“I wonder what it takes to blackmail a pope?”
Gallo stirred in his seat. “I’ve asked myself that for years. Of the three parts of the Nostra Trinità, only the Constitutum Constantini could pose a threat. The other two are known documents, with copies in the Vatican. But that Gift of Constantine has to be unique. We’ve always believed that Mussolini used the threat of its public release as private blackmail. But did he really? We’ll never know. What we do know is that neither Pius XI nor Pius XII ever openly defied the fascist government.”
“Still, the church has been around for two thousand years. There’s not much that could strike a deep blow. It would have to be something that goes to its core. Cutting its legs right out from under it.”
Gallo nodded. “Even more important, it has to be something that would have resonated in the 1930s and 1940s. Something that still carried a virulent punch, one the church thought it couldn’t endure. That was a difficult time. The world was disintegrating into war. People were focused on merely surviving. Religion was not an important aspect of their lives. We’ve long speculated on what that document might have contained, but that’s all it is, speculation.”
“How long had you possessed it?”
“The best we can determine is it came to us sometime in the 13th century. How? We have no idea. That’s been lost to time. But we know that it stayed with us until 1798.”
“No one ever read it? No oral tradition is associated with it?”
“Not that has survived. It was closely held by the Secreti. Now, at least, we have clues as to where it might be.”
“There’s still the matter of the Secreti,” Cotton pointed out.
“I realize that, and we should stay alert. They’ll be aware of the cathedral’s importance, too. And I assume they’ll know that I’ve come to Malta. We cannot underestimate their reach.”
He agreed with that assessment. “What about your brother?”
Though Stephanie had said precious little before leaving for Rome, she had revealed that Archbishop Danjel Spagna had been killed, along with another Entity field operative. Cardinal Gallo, while initially missing, had been located by Luke, who had the situation on the ground under control.
“My brother and I will speak,” Gallo said, the voice trailing off. “He’s caused so much turmoil. It will take a long time to repair that damage.”
Cotton was an only child. His father died when he was ten, lost in a navy submarine disaster, so he’d come to rely on his mother. A good woman. She still lived in middle Georgia, running the onion farm her family had owned for generations. She, too, had been an only child, so there were no more Malones. Not by blood, at least. His own son, Gary, an only child, was his in every way save for genes, the result of an affair his ex-wife had seventeen years ago. They’d all laid those demons to rest, part of the past, but he’d be a liar if he said that the prospect of the Malone bloodline ending didn’t bother him.
“My brother and I shared a womb,” Gallo said. “We’re identical physically, though I’ve tried hard to alter my look so as not to be so readily identified with him. But mentally we are night and day. I’ve always strived to live a different life, to stay out of the spotlight, away from trouble. To make myself useful and not a nuisance. As I told you, I didn’t ask for my current position. I took it out of necessity to try to minimize an already bad situation. Once there’s a new pope, the brothers will meet and a new grand master will be chosen.”
“You?”
Gallo shook his head. “That job will belong to someone else. I made that clear when I accepted this temporary post.”
“I still don’t see your brother’s purpose in disrupting the Hospitallers. He seemed to go out of his way to create trouble.”
“He thrives in conflict. He’s after the Nostra Trinità, somehow thinking it will make him pope.”
“Will it?”
“I can’t see how, but he’s convinced—as he always seems to be.”
Gallo closed his eyes again and tilted his head back on the seat. The jet’s windows were dark to the outside, the cabin lights dim. The drone of the engines cast a monotonous tone that seemed to only add weight to his own eyelids.
They’d be on the ground in a little over an hour.
Some rest would be good.
But answers would be better.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Luke stood on the tarmac staring up into the night sky. Laura was inside the small terminal building with Cardinal Gallo. They’d driven the short distance from St. Thomas Bay to Malta’s main airport. Gallo had not resisted coming with them, and Luke could understand why after listening to what had happened out on the water. He’d finally connected with Stephanie by phone and learned what had happened in Italy. Laura had called in to her boss, and people had been dispatched to the grotto Gallo had described in search of Chatterjee’s body. Now Cotton Malone and the cardinal’s twin brother were on final approach, about to land.
