In Tongues of the Dead (14 page)

Benicio wanted to ask questions but never had a chance. He heard a click. The cardinal was gone. He slowly placed the receiver on the cradle.

The cardinal had said some exceedingly strange things. Benicio didn't believe Espinosa wanted him in Rome to discuss anything. But he knew why the cardinal was calling him away. There were other men here. The men he'd seen at the airport. If the cardinal wanted Matthew Younger, he'd send those men.
The hired hands of the Vatican. Wonderful
, he thought.
I'm sure those guys will be real tactful
.

He shook his head as he remembered Father McCallum's concern.
Well, Ronnie
, he thought,
they are going to cut you out. Unfortunately, they're going to cut me out of this one too
.

He sighed heavily. Sleep was no longer an option. He might as well break the news to Father McCallum. He would keep his promise, tell the man what was happening. It was the least he could do.

Cardinal Espinosa's body gave an involuntary shake. He drew his hand away from the receiver he'd just hung up and stared at his forearm. Fresh trails of blood glistened in the sign of the Cross.

The truth is known. Father McCallum cannot be trusted. The boy can read the manuscript. God's secret is vulnerable to the world
.

He turned his gaze to the ceiling. “My Father, I had not chosen wisely in allowing that man to be involved. I will correct the mistake. And I will not allow the book to be read. You can count on my service, God, to prevent the lies of the forsaken from being told.”

The cardinal lifted the phone and dialed, then waited.

Jeremy answered.

“Are you aware of the situation?” the cardinal asked without any greeting.

“We saw Valori and McCallum at the boy's house.”

“What did they find out?” the cardinal asked.

“Don't know. They weren't in there long before the kid was screaming.”

Silence. “Do you know what Father Valori told the parents?”

“We think they made up some story. They were showing badges at the door.”

“Go see Father McCallum. He has betrayed the church. I need to know if he has spoken of this matter to anyone other than Valori. He must be silenced.”

“Silenced?”

“And then get the child. You must bring him to me. If you cannot obtain the child, make sure he cannot hurt the church. He is a threat to us. He is a threat to you.”

“So, if we can't bring the kid back to the Vatican —”

“Then there is no boy,” the cardinal said curtly. Then he hung up.

Father McCallum paced in his room.
It's the CDF
, he thought.
The CDF is monitoring my phone calls. Now they think I've betrayed them. I was never going to tell Thomas anything. I just needed to talk to someone
.

He thought about calling Cardinal Espinosa to explain or apologize, but he knew it was too late.

So he prayed. He asked for guidance. He asked for forgiveness. He asked for hope.

Evelyn and Fred would be home soon from grocery shopping. Maybe he should go out, take a walk. Something. He didn't want to stay in his room.

He nodded. A walk would clear his head. He went to the bathroom, turned the tap on and leaned heavily on the counter while he let the water run. Sometimes it took a while for the old plumbing to push hot water up to the second floor.

Did I really betray the church? Is it my own pride and vanity that make me feel so upset
?

“Hello, Father McCallum,” a voice said.

The old priest turned and saw a large, rough-looking man with an old-fashioned eye patch standing in the doorway. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“Come on out. Let's have a chat.” The man spoke casually, as though they were greeting each other on the street. Old friends.

“Get out. Get out of here right now.”

“Grandpa,” scolded Jeremy from behind his brother. “That's no way to talk to us. We're all part of the same big, happy family.” He moved so Father McCallum could see him. He had the same leering grin as the one-eyed man.

“Let's just go have a seat,” Maury said, and turned to look across the hall. “This your bedroom over here? Mind if we sit in there?”

Father McCallum was too shocked to respond. Who were these men?

As if in answer to his question, Jeremy said, “Cardinal Espinosa sent us. You don't have to freak out.”

“The cardinal?”

“Yep,” Maury said. “Came here directly. On orders right from the horse's mouth.”

“For what?” Father McCallum asked. The situation still felt wrong and dangerous.

“We're here to help on the whole book thing. You know, the Voynich manuscript,” Jeremy said. Both men were in the bedroom now. Jeremy waved for the priest to follow, then Maury motioned him to sit on the bed. “We're going to have a chat with you and then go visit the little retard kid.”

“Matthew?” Father McCallum said with concern.

“So who else have you talked to about the Voynich?” Maury asked.

“I'm sorry?”

“It's a tough secret to sit on all these years,” Jeremy offered. “Who else have you told?”

Father McCallum was aware of a strong smell, a sickly, sour odor like rotting food, but with a hint of perfume, as if someone was trying to mask it. “I didn't tell anyone. I wasn't even going to tell the archbishop.”

“The archbishop, eh?” Maury said and raised an eyebrow. “What'd you tell him?”

“Nothing. Just that things were coming to a head.”

“You gave the archbishop head?” Jeremy blurted out and then laughed.

Maury glared at him then turned to the priest. “Did you write down your thoughts about the Voynich anywhere? Do you keep a diary?”

“No. Nothing.”

“Just so you know,” Maury said. “We're going to search this place. We're going to rip it apart, so you might as well tell us if we're going to find something. It'll make things much easier.”

“I never wrote anything down. I never told anyone why I was in New Haven. I've been loyal.”

Maury and Jeremy stared at the priest. Then, “Why don't you get started,” Maury said to Jeremy.

Jeremy turned to the dresser, pulled a drawer out, and overturned it. He kicked at the contents.

“Hey! That's not necessary.” Father McCallum noticed that the younger man was missing fingers on both hands. He turned to the one-eyed man.

