“Yeah, I got that,” Janet replied, her voice laced with newfound respect for the peril they had just evaded.

Mario’s eyes continued to dart across the chaotic scene, struggling to believe they were out of danger. The crowd was a tumultuous sea of bodies, each person a wave crashing against the next in a desperate, frenzied scramble onto the safety of the platform.

Every single soul, gripped by a primal fear, sought refuge from the escalating chaos that had taken over the main terminal. They sought shelter behind anything they could find - garbage cans that reeked of decay, cold, hard benches that offered little comfort, outdated phone booths that echoed with the frantic calls of yesteryears, and even the smallest alcoves that offered a sliver of protection.

Mario’s gaze swept across the scene, his heart pounding in his chest like a desperate SOS signal being tapped out in Morse code. The rhythm was frantic, a relentless drumming that echoed the terror coursing through his veins. Yet, amidst the pandemonium, he saw no sign of the deadly assassins or the Templars. Their absence, rather than providing relief, only served to heighten the sense of impending doom looming in the air like a thick, suffocating fog that threatened to choke the very life out of him.

His gaze was drawn to a TV monitor mounted on the wall broadcasting images of Trinity Bank, now a smoldering ruin. Realization hit him like a punch to the gut—the Vatican assassins had obliterated the Templar satellite operation. The sight of the bank’s destruction was a stark reminder that he was now utterly alone. The sanctuary he and Janet could have sought refuge in was no more.

Janet’s eyes followed his gaze to the TV monitor. “What’s that about? Another terrorist attack?”

“They hide me,” Mario confessed, his mind filled with images of the workers who had cared for him during his time there. His heart ached with the knowledge they were all likely dead.

The train jolted into motion, a welcome sign they were moments away from escaping the chaos in the station. In a matter of seconds, they would be whisked away to safety. “Come, let’s find better seat.” He gently guided Janet down the aisle, his hand firm on her arm.

They found solace in an empty cabin near the front of the train. Its automatic door closed behind them with a reassuring thud. He carefully removed the jacket that had been concealing her bound hands and, kneeling before her, began the delicate task of loosening the ropes. Janet watched, her eyes wide, as he worked to free her. She studied him, sensing a kindness that seemed out of place in their current predicament. How had he become entangled in such a dangerous web?

“What happens now?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He paused in his task to look up at her. “We disappear,” he said, his voice heavy with the weight of their new reality. His next word hung in the air like a specter. “Forever.”

Janet’s gaze locked onto his upon hearing the finality of that word.

“Vatican never stop looking. We know much. How do I explain?” Mario’s voice was filled with a mix of frustration and resignation.

Janet glanced up at the cabin’s digital display; their destination glowed bright on the panel. “It looks like we’re headed to Milan. We’ve got time. Start at the beginning.”

For the next hour, Mario delved into the intricate tale of Eugenio Pacelli’s journal, detailing how the man and his backers the Black Nobility puppeteered Hitler into his infamous role as the Führer of the Third Reich and the Nazi Party. He recounted the chilling story of the Vatican assassins who orchestrated the death of Pope Pius XI, paving the way for Pacelli to ascend as Pope Pius XII. He laid bare the harrowing details of his own pursuit by a Vatican assassin in Rome two months ago, his uncanny replacement by doppelgänger, and him taking refuge in the Templar bank.

“That was the bank we saw ablaze on the news,” Janet interjected, the image from the local news broadcast seared into her memory.

“Sì. I read at bank Trevor Muldoon is pope son,” Mario confirmed.

“Wait. The pope had a son?” Janet asked, incredulous.

“Pacelli is Pope Pius XII. Pope have sex with Trevor mother.”

“So, the Vatican is hell-bent on eliminating anyone who could potentially expose their dark secrets. Is that the gist of it?” Janet asked, piecing together the puzzle.

“Sì. Now you too,” Mario said with a heavy heart.

“Over my dead body! They’re not getting away with this,” Janet declared defiantly, her mind already a whirlwind of strategies to counterstrike against the Vatican. The idea of a life spent in perpetual hiding was far from enticing, even if she shared it with a captivating Italian man like Mario.

He observed Janet, her eyes glazed with determination, her mind deep in thought crafting a plan to retaliate against the Vatican. The thought of turning against the institution that had been his sanctuary his entire life had never crossed his mind. How did one betray the hand that once fed him?

“It’s a pity you don’t have that journal. Then we could prove to the world the pope controlled Hitler,” Janet pondered aloud.

“I do.”

“You do what?”

“I have journal.”

“Where?”

“Right here,” Mario revealed, extracting the journal from within his jacket and resting it on the worn-out bench seat next to Janet.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “We are going to tell the world about this shit. They’ll never know what hit ’em. Bastards!”

“No!”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“No. They kill us. They kill you,” Mario confessed, his voice shaking as he dropped his head into his hands, the weight of defeat crushing his shoulders. “They kill Roberto. Kill Hannah. Trevor. Templars. Everyone.”

Janet’s gaze bore into him, her mind a tempest of bewilderment. They had an obligation to expose the Vatican and its intricate web of deceit. How could Mario say no?

“I return it.”

“What?” Janet’s eyes went even wider with astonishment.

“I no lose you.” Tears cascaded down Mario’s cheeks and splashed onto the cold, hard floor. The enormity of his loss engulfed Mario. He crumpled into her lap crying uncontrollably, his sobs echoing through the empty cabin.

She tenderly rested her hand on his head, offering a soothing touch. A surge of empathy washed over her for the torment this man had suffered. She was reluctant to pressure him, but a life of constant evasion and living in the shadows was not the future she had envisioned for herself.

“I return book. Be done.”

Janet pondered their future, a life of ceaseless flight from Vatican assassins. After a long, heavy silence, she finally mustered the strength to say, “Okay.”

Mario remained nestled in her lap, his tears flowing freely as he thought of all the death and destruction that had plagued his life. His recklessness had ensnared this woman in a perilous situation. How was he going to protect her? What would their life look like from now on? Where would they go?

A memory of Roberto’s contingency plan surfaced, one last whisper from his dearly departed friend. Mario blinked and nodded his head.

“We go to Switzerland.”

“Why?”

He lifted his tear-streaked face to meet Janet’s eyes. “My friend leave money.”

“How much?”

“Ten million.”

“Are you serious? Let’s go get it, then.” Her eyes sparkled with excitement at this unexpected turn of events.

Chapter 99

May 21, 2000