Present Day Piazzale Roma, Venice Although the Salute is only a short hop from his hotel, Tom Shaman needs a long walk before he's ready to return to the solitude of his tiny room.
The blooded symbol near the altar had emanated an intensity of evil he's never experienced outside of an exorcism. In truth, he'd been quite unprepared for it. He'd naively thought he'd left such encounters behind when he'd left the clergy.
Apparently not.
Only when his feet are aching, his thirst unbearable and his head almost clear does he drag himself back to his bedroom.
He kicks off his shoes and quickly finishes a half-empty plastic bottle of warm water. The Carabinieri have loaned him an old laptop and cheap cellphone, and he now makes good use of both. He goes online and digs back in his AOL mail account until he finds the number he wants.
Alfredo Giordano – Alfie, to those close to him – is the New York-born son of Italian immigrants and an old and trusted friend.
Tom punches in his number and waits an eternity for people to go and find him. The place where Alfie spends his long days and nights is huge. It's more than five centuries old and is one of the most protected buildings on the planet: the Holy See – the library of the Vatican.
'Pronto. Giordano.' He juggles the phone between ear and shoulder.
'Shouldn't you be in bed?'
Alfie stays silent for a second – he has to be sure his ears aren't tricking him. 'Tom?'
'Hello, Alfie. I'm sorry to call so late. I guess you were just heading into mass, or even turning in for the night.'
'Not a problem. It's good to hear from you.' He pauses, then adds cautiously, 'Isn't it?'
It takes Tom almost ten minutes to bring Alfie up to speed with what's happened since they last spoke, just after the street fight in LA. The two men had become friends while attending a semester of courses, back in the days when he'd drink too much and turn up late for half their classes, relying on Tom to bail him out.
Alfie's still reflecting on old times as he heads back through the ornate Sistine Hall to his quarters. Tom's request is certainly a strange one, but he's sure he can help. He has privileged access to a library that holds more than seventy-five thousand manuscripts and close to two million books – not to mention a museum dedicated to the Etruscans – Alfie's confident he can find what's wanted. Unless – and the thought disturbs him – unless it's in the secret archives. Fifty-two miles of shelving crammed with restricted information that only the holiest of eyes should see.