The Lost Catacomb (41 page)
They sat in silence for a while, each absorbed in his own
thoughts.
It was now quite late,
and the waiter approached the table somewhat hesitantly, asking them if they
’
d like to order coffee
or dessert.
“
No,
grazie.
Just bring us the
bill,
”
Bruno
replied.
“
I think we
’
ve
had enough for the moment.
”
The others concurred and shifted
in their seats.
As they left the restaurant, Bruno offered to drive Father
Benedetto back to the Vatican, but he declined.
“
I
’
ll take a taxi,
”
he said.
“
I
think it would be best if no one saw us together outside the Vatican.
I
’
ll find a way to contact you tomorrow, probably from
a public phone booth.
I
’
m sure you know this
already, but the
Vigilanza
taps all of the phone lines at the Holy See.
”
“
Yes,
so we
’
ve heard,
”
Bruno answered for
both of them.
Nicola held out her hand to Father Benedetto and shook his
gratefully.
“
All right, then.
We
’
ll wait to hear from you tomorrow.
”
They waited until he had flagged down a taxi, and then walked
off hand in hand in the direction of Bruno
’
s car.
“
Let
’
s go home now,
”
Bruno said, putting
his arm around her and hugging her.
She leaned against him and suddenly realized that he
’
d used the word
“
home,
”
as if she really
belonged there, as if she were a permanent part of his life.
She reached up to touch his face.
“
Bruno,
”
she said slowly,
gazing into his eyes,
“
I
love you.
”
“
I
love you too, Nicola.
Always,
cara
.
Always
.
”
And he
held her close, stroking her hair and kissing her again and again in the amber
pool of light that shone from the nearby streetlamp.
Father Benedetto pulled up a chair
next to Bruno and Nicola, sat down, and handed them two massive files, the
first labeled
“
Catacombs of the Via Casilina
”
and
the second marked
“
Excavations
—
Viccol
ò
San Sebastiano.
”
They were seated at
a large refectory table in a corner, far from the central area where the
librarians and assistant curators worked.
“
Everything
you need is inside,
”
he whispered, glancing around quickly
to make sure no one was in earshot.
“
I found several files on Catholic
Charities International, some bills of lading from several Greek shipping
lines, dating back to the early 1940s
—
though the contents
are unspecified
—
and a rather strange-looking
confirmation of a delivery of sixty crates to a warehouse behind the Villa
Wolkonsky back in 1943.
“
I
took only a superficial look at the contents, just to be sure that the papers
hadn
’
t been misfiled or mislabeled.
Try to look at these records first,
rather than the ones actually relating to the catacomb excavations.
If you can think of anything else you
might need, based on what you find in the files
—
perhaps some
related material that
’
s somehow hinted at in the documents
—
then I
’
ll search for those as well.
“
I
also brought along another decoy file,
”
he added, as he set
down yet another heavy docket on an adjacent table.
“
Something relating
to the excavations at the Villa Torlonia.
I
’
ll sit here and read it while you
check those
other files.
This way I can keep an eye out, to see if anyone approaches you on the
pretext of offering assistance.
The
librarians are always helpful, as you
’
ve no doubt
discovered for yourselves, but I think we need to take extra precautions.
Just in case.
”
“
I
’
m
going to take my lunch break a bit early, if that
’
s okay,
”
the
young librarian told his supervisor.
He looked at his wristwatch and added,
“
I
’
ll
be back in about an hour.
”
He hurried down the corridors of the
Secret Archives and rushed outside towards the broad plaza in front of San
Pietro.
Sheltered behind one of the
famous Bernini pillars, away from the crowds of tourists lining up to enter the
basilica, he pulled out a cell phone and placed a call to Catholic Charities
International.
“
It
’
s
Luciano,
”
he said quickly.
“
Can you patch me
through to Giovanni?
Immediatamente
,
prego.
”
“
I
thought I told you not to call me here unless it was an emergency,
”
Giovanni
barked at the other end of the line a minute later.
