Shrouded in Silence (31 page)

"Listen to me!" Michelle barked. "We've already been down this road with a bombing, murder, and a chase through the crypts under the church. You need to stay out of their way. Keep going south."

"Thanks for the suggestion," Guido said. "I'm pulling into the parking lot of the ruins of ancient Rome. Get out and move it!"

Jack grabbed Michelle's arm with his good hand. "Start moving when the Jeep pulls to a halt. We've got to walk fast."

Michelle took a deep breath. "Something tells me that I won't like this."

Guido hit the brakes. "Go through that entrance over there by special parking. The authorities are likely to think you're archaeologists. You know how to speak the dirt digger's language. Get going."

The Jeep swung away, heading back toward the street. For a moment, Jack and Michelle watched Guido angling back into the traffic. Hardly a minute had passed when the black Audi emerged from the boulevard, aiming for the same parking lot.

"Let's go!" Jack said. "Get in that drainage tunnel!"

With one last look over her shoulder, Michelle watched the black car speed into the parking lot and stop. A man was getting out.

"They're on to us," Michelle gasped. "We've got to hurry!"

Jack led the way, dashing down the drain's wooden steps descending into the darkness. A single lightbulb dangled from a bare socket, only throwing dim light on the steps. Clutching the railing, the couple stumbled down the stairs, hoping that whoever was behind them hadn't seen their descent.

"I've been down here before," Jack whispered. "I remember that the tunnel runs into the ruins of the Temple of Minerva. In the seventeenth century, one of the pope's tore a load of stone out of the ruins, but I also know that they called it the Passageway Forum, because it once provided a road from the old Roman Forum to another part of the city. Keep your eyes open."

Distant footsteps scrambling down the top steps behind them echoed down the tunnel.

"Sounds like an irritated Tasmanian devil's after us," Michelle whispered. "He's bounding down those steps like a maniac on speed. Pick up the pace!"

At the bottom of the steps, the tunnel straightened, allowing them to run down the dirt floor toward the Temple. Footsteps behind them stopped, and Michelle paused to listen. The explosive roar of a gun vibrated through the dark and a bullet whistled by frighteningly close.

"God almighty!" Jack grabbed her hand. "I've got to fire back to hold him off." He dropped to one knee and fired straight into the tunnel.

Another wild shot careened into the tunnel wall above them, but all running had stopped. Grabbing Michelle's hand again, Jack dashed into the dilapidated Temple. Dropping behind the remnant of a waist-high wall, Jack pulled out the small flashlight and made a quick survey of the area.

"There's the entrance!" he whispered and pointed to his left. "That's a continuation of the street that once ran into the city. We've got to get over there and stay as low as possible. Start crawling."

On hands and knees, they shuffled along in the dark. Behind them they heard only a slight noise, which meant their pursuer had only slowed down.

Jack dropped beneath the bricked entryway opening into the black tunnel that once emptied into Rome's housing district for the general population. "I'll delay the shooter. Run down the tunnel, and no matter what you hear, don't stop."

"No, Jack. I can't leave you here alone."

"You can and you will! This is no game of 'got ya last.' Take my flashlight and get going."

Michelle backed away slowly. "I d-don't want—"

"Run!"

Michelle plunged into the darkness with her heart pounding and fear surging through her limbs. Her arms stiffened and her breathing became more difficult. Stumbling onto the hard floor, she scrambled to get back on her feet. Once again old scenes began swirling through her head. Flashes of fires exploded and debris blurred her vision. Pounding her chest, she knew another emotional attack mustn't stop her in the midst of the danger descending on them with the ferocity of a pack of starving wolves. She had to stop the post-traumatic stress surge from overwhelming her.

Switching on Jack's flashlight, Michelle edged forward. It looked like archaeologists had been digging in the sides of the walls and leaving hunks of rock strewn over the floor.

Two sudden exchanges of gunfire behind her caused her to run again. The path seemed to wind like a meandering trail through a long-gone forest. Piled together through the centuries, mounds of dirt around her stood as remnants of a bygone age. Michelle kept running.

The shallowness of her breathing made it hard to maintain a pace. Finally, she dropped down behind a pile of rocks. Another blast echoed down the tunnel with a fearsome roar. She had to get her mind organized and push the increasing trepidation away.

Michelle began crawling on her hands and knees into a side tunnel. Keeping the Walther pistol in her right hand, she inched her way through the blackness. The air felt damp, and a hint of moisture filled her nose. When she turned on the flashlight again, Michelle found a still pool spreading in front of her. Like a small pond, the surface of the quiet water stretched to a distant rock wall. She must have stumbled on to drainage from who knows how many centuries.

The black surface reflected like a giant mirror. With Jack's flashlight gleaming across the water, she recognized the black hair and dark eyes of a striking Italian woman and knew men found her attractive. The image wasn't a little girl crouching in the backseat of a car flying out of control. She had become someone different and always would be. What happened to that child was in the distant past and had to be kept there. The danger they were struggling with at this moment wasn't the same frightening experience from childhood. She could push the past away.

