God's Lions - House of Acerbi (25 page)

“But that still brings us back to the point of some kind of target group, if there is a target group,” Lev said. “Surely some kind of pattern would have emerged by now.”

“The dispersal in New York was very small and died out very quickly,” Diaz said. “It didn’t have the chance to affect everyone. That one fact alone leads me to believe that those responsible for the attack are still concerned that the pathogen they created might somehow mutate and end up affecting everyone, including themselves. That would explain why the pathogen was designed to die out quickly ... so it wouldn’t spread. It’s possible that these outbreaks were only trial runs to rule out possible mutation.”

Ariella drummed her fingers on the table. “But going back to what you said earlier, Dr. Diaz, over time it would have been impossible for two different species of humans to live side by side without each inheriting most of the DNA of the other. If there had been two separate species, their unique DNA makeup would have been mixed thousands of years ago due to the inevitable interbreeding between the two, just like the Neanderthals. At this point, wouldn’t it be utterly impossible to engineer a virus that would target only one of them and not the other?”

“You know, all of this talk about two different species has made me think,” Diaz said. “The cardinal here is a very astute fellow. Whether or not he realizes it yet, he may have just stumbled on the key to how the virus picks its victims. Carrying forth his hypothesis on two different species, it would seem likely that, in order for this virus to target only one group, the members of that group would have to be somehow predisposed to its effects. In other words, if their DNA makeup was not already different from that of other humans, it would have to be altered somehow by whoever is spreading the virus, otherwise it would affect everyone. The only way they could make this happen is if they created a mutated gene within a certain population ... an artificially engineered gene we haven’t discovered yet. I don’t know how they’re doing it, but I believe that the people responsible for spreading this virus are somehow prepping their victims.”

Everyone at the table stared in silence at Dr. Diaz. In a give and take scientific discussion that had lasted all of thirty minutes, he had nailed it. His was the most logical explanation as to why the virus targeted some and spared others.

Leo felt a sudden vindication for his decision to ask for help from the Spanish scientists. Running his fingers over the surface of the table, he looked up and saw Evita Vargas staring at him. “In view of what Dr. Diaz just said, Cardinal, I believe the data you requested on the victims will still be a critical piece of the puzzle. The details on the lives of those who died will help us determine not only how they came into contact with the pathogen, but may provide clues as to how they were prepped to make them susceptible to it.”

Finishing the last of his coffee, Mendoza reached into his pocket and tossed a small metal tube across the table to Leo.

“What’s this?”

“The lab in Barcelona sent that to us while we were waiting on the dock this morning. The military found it at the crash site.”

“What is it?”

“See for yourself. I think you’ll recognize the contents.” Mendoza saw the worried look on Leo’s face. “Don’t worry, Cardinal, the lab checked it out for any contamination. It’s clean.”

Unscrewing the top, Leo saw something he handled every day ... a stack of small round communion wafers.

“We believe that metal canister probably belonged to Cardinal Orsini. We were told that it was part of a kit he used to say mass when he was away from the Vatican.”

Leo let some of the round wafers fall out into his hand. Looking closer, his eyes widened when he saw that they had the seal of Pope Michael imprinted on their surface.

“Something’s not right here,” Leo said.

“What is it, Cardinal?”

“These hosts ... only one person in the world is allowed to use these ... the pope. They were made specifically for his private chapel. No one else should have had them in their possession, even Orsini. These need to be sent back to the lab, Javier.”

“But they’ve already been checked for contamination.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about. I want them to check the variety of the wheat used to make these ... and Javier, make sure they include a genetic profile.”

Lev’s flip-flops dangled from his tanned, calloused feet as he sat in the bridge and looked out over an empty sea. “I suppose we should put into a French port soon.”

“We don’t have much choice,” Alex Pappas replied. The Carmela’s captain was looking through his binoculars for signs of other ships in the area. “Our fuel tanks are less than half-full and we need to top them off while we still have a chance. The spread of the virus is shutting down ports all over the world.”

