The Spear of Destiny - By Julian Noyce Page 0,44

mini-bus blocking the road and a dozen uniformed officers setting up a cordon with police tape. Visitors to the square were being moved back away from the Vatican.

Natalie and Dennis rushed up to Bauer who looked past them to Hutchinson who, at fifty eight, couldn’t keep up with his companions. He slowed down to a fast walk.

“Just a second!” he shouted between great gulps of air.

“What’s going on?” Dennis asked when they were still a dozen paces away. Concerned looking Romans and tourists were gathering in crowds to watch at the cordon tape.

“We’ve had an officer murdered and his body dumped in the boot of his police car which was then parked on the via Di Porta Angelica road just a couple of blocks from here. We now know that his last known position was here. An old abandoned world war II airfield 45 miles north of Rome called Tarquinia. An airfield which has been purchased by Count Otto Brest von Werner….”

“Von Werner is here?” Dennis blurted out.

“We don’t know that for sure but we’ve had an officer gunned down. Presumably taken by surprise because he didn’t radio in that he was in trouble. No known associates of Von Werner’s or Von Werner himself have entered Italy with their passports but there was a private flight that used the airfield sometime between eleven and eleven thirty this morning. We are waiting for details of that flight and its origin.”

“You said something on the phone to me about a bomb,” Dennis said.

“When the crime scene investigators attempted to move Balotelli’s body to look for clues they discovered the boot of the car is packed with explosives. We are now waiting for an army bomb disposal unit to arrive. As you can see,” Bauer gestured at the uniformed police, “We are sealing off an area four blocks square.”

The uniformed officers now walked towards them and spaced themselves around Bauer and the Lancia.

“What do you want us to do?” Dennis asked.

“Miss Feltham, Mr Hutchinson, this is detective Mario Ferrara….”

Ferrara nodded at them.

“….I would like you to both go back into St Peter’s square with him and these officers and mingle in the crowds. If you recognise anyone or see anything suspicious these officers will make arrests. Can you do this for me?”

They both nodded.

“Isn’t that a little dangerous for them?” Dennis asked, “I mean they’ve already killed one policeman.”

Bauer turned as the sound of a helicopter got nearer. It swooped in low over rooftops, flew directly over them and hovered over the Vatican.

“Sonnenburg is putting snipers on rooftops,” Bauer said, “And as we can see we now have support from the air.”

Dennis looked at Natalie.

’Will you be all right?’ he mouthed silently.

She smiled and nodded.

“Aren’t you evacuating St Peter’s?” Hutchinson asked, having only just got his breath back.

“Not as yet,” Bauer replied, “The car bomb is a few blocks away and as you can see the Vatican is protected by high walls. The papal office has been alerted and his holiness’ speech for this afternoon has been postponed. We are still not sure if this is a diversionary tactic or a direct attack on Vatican city itself. We may, of course, have been wrong about the intended target.”

“And what do you want me to do?” Dennis asked.

“Mr Dennis I need you to come with me to the church of Santa Croce,” Bauer looked at his watch, “It is almost three thirty now. The church closes at four. You and I will watch it this evening. If they’re planning an attack it will come tonight. Now everyone,” Bauer continued, “You all know what to do.”

He got into the driver’s seat of the Lancia and slammed the door. Dennis held Natalie’s face in his hands.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded and smiled.

“If you think that you’re in any danger you get out of there,” he said, “Just get out. You promise me that.”

She nodded again.

“I will.”

“Don’t worry Pete. She’s safe with me,” Hutchinson added.

Dennis kissed her on the mouth.

“I love you,” he said.

She repeated it and watched as he got into the Lancia and Bauer put the car into reverse, spun the steering wheel rapidly and with tyres squealing the Lancia sped off down the now closed one way street the wrong way.

Natalie and Ferrara moved through the crowds in St Peter’s square. The hustle and bustle of the day’s tourists had begun to thin and unwind as the afternoon stretched on and the light began to fail. Late arriving tourists and those that stayed settled

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