The 731 Legacy (10 page)

It had to mean something. He wouldn't do that unless he had a reason. Was he attempting to identify his abductors? Was it a letter or phrase in sign language? Maybe that was it: sign language. Or maybe it had something to do with where he was being held. Crooked something, maybe? But it would be crooked in a different language, one he knew she would not understand or speak. No, it was a simple clue from a simple gesture. She was certain. But

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what?

She threw the pictures on the bed beside her, shaking her head. His damn fingers looked more like a snake's fangs than anything. Okay, think, Cotten. John had to be within driving distance of Chisinau, Moldova. The cardinal said they received the ransom demand the same day as the abduction. She would call down to the front desk and ask if they had maps of Eastern Europe. Specifically Moldova or Transnistria. Maybe there was a place with the word crooked in its name, or someplace named after a snake.

"Transnistria," she repeated aloud.Almost sounds like Transylvania. Wasn't Transylvania in the same general area? No, it was a region of western Romania. That much she remembered from European history class. The famous home of vampires and Dracula.

Cotten bolted upright and sat on the edge of the bed. Could it be that simple? John had a split second to think of a way to send a message, to give a clue. He knew the Vatican would see the photo. Did he think that maybe she would, too?

Cotten held the picture under the light again. Maybe his fingers are posed like fangs, but not snake fangs. Like vampire fangs. Like Dracula's bite.

No. That was nuts. No one would buy it. But what else could it mean?

Simple clue, simple answer. Wherever they were being held had something to do with vampires or Dracula.

She checked her watch. 3:15 pm. That meant it was 9:15 am in New York. Ted should be in his office by now.

She placed the call.

"Cotten, you okay?" Ted said as soon as he picked up.

"I'm fine," she said.

"Any news? We've all been keeping our fingers crossed. Absolutely nothing is coming over the wires about the situation. Our crew is just arriving in Moldova, but they're getting hit with a ton of government red tape and runaround. You got anything?"

"I met with Cardinal Fazio. Archbishop Felipe Montiagro was there, too. He was called to the Vatican because of what has happened to John and the foreign minister."

She switched the receiver to the other ear and swallowed hard knowing she had promised the cardinal not to divulge anything from their meeting. But because they didn't seem to be taking action to save John, she had little choice.

"Ted, anything I tell you has to be kept between us for now. Things are fragile, and I don't want to do anything that would risk John's safety. Is that a deal?"

"Whatever you say, kiddo."

"The cardinal confirmed that John and his group have been kidnapped and are being held somewhere in or near Chisinau,

Moldova, or perhaps across the border in Transnistria. The kidnappers are demanding one hundred million dollars in ransom. So far, no one knows for sure exactly who the kidnappers are. There are so many factions there."

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"Are they going to pay?"

"No. The Vatican has emphatically refused to negotiate. I have conflicted emotions about that."

"I can imagine."

"The thing is, Ted, John is in real danger. There were two Swiss Guards who accompanied the group. The kidnappers murdered them. Decapitated. Their heads were impaled on stakes. They wanted it to be a message to the Vatican to pay up or else. These men are thugs with no conscience. They sent pictures of the decapitated heads to the Vatican." Cotten's voice clutched up. "I'm really afraid for John. The powers that be in the Vatican are sitting on their hands, Ted. I have to do something."

"You're just one person. This is an international incident. I think you should leave it to the experts. The negotiators. You stick your nose in the wrong place over there and you'll end up being snatched, too. You want your head to be the next one impaled? I understand how you must be feeling, but—"

"Stop. I don't need a lecture. I need your help. I may have something. But it's a long shot. Just give me a chance, okay? Be my friend."

She heard a long frustrated groan from Ted.

"I am being your friend. I don't want to see anything happen to you." He paused, then said. "Guess I should know by now I can never talk you out of something once you get it in that bull head of yours. Okay, what have you got?"

"Before I tell you, I need you to promise that you won't think I've lost my senses. What I'm about to say is deadly serious, no matter how farfetched it sounds. Okay?"

"Let's hear it."

