After scanning each item with a wand that detected electronic signals, Mo-bot passed the item to Valentina, who examined it further. She connected Sci’s and Justine’s phones to a tiny computer and analyzed the installed apps.
“Software tracker, using the phone’s GPS to send its location to a remote server,” Valentina revealed. “It’s on both devices. And there’s a keylogger sending the same server everything typed on these devices. All your messages can be read remotely.”
“They hacked us,” Sci remarked.
“I do wish you’d stop using that word,” Mo-bot replied. “But yes, they hacked us. That’s probably why they held us for so long — so they could install all this junk. What about my phone?” she asked, handing over her device.
Valentina connected it to the computer and examined the file directory. She nodded.
“Same.”
“Can you clean them?” Mo-bot asked.
“Sure,” Valentina replied. “No problem.”
“No listening devices?”
Valentina shook her head. “Location and text only.”
“Good,” Mo-bot said. “Then we can speak freely.” She turned to Justine. “You wanted to ask about Jack.”
“Yes. Have you heard from him?”
“Of course,” Valentina said. “I found another safe place for him and his friend. I’ll take you as soon as we’re finished here.”
Chapter 80
Faduma and I rode buses to return to the warehouse by the river. I wanted to be able to see if anyone was following us. Hopping on and off the crowded vehicles provided us with plenty of cover, hiding among the tourists in central Rome and then commuters as we moved toward the suburbs.
“Are you going to meet Altmer tonight?” Faduma asked as we stepped off the number 5 bus at a remote stop a short distance from the warehouse.
I could smell salt in the air blowing in on a west wind.
“What choice do I have?” I asked. “We went to the Vatican this morning in search of answers. We didn’t find any, so I have to try again. I don’t understand why he was concerned for our safety.”
“Maybe it was a ruse to give himself enough time to set a trap,” Faduma remarked as we walked along the lane leading to the riverside warehouses. “To destroy evidence or warn collaborators.”
“Well, we know he’s involved somehow, and the Dark Fates obviously play a role, and that there is a powerful conspiracy at work — let’s try and put the pieces together from what we have,” I suggested. “We should review everything again. Go back to the beginning.”
Faduma nodded and we hurried into the warehouse. We went up to the apartment and I made us some strong coffee using the supplies she had purchased earlier that morning.
Armed with the black jet fuel we sat at Mo-bot’s computer and reviewed the copious amounts of evidence we’d amassed: the surveillance footage of the Inferno Bar and the background files on Altmer and Milan Verde. We worked for over an hour without success until Faduma accessed her files on La Repubblica’s cloud server. She reviewed the dossier she’d amassed on the mysterious deaths Filippo Lombardi had begun investigating. She had started a file on Father Brambilla and was swiping through some archive photos the newspaper had of him at Vatican functions.
“Wait,” I said. “Go back.”
I’d seen a face I recognized at a fundraiser being held at the Vatican for the Orphans of Rome, a city charity. Faduma scrolled back and there in the image, standing next to Christian Altmer and Father Brambilla, was Father Vito, but he wasn’t wearing the priest’s cassock I was familiar with. He wore the deep purple of a cardinal.
“That’s Father Vito,” I said. “The priest who helped me.”
Faduma shook her head. “That’s Cardinal Vito Peralta, one of the most powerful princes of the Church.”
I thought back to our first meeting at the Garden of Secret Confession. What had he been doing there? Could he have been involved in what had happened? Had I been taken in by his simple piety?
“Why is he posing as a priest?” I asked.
“He is known as an ascetic. He believes in the purity of simplicity and thinks the ceremonial trappings and ceremony of the Church are a distraction from true worship,” Faduma replied. “He is a divisive figure, for that and other reasons.”
“Such as?”
“He is one of the directors of the Vatican Bank. He believes the Church should be more interventionist in the way it uses its assets. That it should tie investments to religious aims and political objectives.”
I realized I had misjudged the man, taking him for a junior priest because of his plain clothes and approachable manner.
“His supporters whisper his name whenever there is talk of who will become the next Pope,” Faduma revealed.
As I studied the photo of the man who had twice offered help and advice, I wondered if concern for my soul had motivated him to take an interest in me, or whether all along he had sought to manipulate and misdirect.
Chapter 81
I started to replay my encounters with Father Vito but didn’t get far in my trawl because there was the loud and unmistakable sound of someone hitting the warehouse shutters.
Faduma and I were on our feet instantly and left the apartment. We crept downstairs into the disused and empty offices and I moved ahead into the warehouse itself, picked my way around the stacks of boxes, and climbed a loading platform that gave me access to the high letterbox windows overlooking the main entrance.
My thundering heartbeat eased and the tension melted away when I saw Justine, Sci and Mo-bot standing outside with Valentina.
“Let them in,” I said to Faduma, and she hurried over to the small roll shutter, unlocked it and opened it.
My colleagues stepped inside, their relief to see me palpable. Valentina followed them and closed the shutter behind her.
I jumped off the loading platform and went over to Justine, who threw her arms around me. We kissed and I didn’t care that we had company. I was just so relieved to see her and hold her in my arms again, I was reluctant to let go.
“Okay. That’s enough,” Mo-bot said. “We’ll cut you love birds some slack, but this is a professional outfit and we’ve got work to do.”
Justine and I parted, and I saw Faduma and Valentina grinning at Mo-bot’s intervention.
“It’s so good to see you,” I told Justine before turning to Mo-bot and Sci. “All of you. Let’s go upstairs.”
I took them into the apartment above the offices. Mo-bot squeaked with delight when she saw her laptop.
“I thought I’d lost my baby,” she said, as though speaking to a cherished pet.
“You nearly did. A member of Propaganda Tre was in the apartment downloading the hard drives. He had a program set up to wipe them, but I managed to stop him.”
“I owe you, Jack,” Mo-bot said, sitting at her machine.
Sci crouched to check the contents of the holdall I’d managed to retrieve.
“You got our gear,” he said. “Well, most of it anyway. Good work, boss.”
He had a way of saying “boss” that made it sound as though he was praising a junior.
“We’ve lost all the feeds,” Mo-bot said, retrieving the surveillance footage that showed Milan Verde and the other members of the Dark Fates destroying the concealed cameras. “They must have swept the place to discover them all, which makes them more sophisticated than your average street gang.”
“We have enough gear left to get eyes and ears on them again,” Sci responded, gesturing at the holdall. “I want to know what they’re hiding.”