“In theory?”
“There are theoretically two tiers of people in the P2, the old and the new. Her father belongs to the old group.”
“Then there are two lodges?”
“Not exactly. There’s only one P2. The old members have no power at all in the present circumstances. But they exist, they are there. And they’re giving us a lot of trouble.”
“Is all of this caused by their maneuvering?”
“Yes. Even the Vatican is on the alert. We’ve got to get hold of those papers as fast as possible, to keep all the shit from hitting the fan. We’re part of the shit, Thompson, and we’ll be sent flying.”
47
What did you mean, my father lives here?” Sarah wanted to know as they trekked through the long passage dug out of the rock. It was high enough for both of them to go through fully upright, with space left over.
“Just that,” Rafael answered, pointing the torch upward. He seemed to know the way.
“How can that be?” she asked, unable to picture anybody able to live there.
“You’ll see.”
“It was true,” the young woman said, changing the subject. “The monastery had tunnels.”
Sarah’s heart was beating faster with every step. The moment of reunion with her father was fast approaching. She realized that her image of him had been incomplete, even false. She didn’t know him at all. She had always trusted him for his exemplary behavior, his flawless social conduct. To her he was a good man-a model father, soldier, and man. Now, back in her native land, she went through the catacombs of the Mafra monastery- known only to a few, and visited by even fewer-trying to convince herself to stay strong. In spite of everything, her eyes were tearing.
After a few minutes she caught sight of the huge wooden door that ended the tunnel. Something flew over their heads, making Sarah scream.
“That was a bat,” Rafael reassured her.
Sarah looked at the black opening the creature had come out of, and then the one it flew into, right in front of her.
“What are those holes?”
“Passages to other places.”
“What places?”
“This is a network of tunnels that lead into separate galleries, shelters, and other passages. I’ve never really had time to explore it fully, so I don’t know exactly where they all go,” Rafael explained, totally calm. “Did you know that during the period of the French invasions, the royal family thought about moving down here?” he asked. “But in the end, the royal family decided to go to Brazil. It was safer.”
“And farther away.”
They finally reached the door, and Sarah waited for Rafael to open it. He approached the giant wooden slab and struck three hard blows. One. Silence. Two. Silence. Three. Silence.
After waiting a few minutes, they heard the sounds of the bolts being moved. Sarah felt tremendous anxiety, which only increased as she waited for the door to open. There was a brief silence, which seemed much longer than it really was. The hinges creaked and the large door started to move. A face appeared, smiling broadly. Sarah was burning up inside but kept her nerves under control, except for a slight tremor in her arms and legs. The person greeting them was Raul Brandão Monteiro, her father.
“How are you?” Rafael asked, pulling Raul close to him in a heartfelt hug, accompanied by firm slaps on the back. It was the reunion of two friends.
“Fine. Everything’s going fine here.”
Once the embrace was over, Raul looked at his daughter, his eyes glassy.
“Sarah, my child,” he said, getting closer to her.
Tears ran down both their faces.
“Forgive me, my dear. Forgive me,” he pleaded, his voice torn with emotion.
The excitement of the greetings subsided and reality set in again.
“Let’s go,” Raul affectionately said to his daughter. “Come on in.”
On the other side of the door, there was light at the end of a hallway lined with painted tiles representing the themes of the Portuguese discoveries. The caravels of the order of Christ in turbulent seas, the giant Adamastor, the new lands, the enemies. Each painting was separated from the next by a stanza from Os Lusíadas.
Rafael closed the door, locking it again and restoring the security of their refuge. He put out the torch. It was not needed anymore, since the candelabra fixed on the wall provided enough light. Marble tiles covered the floor, lending an air of splendor to the place. Sarah now understood that the coarseness of the network of tunnels meant nothing. The passages needed no display of luxury. That was reserved for the shelters. The enormous door truly separated two worlds.
At the end of the hallway a large balcony spread before them on both sides. Several columns supported the weight of the arches. At the bases were wrought-iron railings for anyone who wanted to admire the salon below, a tremendous space with all the comforts of daily life. Two stairways led down to it, one on each side of the balcony. A big hanging chandelier in the shape of a cupola illuminated the entire area, and the walls were covered with tapestries. There was a grand piano, various sofas with cushions, and a dining table suitable for at least twenty dinner guests. The decor fired Sarah’s imagination, leading her to picture either a palace or a harem. Only the women were missing, and the sultan.
From the balcony, Sarah noticed three doors on each side, probably leading to private chambers.
Raul went toward the left stairway, and as soon as they descended the marble stairs, he invited them to sit on a large sofa.
“Would you like something to eat? To drink? I don’t have much, but surely I can find something you might like.” His voice conveyed how happy he was to see them safe and sound.
“Are you alone here?” his daughter dared to ask, ignoring the offer.
“Yes.”
“And Mom?”
“She’s fine, don’t worry.”
“Why didn’t she come here with you?”
“Because she wouldn’t be able to stand this solitude. There’s no television, no radio, no Internet-nothing.”
“Where is she?” she asked, somewhat resentfully. The relief at seeing him was already gone. Her mind was back in control, recalling all that had happened, the questions, everything that was in play.
“Your mother’s in a safe place. Near Oporto,” her father answered. “I filled her in on everything. Her reaction wasn’t the best, as you can imagine.” Nodding slightly, Sarah signaled her understanding. They both knew this woman. “She wanted to come get you in London, but once she understood the magnitude of the problem, she went along with my plan. She can’t be out there alone. If they caught her, they’d be able to use her as a bargaining chip. They know how to do that. Besides, the CIA agents involved in this are very active.”
”That’s right,” Rafael agreed. “But we are still a few hours ahead.”
“Hours?” Sarah asked, not sure she’d heard right.
“Yes, hours,” her father repeated. “These people are extremely well prepared. They can’t reconstruct our every step, but there’s always some clue left, and they are certainly going to find it.”
Fear again overpowered Sarah, raising her heartbeat and giving her chills.
“Can they find us here?”
“Not here,” Rafael hastened to clarify. “But they can place us in Mafra.”
“How?”
“By checking with the company from which we rented the car.”
“Then they can also find out what hotel we stayed in?”
“Yes, theoretically. If they check the registers of all the hotels in the area. But if they locate the taxi driver who took us from the airport to the hotel, we’re not in danger, because-”
“I know,” Sarah interrupted, remembering that as they left the airport Rafael had asked the taxi driver to take them to the Hotel Le Meridien. At the end of the trip, when Sarah thought she would finally be getting some rest, Rafael started walking away from the hotel. And when she asked him where they were going, he answered that they wouldn’t be staying there. They walked a half mile or so to the Altis Hotel. Now she understood his tactics. “They’d think we stayed at Le Méridien.”