"In addition to the photo of the two impaled heads, the kidnappers sent a picture of John and the other two priests."

"So they're alive."

"Yes. Well, at least when the photo was taken. You can't tell much from their location except that it's probably someplace old. There's a stone wall behind them that I think is a building. Reminds me of a fort or castle or something like that. Anyway, Roberti and Burns look normal, but it appears to me that John is deliberately posing. I think he is trying to send a clue to his location. What he's doing is too strange, too awkward to be natural. He has one hand at his neck, and his fingers are curved, crooked. My first thought was it looked like he was imitating snake fangs. But then—" She knew this was going to sound ridiculous, but she had to go for it. "I think he's trying to indicate bite marks on his neck."

"Bite marks. I don't get it. You mean like insect bites?"

"No... more like vampire bites."

"Vampire bites?"

She heard him smother a laugh. "Ted, you promised to take me seriously. I think John is sending a clue that he's being held at some location that has something to do with vampires. Maybe with Dracula."

"Know what I think? You're under so much stress with this that you're

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seeing things that aren't there. Cotten, it's just plain crazy. There's no such thing as vampires. What if John was just scratching his neck?"

"Or trying to send us a message. Ted, can you please just humor me for a second?"

"I've got a general staff meeting in five minutes. Whatever you've got left, make it quick. I don't mean to minimize this, but if you were on this end of the conversation, you'd be skeptical, too."

"This will only take a minute more, I promise. I think John is possibly being held in Dracula's Castle. But I don't have Internet access here so I can't research to find out where that might be. Are you at your computer?"

"Yes."

"Google Dracula's castle for me. Don't argue that it's a stupid idea, just do it, and then I'll leave you alone and you can go to your meeting."

"Okay, hang on. I'm indulging you as a friend, but I think you are grasping at wisps of smoke." There was a pause and then Ted came back on.

"I'm putting you on speaker, but there's nobody else in my office, and the door is closed. God knows if anyone overheard this conversation, they would have us both committed."

She heard the clicking of his keyboard. "What have you found?"

"Bran Castle in the Carpathian Mountains is the famous Dracula castle. It's a major tourist attraction. I don't think that would be practical for the kidnapper's purposes. No better than holding the hostages in the middle of the Acropolis. And it would be a long drive from Moldova."

Cotten's shoulders sagged. Maybe Ted was right about her grasping smoke. "All right. You win. Sorry to have bothered, I was so hoping ..."

"Cotten, I understand. I'm on your side. I want to get John back safely, too. You're doing the best you can."

"Will you indulge me, as you put it, a little longer? Just dig a little deeper. Maybe there was more than one castle or Bran Castle has secret dungeons or something."

"Well, now, wait a minute. Here's another one. It's in Romania. Poienari Castle in the Fagaras Mountains. But it's in complete ruins and virtually inaccessible."

"Anything else? Anything at all?"

The line was silent for a few moments. Finally, Ted said, "Cotten, you still there?"

"I'm here."

"Hang on, kiddo. You might have actually come up with something in that pretty little head of yours. Listen to this. There's a third castle. It's called Wolf Castle, located in the mountains of Transnistria, just across the border with Moldova. It was built by Vlad Tepes III, aka Dracula. Seems that Vlad would torture his enemies, cut off their heads, and then he would..."

"Would what?" she asked.

"He got his surname,Tepes, from his favorite method of killing.Tepes

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meansThe Impaler."

THE CROSS

John realized that his crucifix and chain were missing as he rubbed his neck—the same crucifix given to him by his grandfather on the day of John's ordination into the priesthood. He never took the crucifix off.

"No bite marks?" Father Burns whispered, staring at John from across the table.

"Apparently not," John answered, "but it appears I've lost something." He stood and called to the guard to take him back to his room.

***

On his hands and knees, John searched under the bed in his room for his cross and chain. He had already thrown off the blanket and mattress.

"Lose something?"

John looked up to see General Borodin standing in the doorway. He had been so preoccupied with searching for the cross that he hadn't heard the man enter.

