“We gave her a new identity. Anna Muldoon. Her son went by Trevor Muldoon. They’ve been living comfortably ever since.” Dominic’s voice held a note of pride, a testament to the Templar protection program’s success in saving extermination camp escapees like Hannah.
“Smart move, keeping the names similar. Hannah to Anna.”
“Well, we didn’t want to disrupt her life any more than necessary. The similar names ensured she wouldn’t be discovered if someone accidentally called her by her real name.”
“Clever,” Mario mused, his mind racing with thoughts regarding his own fate. “Will I be relocated to America too?”
“Yes. As soon as you’re ready, we’ll give you a new identity and relocate you to the United States.”
“I’d like to delve deeper into your archives, if that’s okay?” Mario was eager to absorb the wealth of knowledge hidden from the world.
“Take all the time you need.”
“I assume once I leave, I won’t have access to this information again?”
“That’s correct, my friend. For the safety of the Templars and any future Vatican victims, we can’t allow you to return.”
“I understand,” Mario nodded, his gaze sweeping over the endless shelves of historical records. Turning back to Dominic, he said, “I apologize for my earlier words. I’m truly grateful for everything you’ve done for me. You saved my life. Thank you.”
The Templar clasped his hands over his heart and bowed, touched by Mario’s gratitude. “It has been our pleasure, Mario Marino.” With that, he left the priest to his studies inside the Templar archives.
Chapter 83
May 7, 2000
Sunday, 11:55 a.m.
Templar Satellite’s Cellars
Mario cast a final lingering glance around the room that had been his sanctuary, safeguarding him the Vatican’s reach for the past two months. He couldn’t help but wonder how many more souls would seek refuge in this very room fleeing from the Vatican’s wrath.
A knock on the door startled him. Dominic’s low voice greeted him from the other side, and Mario rose to let him in. “Are you ready to depart?”
“Yes,” Mario replied, his voice steady. “I was just making sure I haven’t left anything behind. I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done.”
“The honor is ours. As Templars, it’s our sworn duty to shield the oppressed.”
Mario took one last look around, acutely aware that this was a pivotal moment in his life. Once he stepped out of this sanctuary, he would be exposed to the world and the lurking threat of the Vatican’s assassins. He was no longer a priest shielded by the Catholic Church. What would life as a civilian hold for him?
With a deep breath, he turned towards the door and followed Dominic down the corridor to a hidden stairwell. They ascended, leaving the safety of the underground behind. The Templars never risked using the bank vault elevator for departures, instead always opting for the secret stairwell exit. After a strenuous climb up five flights of stairs, they emerged through a concealed door set inside a brick wall onto a quiet street. A car was waiting there, ready to whisk him away to a private jet bound for America.
The sunlight was blinding. “How long has it been since I’ve seen the sun?” Mario mused aloud.
“There are times when I don’t see the sun for weeks,” Dominic replied with a slight chuckle.
The Templar chauffeur took Mario’s luggage and stowed it in the trunk of the Fiat 500 hatchback. Dominic extended his hand. “Mario Marino, it’s been an honor. If you ever need anything, here’s my card. You can reach me directly.”
Mario accepted the card, scanning it quickly before shaking the Templar’s hand. “Thank you, Dominic.”
With a nod, the driver started the car and pulled away from the secret entrance. Mario settled into the front seat as the Fiat cruised through the cityscape.
Forty minutes later, he was boarding a Gulfstream G650ER. The unassuming Templar private jet was set to refuel in Portugal before heading to Tennessee where a safe house awaited him. Given Mario’s past as a Vatican priest, Dominic had chosen Tennessee due to its low Catholic population. Their absence would provide a safe haven for the former priest to live out his days, far from the reach of the Catholic network.
Chapter 84
May 8, 2000
Monday, 8:55 a.m.
Milan, Tennessee
14 hours later
The Templar chauffeur hauled Mario’s single suitcase up to the doorstep of his quaint new cottage nestled in the heart of Milan, Tennessee. Its name, a nod to the renowned Italian city, would be a small comfort as Mario settled into his new life. Dominic hadn’t been joking—this small town held the honor of having the lowest Catholic membership out of any town in the entire United States.
“Your key, Marco.” The driver handed over the house key, addressing Mario by his new alias.
“Um,” Mario hesitated, adjusting to his new identity, “thank you.”
The driver returned to his car and Mario watched the Lincoln Town Car drive away until it faded into the distance. He inhaled deeply, turned the key in the lock, and stepped into the desolation of his new existence. He placed his luggage in the kitchen, emptied his pockets onto the counter, and took a moment to absorb the reality of his new dwelling, a modest gift from Dominic. The Templars, with their vast real estate empire, had countless hideouts like this one in their portfolio that they could fold into their protection program. Dominic had also arranged a bank account for Mario, providing a monthly allowance for his basic survival.
His gaze fell upon his passport, scrutinizing his new identity. Marco Antonio. A mere one-letter difference in first name. “They didn’t want to disrupt my life too much, I suppose,” he muttered at his new ID.
The silence in the unfamiliar house was suffocating. Mario was alone, stripped of the protection of the Catholic Church, the Templar underground, his closest friend. He was truly isolated. Roberto, his lifelong companion, was gone, claimed by a Vatican assassin. The void was unbearable.
“Goddamnit!” he screamed, slamming his fist onto the counter in a rare explosion of raw fury. He had never taken the Lord’s name in vain before. “Why?” His voice reverberated through the vacant kitchen as he collapsed onto the countertop, his body wracked with heart-wrenching sobs.
He was utterly alone. No Roberto. No refuge in the Catholic Church. No priests. No evil Mother Superior. No Templars. Just him, alone in his desolation.
