She lowered the weapon and appraised her intruder. “How did you know him?”
“He and my son were close. Ever since they were children.”
“Why are you here?”
“Why is it important to find the tomb of Alexander the Great?”
“Is there any reason I would discuss that with you?”
“Let’s see if I can provide you with some. At present you possess nearly thirty zoonoses that you’ve harvested from a variety of exotic animals, many of which you stole from zoos and other private collections. You have at least two biological weapons laboratories at your disposal, one operated by your government, the other by Philogen Pharmaceutique, a corporation controlled by a man named Enrico Vincenti. Both of you are also members of the Venetian League. Am I making any progress?”
“You’re still breathing, aren’t you?”
Thorvaldsen smiled in seeming satisfaction. “For which I’m grateful. You also have a formidable military. Nearly a million troops. One hundred and thirty fighter jets. Various transports and support aircraft, adequate bases, an excellent communications network—everything an ambitious despot would need.”
She didn’t like that Viktor was listening, but she desperately needed to hear more, so she turned to him and said, “Find out what the other two guards are doing, and make sure we’re alone.”
THE OTHER TWO?
Malone heard the words as he assumed a position behind another stone railing, this one high above the presbytery, less than a hundred fifty feet above Thorvaldsen and Zovastina. Cassiopeia was fifty yards across the nave, in the south transept, with an equally high perch.
He couldn’t see her, but he hoped she’d heard.
ZOVASTINA WAITED UNTIL VIKTOR LEFT, THEN GLARED AT THORVALDSEN. “Is there a problem with wanting to defend my nation?”
“Beware the toils of war. Soon they’ll raze your sturdy citadel to the roots.”
“What Sarpedon said to Hector in the Iliad. You have studied me. Let me offer a quotation. Nor do I think you’ll find us short on courage, long as our strength will last.”
“You’re not planning on defending anything. You’re preparing an attack. Those zoonoses are offensive. Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, India. Only one man ever conquered them. Alexander the Great. And he could only hold the land for just a handful of years. Ever since, conquerors have tried and failed. Even the Americans attempted with Iraq. But you, Supreme Minister, you intend to best them all.”
She possessed a leak—a massive one. She needed to return home and resolve that problem.
“You want to do what Alexander did, only in reverse. Not the West conquering the East. This time the East will dominate. You intend to acquire all of your neighbors. And you actually believe the West will allow you the luxury, thinking you’ll be their friend. But you don’t plan to stop there, do you? The Middle East and Arabia, you want those, too. You have oil. The old Kazakhstan is rich with it. But you sell most of that to Russia and Europe cheap. So you want a new source, one that would give you even greater world power. Your zoonoses might just make all that possible. You could devastate a nation in a matter of days. Bring it to its knees. None of your potential victim-states are particularly adept at war in the first place, and when your germs finish, they’ll be defenseless.”
She still held the gun. “The West should welcome that change.”
“We prefer the devils we know. And contrary to all those Arab states’ varied beliefs, the West isn’t their enemy.”
He pointed straight at her.
“You are.”
MALONE LISTENED CAREFULLY. THORVALDSEN WAS NO FOOL, SO HE was challenging Zovastina for a reason. The Dane even being here was highly unusual. The last trip the man took was to Austria last fall. Yet here he was, inside an Italian basilica in the middle of the night, poking sticks into the spokes of an armed despot.
He’d watched as Viktor left the presbytery and turned into the south transept, below Cassiopeia’s position. Malone’s immediate concern was an open stairway twenty feet away that led down to the nave. If there was a portal on this side, in the north transept, surely another opened in the south since medieval builders, if nothing else, loved symmetry.
He was surrounded by more undressed masonry walls along with art, tapestries, lace, and paintings, most displayed in glass cases or on tables.
A shadow appeared in the lighted stairway and danced across the marble walls, growing in size.
One of Zovastina’s guards.
Climbing to the second floor.
Straight for him.
Malone 3 - The Venetian Betrayal
FIFTY-THREE
STEPHANIE FOLLOWED MONSIGNOR MICHENER DOWN THE HALLS of the diocese offices, into a nondescript cubicle, where Edwin Davis sat beneath a framed portrait of the pope.
“Still want to kick my ass?” Davis asked.
She was too tired to fight. “What are you doing here?”
“Trying to stop a war.”
She didn’t want to hear it. “You realize there could be trouble inside that church.”
“Which is why you’re not in there.”
Realization dawned. “Malone and Cassiopeia can be denied.”
“Something like that. We have no idea what Zovastina may do, but I didn’t want the head of the Magellan Billet involved.”
She turned to leave.
“I’d stay here if I were you,” Davis said.
“Screw off, Edwin.”
Michener blocked her way in the doorway.
“Are you part of this insanity?” she asked.
“As I said outside, we came across something and passed it on to a place we thought might be interested. Irina Zovastina is a threat to the world.”
“She’s planning a war,” Davis said. “Millions will die, and she’s just about ready to start.”
She turned back. “So she took the time to risk a trip to Venice and look at a two-thousand-year-old body? What is she doing here?”
“Probably getting angry,” Michener said.
She saw a twinkle in his eye. “You set her up?”