Steven couldn’t imagine what might be hidden in the basilica, or whether whatever it was had withstood the elements and ravages of time for over five centuries. He didn’t want to discourage Natalie, but he knew the chances were far from good. Still, they’d do whatever was necessary to eliminate any doubts. He could tell Natalie would never quit — she reminded Steven of himself in that regard. She was determined.
Most of the websites were regurgitations of the same information, drawn from a few books as well as from the site’s official web page. Steven quickly exhausted the online resources and was soon back to square one. He’d need to make sense out of the cryptic message, but couldn’t see any way to do so until he was inside. Hopefully he’d see something that made it relevant, because as of now, he was at a dead-end.
Halfway to Rome, Natalie’s cell chirped an incoming call. Steven had downloaded all the websites that were of interest, so didn’t need the web any longer. Natalie unplugged the laptop cable and answered. After a brief discussion, she gave Steven an okay sign and disconnected.
“We’ll be doing a tour of the facility today and then meeting with my friend’s contact. He says we can trust the man with anything. We should be in Rome within two more hours, tops, so we can do the tour this afternoon, then meet with him after, at five. And he set up an apartment for us near the church,” Natalie reported.
“Wow. You don’t waste time.”
“I don’t think we have any time to waste. We have no idea what our opposition is up to, so we have to assume the worst. Don’t you agree?”
“I think we’re probably safe, for now. Nobody has the parchment but me. So we should be fine from here, as long as we don’t telegraph our moves or do something stupid,” Steven reasoned.
“I agree. But I want to move fast. A high-velocity target’s harder to hit,” Natalie said dryly.
Steven couldn’t disagree. The lady had a point.
When they arrived in Rome, Frederick drove them directly to the Basilica of San Clemente and dropped them off at the end of the block. After an hour wait in line, their tour began, and the group was herded through the present-day basilica. Natalie and Steven listened as the bored guide recited the details of the building in a tone that indicated he’d rather be anywhere on earth besides leading the tour. After a perfunctory period in the upper church, they descended to the middle level — the fourth century structure that had been excavated to the point where the original layout was evident. They moved along with the rest of the group, and Natalie quietly tugged on Steven’s sleeve when they passed into the main hall and were greeted by frescoes and mosaics, one of which was: ‘The Legend of St. Alexis’.
“That has to be the Alexis the parchment refers to,” Steven said.
They inspected the surrounding area but saw nothing promising — no crosses, and a large area of the floor was cordoned off where it had collapsed into the lower level.
“Maybe there’s another Alexis in here?” Natalie whispered.
“Possibly. We’ll know in a few minutes when the tour ends. Or maybe the cross is long gone. That was one of my fears,” Steven murmured back to her.
Natalie swung slowly around, estimating mentally where six paces would be in all directions, and saw nothing. Not on the ceiling or floor, or on the walls. There was no crucifix.
“What do we do?” she asked.
“Keep your eyes open. Let’s look on the other side of the wall, in the left gallery. Maybe there’s a cross in there.”
They obediently followed the throng into the farthest gallery, where there was a hole in the floor with a barricade around it. The gallery contained more art, but again, no crosses. The tour meandered in the middle for a few more minutes and then made its way to the lower level of the site, with its first-century Mithraic worshipping chamber and a host of small apartment-like cubicles. Natalie was fidgety and anxious to leave — the tour couldn’t end soon enough for her once they’d finished with the middle level.
As they returned to the main floor the crowd quickly dispersed, and Natalie and Steven found themselves on the sidewalk, debating their options.
“We need to get inside when nobody’s around and do a real search,” Natalie immediately advanced.
“That would be great, but how? And not to be a pessimist, but there’s the very real chance that whatever used to be there, assuming this is the right place and I didn’t miss something with my software, hasn’t been there for eons. In which case the Scroll might as well be on broadcast TV because there’s no hope of decoding it.”
“I understand, but we have to try. I’m going to see what our contact can do for us. It shouldn’t be that hard to get in. Money buys a lot of cooperation,” Natalie observed.
They walked two blocks to a small café. Natalie had made a call en route. Ten minutes after sitting down and ordering, a balding, stylishly dressed olive-complexioned man in his fifties approached them, smoothing his moustache and straightening his collar as he did so. His blue blazer and gray slacks lent him an air of aristocracy, as did his aloof bearing.
He caught their eye and moved to them.
“Ah, you must be my meeting! Welcome, welcome. Is this your first visit to Rome?” he greeted in good English. “My name is Daniel Franchesso. Danny to my friends.”
Natalie shook his hand and gestured to a seat.
Steven shook hands perfunctorily. “A pleasure. It’s our first time.”
Danny ordered a double espresso and prattled about the glories of Rome until the waitress brought his coffee and departed. He fished out a package of cigarettes and offered them to Steven and Natalie, who declined. He shrugged and returned them to his pocket.
“Filthy habit, and it will kill me, but I can’t help myself. Now, how may I be of assistance? Our mutual friend indicated I was to do whatever I could,” Danny told them.
“We need to get into the Basilica of San Clemente, after hours. We’d like some time in the middle level without being disturbed,” Natalie explained.
Danny’s eyebrows arched, but that was his only reaction. He didn’t ask why. “Oh. I thought you were going to ask for something easy, like an audience with the Pope.” He smiled, revealing yellowed teeth. “A joke, of course.” Danny gave them a look that was anything but funny.
“Can you do this?” Natalie asked.
“I don’t see why not. I’ll need to spread around a little money, and there will probably be conditions, but in Rome, anything can be done if one is flexible…and generous,” Danny assured them. “I have your phone number. Let me do some exploration and see what I can come up with. In the meantime, here’s the key to the apartment. Your friend, David, said you can use the safe house for as long as you need it.”
Danny slid a key wrapped in a piece of paper with an address scrawled across it to Natalie. She nodded and took it, tucking it into her purse.
“Whatever cash you need to get us into the church, consider it approved.” Natalie eyed him. “Our presence here is not to be discussed, with anyone. Is that clear?”
“Absolutely. I don’t even know who you are. But whoever, I never saw you. Si?” Danny quipped.
“I’m glad we can rely on your discretion. Please call when you have something for us. We’re available twenty-four hours a day,” Natalie finished.