“No, I swear. It’s the truth. The locker is near the bathrooms. Locker number 629. I’ll be there at noon, I swear.”

“If not, your girlfriend dies.”

“I’ll be there. I promise.”

The Gulfstream came to a halt in front of the limousine parked in front of the Templar’s private hangar. Mario stood at the door, waiting for the aircraft’s staircase to extend. As he descended the steps of the luxury jet, Dominic approached him. “What’s going on, Mario?”

“I met someone in the U.S. and I just want to be done with the Vatican.”

“Why didn’t you confide in me earlier?”

“I wasn’t sure if I could trust you, given everything I’ve been through. Try to see it from my perspective.”

“We risked our lives to save yours. Even lost one of our own. How can you question our trust?”

“I realize that now. That’s why I want to entrust the journal to you. I know you’ll do what is right.”

“You said it’s at the train station?”

“Yes. Can we go there now so I can give it to you?” Mario was acutely aware the clock was ticking. He had forty-five minutes to reach the train station, or else Janet would be killed. If they could get there ahead of the assassins, they might have a chance at outmaneuvering them. He was no strategist—all he could do was improvise a plan with one goal in mind: save Janet’s life.

“Get in. I want to hear more about this journal.”

As they journeyed towards the Rome train station, Mario began to tell the Templar about the secrets he’d unearthed inside Pope Pius XII’s private journal. Dominic, his attention riveted, listened intently as Mario painted a vivid picture of Eugenio Pacelli’s ascension to the papacy, all the while puppeteering Hitler and the Nazis from behind the scenes. While Dominic was no stranger to much of this information, the existence of physical evidence—confirmation in the form of an actual journal penned by Eugenio Pacelli, Pope Pius XII himself—cast a damning shadow over the Vatican and its public image. It was the ultimate leverage, perhaps capable of ending this centuries-long shadow war once and for all.

Upon arriving at the train station, Mario’s eyes darted about, scanning for any telltale black suits worn by Vatican assassins. As he stepped out of the limousine, Dominic followed suit. Their bodyguard swiftly exited the front seat of the vehicle to guard Dominic’s flank. A black Lincoln Town Car tailing the limousine disgorged two more Templars, who fell into step with the others. This was standard protocol when Dominic made public appearances—a three-man protection team always at his side.

As the trio of bodyguards plus Dominic escorted Mario into the bustling building, a surge of confidence washed over him. He was certain the combined might of four trained Templars could overpower even the deadly Vatican assassins.

As they navigated through the throng of people inside the busy train station, Mario made his way towards the bank of lockers situated near the train-platform doors. Amidst the sea of faces, his eyes locked onto Janet’s—he saw her gaze darting around anxiously amidst the crowd. Her back was to the locker containing the journal. He turned towards Dominic, his voice barely above a whisper. “I see a Vatican assassin waiting for us.”

Dominic, without missing a beat, signaled for two Templars to encircle the locker and establish a secure perimeter. “Mario, retrieve the journal. We’ll cover you.”

As Mario approached the locker, he found Alistar standing guard, flanked by an assassin gripping Janet’s forearm tightly.

“I’m surprised you showed up,” Alistar taunted, his gaze sweeping over Mario with blatant contempt. “I half-expected you to remain the same spineless boy you were back at the orphanage, willing to throw your beloved under the bus to save your own skin.”

Mario struggled to suppress his astonishment at the sudden revelation of his childhood tormentor. How could a place as esteemed as their orphanage churn out such a malevolent assassin as Alistar? He disregarded the stinging remark about their shared history, focusing instead on his mission to liberate Janet and himself. He was no longer the vulnerable child that Alistar had once tormented on the playground of Santa Maria Orphanage. “Are you interested in the journal or not?” he retorted, his voice trembling.

With a dismissive wave of his hand, Alistar gestured towards the locker. The other assassin, his hand clamped around Janet’s arm, moved her out of the way with a bone-chilling force, his grip unyielding.

“Ow. You’re hurting me.”

Mario’s eyes darted towards Janet, a swift, silent exchange that held a silent promise of rescue. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins like a raging torrent, pushing him to the brink of his physical limits. He knew he had to rely on his cunning and quick thinking to outsmart these seasoned killers. It was a dangerous game of survival he was playing, a deadly dance where one misstep could mean the end. Either they would escape this lethal trap together, or they would both perish in his insane attempt to defy these professional assassins.

Turning towards the locker, Mario’s fingers delicately manipulated the dial, each turn swishing in the tense silence until the pointer finally settled on the last number. With a swift upwards tug, the locker door swung open, revealing the journal cleverly hidden within the disemboweled Bible. Mario removed the disguised journal, the Pandora’s box that had upended his life since its discovery.

