The Atlantis revelation

27

Benito had the engine running by the time Serena reached the limousine. Her phone rang. It was Conrad.

"Where on God's green earth are you?" she demanded as she climbed in the back.

Conrad said, "It's time we lay our cards on the table. Meet me at the Villa Feltrinelli at Lake Garda tonight at six. You're the Baroness von Berg."

"You must be joking," she said. "I'm supposed to be in Rhodes tomorrow."

"Then you better know what's on the agenda," he said, and hung up.

She met Benito's eyes in the rearview mirror and said, "What's our status on the globes?"

"Brother Lorenzo says they are prepared and will arrive separately in Rhodes as art for the exhibit at the Palace of the Grandmaster. By keeping them roped off, he feels closer inspection will wait until after the summit."

Serena's mind was racing while the engine ran in neutral and Benito waited for her signal. Lake Garda was in northern Italy, a good three hours by plane, train, or automobile. And she had duties to perform at Mercedes's grave site.

"Get me a seaplane, Benito. I'm going to fly myself to Rhodes-after an unscheduled stop. You get yourself back to the Vatican and accompany the globes to Rhodes. Don't let them out of your sight."

Benito nodded and moved the car into drive just as Serena's door opened and Midas climbed in next to her.

"What are you doing, Midas?" she nearly screamed.

Benito hit the brakes, and before she and Midas even stopped bouncing, he had a 9mm Beretta pointed over the front seat at Midas.

Midas put up his hands and said, "I needed a ride to Pere Lachaise for the burial. I thought I could take the opportunity to seek your spiritual counsel. Look, I have none of my aides with me."

"You mean assailants."

"Whatever."

Serena sighed, exchanged a glance with Benito in the mirror, and nodded.

They drove slowly out the side, past a gate, and onto Rue Saint-Honore, where the crowds had quickly dispersed and the boutiques had opened for business again, as if the orgy of stage-crafted grief had never happened.

"Conrad Yeats stole something of great value from me," Midas said firmly.

"Mercedes will be missed," Serena said calmly.

"I am speaking of the contents of a safe deposit box in Bern," Midas said. "Yeats broke into my bank and stole my box."

Serena realized that she had to meet with Conrad. "Well, you'll need to employ better security to reassure your other customers."

"No, you'll need to get it back for me and kill Yeats when he contacts you."

"Why would he do that?"

"Don't play me for a fool. Mercedes told me everything about your sordid relationship with the man. So did Sorath."

With the mention of Sorath, Midas wanted her to know that he was a member of the Alignment and that he knew she was, too.

"All the more reason for Sorath to be upset to learn of your loss. If you tell me what it is, maybe I can help you."

Midas turned his gaze from the Dei medallion dangling around her neck to the Eiffel Tower in the distance. "A few minutes ago I wondered if Sorath was Sarkozy, that pompous French prick."

"If you're asking me whether he's the Antichrist, no," Serena said. "But I'm sure a man like Sarkozy would give the position some serious consideration if it were offered to him. You, too."

"And the pope?"

"The Vatican can't be bought off like the Russian Orthodox Church."

"No, it was bought off far earlier by Constantine and the Dei," Midas snarled. "And just who do you think you are? You're a little ecclesiastical whore of the pope, a false prophet if there ever was one."

Serena let that one go and allowed silence to fill the car. They were on the Boulevard de Menilmontant. Soon they'd reach the cemetery. "I'm sorry, you were asking me for help?"

Midas looked at her with quiet rage. "I hope for your sake you have the globes."

She retorted, "I hope for your sake you have whatever it is you think that Conrad Yeats stole from you."

"Oh, I will," Midas said. "Because you will take it from him after you kill him. Only then will your loyalty to the Alignment no longer be in question."

"And yours isn't?"

"I have leverage, Sister Serghetti," Midas said. "It is the most important tool in business. It is having something the other party wants. I have something Sorath and the Alignment not only want but desperately need."

"And what would that be?"

He smiled. "You think you have something the Alignment needs in those globes from Solomon's Temple. But here, too, I have leverage: I know you don't have both of them. The Americans still possess one. And if two globes show up in Rhodes, I will know that one of them is a fake. And then where will you be?"

Serena felt a chill. Midas had sources within the Pentagon or the Dei, maybe both. If the Pentagon, her thoughts turned to Packard; if the Dei, they immediately went to Lorenzo. Either way, her plan to unmask and ultimately thwart the Alignment was at risk-along with any future she hoped to share with Conrad in this lifetime.

"Benito, I think Sir Midas is threatening to kill me."

"Si, signorina. The family will take care of him."

"The cardinals will be thanking God in their prayers once you're gone, Sister Serghetti," said Midas. "Or do they still call you Sister Pain in the Ass behind your back in Vatican City?"

"I think Benito was referring to his family," Serena said, then lowered her voice to a whisper for effect. "The Borgias."

The name clearly registered with Midas. The Borgias had been the Church's first crime family in the Middle Ages and included eleven cardinals, three popes, and a queen of England. They killed for power, money, and wanton pleasure. That was centuries ago, of course, and Benito's branch of the family had long left the Church to establish the Mafia.

"You crazy bitch," Midas said. "You play us all off each other. The Americans, the Russians, the Alignment, the Mob. You are the devil."

"Well, we all have our issues," she said, looking him in the eye. "I'm curious, Midas. What exactly is the Alignment promising you? You already have more money than just about anybody else in the world. And you seem to recognize what the Church has known for centuries-that those in power are more often defined by history rather than the other way around."

"A new world order is coming," Midas said. "The old order, including the Church, will pass away."

They drove past the Metro station Philippe Auguste and through the main entrance of the Pere Lachaise Cemetery, which had been established by Napoleon in 1804.

Serena took advantage of the scenery. "I've heard that before." She made a point of looking at his trembling hand and then out her window at the rows of crosses, tombstones, and burial monuments. "What good is the new world order, Midas, if you're not around to enjoy it?"

Midas smiled. "That is this thing, is it not?"

"Yes," she said as Benito parked behind the convoy of cars trailing the black Volvo hearse. "I know where I'm going when I die. So, unless there's another heaven I don't know about, where are you going to end up?"

Midas's eyes were black and shining with a secret he seemed to be dying to tell her. He leaned over. "I have news for you," he whispered. "There won't be a heaven or an afterlife."

She looked at him curiously. He seemed more certain of what he was telling her than he had seemed of anything else.

"Who knows," Midas added. "Even you might enjoy the new world order and forget all about Conrad Yeats. While you've been worrying about him, he certainly hasn't been worrying about you."

Midas pulled out his BlackBerry and played a video clip from a private file on his smartphone's memory card. The video showed Conrad frolicking in bed with a young girl in a Miami Dolphins jersey. The time stamp at the bottom of the frame showed that it was barely forty-eight hours old.

"That's enough, Midas."

"Good." Midas put away the phone in triumph. "Then we are agreed. You kill Conrad Yeats to prove your loyalty to the Alignment and bring what Yeats stole from me to Rhodes."

"Or else?" she asked.

"Or else I'll expose your sham with the globes, and it will be your funeral I'll eulogize at next week."