The Scorpion's Tale (46 page)

Alessandra settled into the lobby of the
hotel, and within the hour made visual contact with the man who
matched the photograph she held in her hand. She watched Steven
Capresi enter the bar and was signaled by Bianca, who had seen
Pontedor enter the hotel a few minutes earlier. Pontedor had given
the concierge an envelope for Capresi and left. Alessandra watched
Capresi retrieve the envelope from the concierge and read its
contents. She watched Capresi throw the paper away but miss the
trashcan. She waited until he was out of sight, and then
intentionally missed the trashcan in throwing a Kleenex. Alessandra
bent down, discreetly scooped up the letter, and walked out of
sight.

-------------------

Gibson’s Steakhouse was almost empty when
Alessandra arrived, although she was a few minutes early for her
8:15 reservation. While the maître’d escorted a couple to their
table, Alessandra casually glanced down at the seating chart,
noting the name ‘Charlie P’. She casually glanced toward the back
of the restaurant and saw a well-dressed older man with platinum
hair seated across from a younger, dark-haired man with his back
toward her. Glancing down again, she found the alias she had given
for her reservation. Her table was on the other side of the
restaurant. The maitre’d returned to seat her.

“Good evening. Do you have a
reservation?”

“Yes. Evans, for one.”

“Ms. Evans, kindly follow me.”

As he grabbed a menu, she caught his
attention.

“I was wondering whether you had an open
table at the far side of the restaurant?” she asked, as she placed
a twenty in his hand.

He nodded. “Very well, Ms. Evans. Please
follow me.”

This time she followed him directly past the
table where Capresi and Pontedor were seated. As she passed, she
deliberately tripped and grasped the edge of the table to steady
herself, catching Steven Capresi’s eye as he moved to help her.
Their eyes met and held.

“Excuse me. That was so clumsy of me.”

“Are you alright?” Steven asked.

“Yes,” she replied, looking embarrassed.
“Thank you. I’m sorry for interrupting your dinner.”

“It was no problem at all,” Steven said. “Are
you sure you’re okay?”

She nodded, proceeding to her table where she
ordered a glass of Merlot and a Garbage Salad. She connected
earphones to a fake I-Pod and tested the volume on the bug she had
just attached to the underside of Capresi’s table. When her dinner
arrived, she casually withdrew a magazine and settled in to slowly
eat her salad, sip her wine, and listen to the conversation between
the two men. Two hours later, Alessandra had intimate knowledge of
both of them. Her heart ached for Steven Capresi now that she
realized his wife had been nine months pregnant, and that his
two-year-old daughter had also been slain by this madman she was
tracking. She felt uncomfortable using this unfortunate soul to
complete her assignment.

-------------------

Back in her hotel room, Alessandra had
accidently fallen asleep with her earphones on. She was abruptly
awakened by the sound of Capresi’s room telephone. She peered at
her watch: 3:30 a.m. It was another conversation between Capresi
and Pontedor. This one caused a chill to run down her spine.
Alessandra felt guilt slowly replace her initial uneasiness in
using him as bait. She could no longer think of him as “Capresi,”
but only as Steven. After the two men concluded their conversation,
she listened to Steven’s weary voice as he called the airlines and
made flight arrangements the next day to Vegas. She followed suit
and made her own flight arrangements. Alessandra Morretti and her
team would arrive in Las Vegas well in advance of Steven
Capresi.

-------------------

Alessandra sat on a bench, and from a
comfortable distance, watched Steven walk around the shops at the
Venetian Hotel. He was constantly looking around, as if he sensed
her. Although Steven was very good looking and probably only a few
years older than she, Alessandra thought he looked worn. Watching
him, she sensed the anguish in his soul. After confirming Steven
Capresi’s hotel suite, it had only taken a few minutes for her team
to gain access to the room. It was just long enough to install the
same surveillance net as in Chicago.

