the Venetian Betrayal (2008) by Steve - Cotton Malone 03 Berry

Author:Steve - Cotton Malone 03 Berry [Berry, Steve - Cotton Malone 03]
Format: mobi
Published: 2010-12-20T02:02:57.171000+00:00

Chapter FIFTY

VENICE

VIKTOR HUSTLED PAST THE BASILICA'S BRIGHTLY LIT WESTERN FACADE. High above, St. Mark himself stood guard in the black night above a golden lion with outstretched wings. The heart of the piazza spanned to his left, cordoned off, a multitude of police swarming the broad pavement. A crowd had gathered and he'd overheard from snippets of conversation that a shooting had occurred. He skirted the spectacle and headed for the church's north entrance, the one Zovastina had told him to use.

He was unnerved by the appearance of the woman with the bow. She should have been dead in Denmark. And if she wasn't dead, the other two problems were surely also still breathing. Things were gyrating out of control. He should have stayed and made sure she drowned in the lagoon, but Zovastina was waiting and he could not be late.

He kept seeing Rafael die.

Zovastina would not care beyond wanting to know if the death raised any suspicion. But how could it? There'd be no body to find. Just bone fragments and ashes.

Like when Ely Lund's house burned.

"You're going to kill me?" Ely asked. "What have I done?" The intruder brandished a gun. "How can I be a threat to anyone?"

Viktor stood out of sight, in an adjacent room, and listened.

"Why don't you answer me?" Ely asked, his voice rising.

"I'm not here to talk," the man said.

"Just here to shoot me?"

"I do as I'm ordered."

"And you have no idea why?"

"I don't care."

Silence filled the room.

"I wish I could have done a few more things," Ely finally said. The tone was melancholy, full of resignation, surprisingly calm. "I always thought my illness would kill me."

Viktor listened with a renewed interest.

"You are infected?" the stranger asked, some suspicion in his voice. "You don't look sick."

"No reason I should. But it's still there."

Viktor heard the distinctive click of a gun slide.

He'd stood outside and watched the house burn. Samarkand's meager fire department had done little. Eventually, the walls collapsed onto themselves and Greek fire consumed everything.

Now he knew something else.

The woman from Copenhagen had cared enough for Ely Lund to avenge his death.

He rounded the basilica and spotted the north portal. A man waited inside the open bronze doors.

Viktor grabbed his composure.

The Supreme Minister would want him focused and controlled.

ZOVASTINA HANDED THE SIGNED CONCORDAT BACK TO MICHENER. "Now leave me be for my thirty minutes."

The papal nuncio motioned and all the priests withdrew from the presbytery.

"You'll regret pressuring me," she made clear.

"You might find the Holy Father tough to challenge."

"How many armies does your pope have?"

"Many have asked that question. But armies weren't needed to bring communism to its knees. John Paul II did just fine, all by himself."

"And your pope is equally astute?"

"Cross him and you'll find out."

Michener walked away, passing through the iconostasis into the nave, disappearing toward the basilica's main entrance. "I'll be back in a half hour," he called out through the darkness.

She saw Viktor advancing through the dimness. He passed Michener, who acknowledged him with a nod. Her two other guardsmen stood off to the side.

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