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The lack of streetlights on the narrow road worked in Bones’ favor as he trailed Bianca. Sticking to the shadows was second nature to him, and he made use of his skills now as he kept hidden without losing sight of his quarry. As he stalked her, he reflected on how he knew she was being deceptive—the way her eyes moved when she explained her reasoning for not wanting the polizia to be called, for one thing, but more importantly, the lack of chemical smell back in the museum that would have indicated the use of chloroform. Bones had encountered it before and it left a telltale scent that he would not miss. And beyond all that was simply a gut feeling that said, She’s lying. Don’t trust her before you check her out. So he was doing it.
He watched her make a few turns, not stopping at a residence, but instead arriving at a nearby church. Bones hid in a cluster of thorny bushes while she opened the front door, a simple, unadorned wooden affair, and entered the place of worship. When she didn’t return outside after a few minutes, Bones made his way to the front door, casually, so that if he was being observed he would look like a random churchgoer. Pulled the door open silently and slipped inside, instantly scanning the room.
He saw no immediate sign of Bianca, or of anyone, for that matter, so he walked quickly, though not in panicked fashion, to the nearest alcove and ducked inside. He was the only one there. No sooner had his eyes fully adjusted to the light than he heard the soft creak of a door opening. He glanced across the large room and saw Bianca entering the confessional. He heard a few muffled words in Italian, and then she came back out, looked around. She said something Bones couldn’t make out. A moment later the man she had been speaking to inside the confessional emerged.
Bones sucked in his breath sharply as he recognized who it was: Father Romano. The priest and Bianca embraced while kissing passionately. The display went on for entirely too long, but then again, Bones couldn’t exactly blame the guy. He thought about what a lousy priest he, himself would make. No babes the rest of your life? Not going to work. And Bianca was easy on the eyes, too, he had to admit.
He watched as the two broke off their kiss and then Bianca drew a folder of some sort out of her shirt and handed it to the priest. He rifled through it, nodded, apparently satisfied. Then he snapped it shut and kissed her again. Bones strained to hear as the pair exchanged a few more words but he couldn’t make them out from his hiding place. Then Bianca turned and walked to the rear exit of the church while Romano watched. After she left through the door, Romano followed her out the same way a minute or so later.
Bones waited for a couple of minutes to make sure the priest wasn’t going to pop right back in. After a few minutes he slinked down the aisle to the same doorway Bianca and the priest had exited through. He pressed an ear to the door to see what he might be able to hear, a conversation, perhaps, or maybe footsteps—anything that told him there were people who would see him as soon as he stepped from the building. But he heard nothing. Bones stepped outside into the night and closed the door silently behind him.
And then suddenly he heard a voice—Romano’s. The man couldn’t be more than twenty feet away. Bones looked left toward the source and realized his good fortune. Romano was right around the corner of the church, meaning he couldn’t see that someone was shadowing him. Bones considered ducking back inside, but the man’s words kept him where he was. As the priest spoke into his cellular, Bones eavesdropped on the one-way conversation.
The priest had a rich, clear speaking voice that made it easier for Bones to eavesdrop on his end of the conversation. To whom Romano spoke, he didn’t know, but he was doing his best to figure it out. It didn’t help that the conversation wasn’t in English. Bones recognized the language, though: German. In the SEALs, Bones had studied Spanish, because it seemed practical, and German because he hated the French. He wasn’t conversant in the language, but he could still understand a bit. Enough to make out some of what the priest was saying...
“Looking for the tomb.” Something about “Americans,” followed shortly thereafter by, “In the river...” And then came a word that wasn’t German at all— “Menorah.”
“What the crap?” Bones whispered.
Finally, as the call ended, Romano spoke two words that froze Bones’ marrow.
“I’ve got to get to Maddock, pronto,” he said to himself, before turning and treading noiselessly the opposite way around the church.