“Who did you say you were?” Father McCallum asked.

“We didn't say.”

“Tell him,” Jeremy said over his shoulder as he pulled the dresser apart.

“Tell me what?” the priest asked. Fear rose in his throat like bile.

Maury slowly moved a hand up to his eye patch and lifted it to reveal the ruined eye socket. “We're the bastard children of the angels,” he said. “The forsaken. The Nephilim. We're the reason you've been guarding that book all these years. It's our secrets that are recorded there.”

“What? I don't understand.”

Maury shrugged.

“Nothing in this dresser,” Jeremy announced, and kicked the contents of the last drawer across the room. “You wear some really fucked-up underwear.”

Maury nodded then addressed the priest again. “Roll your sleeve up,” Maury ordered.

“Why?”

“Just do it, old man,” Jeremy said, and stood next to his brother.

“No.” The priest stood.

“Grab him!”

The younger man lunged, and Father McCallum raised his arms defensively. As they struggled, a voice called from downstairs. “Ronnie, that you?”

Evelyn and Fred
. “Get out!” Father McCallum screamed. “Call the police!”

“Shut him up,” Maury barked and took a step toward the bedroom door.

“Get —” McCallum began, then Jeremy hit him hard right on the nose. The priest stumbled. As he fell, the back of his head slammed against the corner of the bedside table with a sickening crack.

“Ronnie?” a voice called from downstairs.

Jeremy crouched beside the fallen man and touched his neck. “Nothing.”

“Fuck!” Maury announced. “Let's go. We have to take care of the lady and her husband. We can search in here later.”

They ran down the stairs.

Benicio pulled the rental to a stop in front of Father McCallum's house but didn't get out. Ronnie was a good guy. It would break his heart to learn the Vatican was pulling them off the Voynich.

He glanced at his watch. His flight left later in the afternoon. He had a few hours.

He got out of the car and looked at the house, then headed for the back entrance. He knew from earlier that this was the door Father McCallum used. As he rounded the house, he saw that the back door wasn't completely closed. He knocked loudly and waited.

No answer.

He knocked again and saw fresh marks on the door. They looked like a crowbar had made them.

He pushed the door open all the way. “Hello,” he called. “It's Father Valori. I'm here to see Mr. McCallum.”

No answer.

He moved into the house, still calling. Then he heard a moan. He started through the rooms and found an old man curled on the floor and Evelyn on the couch. The man's thinning gray hair was matted with blood. Benicio dropped on his knees next to Evelyn, who was groaning softly.

“Ma'am, can you hear me?”

Her eyelids fluttered. He felt her pulse. It was steady.

“Can you hear me? Can you tell me what happened?”

She didn't answer. He turned to the old man and felt for his wrist. He found a very weak pulse.

Benicio stood. “Mr. McCallum?” he called. “Ronnie?”

He went into the kitchen and saw a cordless phone on the wall. He grabbed it, hit the talk button, dialed emergency, and started up the stairs.

“Fire, police, ambulance. What's your emergency?”

“There are people hurt. Send the police and an ambulance,” he shouted. He took the steps two at a time.

“Sir, what's your location?”

He gave it, then said, “Please hurry.” He lowered the phone and called to Father McCallum again.

No answer.

He put the phone back to his ear.

“Sir, what's your name?”

“Send the ambulance and the police. I need to go.” He turned the phone off and set it on the hall floor, then called to Ronnie again.

No answer. No sound.

It occurred to him that whoever did this might still be in the house. He no longer felt like rushing.

“Hello?” he called.

He tiptoed to Father McCallum's door and peered in. The room was torn apart — clothes everywhere and furniture upturned. There were fist-size holes in the drywall.

He took a few steps into the room and saw Ronnie lying on the floor near an overturned table. Benicio rushed in and knelt beside the old priest, then saw blood under the man's head.

“Ronnie!”

Father McCallum moaned softly.

He was alive.

“Ronnie. Hold on. The ambulance is on its way.”

Father McCallum raised his arm and touched Benicio. “You need to go.”

“I'm staying right here with you. You're going to be okay.”

“Not me. The boy. Help the boy.”

“Forget that. Let's get you to the hospital. We'll take care of everything else later.”

Father McCallum's eyes opened wide and he squeezed Benicio's hand harder. “It's too late for me. They're going after Matthew. You have to help him. No time.” The old man's arm slid to the floor.

“Ronnie?” Benicio said softly.

No answer.

He stood and crossed himself. He heard sirens. The ambulance would be here soon. Benicio had to find Matthew Younger.

“I apologize for the short notice,” Maury said. He was sitting in the Youngers' living room. John and Carol were on the couch, and Jeremy was next to him in the other chair. “We need to leave now.”

John looked skeptical. “I don't know. I thought the other two guys were going to come back. The doctor guy, what was his name, honey?”

“Valori.”

“Right,” John said, nodding. “Valori. And he said something about money.”

Jeremy smiled. Maury had come up with a story to explain why they were taking the boy, but before he could bring it out, the parents had offered up Father Valori's line about a special treatment program. It was easy to build off that story — but the parents weren't convinced yet.

“We work for Dr. Valori. He sent us,” Maury said. He felt the capped syringe in his pocket. They would take the boy, one way or another.

Carol yawned. She wore an off-white robe. “Don'tcha have any papers or brochures we can look at?”

“It's a brand-new program. We don't have any promotional material yet. And as for money, we are prepared to reimburse you in the amount of ten thousand dollars.”