“Maybe we should have planned ahead and purchased a sailboat.”

“Then I wouldn’t be your captain, sir. The biggest thing I’ve sailed was a small fifteen-footer my father gave me when I was a teenager. Besides, a mainsail for one of those mega-yachts costs almost as much as an engine.”

“Let’s head into Monaco. They’ve just expanded their harbor to accept large yachts. Bishop Morelli and I were there last year during the Grand Prix.”

“I suppose you stayed at the Hotel de Paris?”

“No, we didn’t. Why are you grinning at me like that?”

“Because I know how you are about the hotels you stay in.”

Lev grunted and sipped his coffee. “You think I’m a snob when it comes to hotels?”

“I just know you enjoy your comforts. Can’t say I blame you ... you get what you pay for.”

“Actually, we stayed in Menton on the Cote D′ Azur. It’s only about seven kilometers from Monaco on that narrow coastal road close to where Princess Grace had her fatal accident. I have a friend in Menton who owns a beautiful turn-of-the-century mansion that was converted into a hotel after the war. Most of his guests are English tourists getting on in age. I once put in an order to have breakfast delivered to my room at seven. A pretty, dark-haired girl knocked on my door with my breakfast tray at exactly seven ... not one minute before or one minute after. It’s that kind of place. You can probably get that kind of personal service at the Hotel de Paris, but you’ll pay ten times the price.”

“My father used to love going into the harbor at Monaco when he was a captain, but he said that things have changed over the years. Apparently, even the dock boys act like they’re rich and famous.”

“Yes, it’s gotten much worse there, especially when they’re hosting the Grand Prix. Back in the 1950’s and ‘60’s, Formula 1 racing was still all about individuals who built and drove some of the finest racing machines in the world without any backing from major corporations. The teams would actually park their race cars right on the street, and you could walk up and peek inside the cockpit while the mechanics worked on them. It was wonderful. Now, it’s all about corporate sponsors and computers and cars with automatic transmissions. Automatic transmissions! Can you believe it? Instead of driving talent, aerodynamics is the new buzzword, and the cars are fenced off from public view. You can’t get within 100 yards of them now without being tackled by twenty security guards.”

Alex was smiling at Lev’s Grand Prix rant as he walked over to the navigation computer and began punching in GPS coordinates for the Principality of Monaco. The large yacht began a slow arc toward the northeast as the intercom buzzed on the center console. Lev picked up the receiver and listened briefly before setting it back down.

“Dr. Vargas wants to see me in the command center. Let me know when we’re approaching the harbor.”

“Will do.” Alex brought the binoculars back up to his eyes and began scanning the horizon in front of the yacht.

Walking down the narrow hallway behind the bridge, Lev descended a short set of stairs to the command center. Once inside, he let his eyes adjust to the darkened space before taking a seat next to a frowning Evita Vargas as she peered at her glowing computer screen without looking up.

“What’s up, Evita?”

Evita nodded toward the computer. “I’m linked to Daniel’s computer in Israel. He was teaching me how to run skip sequences in the code when we found some phrases in Leviticus. The first thing we noticed was a name. I think you’ll find it very interesting.”

On the screen, Lev could see the name,
Eduardo Acerbi
, running in a horizontal line across the top of the page and circled in red.

“Eduardo’s been missing and presumed dead for almost forty years,” Evita continued. “Daniel and I were kind of hoping the code would give us some clue as to what happened to him. His son, Rene, is now in control of the Acerbi Corporation. Below Eduardo’s name, we found two more encoded words.”

Lev pulled his glasses down from his forehead and leaned in closer to the screen. The words
dark guardian
jumped out at him as a bead of sweat began to form on his brow.

Dark guardian of what?
Visions of the dark forces they had all faced in the past flooded his mind. “Has Leo seen any of this yet?”

“No, I wanted to show it to you first, Professor. Evita gasped as she began pointing to her computer screen. “Look!”

With frightening clarity, another phrase appeared beneath
Orsini
—
He will never wear the shoes of the fisherman.