Squinting her eyes as tightly as possible, Michelle pressed with all her might to force the old images to float away. Slowly, the tide drifted out and calm returned. Even with a terrorist shooting at them, she could face the assault without allowing it to become confused with long ago. Michelle got back on her feet and steadied the gun she held in front of her. It was time to help her husband whether he wanted her assistance or not. They were a team, and running away down some dark tunnel didn't help either of them.

With cautious, slow steps, Michelle retraced her path back through the musty tunnel. All shooting had stopped and no other sounds echoed down the way. If she yelled, it might disclose her location and endanger both she and Jack. Michelle kept walking.

After a turn in the tunnel, she recognized a dim glow of the entrance straight ahead. Unless he'd been hurt, Jack had to be close. She crouched down on the floor, watching for a shape to emerge in front of her. She saw nothing. Could he have been hit? Could their attacker be waiting just on the other side? Absolutely. The only option was to wait in the dark and see.

Time hung heavy. Finally, she decided to try a ploy. With her gun held straight in front of her aimed at anyone that might come around the corner, she called out in a near whisper, "Jack?"

"I'm around the corner," a quiet voice said.

"You all right?"

"Yes," Jack said. "I think our adversary retreated. He probably didn't expect us to be carrying weapons."

"Can I come around the corner?"

"I think so. We've got to be cautious. The man could be lurking ahead of us in the tunnel."

Michelle crawled around the corner. "Jack, we must be doing something awfully right or big-time wrong to stir up this much of a struggle. Who'd think that the pursuit of the ending to a Gospel could set off World War III under the remnants of a three-thousand-year-old city?"

"Hand me my flashlight," Jack said. "Let's see if we can spot anyone in the tunnel who was shooting at me. Maybe an exchange of gunfire sent him sprinting back out of the tunnel. It's possible that the noise never got above the ground and no one knew we were down here slugging it out."

"Yeah, and we've got to make sure that nothing happened to Guido during the struggle."

42

T
ourists walking around the ruins of ancient Rome watched from a distance while police combed the area around the drain hole. Detective Alfredo Pino walked back and forth in front of Jack and Michelle sitting on a broken marble column, seeming genuinely upset. The Townsends sat quietly, saying little.

"If I hadn't worked on my English for years, I wouldn't even know how to talk to you people," Pino said. "I have more trouble keeping up with you than any five criminals in Rome." He kept scribbling in a small notebook.

Jack looked at the ground and said nothing.

"You've gotten yourselves involved in a murder, an explosion, a personal attack in a church with a man killed, and now a gunfight in an archaeological ruins. Don't you think that's amazing for two people who say they're nothing but scholars?"

"Remember that the explosion put Jack in the hospital and killed our associate," Michelle protested. "We certainly wouldn't have been responsible for such a tragedy."

"That's the only thing that keeps me from thinking you're running drugs or pushing stolen automobiles," Pino said. "I swear! How can you get into so much difficulty when you say you're only trying to figure out Bible problems."

"Look, Alfredo," Jack said. "We are as baffled by these attacks as you are. We simply don't have any better explanation than what we've discussed so far. Some people think it's all connected to that explosion in the metro system back in September. Others feel the Vatican has been offended by our explorations."

"The Vatican!" Alfredo Pino exploded. "Lord, help us out on that one. Please, don't mention that idea again around me."

"I'm only trying to help."

"That thought isn't helpful for certain," Pino said.

"I honestly don't know what else to tell you except the shooter was definitely trying to kill us," Jack said. "Getting shot under an archaeological dig isn't exactly my idea of an indoor sport."

Alfredo Pino shook his head. "We have our staff working on your problems night and day. It hasn't been easy. I'd suggest you limit what you do on the streets until we get this mess cleared up."

"Believe me, we'll do our best," Michelle said. "We're not interested in being used for target practice. Please believe me. We're not out looking for trouble."

"Everything OK?" Father Blake came walking up. "I heard you were being chased again."

"Ah!" Jack exclaimed. "Father Blake, please tell this detective that we're not causing all the trouble we have experienced. I'm afraid the police think that we're the source of all the turmoil. Can you help us?"

"I can vouch for them," Father Blake said. "These are good people being chased by bad men."

Alfredo Pino scratched his head and flipped his notebook shut. "I'll take your word for it, Father, but this is getting old. Tell them to keep their heads down next time." The detective walked away.

"I think I once mentioned something about a hate group chasing Americans like they were wild turkeys in hunting season," Blake said. "As I recall, no one listened to me."

"We're listening," Jack said. "Carrying those guns you gave us saved us down there in the Minerva Temple or we'd have bullet holes in our heads."

"If nothing else, guns are a step forward in keeping you alive. I'm telling you these terrorist are mean guys. By the way, have you seen that Dr. Albert Stein guy lately? Seems like he's disappeared."

"No one's heard of him since the first day after the offices got blasted," Michelle said. "Maybe he went away."

"I don't think so," Blake said. "Just wondering."

"I guess we're free to go," Jack said. "Want a ride anywhere, Father? Guido will be waiting to pick us up. We can take you."

"No, no," Blake said. "I'll be off on my rounds, but you people need to pay careful attention to who's following behind you."

"We were," Michelle said. "That's how the whole chase scene started. The thugs were following us in a black Audi. We ran down the underground tunnel to keep them from blasting us."