James Rollins - Map of Bones

Somehow the bones were tied to those deaths.

But how?

If there was a historical trail leading to any clues, it was beyond his scope of experience and knowledge to follow. He recognized this and faced the monsignor.

Vigor spoke, confident of his argument. “As I said from the start, I think there is more to the deaths at the cathedral than technology. I think whatever happened is entwined intimately with the Catholic Church, its early history, and possibly even before its founding. And I am certain I can be a continuing asset to this investigation.”

Gray bowed his head in thought, slowly won over.

“But not my niece,” Vigor finished, revealing at last why he had pulled Gray aside. He held out his hand. “Once we return to Rome, I will send her back to the Carabinieri. I will not risk her again.”

Gray reached out and shook the monsignor’s hand.

Finally something the two of them could agree on.

RACHEL HEARD a step behind her, expecting it to be Mario returning with their order. Glancing up, she almost fell out of her seat as she gazed at the elderly woman who stood there, leaning on a cane, dressed in navy slacks and a blue summer frock with a daffodil pattern. Her white hair was curled, her eyes flashing in amusement.

Mario stood behind the visitor, a broad smile on his face. “Surprise, no?”

Rachel gained her feet as Gray’s two partners looked on. “ Nonna? What are you doing here?”

Her grandmother patted Rachel on a cheek, speaking in Italian. “Your crazy mother!” She fluttered her fingers in the air. “She goes off to see you in Rome. Leaves me alone with that Signore Barbari to watch over me. Like I need such care. Besides, he always smells of cheese.”

“Nonna…”

A wave of a hand held her off. “So I come to our villa. I took the train. And then Mario calls me to tell me that you and Viggie are here. I tell him not to tell you.”

“It’s a good surprise, no?” Mario repeated, glowing proudly. He must have been biting his thumb the entire time not to say anything.

“Who are your friends?” her nonna asked.

Rachel introduced them. “This is my grandmother.”

She shook each of their hands and switched to English. “Call me Camilla.” She eyed Monk up and down. “Why do you cut off all your hair? A shame. But you have nice eyes. Are you italiano ?”

“No, Greek.”

She nodded sagely. “That’s not too bad.” She turned to Kat. “Is Signor Monk your boyfriend?”

Kat crinkled her brow in surprise. “No,” she said a tad too tartly. “Certainly not.”

“Hey,” Monk interjected.

“You make a nice couple,” Nonna Camilla declared, stating it as if it were set in stone. She turned to Mario. “A glass of that wonderful Chiaretto, per favore, Mario.”

He whisked off, still beaming.

Rachel settled to her seat and spotted Gray and her uncle returning from their private meeting. As they crossed toward her, she noted that Gray would not meet her eye. She knew why her uncle had walked off with Commander Pierce. And from the man’s avoidance, she could guess the outcome.

Rachel suddenly had no interest in her wine.

Uncle Vigor noticed the additional guest at their table. Shock shattered his grim expression.

The surprise was again explained, along with further introductions.

As Gray Pierce was introduced, her grandmother glanced askance at Rachel, one eyebrow raised, before fixing her gaze on the American. She clearly liked what she saw: stubbled dark chin, storm-blue eyes, lanky black hair. Rachel knew her grandmother had a strong matchmaking streak, a genetic trait in all Italian matrons.

Her grandmother leaned toward Rachel. “I see beautiful babies,” she whispered, her eyes still on Gray. “Bellissimo bambini.”

“Nonna,” she warned.

Her grandmother shrugged and raised her voice. “Signore Pierce, are you italiano ?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“Would you like to be? My granddaughter—”

Rachel cut her off. “ Nonna, we don’t have much time.” She made a show of checking her wristwatch. “We have business in Milan.”

The grandmother brightened. “Carabinieri work. Tracking stolen art?” She eyed Uncle Vigor. “Something taken from a church?”

“Something like that, Nonna . But we can’t talk about an open investigation.”

Her grandmother crossed herself. “Horrible…stealing from a church. I read about the murders up in Germania. Terrible, just terrible.” She glanced around the table, taking in the strangers. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, settling on Rachel.

Rachel noted the sharp-eyed realization in her grandmother’s gaze. Despite her outward appearance, nothing slipped past her nonna . The theft of the Magi bones was all over the newspapers. And here they were traveling with a group of Americans, near the border of Switzerland, heading back into Italy. Had her nonna guessed their real purpose?

“Terrible,” her grandmother repeated.

A server arrived laden with two heavy bags of food. A loaf of bread poked from each like a pair of baguette masts. Monk rose to accept the burden with a broad smile.

Uncle Vigor spoke, leaning forward to kiss both her cheeks. “Momma, we’ll see you back home in Gandolfo in a couple of days. Once this business is finished.”

As Gray stepped past, Nonna Camilla took his hand and pulled him down closer. “You watch after my granddaughter.”

Gray looked up to Rachel. “I will, but she takes pretty good care of herself.”

Rachel felt a sudden flush of heat as his eyes met hers. Feeling ridiculous, she glanced aside. She wasn’t a schoolgirl. Far from it.

Her nonna gave Gray a peck on the cheek. “We Verona women always take care of ourselves. You remember that.”

Gray smiled. “I will.”

She patted him on his backside as he stepped away. “Ragazzo buono.”

As the others headed out, her grandmother motioned Rachel to stay. She then reached out, turned back the corner of Rachel’s open vest, and exposed the empty holster. “You lost something, no?”

Rachel had forgotten she was still wearing the empty shoulder belt. She had left her borrowed Beretta back at the cathedral. But her nonna had noticed.

“A woman should never leave the house naked.” Her grandmother reached down and collected her purse. She opened it and pulled out the matte-black handle of her prized Nazi P-08 Luger. “You take mine.”

“ Nonna! You shouldn’t be carrying that around.”

Her grandmother dismissed her concern with a wave. “The trains are not that safe for a woman alone. Too many Gypsies. But I think you maybe need this more than me.”

Her grandmother’s gaze weighed heavily on her, making it plain she understood the danger of Rachel’s mission.

Rachel reached out and closed her purse with a snap. “ Grazie, Nonna . But I’ll be fine.”

Her grandmother shrugged. “Terrible business up in Germania,” she said with a significant roll of her eyes. “Best to be careful.”

“I will, Nonna .” Rachel began to turn away, but her wrist was grabbed.

“He likes you,” her grandmother said. “Signore Pierce.”

“ Nonna .”

“You would make bellissimo bambini .”

Rachel sighed. Even with danger threatening, her grandmother knew how to stay focused. Babies. The true treasures of nonne everywhere.

She was saved by Mario arriving with the bill. She stepped aside and paid it in cash, leaving enough to cover her nonna ’s lunch. She then gathered up her things, kissed her grandmother, and headed out to the piazza to join the others.