A Sacred Storm (30 page)

Jenna had never been on a first-aid course, but she'd seen enough episodes of
ER
and
Casualty
to know that talking to the patient was a great help. She squeezed Tariq's hand gently and tried to think of something to say. “Help will be here soon,” she started, reassuringly. “I think I can hear the sirens now. Please try and keep awake, I don't know what I'd do if anything happened. We've got such a lot of things to do together.”

Tariq tried to force a smile. He wanted to hold on but his spirit was fading quickly. The last thing he heard was the sound of sirens.

Jennings and Stella watched the screen intently over the operator's shoulder. The dot indicating Kandinsky's position had been static inside the Vatican for over half an hour. In the absence of a telephone call they had to assume that he had been waylaid.

“This is ridiculous,” said Jennings. “I knew he shouldn't have gone in there alone. He's wasted himself for nothing.”

“We don't know that for certain,” said Stella. “We'll have to wait and see what happens. Just because he hasn't moved doesn't mean he's dead. He may just be talking.”

Jennings turned away from the screen. He appreciated Stella's optimism, but felt it was probably misplaced. And with Kandinsky out of commission it left just the two of them. He wasn't sure if he was ready for the responsibility.

He was just about to pour himself a coffee when there was a knock on the door of the suite. He strode over and looked through the eyeglass. He was met with a familiar sight that warmed his heart.

Opening the door he gave a broad smile. “Grady!” he said. “You're back. What's happened?”

Grady stepped in and shut the door behind him. “I changed my mind. I knew that you'd be lost without me, and I just couldn't put you through it.”

Jennings laughed. “But seriously,” he said. “What's going on?”

Grady looked affronted. “That
is
what's going on, buddy. I was in the departure lounge watching the news and it hit me that I needed to stay.”

“But what about Brooke and the bump?”

“Brooke was the one who convinced me to stay,” said Grady. “I called her from the airport. She knows all about what's happening over here and she said that you guys needed me more than she did. Things haven't kicked off over there like they have in Europe. The Muslim community's proportionally much smaller so there's not so much of a conflict of interest.” He paused briefly, a sad look crossing his face. “Anyway, I'm here now, so get me up to speed on what's happening.”

“Are you sure you're alright mate?”

“I'll be fine. I just miss her, that's all.”

Jennings poured some coffees and then joined Stella and Grady in the living area. The return of his friend had lifted a huge weight from his shoulders.

“So come on – what's happening then?” said Grady.

Jennings handed him a coffee and sat down next to Stella. “Kandinsky's gone to the Vatican to find out what's going on,” he said.

“That was a good idea,” said Grady. “Straight into the lions' den.”

“There wasn't much choice,” said Stella. “It was either that or sit around here doing nothing. He spoke to a priest claiming to have a message from Father Cronin. We knew it was a trap, but we didn't have anything else to go on. He's got a transmitter under his skin so we're tracking him with that.”

“We'll be tracking him all the way to the morgue,” said Grady.

Stella shook her head and sighed. “You certainly know how to lift people's spirits.”

“Sorry,” said Grady. “I'm tired and I'm not thinking. There probably wasn't anything else you could do. And if Kandinsky was happy to be the fall guy then I guess it was the best option. I just don't like this whole situation, I feel like we're too exposed. They seem to be calling all the shots.”

Jennings nodded. “I know how you feel. The problem is we've got no idea exactly how much they know.”

Grady glugged a large mouthful of coffee, trying to stimulate his brain into gear. “We have to assume they know everything,” he said. “There's no point sitting around thinking we're safe. They may have been watching Desayer and Cronin for years, and if that's the case they're going to have all the information they need. Those two might think they've been careful, but if an organization as powerful as the Vatican wants to keep tabs on you then there's not much you can keep secret. They'll have listened to every phone call, read every email, bugged their offices and their quarters. Nothing is safe nowadays. You can't have a piss without someone somewhere in the world knowing.” He paused. “Sorry if I'm being too cynical.”

