In the distance, he could hear the unmistakable revving of a dirt-bike engine. He glanced at his Tag Heuer watch, knowing the radical terrorist he’d hired was always punctual when there was enough money on the line. Even this ruthless individual would take time out of his busy terrorist schedule for a job like this, once he smelled the Euros waved in front of his greedy face.
The roar of the dirt bike echoed through the narrow alley, sending vendors and locals scrambling for cover. They knew all too well the sound of motorcycles precluded a hit on someone’s kill list. It could come from orders given by President Mugabe, the militia, or any number of uprisings in the volatile country.
Alistar watched as the vendors did nothing to help the nun. He couldn’t help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction as he watched the vendors ignore his target. Their inaction toward Sister Carlotta meant his plan was working perfectly.
The chaos paralyzed Sister Carlotta with fear, leaving her vulnerable and exposed. She stood frozen in the crosshairs of Alistar’s high-powered rifle, her life hanging by a thread.
The terrorist roared into the plaza on his dirt bike wielding an Uzi, unleashing a hail of bullets into the air above the market stalls. The clay walls behind the tents splintered, raining down debris on the panicking crowd. The screams of innocent bystanders mingled with the deafening sound of gunfire and the revving of the motorcycle.
In the midst of the chaos, Alistar’s scope focused on the nun’s temple. The single gunshot he needed to complete his assignment would go undetected amidst the cacophony of noise. With the silencer securely screwed onto the end of the rifle, his shot’s origin would remain imperceptible to the world, just like the countless secrets hidden within the Vatican’s walls.
As the motorcyclist passed, Sister Carlotta’s temple remained centered in the assassin’s crosshairs. With a steady hand and a heart filled with cold determination, he pulled the trigger. The world fell silent around him.
The bullet soared through the air, destined to fulfill its deadly purpose.
Chapter 6
March 4, 2000
Saturday, 6:04 p.m.
Rome, Italy
“Lasagna again? What’s the special occasion?” Mario full of curiosity entering the kitchen.
“Don’t get excited, it’s leftovers,” Roberto replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Mario raised an eyebrow. “Should I even ask who you had over to leave behind this rare treat?”
“How about I just tell you she was blonde. You know I have a thing for blondes,” Roberto chuckled, keeping his answer short in respect for Mario’s occupation.
Mario sighed, shaking his head. “Will you ever change your ways and settle down with a good Christian girl?”
“Not anytime in the foreseeable future, Father.”
Mario’s tone turned serious. “I’m just looking out for your well-being, you know.”
“Hey, you get up on your priestly soapbox and I bring you back down to reality. Let’s change topics, shall we?”
With a deliberate pivot, he turned away from Mario to check on the lasagna, signaling he was done discussing his love life.
After enduring the tension hanging in the air, Roberto finally broke the silence. “Ya know,” he began still hunched over facing the oven window, “if I were blessed with your striking good looks, I wouldn’t have to shell out so much money looking for this elusive soul mate,” he chuckled at his light-hearted jest.
Mario retorted with a playful grin, “Well, it’s a good thing you’re not short on cash then, isn’t it?” His response, a cleverly crafted joke, was a welcome relief, effectively diffusing the tension.
“What’s the latest on the scanning project?” Roberto’s focus consumed by the simmering lasagna.
Mario’s countenance transformed, his eyes sparkling with infectious enthusiasm. “You wouldn’t believe the discovery that occurred this week.”
Roberto’s curiosity piqued, he straightened and swiveled to lean against the cool Carrara marble of the kitchen island. “Tell me.”
Mario, eager to recount his tale, drew near and pulled out a barstool to sit. “I scanned a significant piece of history involving the Knights Templar. The Chinon Parchment,” he said, his voice filled with awe. “The thing was misfiled over three centuries ago. It was just unearthed this week. Finding it was monumental.”
Roberto’s eyes widened in astonishment. “The Knights Templar? That’s amazing.”
Mario nodded, his excitement evident. “It took me all week to scan it.”
Roberto leaned in, his curiosity growing. “What’s on it?”
Mario’s voice grew serious, as if sharing a secret. “Pope Clement V’s words. He absolved the Knights Templar of heresy back in 1308.”
The room fell silent for a moment as the weight of the revelation sank in. The two friends exchanged a knowing look, appreciating the significance of the document.
“The Templars got screwed over by King Philip ‘the Fair’ with those false accusations,” Roberto intoned, holding up air quotes to make clear his opinion about the king of France.
“But this parchment absolves them of those charges.”
Roberto’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Did you know that’s where Friday the Thirteenth comes from?”
Mario leaned in, eager to hear the story.
“The King of France was jealous of the Templars’ wealth and power,” Roberto began, his voice filled with intrigue. “On the morning of Friday, October 13, 1307, he had over six hundred Templars arrested. They were charged with heresy, devil worship, and even spitting on the cross.”
Mario’s eyes widened upon hearing this news.
“But that’s not all,” Roberto continued, his voice dropping. “The King had them brutally tortured until they confessed to things that weren’t true. Their bodies were stretched on racks, their limbs dislocated. Some even had their feet dipped in oil and set on fire.”
Mario’s face twisted in disgust. “That’s like something out of a horror movie.”
Roberto nodded solemnly. “You know what’s even more fascinating? The Templars smuggled out all their treasure before the King could confiscate it. You know what that treasure was?”
Mario nodded side to side, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.
“They had King Solomon’s treasure,” Roberto revealed, his voice filled with awe.
Mario’s jaw dropped. “You mean, the Ark of the Covenant? The Ten Commandments? The Holy Grail?”
Roberto nodded, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “That’s right. The Templars had it all.”
Mario’s face scrunched in disbelief, but a part of him couldn’t help but wonder if there was some truth to the rumors. “Roberto, your endless pursuit of knowledge is incredible.”
“Boy, what I wouldn’t give to have a look at that treasure.” Roberto’s gaze drifted away, picturing the invaluable cache of Solomon’s riches.
“You’ve done pretty well for yourself.”
“True, I’ve done well enough.” His eyes swept across his opulent abode. “And you too. Remember the safety net I’ve arranged for us?” He was referring to the special Swiss account he’d set up, a safeguard against any unforeseen circumstances that might befall them. Roberto was a man of caution, always prepared for the worst. This hidden fortune—a cool ten million stashed away in a Swiss bank—was his insurance policy in case anything went terribly wrong.
“I appreciate it, but I have faith in my future. The Church will provide for me when I retire.”
