Papal decree

63

Two Volvos followed the Mercedes closely. Daniel, the commander of the guard, was in the passenger seat in the first car, giving orders to a team of eight Pontifical Guards, distributed among the vehicles, including the two that were following the secretary’s Mercedes.

The destination was the Basilica di Santa Maria Maggiore, and the GPS detector installed in the Mercedes showed them the way, following the predetermined route.

‘This is a mistake,’ Daniel muttered to himself. ‘A big mistake.’

They weren’t using the customary motorcycle escort to clear the street ahead, since this wasn’t an official visit. They had no other option than to get jammed up in the terrible traffic at the end of the afternoon, with night already fallen, in this wild autumn season that settled over the peninsula at the beginning of November like an army of rain, wind, and cold that offered no truce.

‘Stand by, Adrian,’ the driver of the Mercedes called over the radio. ‘Turn right on Merulana,’ he ordered.

‘Understood. Right on Merulana,’ the radio answered.

A few feet later, at the Piazza di San Giovanni in the Lateran, the Mercedes cut to the right, following Daniel’s orders. The Mercedes was traveling just under the legal speed limit, about two hundred feet in front of Daniel’s Volvo. Between them was a number 714 bus, and two SUVs. Daniel’s attention was fixed on the device recording the position of the car, with only a ten-foot margin of error, which on a street as big as this was negligible.

The bus stopped to pick up passengers about thirty feet from the end of the street and caused a backup in the traffic. The GPS device indicated that the Mercedes was continuing ahead, according to the screen Daniel was concentrating on.

‘Attention, Adrian. Pull over and wait for us. We’re stuck behind the bus,’ Daniel ordered.

The GPS indicated that the Mercedes had stopped not far from where they were, close to the intersection with Labicana. Daniel couldn’t see them, and this caused him some anxiety, despite his knowing that the secretary was well protected. He let out a deep breath in frustration. The cardinal should have listened to him.

‘Nothing’s moving in front,’ the commander protested.

He ordered the driver to pull around the SUVs and the bus, but as soon as the Volvo pulled out, the SUV in front did the same and came to a stop beside the other SUV, completely blocking the road.

‘Shit,’ Daniel said, more to himself than the others in the car.

The driver leaned on the horn, but there was no reaction. Daniel gestured to the men in the back to go see what was going on. They got out immediately, but were unable to speak to anyone. The drivers of the SUVs jumped out and abandoned the vehicles, slammed the doors, and ran in opposite directions.

The GPS in the Mercedes indicated it was starting forward again.

‘What the hell?’ This was not normal. ‘Take the sidewalk,’ Daniel yelled. ‘Take the sidewalk now.’

The driver swung to the left onto the sidewalk. The pedestrians were forced to scatter, and one of them was even grazed by the taillight and ended up falling to the pavement.

‘Keep going. Keep going,’ Daniel shouted urgently.

The GPS indicated the Mercedes was still moving forward. It turned left on Labicana, moving very fast.

‘Attention,’ Daniel called over the radio. ‘No order was given to proceed, Adrian,’ he alerted the agent in the Mercedes. ‘Attention, Adrian. Report your position.’

There was no reply.

The agents who’d left the first Volvo got into the second one, since Daniel didn’t want to lose time.

Staring at the screen, he noticed that the Mercedes was traveling in the direction of the Colosseum.

‘Get this piece of shit moving,’ he shouted when they entered Labicana with tires squealing.

There were no traffic rules at the moment. The cardinal secretary of state was in danger.

‘Attention,’ he repeated on the radio. ‘Report your position immediately, Adrian.’

There was still no reply.

‘Fuck it,’ he swore. ‘Faster, faster!’ he shouted as he drummed his fingers on the dashboard.

The street was long, and the Volvo was already going too fast. Some vehicles had to pull over as far as possible or even go onto the sidewalk to avoid being hit. The agent drove skillfully. He’d been trained in evasive driving — defensive, and in pursuit — and was more than prepared for a situation like this… in theory.

The GPS indicated that the Mercedes had turned to the right to go up Via Nicola Salvi. Daniel had to make a decision. He needed to cut them off.

‘Flavian,’ he called over the radio to the driver of the second Volvo. ‘Straight ahead. Go up Nicola Salvi.’

‘Understood,’ the radio responded.

‘Turn around,’ he said to his own driver.

‘What?’

‘Turn around, now.’ As Daniel said this, he grabbed the wheel and turned it toward the left, to the clamor of horns and squealing brakes.

The Volvo accelerated again to the intersection with Merulana and turned left toward the Piazza di Santa Maria Maggiore. It was a suicidal high-speed drive at over sixty miles an hour with traffic and blowing horns.

‘Straight to Cavour,’ Daniel ordered, and grabbed the radio. ‘Straight to Cavour, Flavian.’

‘Understood,’ came over the radio.

They finally came out on Cavour and careened left with no concern for the bus coming from Termini, which had to slam on its brakes to let them pass.

‘Idiot,’ the bus driver shouted, among other insults.

The GPS indicated that the Mercedes had stopped a few hundred feet from them near the juncture with Via Giovanni Lanza, and they could see it, badly parked, with a wheel on the sidewalk and all the doors open.

Daniel feared the worst. His chest tightened with anxiety, and sweat broke out on his face. The tires squealed when the Volvos stopped abruptly near the Mercedes, one on each side. Before leaving the car, Daniel could see that no one was inside the Mercedes. Shit! He should never have permitted this. Shit!

There was no sign of the secretary, Cardinal William, Father Schmidt, or the other two agents. As the commander, Daniel could not show weakness or desperation, but that’s what he felt, complete disorientation and, despite feeling cold as ice, an immensely destructive volcano within.

‘What the hell happened?’