“
What
’
s
going on?
”
“
Francesco
Benedetto is in the Archives now with the American woman and the professor from
‘
La Sapienza.
’
I did what you
asked and hooked up some tiny surveillance cameras near all of the sensitive
files.
The camera tapes feed
directly into my cell phone, in real time.
“
I
can
’
t get near the table where they
’
re
working, without arousing their suspicions.
But I
’
d
like to transfer the digital files to you now, so you can decide what to do
next.
”
He waited on hold for several minutes,
looking anxiously around him as a group of young English-speaking teenagers
walked by, and then Giovanni got back on the line.
“
My
Greek contact is waiting for confirmation. Send me the files immediately. I
’
ll
get back to you with further instructions,
”
Giovanni said.
“
Meantime, keep an
eye on the three of them if they enter the Archives again.
”
Giovanni disconnected and turned to
his assistant.
“
Would
you get me the Cardinal over a secure line?
And if he
’
s stepped out of
his office, make sure to leave a message that an old friend has called and
would like to interest him in a charitable endeavor.
He
’
ll know what I
mean.
”
Bruno sat reading the
International
Herald Tribune
as they savored their espresso in the richly decorated
interior of Caf
é
Greco along the Spanish Steps.
They were seated at a cozy corner table
that nestled against dark wood-paneled wainscoting and claret-colored brocade
wallpaper covered with sepia engravings and oil paintings from a bygone
era.
Suddenly Bruno turned pale and
put the paper down.
“
Is
there something wrong?
”
Nicola asked in surprise.
“
Maybe,
”
he
said quietly, his brown eyes filled with concern as he folded the newspaper and
tucked it under his arm.
“
Look,
cara
, let
’
s go outside for a moment.
I think we need to talk about something.
”
“
I
don't understand,
”
she said, pushing her coffee
aside.
“
We
just got here.
”
He signaled a waiter for the bill, and
putting his arm around Nicola
’
s shoulder protectively, he led her
out of the caf
é
in the direction of a nearby
piazza.
“
Get
inside, Nicola,
”
he said in a strained voice, as he
unlocked his car and opened one of the doors.
“
Please.
”
She looked at him uncomprehendingly,
but slid onto the back seat without further question.
They sat down together and he handed
her the newspaper, which had been opened to the obituary section.
“
Oh,
my God,
”
Nicola gasped over and over again, as
she crumpled onto Bruno
’
s chest and burst into tears.
“
Poor Matt!
I don
’
t understand,
”
she
sobbed.
“
He
was perfectly healthy.
It has to be
a mistake.
It can
’
t
be true.
”
“
I
’
m
sorry,
cara
,
”
Bruno said, as he held her close,
stroking her hair while she wept helplessly.
“
I
’
m
so sorry.
”
Half an hour later, when she had
finally stopped crying, he gently dabbed at her swollen eyes and cheeks with a
handkerchief and opened the newspaper again.
Together they reread the article.
Award-winning Reporter Dies in Greece
ATHENS
—
Reuters
—
Internationally
acclaimed syndicated art columnist Matthew Osborne collapsed and died of an
apparent heart attack in the Monastiraki marketplace in downtown Athens
yesterday.
Osborne, 32, was not
known to have had any preexisting medical conditions, a reliable source at the
New
York Times
confirmed today.
At the time of his death, Osborne had been investigating
rumors that artwork stolen from Greek Jews during World War II had been shipped
by German occupying forces to an unknown destination in Europe.
Athens police are investigating unconfirmed eyewitness
reports that two men were sighted fleeing down a narrow alleyway off of Athinas
Street, in the direction of Omonia Square, shortly after Osborne collapsed.
* * *
“
I don
’
t want to
frighten you, Nicola,
”
Bruno
began slowly, choosing his words with care,
“
but you
did mention that Matt thought he was being followed.
