Something Dark (A Lauren Lamb FBI Thriller—Book Four), page 2
“Thank you again, Wolf,” she said.
“Don’t mention it,” he replied.
He hung up, and Lauren sighed and leaned back in her chair, tapping the edge of the desk again.
Am I doing the right thing? She thought for perhaps the thousandth time.
The image of Fiero’s snarling face rose in her mind as he lifted his hammer, prepared to bring it down on her head. Strangely, this image was followed immediately by one of the elderly allegedly possessed woman in New York as she promised Lauren in Latin that Kevin still screamed in hell.
The last image that flitted behind her eyes was that of Henri Cartier, the most recent murderer she and Father Emilio Carbone, her partner with the Vatican’s Investigative Service, had apprehended. His promise had been made in English, but it was just as sobering, if not more so, than the one relayed by the woman in New York.
My master has a place for you in his kingdom.
It didn’t matter if she was right or wrong. She had an enemy, and she would face him.
Her lips thinned and her fingers stopped tapping. She closed her laptop and headed to the shower. The warm water soothed her muscles, tired from a day of working in her vineyard, but did nothing to dull the focus of her mind.
***
Two days later, Lauren was out shopping in Arezzo’s local market when her phone buzzed. It was a text from Wolf. Check your email.
Her heart started pounding. She quickly paid for her groceries, leaving half of her list unfilled, and rushed home. She was only a fifteen-minute walk away, a journey she normally didn’t mind but now resented.
I need to get a car, she thought.
The fifteen minutes felt more like fifteen hours, but she finally reached her home and was able to rush to her computer and open her email. Wolf’s was the top message.
She opened it and quickly scanned the message. The account Kevin had been paying three hundred dollars a month into for four years leading up to his death belonged to a private individual, Bishop Matteo Grigorio. He was a member of the Holy See’s Council on Church Bylaws.
Why would Kevin have been paying him money?
She skimmed his biography. Born in Rome, raised in Naples, moved back to Rome for his theological education, worked as a priest for five years before being appointed Bishop and named to the Holy See’s Council on Bylaws, where he had remained for the past twenty years, serving three different Popes.
None of that explained why he was receiving over three thousand dollars a year from her deceased fiancé. She looked up the Holy See’s Council on Church Bylaws but could find only a short blurb on the Vatican’s main page and a paragraph or two on an independent site that explained only that the council advised the Pope on the creation or refutation of official Church regulations.
She needed to know what Bishop Grigorio needed Kevin’s money for. Either he managed the money for the Council, in which case she would need to know why Kevin was donating to the Church’s council on bylaws, or he was receiving the money for his own personal use, in which case, why was he using an official Vatican account, how did he know Kevin, and why was Kevin paying him?
She thought of reaching out to Wolf again to ask him to dig into the council, but she felt she was near the end of her rope with him, and she didn’t want to risk needing him again only to finally be refused. Besides, she had Vatican credentials and sources of her own. She could look into the Council herself.
Her next thought was of reaching out to her primary Vatican resource, Father Emilio, but she didn’t want to do that either. He didn’t know that Lauren was looking into her fiance’s case, and she didn’t want him to start asking questions she wasn’t prepared to answer. He might disapprove of her actions and try to stop her. Worse, he might approve of her actions and bring it to the attention of their boss and the head of the Vatican Investigative Division—Cardinal Bertolli. The last thing Lauren wanted was an official Vatican investigation into Fiero. The Vatican didn’t have an understanding of how to conduct a criminal investigation yet, and she didn’t want them fumbling things and driving Fiero underground the way she had fumbled things and driven him underground before.
She would have to do this herself.
Her phone buzzed again. Enrico. She smiled softly. Her handsome neighbor and new boyfriend was the only thing in Lauren’s life right now that brought her real joy.
Good afternoon, amore mio. Are you running late?
She frowned at the text a moment, then remembered. She was supposed to meet Enrico for dinner tonight. She glanced at the clock. Twenty minutes ago, to be exact.
She thought of texting him back and apologizing, but that would be a cheap way to avoid talking, so she called him instead.
“Hey, Lauren,” he said, “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, everything’s fine,” she said, “I’m so sorry I didn’t call. I… I have to cancel dinner tonight.”
He hesitated only briefly before replying. “Ah. Work?”
“Yes,” she said, the first time she had ever lied to him. “Yes, it’s a case. I had to go to Rome. I’m so sorry I forgot to call.”
He hesitated a little longer before saying, “It’s fine, amore. I understand work comes first.”
“No, it’s not…” Lauren sighed and gave up trying to explain. She had already lied to him. She couldn’t stomach lying anymore. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“It’s all right, Lauren,” he said. His tone was cheerful, but Lauren could detect the slight tension behind that cheer. “Go solve your cases. We’ll see each other when you get back.”
“Okay,” Lauren said. “Sorry again.”
“Don’t be sorry. I command you not to be sorry.”
She managed a slight smile before saying, “Bye,” and hanging up.
