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Authors: Ernest Dempsey

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BOOK: The Cleric's Vault
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Chapter 54

Cuenca, Ecuador

 

The
interior of the Church of Maria Auxiliadora was just as unremarkable as the
exterior.
 
Compared to the dramatic
architecture and design of San Blas, the church Carlos Crespi called home was
humble by comparison.
 
That was, a
fact Sean and Tommy both believed to be by design the more they looked
around.
 

The
little group walked around in the main sanctuary for a few minutes but found
nothing of interest.
 
The bland
interior décor left nothing to the imagination and certainly represented no
clues as to the whereabouts of Crespi’s map.

It
was getting late in the evening and Sean was starting to wonder if Adriana knew
how to find her way to where they were.
 
He’d thought about it before.
 
Did she know about Mauricio’s little plan?
 
If so, she would know where to meet them.
 
But his friend had said nothing about
her.
 
However, being familiar with
Cuenca, she must have known they were not at the right place before.
 
For now, he’d have to believe that she
knew what was going on.

The
group scoured the building for anything that might give them a hint as to where
Crespi may have left a map or anything that could point in the right
direction.
 
After almost a
half-hour of searching, though, they’d come up empty.

Sean
had discovered classrooms and several prayer alcoves.
 
Mauricio had also shown them the dormitory where Crespi had
lived.
 
However, there had been
nothing of note in the barren chamber.
 
The sanctuary, too, had proven fruitless.
 

They
arrived back in the foyer of the church as the cathedral bells rang out the
hour.

“Is
there somewhere we may have missed?” Tommy asked Mauricio.
 
“I looked all over this place and
didn’t see anything remotely interesting. “

“I
can only provide the location, my friend.
 
I’m afraid that when it comes to finding lost things, I am fairly
useless.”
 
He smiled as he made the
confession.

Sean
wandered over to a window he’d passed a few minutes before.
 
Light from the evening moon poured in
through the clear glass panes.
 
Beyond, a vast courtyard opened up in the shape of a rectangle,
surrounded by the walls of the church compound.
 
He gazed out at small benches, prayer coves, stone paths,
and small trees.
 
“What’s that out
there?” he asked as he pointed at the window.
 

“That’s
the courtyard,” Mauricio answered.
 
“We can go have a look if you want.
 
Out there is the last place where Crespi’s collection was
seen, in a storage room on the other side of the space.”

Sean
raised an eyebrow at his friends.
 
“We may as well go have a look then.”

 

*****

 

It
had taken Hunter a few minutes to navigate his way through the hidden
passageway beneath the church that led to the streets of Cuenca.
 
He had reached an exit point where a
gate of iron bars had been left open.
 
It was fortunate for him since he didn’t much feel like going back out
through the church.
 
At some point,
he figured that team of assassins would get tired of waiting and make their
move into the building.
 
He found a
bicycle nearby, locked to a streetlight.
 
It only took him a few seconds to pick the lock.
 
He decided to play a hunch and head
towards another church he’d seen earlier in the evening on his way to the bar.

As
he weaved his way through the sleeping city streets, doubts filled his mind
momentarily causing him to wonder if he was indeed going to the right
place.
 
He would have to chance it.
 
Without any other leads to go on, it
was time to take a gamble.
 
If
Wyatt’s group found the map and left, Carlson could miss his window of
opportunity.
 
The thought pushed
him to pedal faster.
 
He could be
at the other church in ten or fifteen minutes if he went hard.

 

*****

 

“I
didn’t want to come.
 
There are
dangerous men following us,” Adriana looked into her father’s eyes.
 

The
old man laughed and stepped back.
 
He removed his hat and set it on the table.
 
“I’ve dealt with dangerous people before, my dear.
 
You of all people know that.”

She
tried to force a smile.
 
“These
people are well-trained.
 
They will
not let anyone get in their way.”
 

Before she could say anything else, he held up his hand and
interrupted.
 
“You needn’t worry
about a thing.
 
I know exactly who
is following you and what they are looking for.”
 
She sat in stunned silence for a moment.
 
He raised both eyebrows and his face
squinted in a big smile.
 
“What,
your old papa can’t hear things?”
 
He laughed again as he said it, though she still looked confused.
 
Seeing she still wasn’t convinced, he
stepped close and put his hand around her shoulder.
 
“Come, my daughter, let’s go downstairs and have a
tequila.
 
Perhaps that will settle
your nerves a bit.”
 
She nodded as
he led her around the corner out of the front room and down a darkly lit
staircase.

 

*****

 

The
courtyard presented an eerie silence as the men made their way through a pair
of large wooden doors and into the open space.
 
It was like a small park built right into the center of the
church complex.
 
Off to the side,
the huge structure of the sanctuary formed a high wall while the orphanage and
school encompassed the rest of the area.
 
The cool air filled their lungs as they walked reverently past statues
and potted plants, trees and flowerbeds.
 
A gentle breeze rustled a few leaves on a tree near Tommy as he passed
by.
 

