Gregg Loomis: The Coptic Secret

"No, but I think it might be in order to go back to the Knights of Malta, ask more pointed questions. I do not believe they neither heard nor saw anything last night. Someone must have at least heard gunfire. Someone would have at least looked out of a window. They are a large and wealthy organization. It would not surprise me if they had enemies, enemies who wished to make them appear in a less than favorable light. Having a crime committed on their doorstep might achieve that."

Manicci failed to see how having a sports car shot up outside the priory could reflect anything, good or bad, but he knew better than to admit it. "Shall I call for an appointment? With whom?"

Hanaratti picked up a newspaper. "Happily for us, the media has taken an interest in an event that takes place only every five years." He held up a page, showing a picture of a procession of men in what looked like seventeenth-century attire. "Even publish schedules for the various meetings. Visiting members of their supreme council will be at a function at the Vatican this evening. That should leave the grand master and full-time staff at the priory. I think that would be an ideal time for a surprise visit."

Circo Massimo Metro Station

Via del Circo Massimo

1830 Local Time

Lang and Jacob had chosen the anonymity of public transportation but now had the long uphill trudge to the priory before them. As they climbed the stairs out of the station, they faced west. Across the Tiber, a bloodred balloon of a setting sun limned the domes and towers of the Trastevere in picture postcard perfection.

Lang was more interested in the steep hill to his left. "How far do we have to go?"

Jacob puckered his lips. "I'd say a kilometer and a half. If you don't think you've recovered enough, lad, I can go it alone."

"Not a chance. How close do we have to get?"

"Hard to say. You saw where I put the device but exactly how close…"

Lang's legs were already complaining of the climb. "Explain it to me again."

Jacob took out his pipe, thought better of it and returned it to a pocket. "We had three choices: We could have tossed something nasty over the wall that would have wreaked bloody hell. That was a bit of a dice because we wanted to make sure we eliminated the people most likely involved in trying to suppress the James Gospel by killing you or nicking someone close to you. That would most likely be the grand master and his full-time staff. Once we located where they might be, we could have left a timed device, except we had no way of knowing when the sodding grand master and his henchmen would be where. So, the little gem I left can be set off with this."

He held up a small black box.

Lang squinted in the fading light. "Looks like a an automatic garage-door opener to me."

"Right you are! That's exactly what it is. It works by sending out a low-frequency signal that activates the receiver, usually attached to your garage door. The question is, how close to the blooming door do we have to get for the signal to reach?"

Lang paused to bend over and massage his calves. "And we find that out how?"

Jacob paused, too, puffing from the climb. "By the most common of scientific methods: trial and error."

"And suppose the wall prevents us from getting close enough?"

"Well, now, that would be a spot of bother. But it shouldn't. The ad on the telly said this bugger worked up to fifty meters."

Lang began the uphill climb again. "And if it doesn't, you get your money back?"

Jacob looked puzzled for a moment. "Well yes, I suppose I do."

Swell.

Aventine Hill

At the Same Time

The dark, unmarked Alfa Romeo sedan pulled up to the massive wooden gates. The driver, a uniformed policeman, got out and rang the buzzer. After a prolonged exchange, the gates swung open and the car drove inside.

"Bloody hell!" Jacob spat. "The sodding coppers are here! Now what?"

Lang stepped back into the shadows that now consumed almost everything at street level. "We'll just have to wait." "Wait? How long? The visiting council members will be back from tea with the pope or whatever they're at."

"I know, but we can't just ignore the fact the police are inside, probably in the building."

"I thought collateral damage wasn't a concern."

"It is where cops are concerned. Kill one of them and every law enforcement officer in Europe will be on our ass."

Jacob shook his head. "I wasn't planning on claiming credit for this any more than I was expecting the sodding Nobel Peace Prize. We either get this done soon or there'll be a lot more people likely to get hurt."

Lang thought a minute. "OK, here's what we're gonna do…"

Two minutes later, Lang crossed the street like a man without a care in the world. He pushed the buzzer by the gate as casually as though he were a guest invited to a dinner party. The response was immediate if unintelligible.

"Please tell the police that Langford Reilly wants to see them."

There was a pause before more Italian squawked through the speaker box, then, "Langford Reilly? Police?"

"Yes, si."

It was as if someone had been expecting him. The giant gates began to rumble open. By the time they had parted wide enough, two plainclothesmen and a uniform squeezed through.

Lang easily recognized Manicci. "I understand you're looking for me?"

Across the street, Jacob dialed a number on his cell phone and waited. Two rings later the call was answered. "Prego?"

"The grand master," Jacob said.

The voice switched to English. "How did you get this number?"

"That doesn't matter. Tell the grand master Lang Reilly wishes to speak with him."

Pause.

"Momento, just a moment."

The second voice came so quickly the grand master must have been in the room when the call came through. "Yes?"

Jacob pushed the button on his garage-door opener and winced.

Nothing.

Bloody hell! He had tested the tiny battery before he left London. He pushed the button again with the same lack of result.

"Hello?" The grand master was getting impatient. He wasn't going to hang on the line forever. If he left the room, the explosive device might not do the job.

Across the street, the policeman approached Lang.

"Ah, Mr. Reilly," the older of the two men in plain clothes said in accented English, "we are indeed looking for you. But I am curious, how did you know Inspector Manicci and I would be here?"

"Lucky guess."

The policeman nodded his head slightly. "Perhaps so. Will you be so kind as to step inside? We have much to talk about."

Lang took a step back. "If it is all the same to you, I'd rather talk out here."

Another nod, this time to the uniformed officer. Arms reached around Lang, pulling his hands behind him.

"I regret we cannot accommodate you, Mr. Reilly," the older inspector said. "But I'm sure you understand."

Lang was shoved toward the open gate.

Jacob looked at the device in his hand as though he could actually see it in the dark.

"Mr. Reilly?" the voice on the other end of the line asked.

"Reilly here. I think we might have something to talk about."

Stall, keep the man on the line before he hung up and left the room.

Jacob was holding the phone with one hand, fumbling with the door opener with the other. If the problem wasn't the battery, it must be the contact point. Blindly, his fingers searched for the seam in the plastic casing. He thought he had found it when the thing slipped from his hand. It was pure luck it fell at his feet. It took only seconds to retrieve, but from what he saw across the street, there weren't any seconds to waste.

Lang shoved back. "Look, there's no reason we can't talk out here."

Delay, stall. Standard agency tactics. When things are going badly, make your opponent spend time he hadn't planned on. There's always the chance something will happen. In this case, Lang knew exactly what. But he couldn't figure out why it hadn't already. According to Jacob's announced plan, there should have been an explosion several minutes ago. Lang had a sinking feeling at the bottom of his stomach. Now was not the time for one of his friend's concoctions to fail.