On the train to Rome, she had time to consider her actions. She was lying to her current boyfriend to illegally work on her dead fiance’s murder case. She wondered for the first time if she was doing the right thing by trying to find Fiero.
Was that what she was doing? She was looking for a bishop who Kevin donated to, something that almost certainly had nothing to do with his murder. Fiero had killed Kevin to get at Lauren because Lauren was under guard. So why was she looking him up?
She couldn’t come up with a satisfactory answer, but her gut told her she had to know. She had learned to trust her gut. It had almost never led her astray. She closed her eyes and napped for the last twenty minutes of the journey. When she awoke, she was calm and focused. She would make it up to Enrico later.
CHAPTER TWO
Lauren waited until the tour stopped in front of the small café situated precisely halfway between the basilica and the visitor’s center. Behind this café was a blind spot in the security system that covered nearly every square inch of Vatican City with cameras.
The tour arrived and went inside to order drinks. Lauren ordered a cappuccino, and when it arrived, she drank it swiftly in the Italian manner and then brought the cup back to the counter. She thanked the barista and went to the bathroom.
The window was about two feet by eighteen inches when opened. Just barely enough for Lauren to push a large handbag through then shimmy through herself. She lowered herself carefully to the ground then quickly shed her blonde wig, coat and skirt. She pulled on slacks and a windbreaker, then pulled a cap down low over her head. When she left, she adopted a tomboyish stride and headed toward the basilica.
Getting in was going to be tricky. She had clearance to be in the Vatican’s secure area—portions of it, anyway—but she would rather not have to use it. Chances were slim that anyone would question why she was there, but it would make things much more difficult if that were to happen.
She headed for the basilica and pulled out her cell phone. A guard politely informed her that no flash photography was allowed inside the basilica. She thanked him and turned her flash off, then headed inside.
The next part was the hard part. She had to get to the restricted area of the basilica.
She walked around, making sure to stay blended with the crowd. Security was tight today. In addition to the ever-present cameras, guards were posted at every possible exit and at intervals along the path of the tour. She wasn’t going to make it in through the basilica without being detected.
She hung around for thirty minutes, taking pictures and politely engaging with a few of the chattier tourists. Twenty minutes after she arrived, her tour group arrived. They didn’t seem to notice that she was gone.
When she left, she put her camera in her pocket and started around to the other side of the promenade, thinking of another way in. She wished she had brought something passable as a janitor’s uniform or a food worker’s uniform. If she could get into the working part of the Vatican, she could easily move about undetected. She knew the layout well, having been here several times with Father Emilio and taken the time to study it. At the time, she never imagined a need to infiltrate the Vatican undetected, but she had felt the information would be useful at some point.
It would only be useful if she could get inside.
She headed back to the basilica but, this time, stayed outside and took pictures of the exterior of the building. Security out here was still tight, but there were soft spots immediately to the left and right of the building. The security was focused inside the building and the immediate frontal exterior, but the sides were left relatively unguarded.
She waited for another tour group to arrive, then while the security guards were distracted with the crowd, she slipped quietly to a small hedged area to her left. She quickly scaled the hedge without stopping to look behind her. She didn’t have time to hesitate. She would either be found and have to show her credentials and think of a really good story for not using the front door, or she would make it through.
She made it through. She reached the top and scaled down the other side. A couple of office workers walked past on a walkway that was far less opulent than the one in the tourist section. She waited for them to pass, then walked onto the walkway and moved with purpose toward the maintenance building. When she walked inside, a few employees glanced up at her. She waved absently to them and headed for the elevator. They dismissed her as most likely one of the paper pushers on the third floor, and she passed through without incident.
She got out on the fourth floor and made her way to the maintenance stairwell. She climbed the stairs to the roof and crawled out slowly, staying below the top of the rail. She knew that Swiss Guard snipers kept surveillance out for other snipers, and detecting her on a roof could have potentially deadly consequences.
She crawled behind the doorway and pressed herself against the backside of it. She took out her phone and used the camera to look carefully for any sign of snipers. She found two, both covering the records building. One could easily see her if he turned to look his way, but he could only see the west side of the building. She was safe on the east side.
She crawled out of sight of the other sniper and stood near the east rail of the building. She found her target and checked the zoom on her camera. It was enough to clearly show the target, but not for much longer. She had maybe an hour of light left before things would be too dim for her lens to make out.
She would have to hope that the bishop left his office prior to that time. If not, then she would have to find a way to get closer to him. It was not a good idea to try to spend the night at the Vatican. For whatever reason, security was far tighter at night than during the day.
She put her phone away and waited. She didn’t have to wait long. After twenty minutes, Bishop Gregorio left the office and stood in the small courtyard in front of the council building. He rubbed his hands together and looked around. A moment later, he found what he was looking for. Three tall men in black jeans and black t-shirts walked toward him. They stopped in front of the priest and started talking.
Lauren couldn’t hear what was said, but the bishop seemed to hold a position of authority over them. At one point, one of the men gesticulated defensively as though making an excuse for something. The bishop made a chopping motion with his hand and said something sternly to him.
