The Second Messiah

Jack pointed to a stone wall. Inset in the brick was a protruding piece of carved stone. At first Yasmin thought it was a carving of a finger. Then she realized that it was a chiseled symbol of an erect penis. It pointed toward the brothel. She raised an eye. “I guess people’s vices haven’t changed, have they?”

“You said it. But the city’s immorality had a heavy price. You’ll see what I mean straight ahead. And it’s pretty gruesome.”

They came to a flight of stone steps that led under an archway. Jack said, “The steps lead down to part of the Romans’ sewer system. We found lots of infant bones down there during our dig.”

“Why infant bones?” Yasmin asked.

“The brothel women often drowned their unwanted newborns. Ordinary citizens were in the same habit if their offspring were handicapped, or unwanted females.”

Yasmin recoiled. “That—that’s horrifying.”

“Roman society didn’t exactly cultivate the virtue of pity. Clemency, sure, if a gladiator fought bravely in the arena then he might be allowed to live. But the cradle of modern society was a brutal place where life was cheap.”

Yasmin marveled as the lamplight’s yellow glow picked out ancient Latin graffiti still scrawled in faded black above the arch. “What does it say?”

“‘Peaceful are the dead and the living will soon join them.’”

Yasmin shivered. “Let’s hope it doesn’t turn out to be an omen.”

A huge rat scurried past and disappeared down the sewer steps. Yasmin staggered back, stifling a scream. “Did. . . did you see that?”

“I ought to have warned you. The rats down here are as big as lap-dogs.” He raised the lamp. “We’ve arrived.”

Thirty feet past the archway was a wall at least six feet high, almost completely covered with a mound of building rubble.

Yasmin said, “I thought you said the marbles were here.”

Jack wiped his brow, confused. “They were. You entered this arch-way to get to them. I remember the location exactly because of the sewer nearby.”

He held up the lamp to study the debris mound. Then he knelt, placed the lamp beside him, and began grabbing handfuls of debris and tossing them aside. “There could have been a rockfall, but the roof looks solid enough. Or maybe someone deliberately covered up the marble with rubble.”

“Why would anyone want to do that?”

Perspiration dripped from Jack’s face as he stopped to tear off his jacket, then began tossing aside armfuls of stones. “That’s a good question. Come on, give me a hand. If we can shift enough of this junk, we’ll find the entrance.”

79

“Slow down, Ari, or you’ll bleed to death.”

Ari slowed his pace as they ran through the narrow backstreets near St. Peter’s Square. The crowded press of bodies was behind them as Lela ushered Ari into a deserted alleyway and they both caught their breath.

She released her grip on the Sig pistol in her pocket. “Let me see your hand.”

Ari leaned his back against a wall, clutching his left wrist, his face glistening with sweat. Lela examined the gunshot wound. Blood seeped from the back of Ari’s hand where a bullet had scored the flesh, exposing the wrist bone. “Does it hurt?” Lela asked.

Ari nodded and wiped sweat from his face with his sleeve. “I think the bone’s chipped.”

“You’ll need something to ease the pain. Maybe a morphine shot.”

“No time for that. You’ll find a necktie in my right-hand jacket pocket. Use it to stop the bleeding.”

“Shouldn’t we just call Cohen and have him take you to the safe house?”

Ari winced. “No way. First, I’m going to find the creep who shot me. He and his Arab buddy can’t have got far. Cane too.”

“Meanwhile you’ll bleed to death. Get sense, Ari.”

He snapped back, “Who’s in charge here, Lela? Find the tie, dress the wound, and let’s get moving before they get away. We’re losing time.”

“Okay, have it your way.” Lela fumbled in Ari’s pocket and found a colorful necktie. She pulled up his sleeve, tightly bound his wrist, and let out a sigh of exasperation.

The confrontation on St. Peter’s Square had turned into a nightmare. The Arab’s companion had managed to shoot first, hitting Ari in the hand. Then the shooter and the Arab had disappeared into the panicked crowds, chasing after Jack. Ari and Lela had followed Cohen’s dash back to the car and drove at high speed into the backstreets after them. Sirens had sounded and Swiss Guards and Vatican plainclothes security flooded the square.

When the backstreets became too narrow for the taxi, Ari ordered Cohen to circle the area but keep his cell phone on. Ari and Lela clambered out and caught a brief glimpse of the Arab and his partner darting down an alley but by now they had lost them.

Lela finished knotting the tie and the bleeding stemmed. “That’s the best I can do.”

Ari gritted his teeth, rolled down his sleeve, and scanned their surroundings. “Where the devil have they disappeared to?”

Distant, arguing voices drifted from a nearby alley. Ari said, “Let’s try this way.”