The air traffic control tower at Leonardo da Vinci Airport was keeping Nava’s helicopter in a holding pattern while a United 747 passed by on final descent for a landing. Next in line, she navigated the small chopper carrying Moshe and Alon to an area designated for private aircraft. Now they would wait.
In the harbor at Maratea, the yacht shuddered as the engines came to life. The Carmela slowly eased away from the dock and passed through the entrance of the harbor, picking up speed as she made her way north along the coast in a part of the Mediterranean known as the Tyrrhenian Sea. They were now destined for Fiumicino, homeport to some of the finest luxury yachts in the world. Fiumicino was a large fishing town on the central Italian coast known for its great seafood restaurants, but more importantly, it was also home to Rome’s main harbor and the busy Leonardo da Vinci Airport. This strategic location would make the port an excellent choice for their new temporary base of operations.
Shortly after noon, the yacht entered one of the most exclusive marinas in the world and was being secured alongside the dock next to the speedboat that had arrived hours earlier. Listening to the radio chatter from the teams in rental cars now heading for the harbor, Lev and Alex drank coffee and gazed out at all the other boats through the windows of the bridge. They knew that, even if the yacht had not been spotted yet, there was no longer any need for secrecy as far as the boat’s location was concerned since the Devil’s Bible was no longer onboard. All the pieces were in place, and it was now up to Leo and John to deliver the book to the chapel under the Vatican. Only the specter of the unseen forces that surrounded them stood in their way.
At the airport, it was time to go. Nava fired up the chopper, while Alon and Moshe piled into a rented minivan and headed for the train station in the center of the city. If traffic wasn’t too heavy, they would arrive at precisely the same time as Leo and John’s train from the south.
Back on the Carmella, Ariella leaned against the railing on the main deck and watched a tiny blue speck in the sky grow larger until the shape of the yacht’s helicopter loomed overhead before touching down on the top deck. Nava jumped out and waved to her before Ariella turned her attention back to the dock.
Inside the bridge, Lev sat idly watching a crewmember wash the salt spray from the windows when he noticed a bright red Ferrari speeding along the dock. It slowed and pulled to a stop next to the yacht. One of the Carmela’s crewmembers, who had supposedly gone ashore to buy supplies, jumped out of the driver’s seat and ran up the gangplank to the yacht’s main deck. Without a word, the crewman tossed the Ferrari’s keys to Ariella and stood aside while she bounded down the ramp with her backpack and jumped into the car.
Lev jumped to his feet and ran out onto the upper deck, followed by Alex. “Ariella! Where are you going?”
She paused long enough to toss her head out the window and throw him a kiss before roaring off alone toward the city.
“Damn that girl. She’s more headstrong than her mother, God rest her soul. What can she possibly be thinking? Where is she going?”
“You know where she’s going,” Alex said.
Lev hung his head and walked slowly back into the bridge. Yes, he knew where she was going.