The four men looked around to make sure no one was watching. Lauren stood absolutely still, hoping the distance would be enough to keep them from spotting her if she didn’t move. They didn’t look her direction, and after a moment, they resumed talking.
Lauren took several photos of them, making sure to capture the faces of each person. The conversation continued, mostly the bishop speaking, until a couple of other bishops left the council building. Grigorio’s demeanor instantly changed, the sternness gone, replaced by a kindly smile. He laid a hand on the shoulders of the nearest of the men and said a prayer. The men then thanked him and continued on their way.
Lauren frowned. That was definitely not a normal interaction. Those men were almost certainly allowed on the premises, or the other council members would have reacted. So why the secrecy? And why did they defer to the bishop like that?
She had to admit that a perfectly reasonable answer was possible. She was part of the Vatican Investigative Division, a rather innocuous name for a group whose purpose was to investigate criminal cases around the world that had a possible demonic connection. She didn’t believe in demons despite a few recent experiences since joining the division, but she was part of the team nonetheless. Father Emilio was not only a member of the Investigative Division but of a secret order of exorcists led by the same Cardinal who served as the head of the Investigative Division. Cardinal Bertolli regularly held secret meetings. It was possible that the bishop was head of another clandestine group. The Church did love its secrets.
But something about the way those three men carried themselves told her that wasn’t the case. Something fishy was going on here.
And what did Kevin have to do with any of it?
Her phone rang.
She jumped and just barely stifled a cry before cursing and pulling the phone out. She declined the call, then turned the phone to silent. She dropped to the deck and waited, heart pounding. When there was no sign of alarm after several minutes, she opened her camera again and looked for the snipers. They hadn’t moved.
She took a deep breath and opened her phone to see who had called. She sighed when she saw Father Emilio’s number. Of course, he would be calling her in the middle of her investigation.
Then again, it wasn’t his fault she hadn’t thought to turn her ringer off.
She debated whether to call him back, but he made the decision for her, calling again. She sighed and decided to risk answering.
“Father, this is sort of a bad time,” she said quietly. “Is this important?”
“Are you all right, Lauren?” Father Emilio said, concerned. “Are you in danger?”
She rolled her eyes. “Not immediate danger, no,” she said, “is this important?”
“I’m afraid so,” he said, “We have another case.”
Dammit.
“Oh,” she said, “I’m sorry, Father. I’m not in town right now. I can be back around ten o’clock tonight.”
“Where are you now?” he asked.
“I’m in Rome,” she said.
That wasn’t exactly a lie. Vatican City was wholly contained within the city of Rome. Politically, it was a separate entity, but historically and culturally, it was part of Rome.
Father Emilio laughed heartily.
“What’s funny?” she asked.
“Nothing is funny, Lauren,” he said, “I laugh because God is good and He works in mysterious ways. As His will would have it, our next case is within the Vatican.”
Lauren immediately thought of those three men and the look on Bishop Grigorio’s face as he talked with them. “I see,” she said, “Do you want to meet me there?”
“I’ll meet you at the Levantine Hotel,” he said. “Room 225 is ours. Don’t worry, it has a sliding door that separates it into two bedrooms.”
She smiled drily. “That’s good to know.”
“I’ll be there in three hours,” he said. “When you arrive, give them my name.”
“Will do,” she said. “I’ll see you soon, Father.”
She crawled across the roof and entered the building through the maintenance staircase again. Ten minutes later, she was out of the building and twenty minutes after that, she was through the gates of Vatican City and in the city of Rome.
***
The Levantine Hotel was a fairly recent hotel, twenty-five years old and recently updated to provide high-speed Internet, 5G cell phone service, a theater, a state-of-the-art gym, a four-star restaurant, and a slightly less fancy bar. The building was designed with a frankly atrocious fusion of Roman classical and cyberpunk modernism that clashed terribly with the affordable upscale air they were trying to provide. Still, the hotel was packed to the gills. Perhaps the rooms were cheaper, or perhaps people just didn't care about artistry when they could have modern convenience.
She met the concierge and asked for the key to room 225. The two employees glanced at each other, clearly wondering what a much younger woman was doing in the same room as a priest.
“There’s a privacy screen,” Lauren explained drily.
The concierge nodded and handed her a key. He smiled awkwardly and informed her that if she needed anything, the front desk would be happy to assist.
Past the lobby, the interior décor was far more palatable than the façade, a muted brown-green tone that Lauren had seen in hundreds of hotels from the cheapest motel to five-star resorts. It was a calm, neutral tone, one that was easy to maintain and didn’t offend the eyes. It wasn’t anything special, but that was all right with Lauren.
She found room 225, and when she went inside, she saw a suitcase next to the bed nearest the door. Father Emilio had arrived early.
“Hi, sorry I kept you waiting,” she said, “I thought you were flying in later.”
She opened the screen and tossed her handbag onto the bed.
