In Tongues of the Dead (16 page)

Matthew didn't react.

Benicio wanted to watch the boy while he was on the phone. He turned the engine off, removed the key, opened his door, and climbed out, then went to the phone. He checked his watch. Midafternoon here; early evening, Vatican time. He pushed in his calling card and dialed.

It took a moment, then he heard the familiar ring. He watched Matthew, who remained motionless in the car.

Finally, someone answered. “
Allô
?”

“Father Lumière?” Benicio asked.

“
Oui
.” The word was an urgent whisper. “Is it Father Valori?”

“Jacques,” Benicio spoke quickly, “I think I'm in trouble.”

“Something is stirred. Something very big.”

“What's going on? What have you heard?”

“Were you contacted by the cdf?”

“Yes.”

“By Cardinal Espinosa?”

“Yes. What's going on?”

Father Lumière knew secrets. He was a head chef and had the run of Vatican City. Everyone knew him, so conversations rarely stopped when he entered a room to deliver meals. Benicio considered him a close friend.

“There is fury. I know little more. Espinosa is, how you say, on the warpath. He has spoken to Cardinal March about someone. He means to have the someone excommunicated. Is it you?”

“Me?” Benicio asked in surprise. Would the cardinal know of his actions so quickly?

“What have you done?” Jacques asked.

“Have you ever heard of the Voynich manuscript? Has anyone been talking about it?”

“
Oui
.” A tentative answer.

“What's the matter? You have heard of it?”

“Is that what this is about?” Jacques' voice betrayed alarm. “Why do you ask of this book?”

Benicio looked at Matthew and decided the boy didn't need to be kept secret. “I've found someone who can read it.”

“
Merde!
Benicio! Do you have the manuscript?”

“No, I —”

“You are in great danger,” Jacques warned. “Do not interfere.”

“Why? What's the book about?”

“God's sin. His great mistake. The Grigori. The cdf would do anything —” He stopped speaking.

“What?” Benicio asked. “They'd do anything to what?” Benicio knew the Grigori were the fallen angels God had originally sent to Earth to help man, and that they had eventually lusted after women and had children. The children were the Nephilim.

The connection clicked with static. Father Lumière was gone.

“Hello? Hello?” Benicio said.

“My son,” came another voice, a familiar voice with an Italian accent. “What do you hope to accomplish?” For a brief moment, Benicio allowed the shock and fear to run through him. Then he forced it back down again.

“Cardinal Espinosa,” he said.

“Stop. You don't know what you are dealing with.”

“Tell me then.”

“Of course. Jeremy and Maury will come and meet you. You should all return to the Vatican with the boy.”

“Why did you send them?” Benicio's voice betrayed his distrust.

“Certain jobs require certain people. This job required them.”

“What was my job?”

“You were to confirm the truth of the boy's gift. Now, Benicio, come home.”

“What is it that the boy will read?”

“This is not a conversation for the phone,” Cardinal Espinosa said. He sounded irritated. “Give the boy to my men and return to the Vatican at once. That is an order.”

“I can't,” Benicio said quietly.

“What?”

“I don't know what's going on, but I intend to find out.”

“You are risking your life,” Espinosa spat. “You are risking your soul.”

“Maybe.” He hung up.

He stared at the car. The boy was sitting still. Benicio felt a pang of guilt and picked the phone up, dialed information, and asked for John Younger in Meriden.

The phone rang once. “Hello.”

“Hi, is this John?”

“Who is this?”

Benicio wasn't sure he had the right number. “Is this John Younger?”

“Yes, who is this?”

“I was at your house earlier when all the commotion happened. How are things now?”

“Do you have the boy?”

The boy? That's an odd way for a father — even a foster parent — to phrase the question
.

“Do you?” the man asked, more forcefully.

“He's fine,” Benicio answered. “I was concerned for his safety and —”

“Where are you now?” the man demanded.

Benicio wasn't sensing any actual concern for the child. Something wasn't right.

“He's safe,” Benicio repeated. “What happened there after I left?”

“Just bring him back,” the man said impatiently. “Bring him back and we won't charge you.”

“Is everything okay there? You sound strange.”

“Benicio,” the voice said calmly, “just bring that kid back here. You are in a world of trouble already. Cardinal Espinosa doesn't appreciate your little stunt.”

It wasn't John Younger, but it didn't sound like Jeremy or Maury either.

“Who is this? Where are Matthew's parents?”

“Don't be an idiot. Bring us the kid. We'll be waiting at the house.”

The phone went dead.

The Vatican had sent more people to clean up the situation. That was bad news. This thing was getting bigger by the second. Bigger and deadlier. Maury and Jeremy were probably pursuing him right now — assuming they hadn't been shot by John Younger.

He looked around the service station, wanting inspiration. He needed a plan. He needed to get away from Jeremy and Maury long enough to figure out what was going on. He needed help.

Then he had an idea. It would mean driving right through the night, but if Matthew slept that would be fine.

He slid into the car and looked at Matthew. “Have you ever been to Canada?”

Jake stepped into the old-style Irish pub and inhaled happily. It smelled of beer and food.

After his last appointment, Jake had looked out the window and seen Friday afternoon gridlock on Lower Water Street. He had turned the radio on: a three-car pile up on the Macdonald Bridge had backed traffic up everywhere. Jake had two choices — sit in traffic or let the traffic sort itself out. The Old Triangle was a five-minute walk from the his office.

