Loosening his seat belt, Roscani plucked the last cigarette from its tattered pack, put the empty pack back in his jacket pocket, then stuck the cigarette in his mouth and looked out. Here and there the sun glinted off something on the ground, a lake or a building, as all of Italy seemed to bask under a cloudless sky. It was an ancient land. Beautiful and serene, yet trampled endlessly by scandal and intrigue that operated on every level. Was any land or history free of it? He doubted it. But he was Italian, and the country beneath him his. And he was a policeman, charged with enforcing its laws and seeing justice done.

He saw Gianni Pio, his friend and partner and godfather to his children, as he was taken from his car, drenched in his own blood, his face shot away. Saw the bullet-riddled body of the cardinal vicar of Rome, and the burned hulk of the Assisi bus. Remembered the butchery done by Thomas Kind in Pescara and Bellagio. And wondered what justice meant.

Yes, the crimes had been committed on Italian soil, where he had the power to do something about them. But inside the Vatican walls he had no authority at all. And once his fugitives were behind them, there would be nothing he could do but turn his evidence over to Gruppo Cardinale's prosecutor, Marcello Taglia. Once he did, justice would no longer be his. Instead, it would belong to the politicians. And, in the long run, that would be the end of it. He remembered well Taglia's words about their investigation into the assassination of the cardinal vicar, warning of 'the delicate nature of the whole thing and the diplomatic implications that could rise between Italy and the Vatican'.

In other words, if it so chose, the Vatican could get away with murder.

Harry's first impulse had been to go back to where he'd left the Mercedes, break the window and retrieve the keys, and get Danny and Elena out of the apartment on Via Nicolo V.

'He's dead. They mutilated him,' he told Danny over the cell phone. 'Who the hell knows what he told them? They could be on the way there now!' Harry was half walking, half running, trying not to draw attention to himself as he came out of the alley behind Father Bardoni's apartment and turned down the street. Heading back the way he'd come.

'Harry,' Danny said quietly. 'Just come in. Father Bardoni would have told them nothing.'

'How the hell do you know?'

'-I just do…'

Less than thirty minutes later, Harry came into the building. Carefully checking the entryway, he looked at the elevator, then took the front stairs, feeling they were safer than the little elevator box where he could be trapped.

Danny and Elena were in the living room when he came in. He could feel the tension and the electricity. For a moment no one said anything. Then Danny motioned toward the window.

'I want you to take a look, Harry.'

Harry glanced at Elena, then went to the window.

'What am I looking at?'

'To the left, follow the wall,' Danny said. 'Far down is the top of a round brick tower. It's the Tower of San Giovanni, where Cardinal Marsciano is being held. He's in the center room halfway up on the far side. It has a glass door that goes out to a small terrace. It's the only opening in the wall.'

The tower was perhaps a quarter of a mile away, and Harry could see the top of it clearly – a high, circular tower, turreted on top, made of the same ancient brick as the wall inside which it stood.

'We're the only ones left to do it,' Danny said quietly.

Harry turned slowly.

'You and me and Sister Elena.'

'Do – what?'

'Get Cardinal Marsciano out…' Whatever emotion Danny had shown earlier, when he couldn't reach Father Bardoni, he'd put away. Father Bardoni was dead; they had to move on.

Harry shook his head. 'Uh-uh, not Elena…'

'I want to, Harry.' Elena was looking directly at him. There was no doubt at all she meant it.

'Of course you do. Why wouldn't you?' Harry looked from Elena to Danny. 'She's as crazy as you are.'

'There's no one else, Harry…' Elena said softly.

Abruptly Harry looked to Danny. 'Why are you so certain we're safe here… that Father Bardoni didn't tell them? – I saw him, Danny. If it was me, I would have told them anything they wanted to know.'

'You have to believe me, Harry…'

'It's not you. It's Father Bardoni. I don't have that much trust.'

Danny looked at his brother for a long moment in silence; when he finally spoke it was in a way that tried to make Harry understand there was more to what he was saying than simply the words he was using.

'This apartment building belongs to the owner of one of the largest pharmaceutical manufacturers in Italy. All he had to know was that Cardinal Marsciano requested a private place for a few days and it was done with no questions…'

'What's that got to do with Father Bardoni?'

'Harry, the cardinal is one of the most beloved men in Italy… Look who helped him, and at what risk to themselves. I…' – Danny hesitated, then went on – 'I became a priest because I was as lost and confused after I came out of the marines as I was before I went in… By the time I came to Rome, I was just as lost… Then I met the cardinal, and he showed me a life that was inside me that I never knew existed. Over the years he guided me, encouraged me to find my own convictions, spiritual and otherwise… The Church, Harry, became my family… and the cardinal I loved like a father… It was the same for Father Bardoni. It's why he would have told them nothing…'

The image of Father Bardoni in the bathtub was too strong: a man being tortured yet saying nothing. Shaken and moved, Harry ran a hand through his hair and had to look away. When he did, his eyes found Elena's. They were tender and loving and told him she understood what Danny had said – and knew he was right.

'Harry-'

The sharpness of Danny's voice brought him around and back to his brother. It was only then he saw the television was on in the background.

'There is something else… If I didn't believe it before, Father Bardoni's murder confirmed it… Do you know what is going on in China?'

'A tragedy, a lot of people dead. I don't know. I haven't exactly had a lot of time to watch the TV. What the hell are you getting at?'

'In Bellagio, Harry. When we were waiting in the truck for Sister Elena to come for us. You got a call on a cell phone… It woke me… I heard you say two names, Adrianna and Eaton.'

'What about it?' Harry still didn't understand.

'Adrianna Hall. James Eaton.'

Harry was both surprised and puzzled. 'They were the people who helped me get to you. How the hell do you know them?'

'It doesn't make any difference. What's important is that you get in touch with them both as fast as you can.' Abruptly Danny moved his wheelchair toward his brother. 'We have to stop what's going on in China.'

'Stop what?' Harry didn't understand.

'They're poisoning the lakes, Harry… One has already been done… There are two more to go…'

'What are you talking about? Who's poisoning the lakes? From what little I know, it was an act of nature.'

'It's not,' Danny said quickly, then glanced at Elena before looking back to Harry. 'It's part of Palestrina's goal… for the Vatican to control China.'

'That was in the confession, wasn't it?…' Harry felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck.

'It was a part of the confession…'

Elena crossed herself. 'Mother Mary…' she said under her breath.

'A little while ago WNN ran a recap story on Hefei,' Danny kept on, pressing strongly. 'At two minutes and twenty-odd seconds past eight, there was a clip from the Hefei water-filtration plant – I know the time because I looked at my watch. In that clip was the face of a man who, if he isn't doing the poisoning, knows who is.'