“What does that mean?” Evita asked.

“It think we’ve just received confirmation that Orsini was never going to become the leader of the Church. The expression,
shoes of the fisherman
, is a reference to Saint Peter, the first pope. He was a fisherman, and all those who have followed in his footsteps are said to be walking in the
shoes of the fisherman
.”

Evita’s self-assured demeanor was rapidly evaporating. “I’m finding it hard to believe that the name of the cardinal who just died in the plane crash is actually encoded in the Bible!”

The computer program jumped to the next page as it continued to scan for hidden words and phrases. Both Lev and Evita physically jumped when they saw a new phrase suddenly pop up on the screen.

The evil one is near.

Evita was so shaken that she pushed herself away from the computer in an unconscious effort to get as far away from the words as she could. An icy chill ran down her back as she stared at the screen from a distance.

“Interesting,” Lev said.

“Interesting?” Evita was trembling. “The evil one is near? I’d say that was a little more than just
interesting
. Are you always so analytical, Professor?”

Lev cast a mischievous grin in her direction. “Only when I’m analyzing.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he saw that she was trembling. “I’m sorry, Evita. Would you like to take a break and go topside for some air?”

She looked at him as though he had just tossed an insult at her. “Of course not. Wild horses couldn’t drag me away from this right now. I’ll be fine.”

Lev patted her on the shoulder and reached for the satellite phone to call the villa.

Daniel’s sleepy voice answered. “What gives, Professor?”

“Are you seeing all of this?”

“Yes, Dr. Vargas and I have our computers linked.”

“We need to combine the code with all incoming intelligence data, and since you have direct access to the mainframe computer at the villa, you’re in the best position to monitor both. I’m depending on you to be our canary in the coal mine if you spot any threats headed our way.”

“I understand, Professor.”

“Good, and keep an eye out for any new outbreaks of the virus. We’ll be arriving in Monaco within the hour.”

Luxury high-rise apartment buildings overlooked the dazzling harbor of Monte Carlo where, every May, Formula 1 race cars from around the world gathered to chase each other through its fabled streets.

Stepping onto the dock, Alon and John made their way past an Olympic-sized swimming pool to the harbormaster’s office. After making arrangements for fuel, they headed across the famous tree-lined boulevard to a small sidewalk café. Within minutes, they were enjoying steaming cups of café au lait and buttery croissants, watching a parade of Ferraris and Lamborghinis as they sped past their outdoor table in a blur of color.

Surrounded by elegantly dressed people soaking up the sunshine at the nearby tables, Alon was beginning to feel a little underdressed. “Did Leo mention to you that Sarah disappeared from her hospital room in New York?”

“Only briefly. Do you think she was kidnapped?”

“No one knows. She just disappeared from her room and hasn’t been seen since. There are rumors that she is being kept against her will by government doctors at some secret lab. They must be very curious why she was the only one who became ill and survived. It’s also possible she just got scared and ran away and is hiding somewhere.”

“She would be a very valuable commodity, especially to the researchers trying to find a cure for the virus.”

“Or the people who engineered it in the first place,” Alon countered. “I heard Dr. Diaz say that these outbreaks have been kept small because those who created it are afraid the pathogen could mutate and affect everyone. A mutation could be the reason she survived, so I think they would be very interested in finding her ... if they haven’t already.”

“Dr. Diaz seems to know quite a bit about this pathogen.”

“He’s a molecular biologist, John. I think he knows a lot about viruses in general.”

“Yeah ... that would make sense, but there’s just something about the guy I can’t tag.”

“He’s kind of a loner, but I’ve met a lot of guys like him in the academic community. They just don’t have the capacity for small talk, but when they say something, you’d better listen.”

“True. I’m also starting to worry about Leo. I can tell that he’s having a hard time dealing with the fact that Sarah’s disappeared. He seems to clam up about things that are really bothering him.”

“I know. His mind has been somewhere else today. I guess the thought of what they might do to her is probably too horrible for him to think about ... much less talk about.”