5:33 p.m.
The Swiss Guardsmen who had Alexander and Gabriella at gunpoint spoke with a politeness that was unexpected coming from men whose hands were clutched around enough firepower to obliterate them both in an instant.
“Sir, madam, you have broken into the sovereign territory of the Vatican in violation of international law.” The man who spoke stood at the center of the semicircle that had them penned in. He looked indistinguishable from the others but seemed, by mere authority of voice and posture, to be their ranking member. “I am advising you that we are placing you under arrest on suspicion of terrorist activities.”
“Terrorist activities?” Gabriella began. Alexander shook his head firmly. Don’t, he mouthed.
“Two of my officers will now step forward to search you,” the lead guard continued, “but I am asking you in advance whether you are carrying on your person any weapons or dangerous objects of which we should be aware.”
“No,” Alexander answered calmly, “we’re not.”
“I do hope that is indeed the case,” the guardsman said. He nodded, and two of his soldiers stepped forward. The frisking they gave Alexander and Gabriella was severe and efficiently thorough.
“They’re clean,” the pronouncement finally came. “The only items on them are personal, and two dossiers of files.” The soldier speaking handed the two folders to the officer in charge.
“Please,” Alexander pleaded, “we’re not here to do anything but help. The Pope’s in danger, and we need those files to be able to assist.”
The guards’ expressions didn’t change. “The Holy Father is well protected,” the lead officer said sternly, “and your possessions will be returned to you only after they’ve been examined in holding.” He motioned to another of the guards. “Place them both in cuffs. Then take them to the cells.”
Gabriella understood the way apprehension protocols worked, and saw the signs of men working through well-rehearsed security patterns. She had to convince them to break with that normal order.
“Before you lock us up,” she said, “we’re not here totally uninvited. We spoke earlier with Cardinal Rinaldo Trecchio.” She hoped the name-dropping might do some good. “We need to see him now.”
The guard was unmoved. “Whatever your motivation, breaking in here was a very bad move, madam. You won’t be speaking with anyone until your arrest has been fully processed.”
Cuffs were being locked around her wrists. Those at Alexander’s had already been secured. Yet Gabriella had to protest. These men had to listen. They couldn’t come this far only to—
The thought remained incomplete. A barrage of gunfire overtook everything, transforming the surreal scene into one of pure chaos.
It wasn’t gunfire like any Gabriella had ever experienced. There were no explosions, no reports of firing rounds. But she knew at once what she was beholding: the avalanche of rounds blasting into the earth at her feet was coming from suppressed weapons, bullets slicing silently through the air with deadly force.
“Shit!” one of the Swiss Guard shouted, polite phrasing and decorum immediately abandoned. “Someone’s shooting at us!”
“Not at us,” another guard yelled. “At them!” He pointed downward and all the guardsmen saw the same thing. The rounds were not landing at their feet.
They were landing around the two captives they’d just arrested.
“Cover them!” the leader shouted, and two of his men ran forward, slamming their bodies into Alexander and Gabriella and heaving them out of the line of fire.
“And take out whoever’s doing the goddam shooting!”