I know you don
’
t want to
hear this now, but it
’
s probably a good thing that he never managed to send you
those files.
Even though his
BlackBerry apparently had a secure socket, your cell phone doesn
’
t.
Anything he would have sent you could
easily have been traced. At least no one knows of your connection to him or
that he had discussed the details of his investigation with you.
“
And I don
’
t think he
died of a heart attack,
”
Bruno
added quickly.
“
What?
”
Nicola
cried out.
“
But that
’
s what the obituary said.
”
“
I don
’
t think
so,
cara
.
It
’
s too much
of a coincidence that he should die just when he was on the trail of such a
major story.
I think he might have
been murdered.
I think he was onto
something so big that he had to be stopped.
I just don
’
t know by
whom.
”
Red-eyed, she nodded in weary agreement, and her eyes
filled with tears once more.
“
We
’
ll have to
get in touch with Father Benedetto again,
”
Bruno
continued.
“
The
information we saw in the files seems to confirm everything Matt told you about
the shipping invoices and the warehouse in Rome.
It seems pretty clear that Catholic
Charities is connected to all of this and that it was fencing art for the Nazis
in occupied Greece.
And maybe if we
dig deeper, we
’
ll also find that it
’
s somehow connected to the Swiss banks that stored stolen Jewish
art during the war.
”
She nodded again tearfully as he continued.
“
But we
still don
’
t know who the mastermind was
—
the
go-between who coordinated everything back then. And we don
’
t know
what happened to the stolen Greek art after it reached Catholic Charities
International.
I wonder if it
’
s still
here,
”
Bruno
considered slowly.
“
Maybe
somewhere in Rome.
”
He grew silent for a few minutes, his brow furrowed in
thought.
“
You know
something, Nicola?
Remember the
yad
that we found in the catacomb?
The
ceremonial Torah pointer?
The
lettering engraved on it corresponds to the Hebrew date of the Spanish
Inquisition.
Didn
’
t Matt say
something about the possibility that Greek Jews who
’
d migrated
from Spain and Portugal during the Inquisition may have had some Iberian
artifacts in their private collections or in synagogue holdings?
“
What if
some of the stolen art that originated in Greece and seems to have been shipped
to Rome was transferred to the catacombs for safekeeping and storage?
Why else would there be a religious
artifact, with this unusual provenance, in the Vigna Randanini?
”
“
My God,
”
she
whispered in a choked voice.
“
Could it be possible?
”
“
What if
there
’
s another secret chamber somewhere,
”
he
reflected.
“
Or some sort of hidden underground passageway leading to
another crypt or to another catacomb network near the Vigna Randanini?
You know, it
’
s been
years since anyone has known where to locate the entrance to the so-called lost
catacomb of the Via Appia Pignatelli, which is supposed to be somewhere near
the one we
’
ve been examining.
“
Maybe the
yad
was somehow dropped along the way, by accident,
”
he theorized,
“
and then
later shoved into a convenient crack in the
tufa
to avoid reopening the
wall.
"Or,
”
he
said suddenly, turning to Nicola in astonishment,
“
maybe it
was meant to mark the place where a hidden doorway was constructed.
That must be it!
It
’
s the only plausible explanation.
”
“
Then I
guess . . . I guess we
’
ll to have to go back to the catacombs and take another
look,
”
she
faltered, trying to focus her thoughts and get herself under some semblance of
control.
“
But this
time, I think we
’
d better do it after dark. Maybe even in the middle of the
night, when the entire area is clear and the
carabinieri
are less likely
to be alert.
“
I
’
m
frightened, Bruno. I
’
m really scared.
But we can
’
t let this go,
”
she
said with quiet determination.
“
This might
be the most important discovery of all.
Maybe there
’
s an entire cache of stolen artifacts that has been hidden
since the war.
And if there is, we
have to find it and expose it.
We
owe it to the dead
—
to the Greek Jewish community and to Matt.
”
And at the mention of his name, she began to cry again.