Scott turned a tight circle, his eyes probing, studying every face around him. He had seen Alexis Gosling run from the taxi into the pedestrian-only zone along Republic Street, and guessed she was making her way to Saint John’s Square where she could disappear into any of the many tiny shops that lined the way. Instead, just when he thought he lost her, she reappeared without her disguise near the Great Siege Monument where he watched her disappear into the cathedral before he could catch up with her.
Upon entering, he bypassed the main exhibition hall and went directly for the crowded nave. Occasionally, as he went, he said, “Mi scusi, mi scusi,” but mostly he simply pushed and shoved along with everyone else. From there, he had many choices, from the passage to the sacristy to the passage to the oratory to the pathways to the many chapels.
He tried to think about where the exits were located. A pamphlet he’d been handed upon entering provided some assistance, but mostly the cathedral was a series of closed passageways leading to chapels and grand halls. He suspected though that there were any number of emergency exits not marked on the floor plan, any one of which Alexis could use to disappear. But he wasn’t going to let her do that.
A woman beside him was taking pictures with her cell phone. She wanted Scott to take a picture of her and her husband. Scott took the phone but not the picture, putting a thick stack of hundred Euro notes into her hand instead. “Per il telefono,” he said, rushing off.
Seconds later he was dialed into Switchboard, asking for an emergency connect to live operation XDF1-Valetta. His operator code and mission code got him what he wanted and soon he was talking with Edie.
“Scott, where are you? What happened?” she said as soon as she heard the sound of his voice.
“Edie,” he said, “I’m okay, lost my headset. I need you to get clearance to lockdown Saint John’s Co-Cathedral, Saint John’s Square and the adjacent pedestrian walk along Republic Street.”
“Gosling, you’ve found her?” Edie said, her voice full of urgency.
“I have,” he replied. “I followed her in a taxi from the gardens. She’s somewhere in the cathedral. I think this is it. Ground zero.”
“Are you sure? If we get this wrong—”
Scott cut her off, his eyes making another frantic pass of the nave but seeing no hint of Alexis Gosling. “Whichever way this plays out, this is either the place or somewhere extremely important. I feel it in my bones. Get down here. Get the streets blocked off. We’ve got her. We’ve finally got her. I know we do.”
Scott rushed to the sanctuary toward an elderly priest who was standing off to the side, facing the crowd, the entrance to the Chapel of the Langue of Aragon on his immediate left. “Excuse me,” Scott said, his voice rising. “Do you speak English?”
“Of course,” the priest said, eyeing Scott and seeming to sense the unspoken importance of the situation.
Scott pointed to the chapel. “Are there any exits up that hall?”
“Exits?” The priest said. “Only the Chapels. Aragon and then Auvernge. At the end, Our Lady of Philermos. If you want to leave, the exit is behind you.”
“No, I don’t want to leave,” Scott said. “I’m looking for a woman. A woman with short blond hair wearing a long black dress. She’s young, pretty, American. Have you seen her?”
The priest turned his head, looked into the chapel and considered Scott’s words for a moment. “Always the pretty ones that get away, isn’t it?”
Scott groaned, turning sideways so he could continue to scan the crowd while he talked. “She had a big, black purse. Big enough to put in one of those brass candelabras.” He held up a hand. “About this tall. Blue eyes.”
“I saw a woman like that but—”
“It’s important,” Scott said.
The sound of sirens reached into the nave, like police and other responders were everywhere and Scott imagined they probably were. The response was quick, quicker than he expected, but teams were positioned throughout the city for exactly this reason. Before he could say anything else, the priest said, “Bad, is it?”
Scott nodded. “It is. Trust me when I say I’m one of the good guys.”
It was the priest’s turn to nod. “I know you are. This I can see.” He paused. “This woman, you intend her harm?”
“I do,” Scott said.
The priest stared into Scott’s eyes for a long moment. “I knew that as well, from the beginning.”
“The woman?” Scott said, renewed urgency in his tone.
“She went in but then she came back out.”
“Where?” Scott said. “Where did she go? Did you see?”
“I did,” the priest said, clearly hesitant to say anything more for fear of what Scott was going to do.
“She’s dangerous,” Scott said, “with the means to harm a lot of innocent people.”
The priest’s brows knit together. “The woman I saw went in with a great burden and gave her tears to the Madonna. I suspect you may find her kneeling before the bronze gates and the altar of Saint Charles.”
“Where?” Scott asked.
The priest pointed to the right, to an entryway on the opposite side of the nave. “There, past Saint Catherine, Saint Paul and Saint Michael.”
“You’ve done the right thing,” Scott shouted as he ran off. “Tell the others who are coming where I’ve gone.”
“Go with God, my son,” the priest called after Scott. “Choose your words carefully. Considered words may make all the difference.”
Chapter 10
“Past Saint Catherine, Saint Paul and Saint Michael,” Scott said to himself as he made his way quickly, his eyes examining everyone around him. Ahead he saw the bronze gates the priest spoke of, but also stairs leading down into the crypt beneath the sanctuary.
As Alexis Gosling was nowhere in sight, he ignored the closed signs, the warnings about renovations, and slipped past the yellow tape barring the way. He was midway down the stairs when he was startled by the soft ringing of the phone in his pocket. “Hello?” he said, tentatively, unsure who the caller was.
“Where are you?” the voice — Edie’s voice — said.
“The crypt beneath the sanctuary,” he said. “Hurry, I’m close. I know I am.”
At the entrance to the crypt, there were more warning signs and a low barricade, which he ignored. He drew his gun, scanning with his eyes and listening for the sounds of breathing and feet slipping across the dusty, stone floor. Due to the extensive renovations, sections of the crypt were closed off from each other with plastic sheeting hanging from the ceiling. Ladders, scaffolding and wiring for lighting and equipment created shadows and obstructed his view and made it impossible for him to know if anyone else was in the crypt with him.
Turning right, he slid in between two heavy sheets of plastic. The air was stale and musty, heavy with the scent of decay. He tried to quiet his breathing, his steps too, as he went. Passing through another plastic wall, he found himself standing in front of a sarcophagus. The white marble of the stone coffin in the deep recess looked to be as ancient as the stones of the church itself.
Grabbing one of the overhead utility lights and dragging its electrical cord across the floor, he brought light to the shadows and confirmed no one was hiding in the recess. Then just as he was turning around, he heard something, faint but distinctive. A foot sliding along the floor, perhaps.
He launched himself forward, gliding between sheets of plastic into the next area and the next. Soon he was standing before a trio of stone coffins, trying to find his way around and listening to an odd series of clicks and clacks that seemed to resonate from within the very stones of the crypt itself.