John Lyman - The Secret Chapel

Leo scanned the crowd in front of the terminal and ran through a mental checklist of their options.

“Wait, John, I’ve got an idea. When I say go, put the car in low gear and smoke the tires. Make a real show of it and drive away as fast as you can.”

“What are you thinking, Father?”

“Just do it. Once we’re out of sight of the terminal, drive back toward town.”

“Then what? Are we going to stay in Rome?”

“No, we’re getting out of here tonight … get ready and wait for my signal.”

The BMW inched forward as Leo watched the two Swiss Guard security men for any sign of recognition.

There. The shorter security man nudged the taller one next to him. Both fixed their gaze on the bright red car.

“Now! Go!” Leo shouted.

John pressed the gas pedal to the floor and lit up the tires, making a loud and smoky scene in front of the terminal. Pedestrians flew in all directions as the car rocketed forward, receiving the attention of not only the Vatican security men, but also the Italian police. In an instant, the car was speeding down the airport ramp away from the terminal.

John swerved the BMW to miss a slower car. “Care to tell me what you’re up to, Father?”

“I want them to think they scared us off. We’ll drive back to the city and park the car. Then we can take the train from the city back to the airport. I’m hoping our little show back there convinced those two men that we won’t go back to the airport anytime soon.”

“Where do you want to go first?”

“Head into the center of the city, John. I need some time to think right now. We’ll have to buy some different clothes so we won’t be spotted when we return to the airport. If we can make it through the terminal without being recognized, we can buy our tickets with cash, board the plane, and be out of Rome before they figure out we’ve left.”

“Not bad, Father. What books have you been reading? James Bond?”

Weaving through the traffic, Leo suddenly realized that, in their haste to get to the airport, they had forgotten to get cash. It was a chronic problem for him since he rarely had any money. He pulled the flash drive from his pocket, turning it over in his hand.

“Where can we find a computer?”

“How about the library?” John said. “We’re only about five blocks from one right now.”

“Let’s go.”

John swerved to the right and exited the ring freeway. He drove along the Via Galvani , looking for one of his favorite places, the Municipio Roma I Testaccio public library. The nineteenth-century building was set back from the street by the Parco Testaccio , a beautiful city park where mothers usually strolled with their children, but was now empty because of the threatening sky.

John pulled to the side of the street under a huge tree full of birds seeking refuge just as a heavy rain started to fall. He flicked a switch to raise the top up on the car while Leo bolted across the park to the library and entered the massive stone building.

Leo ran his hands through his wet hair and glanced around before crossing the cavernous lobby to the main desk, where he stood dripping wet. Without a word, a young dark-haired woman behind the counter reached into a shelf below and produced a clean white towel, which she handed to the priest.

“ Grazie. Mi scusi signore ,” Leo said. “Do you have public computers?”

The woman smiled and led him down a hallway to a large room as he rubbed the towel over his head. She was dressed in a simple black dress and kept turning to make sure Leo was still following, her long black hair swinging from side to side as she walked. She’s really gorgeous, Leo thought. Ever since Leo had become a priest, he had struggled with the issue of celibacy. If he had a weakness, and he did, it was for beautiful women. This battle within him had raged for years, and only prayer and hard work had kept him from breaking his vows while many of his friends continued to leave the Church over this very issue.

Several computers were in use by the usual student-looking types along with several elderly Italians surfing the Internet. The woman showed him to a small computer kiosk before taking her towel and returning to her station at the main desk.

Looking over his shoulder, Leo inserted the flash drive into the computer. Scrolling through Morelli’s simple menu, he quickly retrieved the bank account number and password. He looked over his shoulder once more and scanned the room for anyone watching him with more than a casual interest before logging off.

The dark-haired woman behind the counter stared in disbelief as Leo raced across the lobby and back into the storm outside. Black birds in the trees called out to the black-suited figure of the priest as he ran through the park in the downpour, as if they had spotted a kindred spirit looking for shelter. He grabbed the door handle and squeezed into the car as the rain drummed against the canvas top over his head.

The windshield wipers barely kept up with the cascading water as John turned on the headlights in an effort to see his way through the dark flooding streets. He turned onto the Viale Aventino , and after several blocks, Leo spotted a branch of the Bank of Rome.

Money services were not always quick in Rome. Transactions involved lots of paperwork and lots of waiting around. Leo wanted to withdraw enough cash to buy airline tickets, new clothing, food, and any incidentals they might need on their trip to the Holy Land. John had advised him against using an ATM since those transactions could be immediately traced. Withdrawing the cash from a teller in a bank was much more secure, despite the long lines and endless paperwork. This tedious process actually worked to their advantage, since it would be days until anyone knew they had been in this bank.

With cash finally in hand, they located a large clothing store in the Aventine section of Rome. They purchased some jeans and loose-fitting Hawaiian-print shirts, along with baseball caps and two pairs of running shoes. Leo also picked out a backpack similar to John’s to use as carry-on luggage. They were not about to risk losing the ancient stone brick and had decided to carry everything onboard the aircraft with them.

After changing clothes in the back of the store, they drove around the neighborhood until they found a fenced parking lot. Leo paid the attendant for a month in advance, keeping the spare set of keys John had given him earlier. He would mail these to the Hotel Amalfi after they arrived in Israel. Leo knew Arnolfo would pick up the car and keep it safe for him.

The pouring rain had almost stopped as they made their way on foot toward a lighted orange sign marking the underground entrance to the Circo Massimo metro station, so named for its proximity to the Circus Maximus , ancient Rome’s largest stadium once used for chariot races. The two men were now in a race of their own.

In Rome, the subway system was known to locals as the Metropolitana. The stations were clean but surprisingly drab and utilitarian compared with other European metros. Father Leo loved taking the graffiti-covered trains around town. Compared to driving, the metro was a quicker way of getting in and out of Rome, especially at this hour of the day. Leo had hoped this plan of using the metro would help them reach the airport in time to catch the overnight flight to Israel, but dark clouds had turned the early evening sky into night and the homeward-bound crush of people was filling the trains.

Descending the wet stairs, John and Leo entered the subway. John shook the water from his hair and inhaled the musty scent of the tunnel. “We seem to be spending a lot of time underground lately, Father.” John’s remark made Leo smile for the first time all day.