“Please return to your seats, fasten your safety belts, and place your trays and seat backs in their upright position,” the attendant announced. “We are beginning our descent into New Haven. If you have a connecting flight in the Tweed terminal, one of the agents will be waiting to assist you. Thank you for flying US Airways. We wish you a safe and happy journey.”
Benicio was already belted in. His tray and seat back were in the upright position. He was ready for the plane to land.
A few minutes later he was off the plane and in the small but busy New Haven airport. Benicio walked toward the exit, his mind set on getting a taxi and finding Father McCallum.
Then he saw something that stopped him in his tracks. Standing at a Budget rental counter were two men he’d seen before. Two men he’d seen walking in the corridor of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith at the Vatican. Benicio knew that tourists didn’t have access to that wing of the Vatican.
One of the men, pale and smooth-skinned, was rubbing his forearm obsessively. The other man was wearing an eye patch. Benicio noticed he had his baseball cap pulled low, as if to hide the patch.
When he’d seen these men at the Vatican, they’d been in civilian clothes. Civilian consultants inside the Vatican, especially in the office of the cdf, were people to avoid. Period.
Looking straight ahead, he walked to the exit and out to a row of waiting taxis.
“Can we please just get the fuckin’ car and go?” Jeremy whined. He shoved the bottle of lotion in his pocket and pulled down his shirtsleeves. “This air is hurting me.”
Maury was bent over the rental car counter. “Just a second.” He signed the last form and pushed it toward the clerk, then straightened his hat and self-consciously felt his eye patch.
“Thank you, sir,” the clerk said as she reclaimed the form. Maury saw her nose wrinkle. He knew he and his brother emitted a slightly foul odor even at the best of times. “I’ll get your keys and you’ll be on your way. The lot is just through those doors.” She pointed down the terminal.
“Fine,” Maury said flatly. He wasn’t fooled by her courtesy. He knew most people thought he and Jeremy were sickening.
“My feet,” Jeremy whispered to Maury. “I want to get somewhere and put the lotion on my feet.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Maury whispered. “What do you want me to do? Steal a car?”
Jeremy shifted nervously. “I better not lose another toe.”
“There you go,” the clerk said, dropping a set of car keys on the counter rather than putting them in Maury’s outstretched hand. “Please don’t hesitate to call with any questions or concerns. There’s an attendant out in the lot to help you find the vehicle. It’s a red Honda Civic.”
Maury stared at her with his good eye then slowly picked up the keys. He kept staring at her until her fake smile disappeared.
“Let’s go,” Jeremy urged.
Maury grabbed the keys. “Thanks,” he said, and then left with his brother.