‘I’ll be damned,’ Dial mumbled. ‘They got the Spirit.’
In his mind this was the news he was hoping for. It proved his theory about the sign of the cross was accurate. Plus it also meant if the killers continued with their current pattern, they were going to be arriving in Italy about the same time he did.
Ulster and Franz were on their way back to Küsendorf, leaving Payne’s crew with two options: catch a cab or steal a car. They eventually settled on number two, hoping to avoid Jamie Foxx’s situation in the movie Collateral, where a taxi driver got mixed up in a very bad scene.
They roamed the streets until they came across a vehicle that met their needs. It was a double-parked Mercedes G500, an SUV that looked like the offspring of a sedan and a Hummer. The keys were in it, so they didn’t even have to hotwire the ignition to steal it. Nevertheless, Jones fiddled with the electrical system to prevent their vehicle from being tracked by the European equivalent of OnStar. Once inside, they drove down the alley past Vermählungsbrunnen, a giant fountain depicting the union of Mary and Joseph. The irony of its image made everyone slightly uncomfortable. Here they were trying to dispel the myth of the crucifixion and were forced to do so under the gaze of Christ’s earthly parents.
Across from the fountain was Hoher Markt, home of a public gallows until archaeologists realized they were built on top of the original Roman settlement of Vindobona, including the barracks where Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius might’ve died in 180 ad. Apparently there’s a longstanding rift between historians on whether or not he had actually visited. Some claim he came to this area to expand the northeastern boundary of Rome’s territory, while others say he died in Sirmium, found in modern-day Serbia, over 500 miles away. Needless to say, this discrepancy fueled a lot of speculation. And controversy. Boyd theorized the difference between these stories could’ve been due to the mission he was on at the time of his death. What if Aurelius, who had a reputation for persecuting Christians more than any other emperor, was in Vindobona to find out the truth about the laughing man? It would explain why two different accounts were entered into the Roman history books. The real one and the cover story about expanding the Empire.
But the thing Payne didn’t understand was why Marcus Aurelius didn’t know about the laughing man to begin with. If the Empire was going to benefit from Tiberius’s scheme, wouldn’t his secret have to be passed down from emperor to emperor? That was the only way Rome could’ve profited from Christianity, since Tiberius died within five years of Christ’s death.
Boyd corrected Payne’s assumption, noting that Tiberius went mad during the last few years of his reign. His successor, Caligula, destroyed most of Tiberius’s records, knowing full well if they got into the wrong hands that they would bring shame to Rome. Therefore, in Boyd’s mind, there was a very good chance that no emperor after Tiberius would’ve known about his plot or if Christ’s crucifixion had actually been faked.
As they left Vienna on a major highway, their focus shifted to a map of the surrounding area. Boyd said, ‘According to Eugene’s journal, the Saint of Vindobona lived north of the city near a marble quarry of some repute, a mine that gave birth to the laughing man statues and much of the raw material for the early Roman settlement.’
Boyd handed Payne the book. Inside was an artist’s rendering of what this area might have looked like in the first century. But it wasn’t much help now. ‘So how do we find it?’
‘Hermann told us to drive north until we see a white mountain near the edge of the highway. It’s a private stretch of land that has been owned by the same family for generations. According to legend, it used to be a functioning mine until they had a massive cave-in several centuries ago. To this day the whole mountain is fenced off for safety reasons.’
Great, Payne thought to himself. People were trying to kill them and they were about to play Indiana Jones on an unstable mountain. ‘What’s our plan when we get there?’
Smiling, Boyd patted Payne and Jones on the shoulder. ‘I was hoping the two of you could come up with something to get us inside. You know, something illegal.’
The sky was bruised, streaks of black and purple cutting across a sea of gray warning them that a major storm was on the way. Payne stuck his hand out the window and felt the humidity, gauging how long they had before the heavens opened. Maybe thirty minutes, if they were lucky.
