John Saul - The Devil's Labyrinth

“I know,” the mayor sighed. “But I still don’t have to like it.” Just then a young man with an athletic build, intense dark eyes and an official looking clipboard in his hand stepped through the curtain, spotted the chief and came over.

“Well, speak of the Devil,” the chief said, then introduced Roberto Grimaldi to the mayor.

“My apologies for the short notice, Your Honor,” Grimaldi said. “I must tell you, I think I was probably as upset over the lack of planning as you, but as it happens you have an excellent venue here, and your people have made it very easy for us.”

“I wish that made me feel better.” Flowers sighed. “But I’m afraid I’m not going to get much sleep until this is all over.”

“Nor will I,” Grimaldi agreed. “But for us this is actually a very small event, comparatively speaking. If you block vehicular access to the Common tomorrow morning in time to have the streets cleared by ten-thirty, that should do it. Since we began using the plexi shield, we no longer have to worry about snipers or people in the audience, and if the streets are blocked, it eliminates the possibility of a car bomb. His Holiness will arrive in his armored car, and our security along with your own will be in place when he moves from the car to the stage.” Grimaldi offered the mayor and the police chief a thin smile. “I should think that between us we can keep him safe while he walks ten feet, don’t you?” Grimaldi flipped a couple of sheets over on his clipboard. “The three students from St. Isaac’s Preparatory Academy who will be servers for the Mass will follow His Holiness in a second limousine, escorted by Father Sebastian Sloane.” Seeing the mayor and police chief exchange a nervous glance, Grimaldi smiled. “Believe me, the Vatican has been watching Father Sebastian for years, and both he and the three children are here at the direct request of His Holiness.” He pointed toward the foot of Spruce Street. “They’ll enter from that street, and the cars will pull up directly behind the stage. His Holiness will not be visible to anyone in the Common until he appears on the stage, and then he will be protected by the plexi shield. Keep the streets clear until thirty minutes after he’s gone, and that will be it.”

The mayor fumbled in his pocket for his antacids, and glanced questioningly at the police chief.

“We’ll have security at the school and all along the three blocks of the route to the Common.” When the mayor looked no happier, he spread his hands helplessly. “It’s the Vatican’s show, and they want to do it their way. And I’ve got to say that from what I’ve seen and heard, they run a very tight ship. Frankly, short of spending three days trying to put everyone who comes in through a metal detector, I can’t think of anything else we’d do.”

“Okay,” the mayor sighed. “So there’s nothing else to do but sit back and enjoy the show?”

“Exactly,” Grimaldi said, finally smiling. “And you’ll enjoy it — there’s something quite magical about His Holiness. Everywhere he goes, it’s the same — everyone who sees him adores him.” He glanced at his watch. “And since His Holiness lands in about ten minutes, I need to go.”

The mayor shook Grimaldi’s hand, as did the chief, then Grimaldi flipped open his phone, punched a couple of buttons, and headed off in the direction of the back gate, where a chauffeured black sedan waited.

“Tums?” The mayor held the open package out to Chief Warner.

“Don’t mind if I do,” the chief replied, and helped himself to two.

IT WAS THE dank cold that woke Ryan.

He’d gone to bed early, leaving Clay Matthews in the common room with José Alvaréz and Darren Bender. He’d opened the window to let the cool spring air into the dorm room, but it hadn’t been cold enough to add an extra blanket to the bed. But now the cold had permeated his whole body, and he felt like he’d never be warm again.

He groped for the covers, but all he touched was something cold and hard and damp, and as the last vestiges of sleep fell away he realized he wasn’t in bed at all.

He wasn’t even in his dorm room.

He was somewhere deep in the tunnels beneath the school, and he was by himself, and he had no memory of how he’d gotten here. But even as he tried to figure out what might have happened, he realized he was moving. As if of their own volition, his legs were carrying him through the tunnel, moving slowly, but deliberately. And when he tried to stop, to pause for a moment to figure out where he was, nothing happened.

He simply kept walking, moving through the dark passage like a zombie, unable to stop, unable even to choose which direction to take when he reached a spot where two passages intersected. But finally, after the third turn, he knew.

Ahead was a door, standing open, yellow light spilling through. A moment later he was gazing into the small chapel hidden deep in the bowels of St. Isaac’s.

And on the floor was the strange labyrinth that had been inscribed around Jeffery Holmes’s coffin.

“Come in, Ryan,” Father Sebastian said, his voice soft.

Ryan didn’t want to go in. All he wanted to do was turn away and run back through the tunnels until he found his way out, found his way back to his room. But even as he struggled to make himself turn away from the open doorway, the two candles flickering on the altar drew him in.

Father Sebastian was standing in the center of the labyrinth, and directly above him hung the enormous crucifix, suspended upside down, the face of Christ seeming to leer at Ryan. Half a dozen candles set around the periphery of the chapel made shadows dance everywhere, and it was a moment or two before Ryan realized the shadows were cast by Sofia Capelli and Melody Hunt, who were standing at two of the entrances to the labyrinth.

Melody turned and smiled at him and held out her hand.

And though he still wanted to turn away — wanted it more than anything else in the world — his legs refused to obey his mind. He took three steps into the room, and found himself at the third entrance to the labyrinth.

A strange tune began, a slow pavane that seemed to come from inside his own head. The beat grew more insistent, throbbing through his body, and Ryan found himself beginning the dance that would end only when he, along with Melody and Sofia, were at the center of the maze.

At last they stood in a triangle around Father Sebastian, and Ryan felt his right arm rise, reaching out until the tips of his fingers touched Melody Hunt’s. A current almost like electricity flowed through him at Melody’s touch, and he felt a dark energy begin gathering around him, flowing into the room as if emanating from the walls themselves.

It was if the very stones in the building had begun to vibrate.

Father Sebastian gazed up at the twisted face of the Christ suspended above him, his eyes glowing as if from some inner flame. “Tonight we combine this trinity into a single being,” he intoned. “A being whose power is far greater than yours — a being who answers only to me.”

His voice dropped, and he whispered a few more words. Sofia Capelli reached out to Ryan, and once again he found himself powerless to resist the impulse to reach back to her. As their fingers touched, the energy in the room redoubled and Ryan’s skin began to tingle, he felt unsteady, and then a wave of nausea washed over him.

As quickly as it came, it was gone, and when it had passed, so too had the unsteadiness and the tingling on his skin.

All that was left was a feeling of power.

That, and an eagerness to hear whatever Father Sebastian was about to tell him.

Father Sebastian took an ancient scroll from the sleeve of his cassock, unrolled the yellowed parchment and began to read. Though he’d never heard the words before, Ryan’s lips, along with those of Melody and Sofia, were forming the phrases in unison with Father Sebastian, and soon their voices began to rise filling the chapel with a hypnotic chant. As their voices rose, the darkness began to swirl around them until the three of them formed a vortex around Father Sebastian.