“Ah, I see.” His face tipped into a frown. “It would be nice to receive updates on the IHA’s progress in Atlantis. Anyone would think you did not trust us.”
“Really,” said Nina scathingly. “So what else do you know about the statues?”
“It is many years since I last read the text, but I think they were how she received her visions. They were the keys to her powers … No, the powers were not actually hers. The statues were how she channeled them, but they came from something else, a stone … Wait, the sky stone, that is it.”
“And what were these powers?”
He shrugged. “I don’t remember. It was all magic, nonsense. I paid it no mind.”
Nina fought to keep her frustration in check. “And you didn’t think it might be worth telling the IHA this? You must have known that we had two of the statues.”
“We provide exactly what is asked for,” Popadopoulos told her. “Nothing less—and nothing more.”
“Well, you might want to feel a bit more of the volunteer spirit in future,” she snapped. “But in the meantime, I want to know everything about the statues. Even the stuff you think is nonsense.”
“I told you, I would have to read the text again.”
“Well, I’m not busy right now, and if you’ve got time to see me you can’t be either. So let’s go.”
“You want to see the original text? In the archive?” He appeared horrified by the suggestion.
“Yep, pretty much.”
“That was never part of the deal! It was agreed that the Brotherhood could maintain the secrecy of its archives.”
“I don’t give a damn about your secrets. What I do give a damn about is that somebody else knows about the power of these statues—at least two groups of somebodies, in fact, and they’re already fighting over them. Did you see the news about that skyscraper in Tokyo?”
“Yes, of course. They said it was attacked by a helicopter.”
“I was in the penthouse!” He regarded her in astonishment. “I had the statues, all three of them, in my hands. And something happened, something I didn’t understand—but something incredible. I need to know what it means. I think the answer’s in your archive.”
Popadopoulos sat back again, deep in thought. At last, with a decidedly conflicted expression, he stood. “Very well, Dr. Wilde. But these are exceptional circumstances, yes? I am not willing to have other members of the IHA pop in, as you say, whenever they want.”
“Just show me what you’ve got on the statues and I’ll be out of here.”
For the first time, he liked something she had said. “Come with me.”
The Brotherhood’s activities in Rome were hidden behind the cover of a law firm, its offices within sight of the high walls of the Vatican. Popadopoulos led her through the narrow corridors to one particular door on the ground floor. “In here.”
Nina eyed the interior dubiously. “Seriously?” It was a closet containing shelves of cleaning products, a tiny barred window high on one wall.
He sighed and entered, waving her inside. She squeezed into the cramped space as the Greek closed the door and reached for a light switch. Instead of flicking it, though, he took hold of the casing and gave it a half turn. A click, a muted hum from somewhere below—and Nina gasped as the floor began a slow descent of a shaft of dark old bricks.
Popadopoulos chuckled at her uneasiness. “Do you like our elevator?”
“It’s, uh … different.”
“It was installed over a hundred years ago. The Brotherhood has owned the building since it was constructed in 1785—but the archives have been here for far longer. I hope you appreciate that I am actually giving you a very rare privilege,” he went on. “The number of outsiders who have seen them in, oh, the past five hundred years can be counted on both hands. Even members of the Brotherhood were rarely allowed to enter if they were not involved with record keeping.”
The elevator stopped around thirty feet below street level. A passage led off to one side, dim bulbs strung along its length. Heavier-duty electrical cables ran along the walls. “Follow me,” said Popadopoulos.
After twenty yards the brickwork gave way to older and rougher stone. The tunnel continued ahead for some distance. Nina tried to get her bearings. “It’s a catacomb,” she realized. “We’re going under the Vatican?”
“Yes. The catacombs beneath the Holy See stretch for tens, maybe even hundreds of kilometers—they have never been fully mapped. These sections were sealed