Thank goodness Stephanie had stayed behind. He didn’t really want to face her right now. He hadn’t handled things like they’d needed to be handled. A simple recon assignment had turned into anything but, and now Pappy himself was on the way to save the day. He shouldn’t feel that way about Malone. He liked the man. More than that, he respected him. But Malone was retired and this was his assignment. He’d been the one to screw up and it was up to him to fix it, no help from an ex-agent-turned-bookseller required.
But that wasn’t his call.
Stephanie had already told him to follow Malone’s lead and all would be explained. Great. He could hardly wait.
The time was approaching 2:00 A.M. and the international airport’s main terminal loomed quiet. No rumble of engines disturbed the night. He was standing near a building used by private planes, many of them parked off to his right. One multimillion-dollar jet after another. Flashing lights from the north grew brighter, and he watched as they dropped down for a landing and another pricey jet taxied his way. The words DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE on the side identified its owner. The engines wound down and two men emerged from the open cabin door. Malone first, then another, whom he assumed was Pollux Gallo. Same height and shape as the cardinal, only different hair and a beard. He caught the facial resemblance as they drew close. Malone shook hands, then introduced him.
“Luke is active duty, Magellan Billet,” Malone explained to Pollux Gallo. “He’s the senior man on this job.”
“That’s not what I was told,” Luke pointed out.
“And what did I tell you about working the field?”
He smiled, recalling the advice from their first encounter together. You can do anything you want, as long as the job gets done.
“Forget what Stephanie said. This is not my show,” Malone said. “I’m backup. Where’s the cardinal?”
That vote of confidence felt good. Another reason it was hard not to like Malone. He was a straight shooter, all the way. Luke pointed to the right and they headed inside the concrete-block building. He watched as the brothers greeted each other with the warmth of two alligators. No handshake. No hug. Not even a smile. Hard for him to understand that estrangement given how close he was to his three siblings.
“Are you pleased with yourself,” Pollux Gallo asked, the tone not congenial.
“This is not the time,” the cardinal said.
“It’s never the t
ime with you. People are dying, Kastor, because of your reckless actions.”
“I require no lecture from you. I need to be back in Rome.”
“Not until this is done,” Luke said. “I’ve been fully briefed on everything from Italy, and my orders are to see this through before any of you leave this island.”
* * *
Cotton liked the new and improved Luke Daniels.
Tough, confident, in charge.
Not the same cocky former Ranger who’d dropped out of the sky into the cold Øresund not all that long ago. Stephanie’s report that things had not gone well here mattered little. Rarely did anything go as planned in the field. Getting knocked down was a constant occupational hazard. The trick was in knowing how to get back up and keep going. Some learned how, others not so much. Good to see Luke had fallen into the former category.
The two Gallos were a study in stark contrast. Pollux’s face stayed as somber as a funeral director, while Kastor’s flashed bright and alert. Their personalities seemed night and day. Interesting how identical twins could be so different. Apparently, environment really did affect genes.
Laura Price had stayed curiously quiet, watching the unfolding confrontation with clear interest. He knew nothing about her, which lumped her into the same category as both Gallos. Three unknowns usually added up to trouble, so he told himself to stay ready. He’d meant what he said. This was Luke’s show, but he’d agreed to see it through as a favor to Stephanie. He’d always found it hard to tell her no. Besides, he’d been paid in full by the British and he owed them their money’s worth.
“I just received a call from the people who went to find Arani Chatterjee’s body,” Laura finally said, “in the grotto the cardinal described. It wasn’t there.”
Cardinal Gallo seemed shocked. “He was dead. I checked myself. I saw him shot. Are you sure your people found the right spot? There are a lot of caves along the south shore.”
“They were in the right place. But there was no body. And the two men Luke and I left tied up in the safe house are gone, too.”