The Bone Chamber

19

That old saying of not getting in the car with strangers circled the back of Sydney’s mind as Dumas started his car and drove away from the academy. He hadn’t exactly convinced the professor to hand over the package, but he had given a good argument for the two of them to accompany him to a very public location away from the ambassador’s residence, and they could discuss the matter there. The professor had agreed reluctantly, which meant Sydney had no choice but to remain with them or risk losing sight of the professor’s briefcase that now contained the package Alessandra had mailed to her.
Which is why Sydney sat in the back of the car, the better to watch Dumas.
Then again, if something happened, she needed to know where they were, so it was one eye on Dumas, and the other trying to pay attention to her surroundings. As he sped down the street, then slowed for a turn, she saw the street name set into the side of a corner building reading “Via Giacomo Medici.” As he turned, another sign read “Via Garibaldi,” and then he slowed around a curve, past a massive marble edifice with a magnificent series of baroque arches, where water gushed from fountains into a pool. A bride and groom stood in front of the fountain, embracing, while a photographer snapped photos. “Where are we going?” Sydney asked.
Dumas replied, “Passegiata del Gianicolo. There are enough people there for safety.” By the time that Dumas drove through the gates of the Passegiata del Gianicolo, she’d relaxed slightly. Had they been driving toward some dark, deserted alleyway, she might have reason to be more concerned, but it seemed Dumas was keeping his promise, to take them to somewhere open and public. This was definitely public. Up the hill she caught sight of a carousel with children riding horses, giraffes, and even a Cinderella’s pumpkin-coach. Just beyond that, a handful of boys and girls were riding in a cart drawn by a quartet of red Shetland ponies. All the trappings of an amusement park, she thought, except for the tall and somber marble busts, who stood like silent sentinels on either side of the street. No one seemed to pay the statues the slightest bit of attention as entire families strolled under the giant plane trees with their dappled trunks, and everywhere one turned there were children, some holding cones of gelato, others clutching the strings of helium balloons.
“What makes this location better than, say, the police station?” Sydney asked, as Dumas circled around a huge statue of a man on horseback. She thought about asking who it memorialized, then caught sight of the cityscape beyond it, one of the most magnificent views of Rome, to rival any postcard she’d ever seen. Too bad she didn’t have time to enjoy it.
“Passegiata del Gianicolo,” Dumas said, glancing at her in the rearview mirror, “is a good place to get lost in the crowd, while we attempt to sort this matter out.”
Professor Santarella looked out the window, focusing on a group of children clustering around the puppet hut. “We could have stayed at the academy and waited for Mr. Griffin there. After all, we do have a guard and electric gates.”
“I told you, Professor. I shall explain all, if you are patient,” Dumas said, pulling neatly into a parking space just vacated by a Ferrari. “We can have a little chat at the wall. It will be my pleasure to buy you a gelato—anything you wish.”
Both women decided on coffee, and Sydney got out of the car, feeling reassured by the presence of so many people milling about, as well as the carabinieri mounted on white horses. When she glanced over at the skyline of Rome, visible just over the low stone wall, Father Dumas suggested that Francesca take Sydney to claim a seat there, while he ordered coffee for them from the kiosks.
The two women walked over to the wall, and Sydney was again taken aback by the magnificent view of the city and the Alban Hills beyond. Francesca rested her briefcase on the wall, then directed Sydney’s attention to some of the major points of interest, the cupola of Sant’Andrea della Valle, the rotunda of the Pantheon, and to the right, the white elephantine Vittorio Emanuele monument and the Forum and Palatine beyond.
“And what’s that ugly brick building with the tower just down the hill?”
“That’s the Regina Coeli—the Queen of Heaven Prison,” she said, taking a seat on the wall as Father Dumas walked toward them with their drinks.
On his return, Sydney told Dumas, “I think it’s time to get down to business. Why, exactly, are you involved, and what are the Vatican’s interests in this matter?”
“The Vatican’s interests are to protect that which belongs to the church. My interests are to do what is right.”
“You were at the Smithsonian,” Sydney said, taking a seat on the wall next to the professor. “I saw you.”
“True,” he finally replied. “I was at the Smithsonian. Alessandra was supposed to contact me after she’d been there. The last time I spoke with her, she told me that if we missed each other, it meant she’d had to leave in a hurry and that she’d send the information home.”
“And do you know what happened to her?” Sydney asked.
“I understand she was murdered.”
“Murdered?” the professor said, her face blanching. “Alessandra?”
He looked over at her, his expression filled with compassion. “I am sorry you had to hear it this way, Professor. But it is as I explained, a dangerous situation, and we had no time.”
“Alessandra’s murder is what brought me to Rome,” Sydney added. “That’s why I need to know what it was she sent to you.”
Francesca sat on the low wall and hugged the briefcase to her chest. A few tears coursed down her cheeks. “Alessandra wanted this to go to Mr. Griffin.”
“And I work with him,” Dumas said, handing her his handkerchief.
Sydney looked at him in disbelief. “You? And Griffin?”
“You seem surprised.”
“You don’t exactly fit the image of a government spook.”
“It’s complicated,” he said with a quick glance at Francesca, as though to say that this was not the place to go into the particulars. “I think it’s time we found out what it was that Alessandra died for.”
“I’m sorry,” Francesca said, dabbing at her eyes. “If Alessandra was murdered as you say, and her last wishes were for this to be given to Mr. Griffin, then that is exactly what I intend to do.”
Dumas lowered his voice, said, “I told you she would have mentioned a code in her letter?”
Sydney recalled there being something about a code, and Francesca said, “And once again, I ask how did you know what was in the letter?”
Dumas replied, “Alessandra called me when she couldn’t get in touch with Monsieur Griffin. She said she was at the Smithsonian to meet someone and had discovered something. More importantly, she saw someone at the museum, someone she’d seen at one of her father’s dinner parties, and for this reason she couldn’t send anything to her house. She decided to send whatever it was to her friend. Before she could give me this person’s identity, she said that she had to go, she was being followed. And that’s the last I heard from her.”
“And do you know who it was she thought she saw at the Smithsonian?” Sydney asked.
“No. But I flew out there earlier in the week in hopes of retracing her steps.” The priest’s words answered Sydney’s question as to why she’d seen him there. “When my search proved fruitless, I returned to Rome and decided to have a talk with one of the embassy maids to see if there had been any word on Alessandra’s whereabouts. The maid is the one who informed me that Alessandra had been murdered, and that the ambassador was flying back to the United States to claim her body. It was the perfect opportunity to learn if Alessandra had any friends here in Rome. Professor Santarella was one the maid named, and I knew that the American Academy being just across the street from the ambassador’s residence, would be the logical place to send whatever it was that Alessandra had found. I also knew that if I could determine the destination of the package so easily, whoever murdered Alessandra could also discover this.”
Francesca lowered the handkerchief and looked at the priest. “Surely you aren’t trying to say that whoever killed Alessandra would come after me?”
To which Sydney said, “I have to agree with Father Dumas. If he figured out your presence so easily, those watching the ambassador’s residence could easily do the same. They already tried to kill Griffin after he made a visit to the ambassador’s home. Which means they could very well have noted Father Dumas’s arrival there, and may have even followed him to the academy.”
“Like it or not,” Dumas said, “your life is in danger, certainly as long as you possess whatever it is that Alessandra sent.”
Francesca looked at each of them, then lowered her briefcase to her lap.