The Templar Salvation (2010) Read Online Free PDF

playing along.
    Bescondi’s face clouded as he searched for the least compromising answer. “Lucia Dos Santos’s prophecies, for instance. You’re familiar with her, yes? The seer of Fatima?”
    “Actually, now that you mention it …” Reilly let the words drift, then flashed him a slight grin.
    The priest let out a small chuckle and nodded with relief. “Cardinal Brugnone told me you were to be trusted. I don’t know what I was worried about.”
    The words bounced uncomfortably inside Reilly’s conscience as they stopped at the entrance of the building. Delpiero, the inspector general, excused himself, given that he didn’t seem to be needed.
    “Anything I can do to help, Agent Reilly,” the cop offered, “just let me know.” Reilly thanked him, and Delpiero walked off.
    The three halls of the library, resplendent with ornate inlaid paneling and vividly colored frescoes that depicted the donations to the Vatican by various European sovereigns, were unnervingly quiet. Scholars, priests from various nations, and other academics with impeccable credentials glided across its marble floors on their way to or from the tranquillity of its reading rooms. Bescondi led the two outsiders to a grand spiral staircase that burrowed down to the basement level. It was cooler down there, the air-conditioning straining less than aboveground to keep the summer heat at bay. They ambled past a couple of junior archivists, who gave the prefect small, respectful bows, and reached an airy reception area where a Swiss Guard in a sober dark blue uniform and black beret sat behind a counter-type desk and a bank of discreet CCTV monitors. The man signed them in, and five taps into the security keypad later, the inner sliding door of the air lock was whishing shut behind them and they were in the archive’s inner sanctum.
    “The fondi are arranged alphabetically,” Bescondi said as he pointed out the small, elegantly scripted nameplates on the shelves and got his bearings. “Let’s see, Scandella should be down this way.”
    Reilly and the Iranian followed him deeper into the large, low-ceilinged crypt. Apart from the sharp clicks of their heels against the stone floor, the only noise in there was the constant, low hum of the air-management system that regulated the room’s oxygen level and kept harmful bacteria at bay. The long rows of shelves were packed tight with scrolls and leather-bound codices interspersed with more recent books and cardboard box files. Entire rows of ancient manuscripts were suffocating under blankets of dust, as, in some cases, no one had touched or consulted them for decades—if not centuries.
    “Here we are,” their host said as he pointed out a box file on a low shelf.
    Reilly glanced back, toward the archive’s entrance. They were alone. He nodded his appreciation at the priest, then said, “Actually, we really need to see another fond.”
    Bescondi blinked at him, confused. “Another fond? I don’t understand.”
    “I’m sorry, Father, but—I couldn’t risk you and the cardinal not allowing us down here. And it’s imperative that we get access to the information we need.”
    “But,” the archivist stammered, “you didn’t mention this before, and … I’d need His Eminence to authorize showing you any other—”
    “Father, please,” Reilly interrupted him. “We need to see it.”
    Bescondi swallowed hard. “Which fond is it?”
    “The Fondo Templari .”
    The archivist’s eyes widened and did a quick dart to the left, farther down the aisle they were standing in, and back. He raised his hands in objection and stumbled back. “I’m sorry, that’s not possible, not without getting His Eminence’s approval—”
    “Father—”
    “No, it’s not possible, I can’t allow it, not before discussing it with—”
    He took another step back and edged sideways, in the direction of the entrance.
    Reilly had to act.
    He reached out, blocking the priest with one arm—
    “I’m