A visit to the pub served another function. It allowed him to unwind after a day full of patients. He refused to take home the tension and stress of his job. Better to take a thirty-minute break at the pub, avoid the traffic, and get home in a good mood.

Especially now.

Especially with Wyatt being sick.

Jake took his usual seat at the bar and ordered a Rickard's Red.

“Hard day, boss?” the bartender asked. Even though he recognized Jake, they weren't on a first-name basis. Jake had never offered his name. He didn't like amateur psychologists.

“Same thing over and over.” Jake hated this kind of small talk. Sometimes, he felt like his entire job consisted of forcing small talk. Some sessions were so difficult. After work, the last thing he wanted to do was have an awkward conversation with the bartender.

“You must work around here,” the bartender concluded. “I've seen you in here a few times.”

It was hard for Jake not to roll his eyes. “Yep.”

The bartender had expected more. The guy obviously took it
as a challenge to figure out his customers when they didn't want to share.

“What do you do?” he pushed.

“Stool samples,” Jake said without cracking a smile.

“What's that?”

“I work up in the hospital lab. I analyze stool samples. I sift through them and look for parasites and other abnormalities.”

The bartender obviously wanted to laugh. He wanted to share in the joke but was waiting for a sign that it actually
was
a joke. Jake looked completely serious.

The silence stretched until the bartender spoke again. “What kind of work is that? I mean, how do you like that?”

Jake looked at him, still not smiling. “I can honestly say it's a shitty job most of the time.”

The bartender snorted but Jake just stared at him and nodded thoughtfully. Then he turned his attention to his beer, and the bartender slid away.
I hope Wyatt's going to be okay
.

Jenna, Maria, and Karen sat in a booth at the back of the Old Triangle. There was a half-f pitcher of Alexander Keith's beer on the table.

“You need to get back on the horse,” Maria announced.

“And hope he's hung like one, too,” Karen giggled.

“You guys,” Jenna said. “Behave yourselves. We're supposed to be respectable nurses.”

“Only when we're on duty,” Karen answered. She took a pull from her mug.

“Do you have any prospects?” Maria asked.

“Honestly,” Jenna said, “I don't want to talk about me all night. Let's just have fun.”

“Talking about you is fun!” Karen laughed. She finished her beer and reached for the pitcher.

Jenna shook her head. She didn't need pep talks. She'd matured
past the point of needing to be in a relationship. She just wanted to be her own person for a while. She wanted to do her own things and not have to negotiate with a
partner
. She really wasn't in the mood to have these two convince her she needed a man.

“What about a fling or two?” Maria asked with a curious smile.

“What makes you think I haven't?”

“Oh.” Karen perked up. “Do tell.”

“I'm not saying I did and I'm not saying I didn't.”

“Then you didn't,” Karen said flatly.

“I don't think you're a fling kind of person,” Maria said, squinting at Jenna.

“Well, why'd you suggest the fling, then?”

“Ooh,” Karen breathed. “What about him?” She was looking at the bar. The restaurant was busy, but the bar was clear except for one lone man. “He's kind of hunky.”

Maria and Jenna looked.

“I can't really see his face,” Maria said.

“But he has nice hair,” Karen said. “And look at that butt.”

“You guys,” Jenna said, embarrassed.

A waiter set a large plate of chicken wings on the table. “This side is mild and this side is hot,” he said. “Do you ladies need anything else?”

Karen, grinning, motioned the waiter over. He bent toward her and she whispered, “We might need you to invite that sexy stranger at the bar to our table.”

The waiter straightened and laughed. “I'm afraid I can only get you what's on the menu. Just let me know if you need anything else.” He headed to another table.

“You tit,” Jenna said, scowling at Karen.

“Yeah,” Maria said as if agreeing with Jenna. “Don't invite him over until we get a look at his face.” She laughed.

“No problem,” Karen said. “Keep your eyes on him.”

The three women looked at him. “What are you going to do?” Jenna asked nervously.

“
Hey guy!
” Karen shouted, then looked away.

Maria and Jenna were still looking at him when he turned. They turned their heads quickly.

“You tit!” Jenna said again, trying not to smile at her friend's brazenness.

“Well?” Karen asked. “Is he cute?”

Jenna said, “I think I know him.”

“What? Who is he?”

“I think he was a friend of someone I used to date a long time ago.”

“Who?” Maria and Karen asked in unison.

“Just a guy, back at university.”

“Not
the
guy?” Maria asked.

Jenna didn't answer. She was pretty sure it was Jake.

“Is it the friend of the guy who left you to be a priest? That guy?”

It was. Jake Tunnel, Benicio's best friend at Columbia. She knew he'd relocated to Nova Scotia but she'd never bumped into him. She wasn't sure he'd remember her after all these years. And just this morning she'd been thinking about Benicio.
What are the odds? Next thing you know I'll be running into Benicio
.

“How's your stomach feel?” Jeremy asked, grinning.

“Asshole,” Maury snapped. “You know I'm going to have to change bandages all the time. It's going to slow us down.”

Jeremy just smiled.

The two were traveling north in their rental car. For a Friday evening, traffic was light. After they left the Younger house they'd contacted the church, and the cardinal ordered them to pursue Benicio and the boy, who were traveling north. The brothers had no idea how Cardinal Espinosa got his information, but they had never known him to be wrong.
Exitus acta probat
, the old priest had mumbled on the phone. It meant nothing to them. They just did what they were told.

The satellite phone beeped on the backseat. Maury reached over and grabbed it.