. And stairs. And areas so far under the soil that he doubted the Vatican had ever reached them. He wouldn’t know for sure until he explored the tunnels himself, but from the look of their design, Pelati sensed the ancient Romans had built a lower tomb, then immediately sealed it off from the upper chambers. Why the Romans did this, he wasn’t sure. But if his family’s secret was to be believed, that was probably where he’d find the evidence he was looking for.

Of course, he had other things to worry about before he could investigate.

His first order of business was to stop all digging in Orvieto. Another cave-in was the last thing he wanted, so he went to the local police chief and told him that Orvieto was in danger of collapsing. To bolster his case, he showed the chief the seismic studies that he’d conducted — conveniently omitting the information about the Catacombs — then walked from house to house pointing out all the tunnels that had been constructed.

Locals still refer to it as the Shovel Act of 1982, because digging became a criminal offense.

Next Benito bought the land above the twenty-three-foot tunnel, claiming the government needed to stabilize the property, or Orvieto might implode. The owner was so embarrassed by his handiwork and mortified by what could’ve happened that he sold everything to Benito to ensure the safety of his hometown. Except Benito had no intention of filling the hole. Instead, he planned to lengthen it to the depth of thirty-six feet, for that was where the Catacombs began.