Allan Folsom - Day Of Confession

'Now' – Danny's index finger went back to the drawing – 'you come out of the tower and for some reason – Farel's men, Thomas Kind, an act of God, who knows, but for some reason – you can't follow the wall? Take the road directly in front of you through the Vatican gardens. Several hundred yards down, you'll see another tower building, which is Vatican Radio. As soon as you see it, turn right. The cut across will bring you back to the Viale del Collegio Etiopico and then the wall above the station. Follow the road along the wall for maybe thirty yards. By then you'll be at track level. The freight car will be right there, between the station and the turn-around tunnel at the end. Cross the tracks to the far side of the car, away from the boulevard. All that's there is another set of tracks and then the wall. Pull open the doors – and they may take some work because they're old and rusted – then climb in. Close the doors. And wait for the engine… Any questions?'

Once again Danny looked around the table, and Harry had to marvel at his attitude, his precision, focus. Whatever melancholy he had had before had been pushed aside completely. He might as well have had 'The Few, The Proud' stenciled on his forehead.

'I have to pee,' Hercules said, and standing, gathered his crutches and swung off out of the room.

This was hardly a time to smile, but Harry did. It was Hercules' way. Brusque, funny, and all business, whatever that business was. Earlier, the moment the police had gone, Hercules had looked to Harry, totally perplexed, and said, 'What the hell is this?'

And soberly, in front of Danny and Elena, Harry had explained how Cardinal Marsciano was being held against his will inside the Vatican as part of a secret coup and that he would be killed if they didn't get him out. They needed an inside man, someone who could get to the tower unseen. That man, they hoped, was Hercules, and that was the reason for the climbing rope. Harry had ended it by telling him that if he went along he would be risking his life.

For the longest moment Hercules had remained stone faced, staring at nothing. And then his eyes had gone around the room. Looking from one to the other to the other. Finally his face slowly twisted into an enormous grin.

'What life?' he'd said loudly, his eyes gleaming. And in that moment, he'd become one of them.

11:30 p.m.

Scala came out of his apartment, glanced briefly around, then crossed to an unmarked white Fiat. Looking around once more, he got in, started the engine, and drove off.

A moment later a dark green Ford pulled away from the curb a half block down. Eaton was behind the wheel, Adrianna Hall beside him. Turning left onto Via Marmorata, they followed Scala through light traffic to Piazza dell'Emporio and then across the Tiber on Ponte Sublicio. Then, dropping back in traffic, they followed him north, along the river's western bank. A few minutes later Scala turned west through the Gianicolo section, only to go north again on Viale delle Mura Aurelie.

'He's not taking any chances about being followed…' Eaton dropped the Ford behind a silver Opel, keeping a guarded distance between himself and Scala's Fiat.

For the Italian detective to suddenly refuse Adrianna information was a cue in itself that something major and highly secret was going on. It was out of character for Scala to shut her out – it had been Scala himself who tipped Adrianna to Father Daniel's suspected presence in Bellagio hours before it was announced, meaning just days ago he was still including her. His deliberately evasive maneuvers now only added to a series of rapid-fire happenings that suggested whatever was going on inside the Vatican was fast coming to a head.

Eaton and Adrianna reviewed all of it: The sudden and mysterious illness of Cardinal Marsciano, last seen Tuesday leaving the Chinese Embassy seemingly in good health. Even their combined efforts provided little more information than the formal Vatican press release announcing his sickness and saying he was under the care of Vatican physicians.

The abrupt return of Roscani, Scala, and Castelletti to Rome from Milan.

The murder early this morning of Marsciano's personal aide, Father Bardoni. Not yet announced by the police.

Also this morning – Harry Addison's terse calls, traced to public telephones near the Vatican, alerting them to the situation in China. To which they had responded immediately, and which within hours resulted in the clandestine arrest and interrogation of a government water-quality inspector named Li Wen.

And again this morning – the surprising announcement of the suspected reemergence in Italy of the long-silent celebrated terrorist Thomas Kind, and the all-points arrest-and-detain order put out for him by Gruppo Cardinale.

Suddenly Scala took a sharp left ahead of them, turning right after a half block, and then making a quick left and accelerating off. Adrianna could see Eaton smile slightly as he kept up with him. Changing gears, accelerating, then dropping back, using the skill and training demanded of the professional spy he was. Up until tonight both he and Adrianna had had to sit back and wait, hoping Harry Addison would lead them to Father Daniel. Now the police were doing it. Why and what was unfolding, they didn't know, but with the disaster in China now seemingly interconnected with the Vatican intrigue, they were certain they were on the edge of monumental, breaking history.

'The police are going to make it difficult.' Eaton slowed. Ahead of them Scala made a sharp right down a darkened residential street.

Adrianna said nothing. She knew that at another time and in another situation Eaton would have called in two or three of his Italian operatives and had Father Daniel kidnapped. But not now, not in the presence of the police and not with a clumsy post-Cold War CIA under the stony-cold microscope of both Washington and the world. No, they could only do what they'd been doing all along, wait and watch and see what happened. And hope that something would happen, and that they could get Father Daniel alone.

Friday, July 17, 12:10 a.m.

Palestrina woke from his sleep with a cry. He was soaked with sweat, his arms out in front of him in the darkness, still trying to push the thing away. This had been the second night in a row when shadowy spirits had come toward him in a dream. There were many of them and they carried a heavy, unclean blanket to cover him, a blanket he knew was filled with disease, the same disease that had caused the fever that killed him before, when he was Alexander.

It was a moment before he realized that what had waked him was not only the terror of his dream but the ringing of the phone at his bedside. Abruptly the ringing stopped, then started again, the multiline phone lighting up a private number only one person had, Thomas Kind. Quickly he picked up.

'Si…'

'There has been a setback in China,' Kind said evenly in French, deliberately trying not to alarm Palestrina. 'Li Wen has been detained. I have taken care of the situation. There is nothing to concern yourself with other than the business of the coming day.'

'Merci, ' Palestrina said, aghast, and hung up. Suddenly he shivered, the coldness real and reaching deep inside him. The spirits were not a dream, they were real and getting closer. What if something happened and Thomas Kind failed to 'take care of the situation' and the Chinese found out? It was not impossible – after all, it was Thomas Kind who had failed to kill Father Daniel.

Suddenly a new horror stabbed through him – that Father Daniel was still alive not out of luck but because the spirits had sent him, and sent his brother as well. They were Death and their appointment was with Palestrina. Not only that, as the moth comes to the flame, Palestrina was bringing them right into his own lair.