Their search for the white mountain had been easier than expected. They had driven less than three miles north when they saw its peak thrusting out of the terrain like an iceberg in the middle of a green forest. Jones found a service road off the main highway that led them to the front gate. The property itself was protected by a fifteen-foot-high steel fence capped with barbed wire and a series of signs that read, Danger: Falling Rocks, in multiple languages.
Jones worked on the front lock while Payne strolled along the perimeter, hoping to find a flaw, just in case they needed to make a quick getaway. Unfortunately, the place was solid. For a property that was supposedly abandoned, someone had put a lot of money into keeping people out. Even the lock was tricky, taking Jones double the time that he would normally need.
Raindrops started to fall as they got in the SUV and weaved their way back and forth through a thick maze of trees. It came down even harder when they eased into a large clearing at the foot of the mountain. A wooden barricade with more danger signs stopped them at the entrance to the quarry. Payne took a moment to study the terrain before he moved the barrier aside. What looked like a mountain from afar turned out to be the shell of one. Workers had gutted the entire peak, carving several paths that zigzagged at forty-five-degree angles from the base to the apex. Chalky residue spilled over the rock face like white blood. Leaning back, Payne tried to examine the summit, hoping to see what was lurking in the fog and mist one thousand feet above the ground, but the falling rain and setting sun prevented it.
Payne slipped back into the car and started gathering supplies. ‘What’s our goal here?’
Boyd looked at the mountain and shrugged. Accounts from Prince Eugene’s journal were over two centuries old, so there was no telling what was up there. Possibly remnants of a house. Or maybe the laughing man’s grave. The sobering part was they were about to risk their lives climbing up a slip-and-slide, and they might find nothing at all.
To aid their cause, Jones rummaged through the trunk and found a heavy-duty flashlight, a tire iron, and some rope he wrapped around his shoulder and waist. ‘You never know.’
Payne nodded, realizing the unexpected should always be expected on a bad-weather mission. Even more so with an inexperienced crew. Common sense told him that they should postpone their climb until tomorrow, but he knew it was only a matter of time before someone spotted them. So he said, ‘OK, ladies, time’s a wastin’. We got us a mountain to conquer.’
Of course if Payne had known that two of them wouldn’t be climbing back down, he wouldn’t have been so glib.
69
If not for the weather, Payne would’ve picked up on the ambush a lot sooner. The paths carved into the side of the mountain were covered with a layer of white powder, similar to coarse talc, which had been there since mining had stopped. As they strode up the path, their footsteps appeared briefly like they were walking along a tropical beach before they were whisked away by the tide. One moment they were there, the next they were gone, thanks to the downpour.
Each droplet that fell on the path splashed onto their legs and shoes, making them look like ghosts from the shins down. It also made the footing treacherous, forcing them to tie the rope around their waists in case someone started to slide. But even if that happened, the farthest anyone would’ve gone was about a hundred feet, because every time the path zigzagged in the opposite direction there was a sturdy stone barrier that acted like a guardrail. On the other hand, if someone slipped sideways off the path, the fall would’ve been a lot messier.
With that in mind, Payne led the charge up the hill, hoping his body weight would serve as an anchor. He was followed by Boyd, Maria, and Jones, who was the last line of defense. They were about halfway to the crest when Payne saw the first sign of trouble. Lightning flashed in the distance, lighting the sky just enough to reveal movement on the peak above. A thin layer of fog hindered his vision even more than the rain, so he dismissed it as an optical illusion.
‘Can we stop at the next turn?’ Boyd shouted through the storm.
Paranoid, Payne yelled back, ‘Why? What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing’s wrong,’ he said through labored breathing. ‘I want to look around.’
Payne got the sense that Boyd needed a break more than anything else and decided it was a good idea to stop, even though they were only two zigzags from the top. Accidents tended to happen when people got tired. And Payne was tired, too. He tested the sturdiness of the rock guardrail before leaning his back against it. Meanwhile Boyd and Maria turned away from Payne, leaning their chests and arms over the precipice while looking for ruins in the landscape below. Jones waited until they were absorbed in their search before he spoke to Payne.
