Rachel braked, arm already out the window, waving her Carabinieri identification. She yelled. “Lieutenant Rachel Verona! With Monsignor Verona! We have an emergency!”
They were waved forward, but one of the guards kept his rifle at his shoulder, pointed at Rachel’s face.
Her uncle quickly showed his own Vatican papers. “We must reach Cardinal Spera.”
A flashlight searched the car, passing over the other occupants. Luckily all their weapons were hidden from direct view. It was no time for questions.
“I vouch for them,” Vigor said sternly. “As will Cardinal Spera.”
The van was directed out of the way, clearing the path into the Vatican grounds.
Vigor still leaned his head out the window. “Has word reached you here? Of a possible attack?”
The guard’s eyes widened. He shook his head. “No, Monsignor.”
Rachel glanced to Gray. Oh no… As they had feared, in all the confusion surrounding the memorial service, word was traveling too slowly up the chains of command. The Church was not known for its swift response…to change or emergency.
“Do not let anyone else through here,” Vigor ordered. “Lock this entry down.”
The guardsman responded to the command in the monsignor’s voice and nodded.
Vigor settled back into the car and pointed. “Take the first road after the depot.”
Rachel did not have to be told to hurry. She raced through a small parking lot that fronted the quaint two-story depot and took the first right. She crossed in front of the Mosaic Studio, the Vatican’s only industry, then tore between the Tribunal Palace and the Palazzo San Carlo. Here the buildings grew denser as the dome of St. Peter’s filled the world ahead of them.
“Park at the Hospice of Santa Marta,” her uncle ordered.
Rachel ran her car up to the curb. The Sacristy of St. Peter rose on her left, connected to the giant basilica. The papal hospice was on her right. A covered walkway joined the sacristy to the hospice. Rachel cut her engine. They would have to continue from here on foot.
Their destination—the entrance to the Scavi—lay on the other side of the sacristy.
As they climbed out, muffled singing reached them. The Pontifical Choir singing “Ave Maria.” The Mass was under way.
“Follow me,” Uncle Vigor said.
He led the way through the covered archway to the open yard on the far side. The grounds were oddly deserted. All attention and focus of the Vatican had turned inward on itself, to the basilica, to the pope. Rachel had witnessed this before. Great services, like this special memorial, could empty the entire city-state, leaving few about.
On the far side of the sacristy, a low sonorous noise joined the choral singing. It came from ahead of them, through the Arch of Bells that led out to St. Peter’s Square. It was the murmur of a thousand voices, rising from the crowd gathered out in the piazza. Through the arch’s narrow gateway, Rachel caught a glimpse of candles glowing among the dark throng.
“Over here,” Vigor said, pulling free a large ring of keys. He led them to a nondescript door at the edge of the tiny yard. Solid steel. “This leads down to the Scavi.”
“No guards,” Gray noted.
The only security was a pair of Swiss Guards posted by the Arch of Bells. They were armed with rifles as they studied the crowd. They didn’t even glance back toward the newcomers.
“At least it’s locked,” Vigor said. “Maybe we’ve beat them here after all.”
“We can’t count on that,” Gray warned. “We know they have contacts inside the Vatican. They may have keys.”
“Only a few people have these keys. As head of the Pontifical Institute of Archaeology, I have a set.” He turned to Rachel and held out two other keys. “These open the lower door…and the tomb site of Saint Peter.”
Rachel refused to take them. “What—?”
“You know the lay of the Scavi better than anyone. I must reach Cardinal Spera. The pope must be removed from harm’s way, and the basilica emptied without creating panic.” He touched his clerical collar. “There’s no one else who can get there fast enough.”
Rachel nodded and took the keys. It would take someone of her uncle’s stature to quickly gain audience to the cardinal, especially during such an important mass. It was probably why the alarm had yet to be raised. Roadblocks of procedure. Even General Rende did not have jurisdiction upon Vatican soil.
Vigor gave Gray a sharp stare before turning away. Rachel interpreted it. Watch after my niece.
Rachel closed her fingers over the keys. At least her uncle was not trying to send her away. He recognized the danger. Thousands of lives hung in the balance.
Her uncle turned and headed for the sacristy’s main door. It was the fastest way to reach the heart of the basilica.
Gray turned to the group and had them all don their radios, even securing an extra for her, taping the microphone to her throat himself and showing her how the barest whisper could be heard. Subvocalizing was the word he used. It was eerie, so quiet yet perfectly understandable.
She practiced as Monk cracked the door open. The way down to the basement was dark.
“There’s a light switch just inside,” she whispered, surprised at the loudness of the audible pickup on the microphone.
“We go in dark,” Gray said.
Monk and Kat nodded. They pulled goggles over their eyes. Gray handed Rachel a pair. Night-vision. She was familiar enough with them from her military training. She donned them. The world brightened into shades of green and silver.
Gray led the way; she followed with Kat. Monk silently closed the door behind him. The way became dark, even with the scopes. Night vision required some light. Gray clicked on a handheld flashlight. It flared bright in the gloom. He secured it below his pistol.
Rachel tilted up her goggles. The way ahead went pitch dark again. Gray’s flashlight must be emitting ultraviolet light, visible only through the scopes.
She reseated her goggles.
The otherworldly light illuminated an anteroom at this level. A few displays and models dotted the space, used in tours. One was a model of Constantine’s first church, built on the site here in 324 B.C. The other was a model of an aedicula, a burial shrine shaped like a tiny two-level temple. It was such a temple that had marked Saint Peter’s gravesite. According to historians, Constantine had constructed a cube made out of marble and porphyry, a rare stone imported from Egypt. He encased the aedicula shrine and built his original church around it.