"Yes," John said as he stood and brushed off his hands. "I've misplaced my crucifix and chain. I hoped it might have come off during the night and fallen to the floor."

The General glanced around the room. "It's said that strange things happen when darkness falls upon this place."

He moved about the room as if he were a hotel manager checking to see if housekeeping had done a good job. He touched the chair and slid his hand across the headboard carvings of winged demons. "How can you sleep beneath such grotesque images?"

John returned the mattress to the bed frame and decided to take advantage of Borodin's visit. "I don't believe you fully understand the position you're in with our abduction. We are diplomats protected by international protocol. Holding us against our will is a violation of—"

"I'm well aware of the situation." Borodin folded his arms. "The international condemnation of our actions is of no importance to me. We are opportunists, here to collect a large sum of money in exchange for your freedom. If your pope decides not to pay, you will be executed like your friends."

"Killing those men accomplished nothing."

"It sent a clear message that if our demands are not met, the same thing will happen to you and the others. The Vatican has received a photo of the two dead men. A picture is worth a thousand words, wouldn't you say? Everyone

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needs motivating, Cardinal Tyler. Without proper incentive, there is hesitation, doubt, and miscalculation. We want to expedite this exchange as quickly as possible. Giving them good reason to meet our demands lowers the chances of any kind of interference or foolhardy rescue mission—although I would find it hard to believe there would be such an attempt."

"Have they responded to your demands?"

"It is only a matter of time." He walked to the door, paused, and turned back to John. "Legend says that Count Dracula was not fond of the Christian cross. Perhaps it was his ghost who took your crucifix."

LOBBY MEETING

"Hello, Ms. Stone."

Cotten looked up to see a tall, well-dressed man in a business suit approach her table. She sat on an L-shaped couch in the lobby of the LeoGrand Hotel near the business center of Chisinau, having arrived from Rome on Air Moldova that morning. It was the same hotel where John, Roberti, and the others stayed before disappearing. "Ambassador Russell?" Cotten stood and extended her hand.

"Sorry I'm late."

The U.S. Ambassador to Moldova was well over six feet tall, with a slender face and pale complexion, mud-colored hair with an extreme comb-over, and horn-rimmed glasses. Cotten estimated he was in his late forties.

"Please join me," she said, sitting up straight and pointing to a wingback chair opposite the couch. "I really appreciate you taking the time to meet with me."

"It's the least I can do for such an important member of the international press," Russell said. "And such a beautiful one, I might add."

"Thank you." She settled back into the thick cushion. "Care for something to drink?"

"Just had lunch," he said, taking his seat. "What brings you to Moldova?"

"I'm hoping you can shed some light on the disappearance of the Vatican delegation. Anything would be helpful. What do you know?"

"Not much, I'm afraid. At the request of the Holy See, I've made some inquiries with the local government, but they seem reluctant to get too involved. I was told by their chief of national security that the delegation came here at their own risk and may have fallen into the hands of the extremist breakaway group who are fueling this nasty border dispute. To be honest with you, it's getting more and more dangerous to travel to the outlying areas."

"I was under the impression that the State Department helped arrange for the Vatican to get involved, and that they did so at the request of the Moldovian

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government."

"Well, there is some truth to that." Russell scratched his head and hand brushed his comb-over. "But this is a crazy part of the world, Ms. Stone. For starters, the self-declared republic of Transnistria is an enigma to everyone. Because of the rising political and economic turmoil, traveling across the border can be very dangerous. The few times I've done so, I felt like I was being watched every moment."

"Yes, but you're a high-profile American diplomat. Wouldn't that be expected?"

He shrugged. "I hear reports of people being detained just for speaking English in public or taking a picture of a government building. It's like the old Soviet mentality of paranoia and fear hanging on by its nails for one last breath. The Ministry of State Security, which is nothing more than a modern-day KGB, has all-encompassing, extensive powers. Most of the citizens live in dread. There's widespread corruption at all levels of government. And there is no middleclass to speak of. You're either dirt poor or rich beyond most of the world's standards."