-------------------

After a rushed room service breakfast, the
group decided that only three would go to Red Rock. Alessandra was
to remain in her room manning the communications center and keeping
track of Capresi and her colleagues. Valentina’s group reached the
Turtle Peak summit hours prior to Billy Veeksburn’s anticipated
arrival, faced with the task of setting up a more difficult
surveillance. The conversations would be electronically sent to
Alessandra, who would forward them to Vatican headquarters for
analysis.

After setting up their equipment on the
summit, Valentina decided it was time to test the transmitter and
have a little fun torturing her sister.

“Hey Sis, is it killing you to be stuck in
that dreary hotel room while I can practically reach out and touch
God’s face in this cloudless, perfectly blue sky?”

Alessandra smiled, but wasn’t going to be
baited. “No Val, I’m happy for you. Just a little bored on this
end.”

Valentina wasn’t satisfied: “The weather is
perfect and I can see for miles. I can even see Las Vegas from
here. It just pains me to think of you all cooped up. Such a missed
opportunity.”

“I’m not going there, Val. You win
today.”

“You’re no fun!”

Both women laughed.

Over the next hour, Alessandra listened in as
her sister struck up conversations with everyone who reached the
summit. Eventually, her sister said the name “Veeksburn”. She
laughed as she listened to Valentina flirt shamelessly with him,
inviting him to walk them back to the trailhead and join them for
dinner. Alessandra watched a computer screen of a detailed map of
the canyon, with one moving blip and two stationary blips created
from the individual GPS monitors inside the necklaces the women all
wore.

A little while later, Valentina confirmed
that Capresi had passed by and advised Alessandra they were
training the equipment on the far side of the summit where their
target had disappeared to join Veeksburn. Soon, Alessandra heard
the voices of Capresi and Veeksburn as clearly as if they were in
the room with her. She listened to Capresi’s emotional conversation
describing the losses in his life: his father, his wife, his
children, and finally, God. The team learned that Capresi’s next
stop would be Roatan to meet a Pablo Munoz, who would direct
Capresi to a man named Joaquin Ordonez.

Valentina reported back to Alessandra that
Capresi had left the summit. “We’re going to wait for Veeksburn to
get him drunk and pump him for more information. We’ll keep
everything on.”

“Okay. I’m not going anywhere. I’m lying on
my comfortable bed, with extra fluffy pillows, in my super cold,
air-conditioned room, hanging onto every word.”

“You princess! It’s probably a hundred
degrees out here and the Chardonnay is hot!”

Alessandra reclined on the bed to read her
book, satisfied that she had gotten the better end of the bargain
by remaining at the hotel. She could hear the occasional outbursts
of laughter from the girls and the clicking of their wine glasses,
and she wished she was with them on the summit. Fifteen minutes
later, she heard a male voice with a southern accent.

“Who’s that?” she whispered, knowing that
Valentina would still have her earpiece in.

“Shhhh,” Valentina replied. “It’s some
goofball.”

Alessandra heard the man introduce himself
but didn’t catch the name. She heard pieces of the conversation and
realized the listening device was not directed at him, but still
trained toward Veeksburn. She knew by Val’s tone that she was
becoming irritated. Suddenly, Alessandra distinctly heard the
stranger switch to Italian. One of the girls muttered a reply in
their native language. A few seconds later, there was a series of
clicking noises. Then silence.

“Valentina? Valentina? What’s happening?”

There was no reply.

“Val, answer me. What’s going on?”

There was no sound. Alessandra’s initial
concern was alleviated as the three blips representing her partners
moved together toward Veeksburn’s position on the computer screen.
At that moment, she lost her satellite connection. When the signal
returned, almost two hours later, the GPS indicated that the three
were leaving the trail. She panicked as she saw they were heading
away from Las Vegas, toward Reno. She desperately called her
sister’s cell phone and tried texting but there was no response.
She fared no better in reaching Paola and Bianca. Tentatively, she
contacted her colleagues in Rome. A male voice answered.

“Alessandra, we’ve been following the relay
transmission from you in real time and we are aware of the
urgency.”

“Enrico, I’ve got to follow them.”

“No. Listen to me. You know how much I care
about Valentina and the team. Stay where you are and let us enhance
the recording. What is taking place is too indefinite for me to
allow you to jump into the dark.”