“No, you're right,” said Jennings. “They probably do know everything, and we've been pretty foolish thinking anything else. The question is now though – what can we do?”

“Much as I don't like it,” said Grady, “I think we're going to have to sit here and wait until we've got something to go on. It's possible they know about us, but if they knew where we were they'd have been here by now. Let's just see if Kandinsky makes it out of there before we start panicking.”

Jennings finished his coffee and went out to the balcony once more. The sun was setting and the city was bathed in a rich orange glow. The air was starting to cool, but it was fresh and invigorating. He was about to smile when he looked across to St Peter's Basilica and felt a shudder run down his spine. It was still an imposing sight, but whereas earlier it had filled him with wonder, it now imbued him with a sense of unease. In the soft evening light the dome appeared to crackle with a sinister scarlet hue. As he focused more intensely the aura grew larger, saturating the whole of Rome with a flood of deep red. Jennings felt himself being swept away on a tide of evil, strangled and stifled by the terrible onslaught of power. His throat constricted and he began to struggle for air. Choking and spluttering he fell to his knees and tried to cry for help.

Stella glanced out to see what Jennings was up to and saw him flailing on the ground. Racing to the balcony she knelt down, put an arm round his shoulder, and tried to steady him. “He can't breathe!” she yelled at Grady, who had followed her out.

“Do you know the Heimlich Manoeuvre?” asked Grady. Stella nodded. “Well use that then. Sounds like he's choking on something.”

Stella went to move her arms around Jennings' ribcage but he shook his head violently. “No,” he spluttered. “No.” And then, after a few more coughs, “I'll be alright.”

He nudged Stella gently aside and continued to hack away until the fit finally faded. He spat a small pool of saliva onto the floor and took some deep breaths.

“Are you okay?” asked Grady.

Jennings nodded. “Yeah, I'll be fine. I just had a bit of a turn, that's all.”

“A
bit
of a turn,” said Grady, raising an eyebrow.

“I told you, I'll be just fine. Stop fussing.”

“No problem, buddy. I'll just go and finish my coffee.” He went back inside leaving Jennings and Stella alone.

“That was a bit rude,” said Stella. “He's only trying to help you know.”

“I know. I just don't want a lot of fuss. I'll apologize.”

“So what happened then?” she pressed. “It looked like more than ‘just a bit of a turn' from where we were standing.”

Jennings pulled himself up onto one of the chairs. “I don't really know what happened,” he said. “I was looking out over the skyline and I suddenly felt like I was being suffocated. The whole city turned red in front of my eyes. It started from over there.” He pointed to the Basilica. “Whatever's going on in the Vatican, it's going to be disastrous for everybody.”

“So you had a vision?”

“I suppose so. I'm not sure what to call it. It's more of a feeling than anything else. I've been opened up to something I don't really understand. I'm sensitized to everything around me.”

Stella looked and saw the confusion in his eyes. She wanted to help, but didn't know how. She was about to reach out and touch him when Grady's voice carried through from the suite.

“You'd better come in, you guys,” he hollered. “Kandinsky's on the move.”

Inside the Vatican two of the Swiss Guard guided a hospital trolley down a corridor. On top, covered by a white sheet, was the body of an extremely large man. Christiano stepped out of his room and watched them go by, wondering what had happened and why he hadn't been sent for.

“Excuse me,” he said.

The guards paid no attention.

“Excuse me,” he repeated. This time louder.

The guard at the rear stopped and turned around. “What?” he said sharply.

Unfazed by the guard's tone Christiano pressed on. “What has happened to this man?”

“He's dead.”

“How?”

“I don't know,” the guard grunted. “You'll have to ask Cardinal Vittori, we're just moving the body that's all.” He turned to face the front and moved on.

Christiano watched them down the hall with a scowl and then made his way to the gate to pick up Sophia. He had been in a good mood, but the guard's rudeness had got under his skin. Who the hell did he think he was talking to him like that? He was the Messiah, not some errand boy. His rage built up as he walked, and by the time he reached the entrance he was determined to have the guard in question removed from his duties. It was only when he saw Sophia that he calmed down, her beauty dissipating his anger like a summer breeze.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yes, I'm fine. In fact now that you're here I'm more than fine.” He smiled and took her arm and led her back through the building.

