John Lyman - The Secret Chapel

“I have to use my credit card to get cash, but I’m afraid I don’t have much. I think my total worth is less than five thousand dollars.”

John smiled. “I don’t think money will be a problem. Father Morelli set up a special numbered account in Switzerland. The account number is on the flash drive. He wanted me to keep all of his important papers for him, and his will left everything to you, including this car.”

“He left me his car?” Leo felt a lump in his throat. He still had trouble bringing himself to the realization that his friend was gone forever.

“Did he ever mention being ill, John?”

“No, at least not to me. I thought he was in perfect health, but he had grown more distant recently and kept double checking everything to make sure all his bases were covered. His work with the code was extremely important to him, almost to the point of an obsession. I think that’s why he called you to Rome. He wanted to make certain that someone he could trust would continue his research. It was kind of like having life insurance, with his work as the beneficiary.”

“Is there enough money in the account for plane tickets?”

“Is ten million enough?”

Leo took a deep breath. “Did you just say ten million dollars?”

“Actually, it’s ten million Euros, Father. As far as I know, Lev Wasserman and I were the only ones he revealed his true wealth to. Father Morelli had money in various Swiss banks and offshore accounts that he used when he wanted to donate to worthy causes he believed in.”

Leo was stunned by the figure. “I guess this qualifies as a worthy cause. I only wish I was better prepared for what I need to do.”

“We’re coming up to your hotel, Father. Just grab your passport and your clothes, and let’s get away from here as soon as possible.”

The car screeched to a halt in front of the hotel. Leo took the steps two at a time before he burst through the doors and entered the lobby. He looked around and spied Arnolfo exiting the old cage-like elevator.

“Arnolfo. Buon giorno. ” Leo tried to slow his breathing. “Would you mind getting my passport from the safe while I go upstairs and pack? I have an important meeting out of town and I’m running late for my train.”

“Yes, Father. I have it out on the desk. A man from the Vatican just called to say he was sending a security officer over to deliver it to you.”

Leo froze. Forget the clothes. He had to think.

“Oh, yes, I forgot. When the officer gets here, please tell him that I picked it up myself. Tell him I’m already on my way to Assisi.”

“Assisi is molto bello this time of year, Father. My sister-”

“I’m sorry, my friend, but I’m afraid I’ll miss my train if I don’t hurry. The passport, Arnolfo. Can I have it please?”

“ Si , Father.”

Arnolfo walked over to the desk and picked up two passports before handing one to Leo.

“Why do you have two passports, Arnolfo?”

“The one in your hand is yours, Father. The other is the one I was going to give to the security man. An innocent mistake, yes? Do you think I would give your passport to anyone else but you?”

Once again, Arnolfo had proven that he was much more than just a simple inn keeper. “Thank you, Arnolfo. You are a good friend.”

“Father, what about your belongings?”

“Keep them for me. I’ll call you.”

Leo flew from the hotel and jumped into the waiting car. “Arnolfo just told me someone is on the way over here to get my passport.”

Without a word, John put the car into gear and smoked the tires as he sped away on the Via Germanico toward Fiumicino Airport, leaving a very worried-looking Arnolfo standing in the hotel entrance.

The breathless priest hurried down the worn brick staircase at the back of the Vatican library. Turning a corner, he passed between tall canyons of books before reaching a hidden alcove that contained a small table with an old-style dial telephone. He looked and listened for signs of anyone nearby. He was alone-giddy with excitement. His master would be pleased.

After an additional quick look around, he dialed a number. It rang only twice before the familiar deep voice answered. “Speak, priest.”

“Morelli is dead, sir.”

“Are you sure?”

“I saw them carry the body out with my own eyes.”

“What about his papers and the computer? Did he leave anything behind?”

“Nothing, sir. We checked his room this morning … it was practically empty.”

The voice breathed in deeply. “What about his young assistant? Do you think he told him anything?”

“Uh, we can’t seem to locate him.”

The voice rose almost to a scream. “You what? Find him! And find that other priest. They know something; I’m certain of it.”

The priest felt the sweat begin to flow from the pores on his face and run down his neck. His Roman collar was stained with it. What else could he have done? His master was angry. He was angry at him.

“Please don’t worry, sir. I have our people looking for them. They can’t get far without us knowing about it, that I can promise you.”

The voice descended to a whisper that sounded progressively more menacing. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, priest. You must not allow them to find it. This task is too important to let incompetence keep us from obtaining that which belongs to him.”

The line went dead. The priest stared at the phone for a few seconds before hanging up. He began to stand up but was dizzy with fear. He doubts me. Have I not proved my devotion time and time again? Have I not sacrificed everything, even my immortal soul?

Soon his master would know how devoted he was. He would do whatever it took to make him happy again. He reached once again for the phone and dialed a number.

A strong male voice answered, “Yes, sir?”

“Have your men locate them and see where they go.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We need the information on Morelli’s computer. Keep looking for it and make sure they don’t leave Rome.”

Chapter 12

The traffic in Rome at this hour was beyond chaos. The weather had turned the sky dark as storm clouds began covering the city. The BMW inched through streets crammed with traffic in an effort to reach its destination as Leo and John scanned the environment, constantly looking in their rearview mirrors for any hint of a familiar car or face.

John was forced to deviate from a straight route to the airport by turning right and then left down the narrow side streets in an effort to see if they were being followed. No one turned in behind them. So far, so good. They snaked their way along the gridlocked streets until they reached the Grande Raccordo Anulare , also called the A90 or ring freeway, that circled Rome.

Leaving the old part of the city, they traded the ancient beauty of Rome for the typical industrial look alongside the six-lane expressway. The car exited the A90 and sped west on the A91 toward Fiumicino and Leonardo da Vinci Airport.

The sign for Terminal C and all international flights shot past the right side of the car as they turned up the ramp and came to a stop at the departure entrance of the Euro futuristic-looking structure. Outside the terminal, the human and motorized traffic was frenzied.

“I’ll go inside and buy our tickets,” Leo said. “You park the car and join me inside.”

John was staring at the terminal. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“We can’t just leave it here,” Leo said, wondering why John was suddenly hesitant about parking the car.

“Look over there.” John motioned to the main entrance. “You see those two guys in suits? They’re Swiss Guard security men. I’ve seen them around before. We need to get out of here without being seen.”