Stegmann’s phone vibrated. As the commander stared at the lit screen, Zane shifted his gaze toward the office’s sole window. The ribbed dome of St. Peter’s Basilica glowed in the distance, a reminder of how tightly packed the buildings were within the Vatican walls.
“Sorry about that,” Stegmann said after responding to the text. “How do you say it in English? There is always something.”
Zane nodded toward the basilica. “I’m jealous of your view.”
Stegmann sat back in his chair. “When I was first appointed commander, my office was on the other side of the building. But that didn’t seem fitting. So I called in our facilities director and told him that if I’m asked to protect the life of the Holy Father, I wanted to at least be able to look out the window and see his residence.”
“I can imagine it wouldn’t take you long to get over there, if necessary.”
“I can be at the Pontiff’s door in one minute and thirty-seven seconds.”
“Let’s hope you never have to be there that quickly,” Zane said.
“Of course, we have security personnel around him at all times. I’m a worrier by nature. I guess it’s one reason I was a natural for this job.” Stegmann set his phone aside and leaned forward. “Enough about me. Tell me what brings you here.”
“What did the director tell you?”
“To be honest, not much. Unfortunately, when I took the call, I was in the middle of preparations for the convocation of cardinals. I had about five minutes, so he gave me a shortened version. He said your government had reason to believe a group may be planning to steal an artifact from our vaults. He also said this group had already killed someone. As you can imagine, that got my attention.”
Zane realized he’d better start at the beginning. “How much time do we have?”
“As I said, one person has already been killed, and the people may be on their way here. You have as much time as you need.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Father Luca Cortesi removed his reading glasses and peered out of his window on the third floor of the Vatican museum. Darkness had fallen, bringing dozens of lighted windows into view. In some ways, night was when the real work began at the Holy See.
He pushed aside the large binder and rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t look at the arrangements anymore. His brain was beginning to shut down, the product of his recent spate of fourteen-hour workdays. The Vatican was about to send a collection of relics on a tour of cities across the globe — Vienna, Berlin, Paris, London, New York, Chicago, Sydney, Tokyo, Dubai, and Milan — and Cortesi had been burning the midnight oil, reviewing final transportation and security preparations. If he didn’t get this right, treasured objects could get lost or stolen, and none of those things were acceptable.
Cortesi could’ve retired to his apartment an hour ago if one of their courier services wasn’t running a half hour late. Apparently, the driver had experienced engine problems about a half hour from Rome. Ordinarily, Cortesi would’ve let the security team check the package in and store it in a locker until he could get to it the following day. However, this was a high-priority delivery, which meant the driver and the curator must both witness the item’s storage.
Cortesi’s phone lit. He picked it up and looked at the screen. Someone was calling from the south entrance. He engaged the call. “Sì.”
“Father, the courier has arrived.”
“Thank you, brother. Check him through. I’ll be right down.”
Cortesi stood. The day was almost done. After taking care of the delivery, he’d retire to his chambers with an archaeological journal and a box of pastries. The sweets were compliments of a visiting group of French nuns, and he had already resolved to consume the entire box. Yes, it was gluttony. But he could always confess it tomorrow.
As he made his way to the first floor, Cortesi felt a surge of excitement regarding the package waiting downstairs. It was a small collection of papyri that had recently been uncovered at an archaeological site in Algeria. The dig was centered around the ruins of a fifth-century church near Annaba, the modern name for Hippo Regius. Most of the papyri were torn, and what remained was mostly illegible, but what they had been able to translate suggested something astounding. The writing was similar in content and style to one of the biggest names in the history of the Roman Catholic Church — Augustine of Hippo, better known as Saint Augustine.
Truth be told, Cortesi doubted the writings were from Augustine. After all, many priests and bishops had passed through the church at Hippo. But the text was interesting because it shed light on the beliefs and customs of the time. Regardless of its author, the papyri would make for an interesting read. Unfortunately, that would have to take place another time. For now, there was a tour to put together.
Cortesi arrived on the first floor two minutes later. The archives were still a hive of activity, even at this late hour. Seminary students moved in and out of the library, along with a few members of the archival staff. As he approached the front entrance, Cortesi saw the driver had already been checked through security and stood to one side. He was a bit on the heavy side with close-cropped dark hair. Cortesi recognized many of the drivers but not this one.
“Welcome,” Cortesi said as he approached. “I’m Father Luca Cortesi.”
“Fabio,” the man mumbled.
As they shook hands, Father Coresi noticed the man averted his eyes, which was a bit peculiar. Most of this company’s drivers were outgoing. In the man’s defense, he had just experienced engine trouble and was probably past ready to go home. Everyone was entitled to a bad day.
Father Cortesi led the man across the entrance hall and into a large library with vaulted ceilings. As they walked past the rows of books, he glanced at Fabio. “I understand you had some problems with your truck?”
“Flat tire.”
Cortesi frowned. He could’ve sworn his assistant had said it was an engine problem. He shrugged. It was probably a simple misunderstanding. “Is this your last stop?”
“No, I have one more.”
“Would you like something to eat or drink before you—”
“I’m fine. Thank you.”
The poor man. He just wanted to get this over with, something Cortesi understood completely. He’d had a long day too, and it would probably be good for both of them to continue in silence. He lifted a quick prayer in his thoughts, asking the Lord to bless Fabio.
After reaching the far end of the library, they continued toward a bank of elevators at the end of a short corridor. Cortesi touched a button on a nearby panel, and the elevator doors swished open. After stepping inside, he inserted a card in the slot below the interior panel. He pressed the bottom button, and the elevator began its descent.
Cortesi had often compared the Vatican Library and Secret Archives to an iceberg. Most assumed the upper complex of buildings housed the entirety of the Vatican’s collection of books, documents, and relics. In reality, nothing could be further from the truth. To be sure, the miles of halls housed some remarkable historical documents: a letter from Michelangelo to the Pope, the transcripts from the trial of the Knights Templar, letters sent to Pope Pius IX from Abraham Lincoln and Jefferson Davis, and perhaps its most famous document of all, Pope Leo X’s papal bull excommunicating Martin Luther. But the most secret and valuable objects were held in the underground. The vault served two purposes. It kept the treasures behind additional levels of security, and it also kept them sealed in a carefully monitored environment, which prevented physical decay.
The elevator came to a halt, and the doors slid open. Cortesi stepped out and led the driver down a short corridor to a checkpoint manned by two guards. One stood, and the other sat behind a monitor.