Christiano's quarters consisted of a spacious living room, a bedroom and a bathroom. It was light and airy with a mixture of antique furniture and modern appliances. He had a fridge full of soft drinks and snacks, and if he wanted anything substantial to eat all he had to do was phone down to the kitchens. In fact, whatever he wanted was only a phone call away.

Tonight he had ordered a special meal. He was leaving for New York in the morning and wanted to make his last evening with Sophia a memorable one. After a vast amount of cajoling and blackmail Vittori had finally agreed that he could invite her for dinner, on the condition that she was gone by eleven o'clock at the latest. Christiano had said she would be, but wasn't going to be watching the clock on the cardinal's account.

Sophia sat down at the table and Christiano poured her a glass of wine. She sipped at it and then took a larger mouthful. “Wow! This is good,” she said. “What is it?”

“It's from the cardinal's private estate in Tuscany,” said Christiano pouring himself a glass. “I managed to persuade him to let me have a bottle. It is very special to him”

“I can see why,” said Sophia. “Although I thought he would have been honoured to give you a bottle – even a case.”

“Perhaps,” said Christiano. “But I don't like to take advantage. It's not why I'm here.”

“Of course not,” said Sophia. “I didn't mean to imply anything.”

“I know you didn't, and there is no need to explain yourself to me. You can say anything you like.” He smiled at her and then looked away shyly.

After some antipasti of olives, cheese and bread, the waiter brought in beluga caviar and toast. Christiano opened a bottle of Cristal and poured a glass for Sophia.

“Are you not going to have any?” she asked.

“No, not tonight,” he said. “We have to be away early in the morning. And besides I am not a great drinker, a glass of wine will be enough for me.”

Sophia layered some caviar onto her toast and took a bite, washing it down with some champagne. “You didn't have to go to all this trouble you know,” she said. “I would have been happy with a carbonara and some bread. This all seems a bit grand.”

“I just wanted to spoil you.”

Sophia took his hand. “I think you've spoilt me enough already. You've given me the greatest gift that anyone could. I don't think you realize how much it means for me just to be able to walk again. All this stuff,” she gestured to the food and drink on the table, “it means nothing really. It looks lovely and tastes divine, but it's just show. I might come from a very rich family, but I haven't been brought up to worship money or anything it buys. I like being with you because you give me something that money can't buy.”

“I know,” said Christiano. “But I wanted to make this special for you, as a man should for a woman. I wanted to make it romantic. I am flesh and blood just like everyone else you know. I may have amazing powers, but I am still only a man.”

“You're not just a man,” she said. “You're the Messiah. But it's very flattering that you still want to impress me. I shall enjoy the meal in the spirit that is meant and try to forget who you are.”

“Like I said, I am just a man.”

After a main course of sea bass and a dessert of panna cotta they left the table and sat down in the living area. Sophia watched Christiano as he poured the coffees, and felt warm in her heart. She still couldn't quite believe what was happening, and regularly had to take a step back and think about the situation logically. Ever since the day she met him her life had been a blur. One minute she was a lonely soul confined to a wheelchair, and the next she was running about in ecstasy, her heart exploding with hope. The miracle of movement had been enough to cope with, but the arrival of the Messiah had been something else.

And yet for all his divine qualities, there was something incredibly human about him. When they saw each other or chatted online the conversation was very rarely about God and humanity, it mainly revolved around mundane things like music and film and television, or sport and hobbies. It was really just like a regular friendship. Of course, it was slightly more than a friendship, there was no denying it. Even when she had first seen him, before she knew who or what he was, she had been instantly attracted to him. It wasn't just his dark good looks, or his deep brown eyes, that had moved her, it was also his shyness and vulnerability. He had seemed very much like a boy masquerading in a man's body, and even knowing what she did now he still had the innocence that brought out her protective instinct. Part of her wished that he wasn't the Son of God.