“Good evening, Father,” the sitting guard said.
“Good evening, Hannes.”
Hannes stared at his screen. “I see you’re checking something in.”
“We are.”
“Can you handle this, Hannes?” said the other guard.
“Of course.”
“I’m going to take off then. I have firearms training in ten minutes.”
Hannes looked at Cortesi. “Niklas is always looking for an excuse to leave early.”
“Okay, okay, whatever you say,” Niklas said as he walked toward the elevators.
“Just kidding,” Hannes said. “I don’t want you in a bad mood when you’re firing a weapon.” He looked at the driver. “Your identification please.”
Fabio lifted the badge over his neck and handed it to him.
Hannes swept it over past a scanner while looking at his screen. “Fabio Pinelli?”
The driver nodded.
“You’re all set.” Hannes handed the badge back then stood and motioned for them to proceed through the metal detector. After they came out on the other side, Hannes walked them to a specially sealed glass door at the end of the hallway. The dark vault loomed on the other side.
“How long do you think you’ll be?” Hannes asked.
“Not long.” Cortesi fished the file card out of his pocket and looked at the numbers printed there. “It’s going to be housed in Section Three, so we should be in and out in ten minutes.”
Hannes smiled at the two men. “A friendly reminder: your phones won’t work beyond the seal. If you need help, you can raise me on the intercom.”
After getting nods in response, Hannes stepped over to a flat-screen monitor and entered a series of digits. A loud beep followed. Hannes opened the door, which hissed as the air seal was broken.
Hannes handed Cortesi a flashlight. “We need to replace a few bulbs, so you might want this just in case.”
Cortesi took it from him and slipped it into his robe. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” Hannes waved them in.
As Cortesi stepped through the entrance, a strange feeling swept over him. An internal alarm was going off, but he wasn’t sure why. It was a simple delivery, and in ten minutes, it would be over. Cortesi shook his head and pushed the thought aside. The stress of his week was beginning to get to him.
“See you on your way out,” Hannes said as he closed the door.
Cortesi hoped he was right.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Zane spent the next half hour detailing all that had transpired to date. His trust in the Swiss Guard was complete, so he felt no need to hold back any pertinent information. For his part, Stegmann listened with rapt attention, looking away only to scribble detailed notes on a yellow legal pad.
Mindful of the situation at hand, Zane used the bulk of his time describing what they’d discovered on Pauling’s laptop. Stegmann was impressed Amanda had been able to identify the drawer in the image. He confessed he didn’t know what any of the archive containers looked like. Then again, they typically didn’t relate to his work.
Once Zane finished, Stegmann remained perfectly still, his eyes fixed on nothing in particular. He seemed to be carefully digesting the information.
A minute later, his eyes shifted back to Zane. “Tell me about the gunmen you encountered in Venice and in Menaggio, How many were there?”
“Eleven in Venice. We weren’t able to count the number of men at the mountain villa, but we’re assuming it was the same team.”
“What were they wearing?”
“All black. They weren’t military uniforms, but it was obvious these men planned everything in great detail, including their garb. As I indicated earlier, we believe they’re the security arm of a larger organization, and the conversation my associate overhead in Menaggio seemed to confirm that.”
Stegmann tapped a pen on the edge of his desk. “You described them as paramilitary. Why not military? Perhaps they were working on behalf of a sovereign state.”
“I guess that’s possible,” Zane admitted, “but I doubt that’s the case. Sending a group of that size into another country, particularly a tightly populated city like Venice, would be asking for trouble.”
“Maybe they were desperate.”
Zane lifted a brow. “Desperate for archaeological relics?”
“Assuming that’s truly what this is all about.”
“There’s another reason I don’t believe this is a state-sponsored organization. As I said, my colleague overhead chatter between the team members. She said the men spoke English, but it was accented English.”
Stegmann nodded. “I see your point. They were using English as a common language even though they weren’t native speakers.”
“Precisely. I believe it’s a large organization with an amalgam of nationalities.”
Stegmann leaned back in his chair and stared out the window. “So who do you think we’re dealing with? A crime syndicate?”
“I certainly can’t rule out a ring of some kind. Organized crime families often trade in priceless works of art, so why not ancient relics? The one thing that doesn’t fit is the man my partner heard on the other end of the phone.”
“The one with the American accent.”
Zane nodded. “There seems to be something deeper here. Unfortunately, I just can’t get my mind around what that might be.”
Stegmann straightened. “The relic… the one you believe is housed here. I believe you said you have a picture?”
“I do.” Zane removed his phone. After finding the image, he slid the phone across the desk.
Stegmann’s silver eyes scrutinized it carefully. “That’s one of the strangest things I’ve ever seen.”
“One of my colleagues is an archaeologist, and even she couldn’t identify it.”
Stegmann looked up briefly. “Did she even have a guess?”
“She said it might be a decorative piece, but that’s the best she could do.”
“I’m no archaeologist, but perhaps its value is tied to who or what it was associated with.”
“Can you give me an example?”
“The Shroud of Turin. If we wanted to sell it, you’re talking—”
“Billions.”
Stegmann nodded then pulled a desktop phone closer. “You and I could talk about this all night without making any progress. Let’s see if our resident expert can shed some light on it.” He dialed a number then placed it on speaker. The call rang four times then transferred to voice mail. Stegmann disconnected the call without leaving a message. “Strange. Luca always picks up.”
“Luca is one of your archaeologists?”
“Father Luca Cortesi is a document specialist. He probably knows more about our archives than any living man.”
Stegmann dialed another number. The call was answered on the first ring. “Good evening, sir.”
“Markus, have you seen Father Cortesi? He’s not answering his phone.”
“He’s still here. I believe he had a late document delivery.”
Stegmann frowned. “Would that prevent him from answering his phone?”
“Just a moment.” Markus covered the phone and spoke to someone in the background. He came back on a moment later. “They’re in the vault, sir.”
“Who is they?”
“He and a courier took an incoming delivery down to the vault. There is no signal there, which would explain why he’s not picking up. Would you like me to go down and get him?”
Stegmann looked at Zane then said, “That won’t be necessary. We’ll come over there.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The hermetically sealed vault door closed with a hiss. Father Cortesi took a deep breath. For better or for worse, they were shut off from the outside world.