The Chimera Sanction Read Online Free PDF Page A

through to the Rome Airport traffic control center in an instant. ‘Did you have any contact with a helicopter flying over Rome in the last half-hour?’
    ‘Just a minute, I’ll check.’ After a moment, the air traffic controller said, ‘Negative. One of our men saw one on radar and tried to get a flight plan, but no answer.’
    ‘And now?’
    ‘He’s off our radar screen. He’ll be out of our range.’
    ‘Or on the ground,’ muttered Guadagni.
    ‘Could be,’ answered the controller.
    ‘Call me immediately if you get a contact,’ said Guadagni. Turning to Legnano, ‘I’m calling the Air Ministry.’
    ‘Oh, I forgot to tell you,’ said Legnano, ‘they also have Dr Bruscetti.’
    ‘With your permission, your Eminence, I’ll have forensics come over immediately and go over the papal apartments. It’s important we gather all information and evidence as quickly as possible.’
    ‘Of course,’ said Legnano. ‘By the way, I’ve called Interpol. I’ve asked that they send that Inspector Dulac, the one who helped solve the Archbishops Salvador and Conti murders.’
    ‘But why? This is purely an Italian, a Vatican matter,’ said Guadagni, offended.
    ‘You know that for a fact, inspector?’ said Legnano.
    ‘Well, no, but we have—’
    ‘As Secretary of State of the Vatican, it’s my decision,’ said Legnano glaring at Guadagni.
Somewhere over the Italian countryside, 3.20 a.m., same day
    For a moment, Bruscetti looked away from his barely conscious patient and glanced outside the helicopter’s window. Below, the lights of buildings were strangely sparse. He looked at his watch. It’s been over fifteen minutes. That’s odd. We should have arrived by now. He leaned forward and tapped the co-pilot’s shoulder. ‘Where are we going? The clinic—’
    The co-pilot turned quickly, pointing a pistol inches from Bruscetti’s face. ‘Shut up. Be quiet and you won’t get hurt.’
    Bruscetti recoiled and sat back, speechless. For an instant, the realization didn’t register, but then, it all became terribly clear: they’d been kidnapped. Tired, dazed and confused, Bruscetti sat back and stared blankly at the opposite side of the Huey. He bent down beside the Pope and saw that his breathing was shallow, but regular.
     
    An hour later, Bruscetti felt the Huey slowing, then land in the darkness.
    He watched as the pilot and co-pilot transferred the stretcher bearing the Pope out of the chopper onto the ground. Bruscetti could make out a van, parked alongside the helicopter. Suddenly the gate of the van opened and four men bearing Uzis in bandolero style jumped out, took over and carried the burdened stretcher into the van. A hooded, stocky man grabbed Bruscetti‘s arm, pulled him out of the helicopter and shoved him onto the van’s middle seat. Bruscetti, his nerves raw, his hands trembling, looked beside him: the Pope lay inert on the stretcher, his breathing barely discernible. The stocky, hooded man clambered into the front beside the driver and ordered, ‘Go.’
    The driver floored the accelerator and Bruscetti was pushed back in his seat.
    ‘Give me my bag. I must check his vital signs,’ said Bruscetti to the hooded man, visibly in charge.
    The man signaled to one of the men in the rear to hand Bruscetti his bag. ‘Make it fast.’ After a cursory check, the doctor, for the first time, felt relief. The Pope’s pulse had dropped to normal, and his pressure was up. As Bruscetti removed the Velcro strap from the pontiff’s arm, the pontiff awakened and smiled faintly.
    ‘Where are we, doctor?’
    ‘Your Holiness, I wish I knew.’
     
    A while later, Bruscetti heard the engine whine as the van struggled up a steep, tortuous incline, the driver muscling the vehicle through a set of narrow switchbacks.
    Eventually, the van slowed in front of a large villa and stopped in front of one of the doors of its three car garage. The door swung silently upwards underneath the wide, cantilevered veranda