“What about Capresi?”

“Forget about him for the time being. We have
two names to go on. Stay in your room no matter how long it takes
for me to get back to you.”

“But…”

“No. You have to listen, Sister. I speak on
behalf of the Pope. I need you where you are.” With that, he
terminated the call, not knowing how long Alessandra would maintain
her vow of obedience.

-------------------

Alessandra closed her eyes at 9:00 a.m.
Minutes later, she awoke to the call she had been dreading. Her
director informed her of Valentina’s martyrdom and explained the
enhanced conversation between the man whom they believed to be the
Scorpion and her sister, and the discovery of the bodies that
morning. He also told her that she must depart the city immediately
and destroy her necklace. He explained that her sister’s, Bianca’s
and Paola’s necklaces were found on the altar of a church in Nevada
confirming that the Scorpion knew of the Vatican’s involvement, and
that he had inside information of the tracking devices.

Alessandra listened but did not respond.
Tears streamed down her face and into her quivering mouth. Her
director, head bowed, handled his phone across an ornate desk.

“Alessandra my child, pray with me for
Valentina, Bianca, and Paola, who are now God’s angels.”

Together they said the Lord’s Prayer four
thousand miles apart. At the end of the prayer, the Pope said
soothingly: “Now it’s time to come home.”

-------------------

Alessandra and her director were escorted to
the entrance of the Pope’s private chapel, by the newly elected
Pope’s Aiutente De Camera. They both were shocked as the doors
opened and they were permitted inside. It was well known by all
Vatican personnel that the Chapel was meant for the Pope’s private
morning mass and spiritual reflection, done in the strictest
privacy with only the Pope’s personal assistant and a small
contingent of Swiss Nuns of the Congregation Of The Holy Cross Of
Metzingen in attendance. Today they were given an honor few in the
history of the Church had ever received. Upon entering, the Pope
was kneeling before the altar, his back to them in a ritual
pre-mass prayer.

Sensing the presence of Alessandra, the Pope
stood, turned, and addressed the congregation, all the while
looking only at the broken and grieving child he had spoken to on
the phone a few days earlier.

“As you see, behind me are two magnificent
Michelangelo frescoes, ‘The Conversion of Paul’ and ‘The
Crucifixion of St. Peter.’ I say they are magnificent, not for the
genius strokes of a master painter, but for the story each tells.
For today, study the face of Saint Peter looking back toward us as
he is being nailed upside down to the cross. These are not glances
between paintings of Saint Peter to Saint Paul for strength but
Saint Peter’s unwavering eyes pouring into each of your souls
stating, truer than any words, that martyrdom can still be the fate
of those who follow Jesus and his true message, even twenty-one
centuries later.”

Alessandra’s eyes, riveted on the Pope,
teared with a combination of sadness and joy. The Pope then turned
his back to continue the mass and, out of the small congregation’s
view, wiped a tear from his own eye. When mass ended, Father
Giancaro, the Pope’s personal assistant, bade all but the Director
to leave. After the Chapel emptied, the Pope approached the
director who fell to his knees, ignoring his Eminence’s
protestation.

“Please stand, Enrico. There is much I must
know.”

Enrico Lombardi stood at attention and
briefed the Pontiff on what had transpired over the past four days.
The Pope appeared expressionless as Lombardi described the
significance of the names of Pablo Munoz and Joaquin Ordonez, the
murders at Red Rock Canyon, and the details of the necklaces found
on the altar of St. Mary in the Mountains.

Upon mention of the church, the Pope
expressed a modicum of concern: “Would this be the church
originally constructed by Father Gallagher in Virginia City?”

“I believe so, Your Eminence. It’s a small
city outside of Reno, Nevada.”

The Pope nodded but said nothing more:
“Please continue.”

“We know that Steven Capresi is going to
Quito and will be traveling to Tena for reasons unknown. We know
that he stopped to purchase literature on Tena at the Quito
airport.” Lombardi hung his head. “There is a small problem, Your
Eminence. Tena is very small. Everybody knows each other and my
agents will stick out just as will Capresi.”