Prologue
Rome, June 1944
The GI knelt when everyone else did, growing impatient from the wait. Four days on the run had made him jumpy.
Stained glass cast an eerie color on his skin. Churches gave him the creeps. Morbid places. Scary people. He would rather have been ducking
live rounds at the front. But if this source was right, the item in the satchel could unlock the riches of the Vatican, riches enough to share, and he
could spend the rest of his life anyplace he wanted. In style.
After a time, they sat again and the officer with the familiar insignia slipped into the pew next to him. He
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spoke in a hushed tone, words
inaudible to the worshipers’ ears.
“I think I’ve found a guy,” he said.
“Good,” the GI replied. “When can I see him?”
“He wants me to be sure we’re not wasting his time first. Did you bring it? He told me what the alphabet should look like. Show it to me.
I have to report back to him.”
The GI looked around to be sure they were unobserved, then reached into his pack and produced the fragile papyrus. He didn’t release
his hold on it until the officer lifted his eyes and looked into his. No time for a double cross, his expression said. The officer’s eyes challenged him.
He could not risk an attempt to smuggle it out on his own, so he released his grip. The officer unfurled it and examined the mysterious
letters carefully in the suffused light. In a flicker, a cold wire was around the GI’s neck and digging in so fast and so hard that he had no time to
react. Pressure bulged behind his eyes. He reached up
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