John Sneeden: The Hades Conspiracy

Emily leaned against her father, one arm wrapped tightly around his waist. He smiled at the gesture. No one was going to take Emily’s father away again. Ever.

Feeling a brush on his shoulder, Zane looked at Keiko on his right. Feeling his eyes, she turned and met his gaze. Zane lifted an arm and draped it across her shoulder. She winked at him then faced forward again.

The elevator doors slid open on the third floor. Two Swiss Guards wearing official regalia flanked a doorway across a narrow corridor. Some probably thought the multi-colored stripes were a bit over the top, but Zane couldn’t think of a more welcome sight. Both men snapped to attention as the group crossed the corridor and entered.

Carmen looked around the ballroom as they entered. “Looks like the Pope spared no expense.”

Dozens of people mingled among tables adorned with fine white linens, candles, and trays of hors d’oeuvres. Among those attending were Swiss Guards, a few priests, several nuns, and an assortment of others in suits and dresses. To the left, a chamber orchestra graced the room with Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons .

“It’s my understanding the Pontiff doesn’t even know about the event,” Zane said. “Stegmann told me he paid for it out of their discretionary budget and kept his mouth shut.”

A thin server appeared in front of them, a tray balanced in one hand. “Champagne?”

“Ladies?” Zane gestured toward the drinks.

Carmen, Amanda, and Emily all lifted flutes, followed by the men.

“Ah, they finally made it,” said a familiar voice.

Zane turned to see Jonas Stegmann and Father Fiori coming toward them.

“My apologies,” Zane said. “You, of all people, know what Rome traffic is like on a Friday night.”

Carmen shook her head. “Don’t listen to him. He’s covering for us. We ladies took a bit too long getting ready.”

“I was only joking. You’re not late at all.” Stegmann gestured toward the man at his side. “I believe you remember Father Fiori.”

“I do indeed.” Zane shook the priest’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

After introductions were made, Pratt led the Paulings off for some hors d'oeuvres. Keiko followed.

Once they were gone, Father Fiori turned to Zane. “I want to personally thank you for bringing back our piece.”

Zane bowed slightly. “It was our pleasure.”

“And the world thanks you for taking down such a dangerous man,” Stegmann added. “Or should I say men .”

“I think we all know this was a team effort,” Zane said.

His statement couldn’t have been truer. The Americans, the Vatican, and the Israelis had all come together to hunt down Roger Lawson. The Swiss Guard and the Israelis began by gathering as many images of the Australian as possible. Then they loaded those images into software capable of searching CCTV feeds across the globe. Two days later, Stegmann was awakened after midnight. His lead investigator wanted him to view a short video taken in Split, Croatia. It was a thirty-six percent match, enough to come up on their radar. At the beginning of the feed, a man wearing a baseball cap could be seen walking through the port authority in Split, flanked by two men. As he was about to pass out of range, he lifted his head. In that fleeting second, the software had been able to match a couple of features, including the unique shape of his nose. To be sure, it seemed an odd place for Lawson to surface. Then again, Croatia was certainly in the range of places Lawson could’ve traveled to.

Despite the matching features, Stegmann hadn’t been convinced the man in the video was Roger Lawson. On a whim, he forwarded the file to Zane, who was still chasing leads in the field. It paid immediate dividends. While Zane couldn’t see enough of the man to verify it was Lawson, he remembered the face of one of the men at his side.

Unfortunately, the trail grew cold from there. None of the boats legally docked in Split were owned by the Australian. Stegmann thought he might have traveled there with someone else, but there was no evidence of that either. At some point along the way, Zane began to consider the possibility of an alias and asked Brett Foster to take a second look at the list of boat owners docked at Split. Brett’s search soon produced a suspicious name: Peter Rust of Perth, Australia. While Rust seemed to be connected to a number of documents supporting his identity, none seemed to date back more than a few years.

In light of the new information, an emergency meeting was called with attendees from the United States, Israel, Croatia, and the Swiss Guard. After reviewing all available information, the assembled group determined Peter Rust was indeed Roger Lawson.

Unfortunately, Rust’s boat had disappeared by the time a Croatian surveillance team was put in place. Zane believed the news wasn’t all bad. It meant Lawson now felt safe to travel. But where would he go? Zane asked Brett Foster to locate all properties owned by the enigmatic Peter Rust. Within hours, Brett had assembled a map showing real estate holdings across the globe. One in particular grabbed Zane’s eye — an upscale villa on a mountain overlooking Palermo, Sicily.

The rest, as they say, was history.

“Are you going to be a part of the exploratory team being assembled for Hermon?” Amanda asked. “If there is room, I’d love to be a part of it.”

Stegmann and Father Fiori exchanged a glance. Father Fiori answered, “I’d like to be a part of it myself. Unfortunately, no one will be going back in, at least not for the time being.”

Zane’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“The Israelis claim the upper tunnel system has collapsed,” Stegmann said. “They say it would take years to safely cut through. They believe the explosives Lawson set off weakened the entire network of caves, leading to a widespread collapse.”

“Meaning we could’ve all been killed had we not gotten out when we did,” Zane noted.

“They won’t rule out trying to reach the city at some point in the future,” Father Fiori said. “They’ve assembled a panel of their country’s finest geologists in order to study how they might gain entry, but nothing will happen anytime soon.”

“If they do make it in, we might never know,” Amanda said.

Zane frowned. “Why is that?”

“Think about it. There is an entire city down there, and we know very little about it. They will probably want to understand what they’re dealing with before they announce it to the world. Remember, the legend says it’s the entrance to Hades. Talk about creating controversy.”

Father Fiori lifted an eyebrow. “Do you believe the caves lead to the underworld?”

Amanda considered her answer. “I don’t think any of us can say for sure. I will say this… I have no doubt those are the deepest caves on earth. None of the others around the globe even come close. Regardless of how you define the underworld, that’s what we found.”

As Father Fiori continued to question Amanda about their experience, Zane slipped away to find a restroom. He’d had two beers at the hotel bar while waiting for the ladies and needed to seek relief. He finally ran down one of the servers, who pointed him toward an alcove across the room.

After finishing in the restroom, Zane returned to the banquet hall and plucked another flute of champagne from a nearby tray. He took a sip and glanced back toward the entrance. Carmen had a cell phone pressed to her ear, her face etched with concern. It was strange she would even take a call here. Should he go back? His gut told him not to. Carmen often got that look on her face when talking to Ross. The last thing he wanted to do was get knee-deep in a Delphi problem right now. He’d let her deal with it.