The Medici Return (Cotton Malone #19)

Chapter 65

CHAPTER 65

C OTTON HAD FULLY SURVEYED THE CAVERNOUS WORKROOM. F OURTEEN rows of shelving. Fourteen overhead fixtures within glass enclosures beneath. Two entry doors, the one they’d first come through and another, past the table where the pledge was displayed at the far end. Both lockable from the inside with iron latches. A bank of four switches protruded from a silver junction box attached to the stone wall, conduit running from it up to the vaulted ceiling then over to each of the light fixtures. These buildings were erected long before there was electricity or indoor plumbing, so their later occupants had to add those amenities however possible. One other nod to modernity was a fire alarm switch that had its own conduit running upward, disappearing into a hole in the stone. A fire extinguisher was attached to the wall both here and near the other door. Fire was most definitely a fear in an olden place like this.

Thankfully his bullshit radar had gone to full alert from nearly the first moment he met Camilla Baines. Stamm had warned them. So he’d taken those words to heart. Her proposal that a perfect stranger with no experience ride a horse in what many considered the most perilous race in the world seemed questionable at best, downright suspicious at worst. But what choice had he possessed? So he did his job and took a chance. But he’d also thought ahead and decided being unarmed was not the smartest of moves. The Beretta remained nestled close to his spine beneath his shirttail. He’d also caught the unspoken contact between the white-robed brother and Camilla. A familiarity, where their eyes did the talking.

The lay brother had left for a reason.

None of which would be good for him or Richter.

Camilla had drifted away from the table back toward the door at the other end of the room. He stepped close to Richter and whispered, “Get close to the door behind us. Be ready to open it and leave.”

“When?”

“You’ll know.”

The door at the other end creaked open and four men entered. Faces he’d seen before. Part of the five who helped him out earlier in the alley. Golden Oakers. Surprise. Surprise.

“I will be taking that document,” Camilla said.

“You think it’s going to be that easy?” Cotton asked.

Camilla shrugged. “I do not see why not.”

J ASON HAD BEEN A PRIEST THE VAST MAJORITY OF HIS LIFE . H IS YOUTH in Germany had been comfortable and sheltered. He was one of three children to parents whose family had been expelled from East Prussia at the end of World War II. His father was a local teacher and his mother a librarian. During his high school years he lived in a Catholic student home. Had there been bullies? Absolutely. But he’d never engaged them. Instead, he’d used wits and words to wiggle out of things. He’d continued that practice after being ordained and definitely after acquiring a red hat and being brought to the Vatican. You needed a keen survival sense to work within the Curia, an instinct to know, according to the old American song, when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em.

He loved poker. Fun game. Where you needed to pay attention. Like here. Was Malone bluffing with a pair of twos or calling with a straight flush? The box Cardinal Stamm had him deliver to Malone was no token of appreciation. Best guess? Knowing both Stamm and Malone? A gun. Had to be. And though he himself had never been in a physical fight, Cotton Malone definitely had experience. But four against one? Two, if he counted himself? Those were not good odds. And a pair of twos never, ever beat a straight flush. Malone had told him to stay close to the door and be prepared to move. Okay. He was ready.

“What’s your interest in this?” Malone asked Camilla.

“I have learned that Eric Casaburi is in great need of that pledge.”

“Stamm tell you that?”

“Never. That man is tight-lipped, careful with his words. But there are others in Rome who are not. I made some calls.”

“I bet you did.”

She’s an opportunist. Not to be trusted.

That she was.

“Casaburi is quite the politician,” Camilla said. “Some believe his party has an excellent chance of controlling the government after the coming elections. If that happens, he will definitely be a part of that new government.”

“So you’re trying to get in on the ground floor?”

“Something like that. I like what the National Freedom Party says. We need big changes. Italy is stalled with nothing. I am told Casaburi wants the church’s help with his party’s candidates being elected, which they refused. Maybe now they might reconsider.”

“He knows this copy of the pledge exists?”

“He does now. I sent him a picture. My friend, the lay brother who allowed us inside, provided it to me earlier today.”

Jason was curious. “Why wait? Why even bring us here?”

“She had to see it for herself first,” Malone said. “To be sure it was real.”

“Quite correct.”

“She also wanted the privacy this place affords to deal with us?” he added.

“Doubly correct.”

And she motioned.

The four men standing behind her advanced. Malone reached back and brought out the gun from beneath his shirt, aiming with his outstretched right arm, finger on the trigger, his thumb cocking the hammer back with a clear click.

Which halted the men’s advance.

“Come now, Signore Malone, do you plan to shoot us all? Here, in this holy place.”

“I’m actually not opposed to doing that. But there’s no need.”

And Malone swung the gun around and fired a round directly into the junction box for the overhead lights. Electrical sparks exploded in blue flash. Then the room was plunged into darkness.

“Let’s go,” Malone said.

Jason knew what to do and released the latch on the door. They both stepped out into the night. But before leaving Malone grabbed the pledge in its plastic sleeve and yanked the fire alarm switch downward.

A klaxon wailed.

S TEFANO STOOD SILENT . B UT HE AGREED . W HAT THEY’D JUST HEARD was a gunshot.

“Sir,” one of the men said, getting the prior’s attention.

They all moved toward the window. Across the cloister, past the line of arches, two figures emerged from a door and rushed ahead, winking in and out as they traversed the dim cloister.

An alarm went off. Loud.

“Get them,” the prior said.

The other three men exited out a second door from the office.

“What is happening here?” the prior muttered over the noise, still staring out the window.

“Apparently,” Ascolani said, “you have some dissension in your ranks.”

“How wonderful of you to note the obvious. The question is why.”