Chapter 10
Noah hated the Sala dell’Annunziata. Hated every single thing about it.
The venue was too damn small for this crowd. Only three exits. Guaranteed to create a dangerous bottleneck if something happened and the guests panicked. Overly narrow doors opened out of the gallery into a broad central corridor. And the Sala was on the second floor. The French doors on the other side of the hall opened onto high stone balconies over an inner courtyard paved wit h cobblestones.
He scanned the room and did a lightning-fast head count. The Sala was at full capacity already, with people still crowding in. He’d already data-dived every name on the guest list. So far, everyone was in the clear. But the number of people packed into that room triggere d an AVP surge.
It was hard to think when his body kept urg ing him to act.
Lella must have suffered serious brain damage during his captivity. Noah couldn’t imagine any other reason why the Sala dell’Annunziata had been chosen. In no way was it the safest place for internationally renowned invitees to a gl ittering party.
He and Caro had kept to the perimeter of the room, which fortunately had been left dim in order to create dramatic contrast for the cross at the showstopping reveal. Tall black panels stood in front of the central window and balcony that overlooked the courtyard. A black velvet curtain concealed the cross and its display mounting, providing a backdrop for a dais and lectern for the speakers. But the crowd’s size was well over the posted limit for the space. There was no moving through that room without pushing and shoving. The smell of sweat, deodorant, and perfume was suffocating and intense. The space was overly warm and short on oxygen, and the event had o nly just begun.
And of course, dozens of smartphones were being held up, recording everything and everyone. No surprise, but the sight of them jacked up his paranoia to fresh heights.
From what Noah and Caro had heard so far, English was the official language of this event. The speech in progress had started off with the usual ass-kissing and mutual congratulation. Everyone involved had to be mentioned by name and praised for his or her generosity and brilliance and vision for making this con ference happen.
Before that, there had been a lot of gushing about Folti, how thickly dipped in awesome sauce he was, how he’d spared no expense to bring the cross to light and tell the world the story of its creator, the visionary mystic Orazio. All of which Noah already knew, so he continued casing the room, doing quickie background checks on latecomers.
Still no surprises, but the eve ning was young.
There were blocks of chairs set up in the center of the room, though nowhere near enough for everyone. Noah had opted not to get near them. He and Caro needed to stay in the shadows, in the throng, on their feet and close to the exits at all times. He’d calculated the best possible spot for hiding in plain sight; out of the camera’s way, out of the spill of lights, but with a good, unobstructed view of the cross once they pulled back the curtain tha t concealed it.
Noah had his back to the wall beside a cool marble pillar, his left arm wrapped around Caro’s supple waist. His right hand kept clenching, longin g for a weapon.
Caro leaned back against him and gave him an encouraging smile. He nodded back and gave her waist a squeeze. They’d get through this. S o far, so good.
And the time spent in the amorous count’s secret fuckpad had been v ery, very good.
Stefano Morelli had spotted them the minute they walked in. Not much got past that guy. Noah wondered briefly about Asa’s history with Morelli, then focused in on the speech again. One of the organizers of the economic conference had the mic and was going on about how the unveiling of the cross was a journey from the storied past into a dazzling future of unlimited possibilities for…somet hing something.
After crashing applause, Gianfranco Folti himself came up onto the dais, beaming. He bowed to the crowd and blew them all kisses, applauding back at them. “Ladies and gentlemen, signore e signori, ” he said, in a big, booming voice. “You have been too kind, waiting so patiently for the highlight o f the evening.”
A swell of chattering. Murmurs of appreciation. Scattered applause. A loud, impatient sigh from a heavy-set dude checking his solid gold Rolex. Noah zeroed in on Folti, as much as he could through the shield contacts. He got nothing.
After all he’d read, he was looking forward to seeing this cross for real. He was an amateur sculptor himself, so he could well appreciate the incredible investment of time and artistry that had gone into the legendary object which Orazio had then sheathed with pure gold and set with pearls and gems. He wanted a closer look at those carved roundels that depicted events in the life of Jesus in almost microscopic detail, but they weren’t likely to get one tonight. This p lace was a zoo.
The things h e did for love.