“They
say that Padre Crespi planted most of the plants here and even designed a great
deal of the layout for this place,” Maurcio broke the silence.
 
“He had a great love of architecture
and design.
 
I was told that he
wanted a place for the people of this church to be able to escape from their
busy lives and get back to the basics of prayer and meditation.”

“Sounds
like an interesting guy,” Sean added.

Delgado
nodded his agreement.
 
“Honorable
men like that only come along so often.”

Mauricio’s
two men remained at the door to keep watch while the group continued moving
through the courtyard.
 
Several
doors dotted the space along the perimeter wall.
 
Most of them were of simple design, made of wood.
 
Some had a single window in the
center-top.
 
Others did not.
 
“Which one of those doors housed the
collection?” Tommy asked just above a whisper.
 
He spoke as though his voice would disturb the peace of the
place.

“I
believe it was that one over there,” Mauricio answered.
 
“Of course, we cannot go in there,” he
continued.
 
“It has been locked
since the time of the Padre’s death, never to be opened again.
 
However, I assure you the vault is
completely empty.”

Tommy
was clearly disappointed he couldn’t have a look inside the room, despite it
being empty.
 
To be in a place
where such an amazing collection was housed would be worth it.

Sean
snapped him back to the moment.
 
“I’m going to go take a look over here.
 
I suggest we spread out and see if there is anything out of
the ordinary.”
 
The others nodded
and each went in separate directions towards the four corners of the great
courtyard.
 
When he reached the
corner he had chosen to investigate, Sean left the stone pathway and began
checking around on the dusty ground for anything that might give a clue as to
where Crespi’s map could be.
 
He
noticed the other men doing something similar.
 
After a few more fruitless minutes of searching, he started
to head back to the path when his eye caught an old wooden ladder leaning up
against the wall about twenty feet away.
 
That gave him an idea.

 

*****

 

Carlson
pulled up to a darkened bakery at the corner of the square across from the
Church of Maria Auxiliadora.
 
He
leaned the bicycle against the wall of the building and crept to the edge to
get a better view of the scene.
 
Two black SUVs sat quietly out front of the cathedral’s entrance.
 
From his vantage point, it appeared that
two men dressed in black suits were waiting next to the vehicles.
 
One smoked a cigarette while the other
seemed to be passing the time by doing something on his phone.
 
If
the two men were supposed to be keeping a lookout, they were doing a less than
adequate job
.
 
Hunter shook his
head at the thought.

From
within his jacket, Hunter pulled a small, black handgun.
 
Quickly, he reached into another pocket
and withdrew a sound suppression barrel.
 
In less than thirty seconds, he’d attached the barrel to the gun and was
leaving his position at the corner.
 
He tried to space out his movements to keep as far away from each
streetlight as possible as he crept hurriedly towards the two parked cars.
 
Half-way across the plaza, he ducked
down to hide behind a park bench that rested near the grass median separating
him and his targets.
 
There was one
giant tree planted in the center of the green space with a few other bushes
planted near by.
 
If he used the
tree for cover, he could take out one guard and then the other without causing
a ruckus.
 
Of course, even with the
suppression barrel on his weapon, there would still be a muffled pop.
 
The noise would only be loud enough for
the other guard to hear and before he knew what was happening, he would be dead
too.

 

*****

 

Adriana
couldn’t believe what was before her eyes.
 
Her father’s basement looked like a war room for a small
government’s military.
 
Several
computer monitors sat in a cluster in one corner of the room, each screen
displaying something different.
 
One was showing a live broadcast of CNN.
  
Another one was a direct feed to the BBC and the others….
 
She wasn’t sure what those were
doing.
 
They looked like some kind
of surveillance feeds.
 
“Where are
those coming from?” she asked as she stepped slowly over to the array of LCD
screens.

Her
father had made his way over to a counter where he kept a small supply of
liquor.
 
A cigar box made from
reddish wood sat at one end of the little bar.
 
He was busy pouring two short glasses of tequila when she
raised the question.
 
So he turned
and looked in her direction as he finished pouring the drinks.
 
“Depends,” he stated flatly.
 

“On
what?” she asked as she leaned over and tried to get a closer look at what she
was seeing on the screen.
 

He
picked up the glasses and took one over to Adriana and offered it with an
extended hand.
 
“It depends on
which monitor you’re talking about,” he smiled as she grasped the drink from
him, a little uncertain.
 
“Salud,”
he said as he raised the glass to her.
 
“It is good to see you again, daughter.”

She
raised her glass as well and said nothing.
 
They both finished their drink in a few quick gulps.
 
He took the empty glass away from her
and set it on a nearby bookshelf.
 

“You
see,” he said as he pointed to some of the screens, “I’m getting surveillance
from several different places.
 
Some of them are here, in Cuenca.
 
Others are coming in from all over the place.
 
The United States, Russian, Brazil.
 
China is a little tougher to get, but
I’ve got a few there, too.”

BOOK: The Cleric's Vault
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