The Rome Prophecy

102

Rapid response units from the Carabinieri and the Polizia Municipale arrive within seconds of each other.

Both forces got panic calls from the public after Tom had fired the gun in the car. Both also had reports of a woman in the church brandishing a gun and claiming to be a cop.

Guilio is on his knees alongside Tom. ‘I’ve got to get out of here. Can you move?’

It takes Tom a second glance to realise that his Good Samar itan is the stranger he fought with inside Anna Fratelli’s apartment.

He’s got a dozen questions in his head and no time to ask any of them.

‘Help me up.’ He stretches out his left hand.

Guilio needs both his hands to pull Tom up. He glances at the body with the blade in it. If he pulls it out, he knows the guy will die, but if he leaves it, he will lose a dagger that’s two thousand years old and a set of his own fingerprints as well.

He leaves it.

He turns to Tom. ‘Follow me, or they’ll make you part of this.’

Tom lurches after the quick, slim figure disappearing down Via di San Michele.

Police sirens and whistles fill the air as he follows him into the shadows of a tributary of thin alleys trickling away from the church.

Pain is now starting to devour Tom’s shoulder, leg and ribs. He can barely pull himself upright as he runs.

He has no chance of keeping up with Guilio as he weaves a route through a labyrinth of back streets and passages that few locals even know of.

‘Down here!’

Tom has no idea where ‘here’ is. He stops for breath beside some low railings.

‘Here!’

The shout is from below him.

He swings his right leg over the small metal fence that’s supposed to keep the public out of what looks like one of Rome’s many excavation sites.

There’s a long drop down the other side.

He knows he doesn’t have time to look for a safer route.

He jumps.

His left leg buckles on impact and he falls heavily on to his damaged right shoulder.

Guilio shows no concern. He’s busy.

His hands are pushing hard against the black stone wall located directly beneath the barrier.

As hard as he possibly can.

He groans and strains again with all of his weight and might.

Nothing happens.

He turns and puts his back against the wall. Once more he pushes for all he’s worth.

His feet slip in the grit and soil.

Tom watches in amazement.

A thin section of the wall slowly starts to swing open.