Caro nudged him. Her inquisitive look asked if he’d picked anything up from Folti. Noah shook his head.
“It is my delight to reveal to you, my honored and exclusive guests, this shining gem of artistic passion and religious faith which has at long last been unearthed from the rubb le of history!”
More applause.
“For more than five hundred years it lay hidden, miraculously intact, preserved by divine providence.” Folti’s voice rose dramatically. “But its time has finally come! Ladies and gentlemen, signore e signori , I give you now… the Cross of Oraz io di Coronna!”
The black curta ins swept open.
* * * *
Caro got no warning as the crowd’s collective gasp of admiration went up. The exclamations of awe and the swell of excited chatter suddenly distorted in her ears, as if it were underwater. Her body went ice cold. Her heart thundered, de afeningly loud.
Folti’s eyes were gone. Like they’d been torn out of their bl eeding sockets.
Not real not real just a vision just a stress flashback no t real not real
Grotesquely, Folti’s mouth kept smiling and talking into the mic, but she barely heard what he said over her pounding heart. He was introducing the next speaker, a famous academic. The big screen lit up with an image of the cross as the scholar mounted the dais, embraced Folti and gave him a both-cheeks kiss. She was a tall, skinny woman. Black beaded dress, big , toothy smile.
She was eyeless and drenched with blood, j ust like Folti.
Oh fuck not real not real j ust wait it out
“…the matter? Caro!” Noah’s urgent whisper was in her ear. “What is it? What the hell is wrong with yo u? Talk to me!”
She dragged in some air, trying to relax her const ricting throat.
“Folti. He’s…like Tim.” She forced the words out. “The eyes. Just…giv e me a second.”
Noah’s arms circled her, and he tugged her back against himself. The contact helped. So did closing her eyes and blocking it all out while she repeated her familiar old mantra. Not real not real not real…
Tim had been an old friend of hers. He’d tried to help while Mark was stalking her. Mark had torn out Tim’s eyes before he killed him. She had found hi s body herself.
She gathered up her courage. O pened her eyes.
Her knees went weak with relief. Folti and the scholar had their eyes again. The woman’s low-cut beaded gown was no longer drenched in blood. Her vo ice was normal.
It was over. She was so grateful for Noah’s solid warmth. His strong arm ar ound her waist.
Details of the cross’s carvings appeared on the screen. The scholar tapped a button on the media controls to zoom in on magnified images of the Last Supper and began to talk. Caro’s mind was too scrambled to unders tand any of it.
She looked up at Noah. “It’s over,” she whispered . “I’m OK now.”
“Like hell,” he muttered back.
Caro suddenly realized that he’d deactivated the shield protection on his lenses. His eyes glowed luminous amber. She must have scared him half to death to make him go bare-eyed in a place this public, even for a moment. He looked ten se and worried.
“Shield your eyes,” she murmured. “Rea lly. I’m fine.”
Noah looked down for a second, and when he looked up, his eyes were black again. He put his arm around her. “Babe. Want to leave? Because I do.”
“What?” Her gaze had drifted to the cross before he spoke, and she stared at it, suddenly confused. Blinked. Star ed at it again.
No way.
“Noah,” she whispere d. “The cross.”
“What about it?” His voice was impatient. “Right now, I could give a flying fuck about the cross, Caro. I’m worr ied about you.”
She barely heard him, she was so focused on the spotlit cros s. “It’s dead.”
Noah narrowed his e yes. “Meaning?”
“Inert, I mean. There’s nothing. I feel nothing. No buzz, no hum, no force field like I usually get with an a rt masterwork.”
“Oh.” He pondered that for a moment. “Huh. Looks pretty damn impressive to me, but whatever you say. Getting back to my question, does this mean we can leave now? Because I am d own with that.”
An older lady, dressed in pink and draped in twinkling jewelry, scowled over her shoulder and shush ed them loudly.
Caro pulled Noah closer until his ear was closer to her mouth. “You don’t understand,” she whispered fiercely. “There’s no way that thing is the product of sixteen years of obsessive work and spiri tual devotion.”
“Ah. So…you’re saying that this isn’t O razio’s cross?”
“Right. It’s a fake. An incredibly co nvincing fake.”