The Second Messiah

Jack felt his pulse race and sensed danger all around, his fear surging as he tried to catch sight of Lela. Then another two shots rang out somewhere in the crowd and more screams erupted. Yasmin grabbed hold of his arm. “Run, Jack.”

But Jack’s eyes were on the brutal-faced shooter who struggled out through the mob. He was joined by the bearded Arab who burst through the crowd, an automatic pistol in his hand as his eyes locked on Jack and Yasmin.

“For heaven’s sake, run before we’re killed,” said Yasmin, and Jack dragged her by the arm and they darted into the nearest backstreet.

76

They ran for fifty yards before Jack shot a glance back over his shoulder. The Arab pushed his way through the crowds, trying to keep up. Jack glimpsed the man’s companion, concealing his machine pistol under his coat.

Jack kept running, dragging Yasmin through the crowds. Rome’s streets were packed but there wasn’t a police uniform in sight. They turned a corner and Jack saw that they were in a dead end. “Turn back.”

By the time they turned round and reentered the street, the Arab was barely seventy yards behind them. Jack ran faster, his lungs ablaze as he clutched Yasmin’s hand. She said breathlessly, “We can’t just run blindly. Do we know where we’re going?”

“I’ve got a rough idea.” Jack scoured the street signs and steered a sharp right into an alleyway, the cobble shiny and worn. He wiped sweat from his face. “The street I’m looking for is around one of these corners. I can’t remember which one but I’m pretty sure we’re almost there.”

“Almost where? What street?” Yasmin began to panic.

“The place I’m looking for is off the Via Varrone.”

They entered the next turning and came to a wide cobbled street lined with tall, centuries-old residential homes with wrought-iron balconies. Their yellow stone façades were soot-streaked by pollution.

Yasmin said, “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“Trust me, it will.”

Soon they came to a building with a basement entrance. A short flight of granite steps led down to a barred metal gate with a rusted padlock. Jack hurried down the steps and called back to Yasmin, “Keep an eye out and let me know if we’ve been followed.”

Yasmin caught her breath and looked over her shoulder. “I can’t see anyone.”

“The Arab and his friend have probably taken a wrong turn. Come down here.”

Yasmin joined him at the bottom of the stairwell. Jack rattled the bars. “It’s locked solid.”

Yasmin saw tarry blackness past the gate. “Where is this place?”

Jack probed between the metal bars with his left hand, fiddling with something on the inside wall. There was a soft click and a sparse string of lightbulbs popped on, revealing a rock-strewn passageway. Bulbs strung along the granite walls illuminated a stone pathway that inclined down. “I spent two years here, working on an excavation. It’s still going on in fits and starts.” Jack got down on his knees, slipped his arm between the bars, and felt along the lower wall inside the gate.

“Just tell me where we are.”

Jack wiggled his fingers, trying to touch something. “What we’ve got down here is not exactly another Pompeii but it comes close. It’s an entrance to underground Rome I told you about. The ancient city’s right below our feet.”

“Except the gate’s locked.”

“Right.” Jack smiled as he removed his hand and revealed a worn metal key, patched with rust, dangling between his two fingers. “The dig caretaker, Rocco, always left the key here. Old habits die hard.”

“Where does this passageway lead?”

“You’ll see.” Jack twisted the key in the lock and pushed in the creaking gate. The air chilled as they moved inside. He closed the gate after them, locked it again, and tucked the key in his pocket.

“Is it safe down here?” Yasmin appeared frozen by fear, a stale smell wafting up from the staircase.

“It is if you know what you’re doing.” A trio of dented tin oil lamps hung from hooks on the wall and Jack grabbed one.

“How are you going to light the lamp?”

“I’ve got a lighter somewhere but we’ll keep going for now. The lightbulbs ought to be on for a good part of the way.” Jack moved down the path. Fifty yards on, it curved downward into pitch darkness. They heard racing footsteps and looked behind them.

Jack put a hand to his lips to silence Yasmin. The footsteps halted. A pause followed, then a rush of feet moved down the basement stairwell.

The Arab appeared behind the gate and he spotted them in the passageway. He tried to rattle open the gate but when it refused to budge he stepped back and fired his pistol at the lock. The shot exploded, ricocheting off metal and stone. It zinged past Jack’s head like a supersonic bee. A second shot ricocheted off the walls but already Jack was charging deeper into the passageway and dragging Yasmin after him.

Nidal saw the couple scurry away. Frustrated, he rattled the gate but the lock hadn’t completely shattered. He covered his face with his arm, carefully aimed the Beretta, and his second shot blew apart the lock, sending shards flying.