Without warning, Alistar’s hand darted out, snatching the book from Mario’s grasp with the precision of a striking snake. The journal, not anchored to a spine, slipped from the Bible cover and tumbled to the cold, hard ground.

“Pick it up,” Alistar commanded, his voice cold as ice.

As Mario bent down to retrieve the fallen journal, he found his eyes was opportunely level to Alistar’s privates. A surge of adrenaline, potent and electrifying, coursed through every muscle in his body. Seizing the moment, he gripped the book in a viselike hold and swung it with all the force he could muster, striking Alistar’s groin. The assassin doubled over, his face contorted in agony from the unexpected brutal blow. Using the momentary chaos to his advantage, Mario shoved Alistar backwards into the other assassin, knocking him off balance, causing him to lose his grip on Janet. Without wasting a second, Mario seized her hand and pulled her towards the train station platform.

“GO!” Dominic’s voice thundered through the bustling train station.

The two Templars at the far end sprang into action, guns drawn and ready. Hearing Dominic’s shout, the assassin that had been holding Janet swiftly pulled out his silenced weapon and fired. The first bullet found its mark in the forehead of the first charging Templar. The second went astray, hitting an innocent bystander in the back of the head, inciting screams of terror that rippled through the crowd.

The second Templar, narrowly avoiding the stray bullet, retaliated with deadly precision, killing the offending assassin with a single shot. His lifeless body crumpled to the ground, landing at the feet of a bent-over, wincing Alistar.

Pandemonium broke out—the crowd was scattering in all directions. Dominic’s bodyguard, undeterred by what was happening, forged a path for Dominic, shoving the panicked crowd aside to close distance on Alistar.

Wincing in agony as he propped himself up against the locker, Alistar locked his sights on the second Templar, who was barreling towards him. With a swift, practiced motion, he yanked his silenced 9mm from its holster, steadied his aim, and squeezed the trigger. The bullet whistled through the air, finding a home in the Templar’s chest, killing him instantly.

But the Vatican assassin didn’t have eyes in the back of his head.

Dominic, with his imposing bodyguard working the crowd, drew close to Alistar, stopping just a few feet behind the assassin. “Checkmate,” he declared with grim satisfaction. Yet the assassin didn’t react.

Instead, Alistar’s gaze slowly drifted upwards, drawn magnetically to a TV monitor mounted on the wall, its flickering display drawing his attention. The monitor was broadcasting the local news, its sound muted, but the images it displayed were deafening in their horror. The once majestic Trinity Bank was now nothing more than a smoldering crater, a grotesque testament to the destructive power of his associates. The horrifying images filled the large screen, painting a grim picture of devastation and chaos. A sinister smirk slowly spread across his face.

Dominic’s eyes followed Alistar’s line of sight and landed on the chilling scene displayed on the monitor. He read the caption scrolling across the bottom of the screen, a cold dread settling in his stomach: The Trinity Bank of Italy in Rome has been obliterated by an apparent gas leak that reduced the entire structure to rubble within minutes. We are awaiting confirmation on casualties. . . .

Alistar, his right arm draped across his midsection, aimed his silenced gun behind him and pulled the trigger in rapid succession. The bullets tore through Dominic and his bodyguard, the hollow points leaving gaping, bloody wounds. Both Templars collapsing to the ground, their lifeblood pooling on the train station floor.

Alistar, his gun now empty, holstered his weapon and straightened up, wincing at the throbbing pain in his groin. He limped away from the carnage, making his way toward the train platform. As a nearby train sounded its slow departure, he continued to hobble along until he was out of the train station, leaving behind the havoc he’d wrought.

Chapter 98

May 17, 2000

Wednesday, 12:09 p.m.

Rome, Italy

Mario yanked Janet away from the escalating chaos. Weaving through the panicked crowd, they made their way onto the train platform and boarded the closest train. They practically hurtled into the first two empty seats they could find. Glancing out the window while keeping his head low, Mario saw no signs of pursuit amidst the chaos. The platform was a scene of pandemonium—a sea of terrified faces, people huddling behind walls or trash bins out of fear another hail of bullets would come.

“We are safe,” Mario reassured Janet, his eyes unable to look away from the scene outside the window. It appeared they had truly evaded their pursuers. Their breaths ran ragged, lungs burning from the adrenaline-fueled sprint to the train.

“Who were those people?” Janet breathed heavily, her voice shaky.

Mario glanced down at her bound hands. He quickly removed his coat to conceal the ropes and avoid drawing unwanted attention. “Mi scusi. Sorry. Sorry. I no want you involved. Vatican assassin found me. He take you.”

“The Vatican has assassins?” Janet asked, her eyes wide with fear and disbelief.

“Sì. I told you. Bad people,” Mario replied, his voice heavy with regret.

She listened intently as Mario continued to explain the dangerous world he was unwillingly a part of.

“Vatican assassin is bad person,” he reiterated.