‘I’m not liking this,’ he whispered. ‘These grounds are well-maintained, and this powder seems fresh. Someone’s been digging up here recently. The question is, for what?’
‘Only one way to find out.’ Payne tugged on the rope to get Boyd’s attention. ‘Time to go.’
The last few paths were the toughest to climb, not only because their legs were tired but because tiny rivulets were flowing on the path. All of them lost their balance at least once, covering them with white mud. It got so bad that Payne had to drop to all fours in order to make it up the last gradient. He used his hands and fingers like claws, burning every ounce of energy he had. When he reached the top, he flipped over, braced his feet against a large rock, and pulled on the rope like he was in a giant tug-of-war. Hand over hand, biceps burning, using his legs, back, and butt to finish the job. Boyd got there a minute later, followed by Maria, and finally Jones, who no longer looked black because of the mud.
Payne wanted to tease him, but that required energy, and he had none to spare. So he just lay there in the mud, eyes closed, mouth wide open, trying to drink enough rain to soothe the burning in his throat. Seconds later that pain drifted to his chest and the pit of his stomach because when he opened his eyes, he was staring down the barrel of several guns. They were being held by soldiers in winter camouflage, which blended in perfectly with the chalky terrain.
‘Ah, shit,’ Payne cursed while gasping for air. ‘Hey D.J., you should take a look at this.’
‘At what?’ he bitched. Slowly he lifted himself into a half pushup, using his knees for support. When he locked his elbows, he saw all the soldiers that surrounded them and decided it wasn’t worth getting up for. ‘Tell them to leave,’ he groaned. ‘I’m resting.’
‘Who?’ Maria demanded, her vision blurred by the mud in her eyes.
‘Us,’ answered the only man standing without a gun. He’d been hiding behind the soldiers and used this opportunity to show himself. ‘He’s talking about us.’
Maria flinched, practically jumping to her feet at the sound of his voice. Payne thought it was because she was startled. Moments later he realized there was something else going on, something more significant. ‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded.
‘Father sent me to fetch you.’ The man was wearing a clear plastic poncho over his suit and black mountain boots that went up to his calves. ‘You’ve been a baaaaaad girl.’
Shocked, Boyd looked up and tried to see who was there. ‘Dante? Is that you?’
Things started to make sense to Payne, albeit a little late for his taste. They were staring at Dante Pelati, son of Benito and Maria’s half brother. She’d mentioned Dante in passing when they confronted her about her other brother, Roberto. Later, Boyd gave them further information about Dante, telling them that he was the one who’d given them their digging permit for Orvieto.
‘Charles,’ Dante answered, ‘I’ve wanted to talk to you all week. How have you been?’
Payne had no idea why he was being so friendly, whether he was thankful that they had delivered Maria and Boyd to him in one piece or whether it was just a facade. Payne wanted to find out, so he said, ‘I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. My name’s Jonathon Payne.’
Payne reached up to shake Dante’s hand. But Dante looked down on him with disdain.
‘You’ll have to excuse me, but shaking your hand would not be in my best interest.’
‘Is it because of the mud?’ Payne wiped his hand on his ass, even though it didn’t make any difference. ‘Is that better?’
‘It’s not the mud, Mr Payne. It’s the fact that I know who you are. I’m guessing if I were to grab your hand, you’d pull me to the ground and have me as your hostage before my men could even shoot. Not an appealing proposition.’
‘It is for me.’
Dante ignored the comment and spoke to his soldiers in Italian, practically grunting his commands. Next thing Payne knew, they were dragging everyone to their feet and marching them in a single-file line to a large clearing at the center of the plateau where the soldiers had recently been digging. The giant pit was surrounded by a series of floodlights, none of which were on at the moment, and covered by a massive tent that kept the site dry.