into tones of hushed conversation or even silence. Many formed groups that lit candles in vigil and prayer. Here and there were single people all doing their own personal thing. One tourist seeing Natalie and Ferrara, who in his suit, the man mistook for a bodyguard and the four uniformed policemen took her photograph, clearly thinking she was a celebrity. Ferrara stopped to give the man a severe talking to.
“He thought you were the prime ministers daughter or wife or something,” Ferrara apologised to her, “I told him he was lucky I didn’t confiscate his camera.”
Natalie wasn’t bothered by the incident. She had other things on her mind. She was concerned about Dennis.
“Do you think they’ll be all right?” she asked the detective.
“Who?”
“Bauer and Peter.”
“Yes of course. From what I can make of it Bauer is a very experienced police officer. We have Carabinieri swarming all over the church. I’m sure they’ll be fine. Remember it’s just a precaution. We don’t know what their true intentions are. For all we know we may have got it wrong.”
Ferrara looked up at the light coming from the windows of the papal offices.
‘Blessed father please watch over his holiness,’ he said in silent prayer.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be looking for,” Natalie said, “I can’t imagine Von Werner’s mercenaries will be out here wandering around armed to the teeth.”
“We just need to have our presence felt. I want any would be suspects to see uniforms at every turn.”
The last rays of October sun had now left the square and were now a dark yellow on St Peter’s church.
“It’s getting dark,” Natalie said, “What time is it?”
Ferrara brought his wrist up to check his watch.
“It is almost a quarter to seven.”
“What time does the square usually close?”
“From April until September the opening times are until seven o’clock. From October until March six o’clock. We are not closing this evening because of the bomb. The last thing Commandant Sonnenburg wants is thousands of people leaving the square and taking routes that will take them close to Balotelli’s police car. We do not need a panic on our hands.”
“So how long will it stay open to visitors?”
“All night if we have to.”
Ferrara looked at faces around him.
“Everyone seems content at the extended opening. “Let us hope it stays that way.”
No more than a hundred metres from them a man glanced impatiently at his watch again. It was now six forty five. He glanced around. The crowds should have been leaving at six o’clock. Filing through Pope Pius XII’s square the crowds would continue down the via Della Conciliazone or they would take the roads to the left or right. The bomb would cause absolute chaos and mass hysteria, distraction for the police.
Twice uniformed officers had passed by very close. One group had a very attractive blonde with them. Each time he’d averted them. He held an Apple I-pad in his hands, the code for the car bomb already programmed in. He had only to hit the enter button now.
He was still wearing his dark sunglasses. Suddenly a tourist stepping back to take a photograph bumped into him. The girl apologised and the man with the I-pad replied in Russian. The American tourist didn’t understand a word of what was said and she shrank away at the cruelty in the voice. A large, heavily muscled, heavily tattooed American man rounded on the Russian.
“Hey she said she was sorry.”
The Russian stared back through his sunglasses as the American glared on. The Russian had already decided that his training gave him the tools to cut the American down in a dozen different ways. He didn’t move though, unwilling to draw attention to himself from the police. Finally, the Americans, realising there wouldn’t be an argument forthcoming moved further away. Now the Russian had a clear line of sight to the attractive blonde. That she was with a policeman, no doubt a detective, was obvious. Then the detective was holding a finger to his ear and was talking quickly into his collar. Now the blonde was looking straight at him.
Natalie stared straight at the dark sunglasses. A chill went through her. She frantically tugged Ferrara’s arm, the one up to his ear. He stopped talking into his collar to look at her open mouthed.
“Him,” Natalie said, not taking her eyes off the man with the I-pad.
Ferrara spun round and met the cold stare. He undid his jacket and reached for his gun. The man with the I-pad turned