Chapter 97
May 17, 2000
Wednesday, 10:52 a.m.
Private Airfield
Rome, Italy
Mario’s eyes were fixated on the row of hangars as the Gulfstream G650ER maneuvered its way towards them. He could make out Dominic’s silhouette standing with an air of readiness beside a sleek black limousine, the vehicle primed to transport them to Rome’s bustling train station. A knot of anxiety twisted in the pit of his stomach, gnawing at his resolve. With Janet’s life hanging in the balance, he’d made the critical decision to orchestrate a face-off between the Vatican assassins and the Templars. If they were hell-bent on pursuing this blood feud, he would play the role of matchmaker, setting the stage for their deadly rendezvous. Amidst the pandemonium, he hoped to find a fleeting opportunity to rescue Janet.
Noticing his cell phone reception was back, he dialed Alistar’s number.
“Where are you?” came Alistar’s dead voice, his tone carrying the slightest trace of impatience. He was seated in the back seat of a Mercedes sedan parked inconspicuously outside Roberto’s residence, awaiting Mario’s arrival. The driver, glancing in the mirror at Alistar, eavesdropped on the conversation. Janet was bound and gagged in the backseat, the assassin looming over her.
“You were right. I lied,” Mario confessed, praying his admission wouldn’t trigger Janet’s execution. “The journal you want is at the Rome train station.”
“Are you fucking with me, Father?”
“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.
