Sign of the Cross(25)

The first thing he put on the Kronborg board were photographs of the crime scene. They were taken at a variety of angles and revealed all the little horrors that he would like to forget. The way two of the victim’s ribs had been forced through his skin like broken chopsticks that had been plunged into a pound of raw meat. The way his jaw hung at an impossible angle. The way blood looks when it mixes with urine and feces. That’s the reality of the average homicide, the type of stuff that Dial had to wade through to find the answers he was looking for.

Like finding more information about Erik Jansen. That would be the best way to determine why he was chosen to die. Learn about the victim to learn about the killer. That meant starting with the people who knew Jansen best: his friends, family, and coworkers. Of course, that was more difficult than it sounded since they were scattered all over Europe. Throw in the language barrier and the secrecy of the Vatican, and the degree of difficulty went through the roof.

It would take a team of professionals to get the information he needed.

The first person he phoned was his secretary at Interpol. She was in charge of calling the National Central Bureaus in Oslo and Rome and telling them what Dial needed, then they would contact the local police departments and get the information for him.

Unfortunately, Vatican City wasn’t one of Interpol’s member countries. That meant there wasn’t an NCB office at the pope’s palace. No local contacts meant no insiders. And no insiders meant no information. Agent Nielson had tried to circumvent the problem by calling the Vatican directly, but as Dial had anticipated, no one returned her message.

So Dial decided to call the Vatican himself, hoping his fancy title would get someone on the line. He’d received a long list of phone numbers from Nielson and asked her to break things down according to nationality, figuring Danes and Norwegians would be most willing to help because of their connection to the crime.

After giving it some thought, though, he decided to scrap that idea and go in the opposite direction. Instead of looking at it from the victim’s point of view, he decided to look at it from his own. Who’d be willing to help him? He needed to find someone he could talk to, someone he could bond with. That was the angle he needed to play, the way to get his foot in the door.

It was far too late to help Erik Jansen. But it wasn’t too late to help Nick Dial.

*

Cardinal Joseph Rose grew up in Texas. He loved guns, red meat, and ice-cold beer. But more than anything else, he loved God, and that was the reason he was willing to move halfway around the world to work for the Vatican. This was his calling, and he was very content.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t homesick.

When the call came to his office, his assistant told him that Nick Dial was on the phone. The name didn’t ring a bell, so Cardinal Rose asked his assistant what it was about. His assistant shrugged and said Dial wouldn’t tell him. Then he added that Dial had an American accent. Two seconds later, Rose was on the phone. ‘How can I help you, Mr Dial?’

Dial smiled at the Texas twang in the cardinal’s voice. It was music to his ears. ‘Thanks for taking my call, Your Eminence. Please call me Nick.’

‘Thanks, Nick. But only if you call me Joe.’

‘You got it.’

‘So, what part of America are you from?’

‘All over, really. My dad coached college football, so I grew up on campuses from Oregon to Pennsylvania to Florida. Plus I spent a whole lot of time in Texas.’

They spent the next few minutes talking about the Lone Star State before Rose asked, ‘So, what can I do for you? I have to admit I’m curious, since you wouldn’t tell my assistant.’

‘Sorry about that. I thought it would be best if I told you myself.’

‘Told me yourself? That doesn’t sound good.’

‘I’m afraid it’s not. I run the Homicide Division at Interpol, and last night one of your priests was found murdered.’

Rose tried to remain calm. ‘One of my priests? You mean one of my assistants?’

‘Maybe,’ Dial admitted. ‘That’s the reason for my call. We know the victim’s name and that he worked for the Vatican, but I’m having trouble finding out additional –’

‘His name?’ Rose demanded. ‘Please tell me his name.’

‘Jansen. Father Erik Jansen.’

The sound of relief escaped Rose’s lips, a whisper that told Dial that the Cardinal didn’t know the victim. ‘How did it happen?’

‘He was crucified.’

‘Dear God!’ Rose made the sign of the cross. ‘Did you say crucified?’

‘Yes, sir. Someone kidnapped him, knocked him out, then nailed him to a cross.’