May 12, 2000
Friday, 6:47 a.m.
Naples, Florida
Mario awoke, ensnared in the luxurious expanse of Janet’s king-size bed. Was he still dreaming? His hand roamed his bare midsection, confirming the absence of any clothing. Daring to delve beneath the covers, his fingers mapped the terrain of Janet’s equally bare form, his touch lingering on her hips. His head pounded, his mind a foggy maze as he tried to piece together the events of the previous night. The memory of their intimate encounter slowly seeped back into his consciousness.
“Good morning,” Janet whispered, her voice laced with a smile as she felt Mario’s hand tenderly tracing her midsection.
“Good morning,” he echoed, his hand retracting swiftly. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air. This was foreign territory he felt unprepared to navigate. He was a stranger in this intimate landscape.
Janet, sensing his discomfort, sought to dispel the tension. “I really like you. Last night . . . it was special.”
Mario’s smile was hesitant as he absorbed her words. The intimacy of the previous night . . . it had certainly been a new experience, a radical departure from his usual solitary existence. He had never been in a relationship, let alone shared such intimacy. This was Roberto’s domain. Yet, he had crossed that boundary, surrendered to the allure of this captivating woman. “I think you are bella. Beautiful.”
“ . . . But?” Janet’s voice was laced with apprehension as she studied Mario, bracing herself for the inevitable rejection.
“But?” Mario echoed, taken aback.
“But I’m not your type, or you’re not looking for a serious relationship, or . . .” Janet’s voice trailed off, her mind replaying the litany of excuses she’d heard in the past when a man wasn’t interested.
“No, no. No ‘but’,” he hastily corrected, his words tumbling out in a rush. “I have . . . something to do.”
She fell silent, her mind racing, trying to decipher his words. She feared she’d made a grave mistake in surrendering to this exotic stranger.
“I share with you?” he asked, a newfound trust in Janet blossoming after their intimate encounter.
“Absolutely. Please do.”
“I am trouble. No, in trouble. Dangerous people in Rome.”
Janet’s mind raced, conjuring wild images of Mario being pursued through the exotic streets of Rome, bullets slicing the air around him. Little did she know how close to the truth her imagination was.
“I came to America be safe. Hide from bad people want me dead,” Mario confessed, his voice laced with a bitter envy for those who lived without such threats.
Janet remained silent, allowing him the space to unravel his story.
“I look for person hiding too.”
“Who is this person?” Janet asked, a pang of jealousy gnawing at her. An old flame? A past indiscretion?
“Trevor Muldoon.”
“The renowned author? What, he’s in hiding too? You can’t be serious.”
Mario caught the skepticism flickering in Janet’s eyes. He himself was still grappling with the reality of the tumultuous events that had turned his life upside down. Mere months ago, he’d been happily engrossed in scanning documents at the Vatican Secret Archives, a job he cherished. His best friend was alive, sharing in his triumphs. Now, he was under the protection of the Templars in the United States, his best friend brutally snatched away by the very institution he had pledged his life to. He was in hiding and feared for his life. It all felt too surreal.
“Scusi. I say too much,” he said, abruptly clamming up. He chose to follow Roberto’s methods; he only wished to savor this moment with Janet, pushing aside thoughts of the Vatican and the Muldoons.
“Are you in danger?”
“I say too much.”
She propped herself up, clutching the sheets over her bare breasts. Her curiosity was piqued, her heart pounding with the thrill of the unknown. How could this kind, enigmatic Italian man be such a danger that people wanted him dead? She was captivated, oblivious to the potential peril she was inviting into her life. She urged Mario to continue his tale.
He studied Janet, torn between his desire to protect her and his need to share his burden. He had seen the deadly consequences of his involvement before. But he was under the protection of the Templars, hidden away from the Church. How could they possibly find him?
“I found pope journal. He wrote bad things of World War II. Pope was dominante Hitler.”
"Dominante?"
“Scusi. Controllo?”
“Controlling?”
“Sì. Controlling. Pope controlling Hitler in war.”
Janet’s eyes widened in shock. “I’ve always heard it was Hitler who controlled the pope. You’re saying it was the other way around?”
“Sì. Pope control Hitler to become Führer.”
“All of this was in a journal you found?”
“Sì.”
“And where is this journal now?”
“Rome.”
