The Lost Apostles Read Online Free PDF Page B

yet?”
    “I’ll get around to it.”
    Lowering his brow in displeasure, Zack said, “I didn’t do all that work for nothing, you know. Took me over a week in the Library of Congress and CIA Archives—researching old records that were never scanned for the Internet, either because they were quite old, or classified. In the Library of Congress I found information about an underground tunnel that connected Vatican City to the Castel Sant’Angelo, an impregnable fortress in Rome where popes took refuge during military attacks. Even the existence of that tunnel was a secret for centuries, though information on it eventually got out.”
    He took a deep breath and continued. “But at the CIA I found more, descriptions of an even more secret, alternate tunnel system that also led from the holy city to the castle, developed because information about the main tunnel route had gotten into the wrong hands. The second route is more circuitous and longer, but the distance is still not that great, and it is a quick way to get from one place to the other undetected.”
    “Interesting.”
    “Obviously you didn’t read the research documents I provided to you.”
    “I’ve been busy.”
    “All right,” Zack said, “but those subterranean passageways worry me. “Maybe I should just send the letter to him directly, to make sure any tunnels are permanently blocked off, and can’t be reopened.”
    “You could do that, but he might never see it. Some lower level functionary could just round file it. A letter from my office, on the other hand, would not be thrown in the trash.”
    “OK, but get around to it, all right?”
    “A President has many responsibilities.”
    “If I miss the next shot, will you look at it this afternoon?”
    President Markwether laughed, a boisterous cachinnation. “I’ll bet they have security you can’t begin to imagine, big brother. The Vatican has to be one of the top terrorist targets in the world.”
    “Still, I suspect our Catholic friends may have grown complacent, overconfident. I get gut feelings about these things based upon a few observations—the chatting guards, the emphasis on ceremony over substance, the perimeter defensive gaps—and it makes me wonder about the rest of the operation. Are people manning the security cameras, watching every screen every second, or are there lapses? What are the backup systems? Some of my comments have to do with morale, with esprit de corps. I’ve been right about these things before, and you know it. The security program I developed for our federal buildings has saved hundreds, maybe thousands of lives. My concept for a—”
    “I know, and we all appreciate that. Your White House suggestions were excellent, too, except for the flack from some of my staff who resent your presence.” He sighed. “So much politics to wade through, on all levels. All right, I’ll move your letter up on my priority list.”
    Setting his beer aside, Zack bent over the pool table to line up his next shot. He hesitated, looked peripherally at his brother and asked, “Say, your delay wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that you aren’t Catholic, would it?”
    The President responded in his most statesmanlike voice, “My non-adherence to the faith and your embrace of it has nothing—I repeat, nothing —to do with my actions.”
    “Have you even looked at my letter?”
    “Of course.”
    “Then what does it say about St. Peter’s Basilica, the Sistine Chapel, and—”
    “Do not interrogate me! I am the President of the United States!”
    Irritated, Zack shanked his shot, making a shuddering sound with his cue stick as it glanced off the white cue ball. In disgust, he threw the stick down on the table and left.
    * * *
    Following the departure of the Arabs, the female pilots finished setting up Dixie Lou’s camp, using the extensive survival gear that had been kept in these aircraft for contingencies, by order of Amy Angkor-Billings. Seven tents were