“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
Sunday, 5:41 a.m.
Switzerland
Mario found himself perched in his seat at the antique writing desk nestled in the corner of their clandestine hotel room. They had registered under an assumed identity paying cash, a necessary precaution to elude the ever-watchful eyes of the Vatican. The room, dimly lit by a single lamp, cast long shadows that danced along the walls, mirroring the turmoil in Mario’s heart.
Involving Janet in his life of perpetual evasion from the Vatican was a decision haunting him every waking moment. Now, he found himself on the edge of a desperate plea—a plea to the pope himself, begging for liberation from the relentless shadow of death that ceaselessly pursued them. He yearned for a life untethered from the Vatican and its intricate labyrinth of deceit.
In a moment of profound humility and desperation, Mario reached for the ornate pen that lay dormant on the desk, ready to inscribe the deepest fears and hopes etched in his heart. The cool metal, a stark contrast to his feverish hand, offered a strange sense of reassurance as he began to craft the meticulously worded letter. It was a plea for their lives, a desperate cry for freedom:
21 May 2000
Your Holiness, Pope John Paul II,
I hope this letter finds you in good health and high spirits.
I am writing to you about a matter of utmost urgency. It is important enough to require your immediate attention.
With a heavy heart, I must confess to a transgression I committed during my recent honored position in the Vatican Secret Archives. I am deeply ashamed to admit that I succumbed to a moment of weakness and removed a journal not belonging to me. The journal, a beautiful artifact, had been hidden in the Archives, and I was captivated by its historical significance and beauty. However, I now realize the gravity of my actions and the disrespect I have shown towards you and the sanctity of the Vatican Secret Archives.
