Angelique Sauvegarde had done her work. The last of her articles was written and ready to runAnd because of her and the pressure she put on local police, the Vatican Security Corps had more insight as to the budding international threat they had on their hands. She could now take a break from freelance journalism, investigative reporting, and conducting studies, and disappear for a bit, perhaps to work more on writing a book or whatever. It would be wise, anyway. Her uncanny ability to deduce and anticipate the near future saved her from opening and detonating that parcel bomb. Brave woman that she was, she knew when it was time to retreat.
An extended sabbatical in Russia might be in order. Her old friend Piotr had been gone for months. She would never acknowledge his death. And her persistent tendency to miss the funerals of loved ones became almost the subject of a running joke among her friends and family. But she still felt bad about going for so long without at least paying her respects. Such a gentle, self-sacrificing soul. Even if she refused to mourn, she still missed him.
Meanwhile, the Vatican Security Corps took on a new security consultant fresh from Arlington, Virginia, FBI criminal profiler Elizabeth Errol-Koenig. When she first arrived and settled into her new office, she took a second to scan the room for bugs. Thoroughly. In an instant, she was as confident of her office's security as any spy who'd spent hours seeking out bugs could be. She never said or did anything of tactical importance without checking. Granted, this was the Holy See's equivalent of FBI headquarters, but she would not take any chances. She was given this assignment based on her reputation as one of the world's best criminal investigators, with a tough but squeaky-clean character to boot. So her methods had to be respected, including her insistence on working quickly, quietly, and, for the most part alone.
She'd spent her first weeks in Rome getting acquainted with the people she'd need to know, some of whom had corresponded with Angelique Sauvegarde, or at least were familiar with the reclusive writer's work. All were good contacts: the Vatican's chief of security, the chief of Rome's Polizia, the commander of the Swiss Guard, and the Secretary of State. She never expected to find anything on them, nor on anyone directly connected to them. But these were good, resourceful people who were quite willing to help her help them. Particularly the Secretary of State, who, according to his job description, had to know everything and say nothing. She liked him right off the bat. She hoped for everyone's benefit that the work she'd rope them into wouldn't be too sordid. But for now, it was a relief to know that her biggest difficulty at the moment was keeping her black hat from blowing off that wind-tossed mess of tight curls some liked to call her hair as she made her way across Piazza de San Pietro. This particular meeting called for an extra measure of decorum.
Elizabeth dropped to her left knee and kissed the Fisherman's Ring. "Santitá, You must have indeed stirred up a hornet's nest of controversy for you and Cardinal Vallejo to ask me here."
"More foolishness to the wise, that's all." He helped her to her feet, more out of simple courteous habit than out of any need he perceived. Indeed, the child seemed, despite her appearance, almost strong enough to break a man in half with her bare hands. "I never expect the right thing to be popular. And particularly at my age, I am not worried about protecting my own life. Still, I am grateful that Signora Sauvegarde's articles ran when they did. She took a terrible risk and redirected a lot of this anger away from me and toward herself, didn't she?"
"That was part of her objective, in addition to publicizing your encyclical and exposing the reactions to it, Your Holiness," Elizabeth replied. "Simply to safeguard other people's lives and liberty and ensure your work along the same line is not in vain. She said it's a risk worth taking. And I agree absolutely."
"And for the sake of our shared objectives," said the Pontiff, "His Eminence and I have agreed to granting you complete access. I will put anything you need at your disposal."
"Ringrazio la Vostra Santitá."
"E ringrazio te, figlia mia."
The officer had Vatican Security's crime laboratory to herself. Now came time to study the case history and the evidence. Angelique Sauvegarde was a freelancer, not officially on San Gabriel'spayroll, and she worked on her own laptop, which was now safely in the officer's hands. She memorized the surveillance tapes. The figures were black clad, gloved, and blurry. Forensics said they left behind little evidence. It didn't matter to her. She had the crime scene pictures, rocks, and other debris she could study.
Then the officer code named Zeitgeist, stepped out of time. Even the very rocks had timelines she could trace, with her mutant extratemporal abilities, back to the hands of the people who threw them. With an event she could recognize, the vandalism at the Notizie San Gabriel offices, she could find those lines and trace them. In an instant, she had some names, and better yet, information on a few criminal backgrounds. But there were a few things she needed to clarify. Some things in their backgrounds did not seem to make any sense. She returned to time.
"Let's see if we have any files on them," she thought to herself, sitting at her computer. Ah, yes. They all had records, mostly for various hate-related vandalisms and assaults committed across Europe and North America. By all appearances, they were common anti-mutant thugs, but for the theft of the computers. Obviously they weren't interested in committing random acts of terrorism. They were more sophisticated than they let on. They wanted information. She smirked. They didn't get it. But she could get them. Still, she felt like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. She didn't like having to do this, but she would have to question one or more personally. She called her station chief.
"I have names," she said. "Our agent will bring one in."
3