The Bone Chamber (39 page)

“I’m not—” His phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket, answered it. Suddenly he slowed, turned a corner, and pulled over, and Sydney knew that whatever news he was being told, wasn’t good. When he disconnected, he looked troubled. “That was McNiel. They picked up Harden this morning. Apparently he was denying any involvement with Adami, until they finally mentioned that his daughter had been a part of ATLAS. McNiel says he turned white as a sheet, then broke down.”

“So it was true,” Sydney said. “The ambassador was feeding Adami info.”

“Info that probably got his daughter killed. But Harden also implicated someone pretty high up the political ladder. He asked for a lawyer, and promised that once he had a chance to speak with his counsel, he’d tell us the name of the person he was working for.”

“That’s good, then.”

“Except that he and his attorney were both killed in a vehicle collision on their way to Langley a few hours ago.”

It was a second before the implication of it all hit her. “I take it that it wasn’t an accident.”

“McNiel’s fairly certain it wasn’t. Unfortunately for the parties involved, Harden’s lawyer had a written confession in his briefcase, and it survived intact. Harden implicated Jon Westgate.”

“Who is that?”

“He used to be a low-level crime boss who hailed from Adami’s hometown in New Jersey. And you’ll never guess whose number popped up several times on Westgate’s cell phone. Martin Hoagland.”

“Hoagland?” Sydney repeated. “As in Congressman Hoagland?”

“The same. He always felt he should have headed the committee for ATLAS.”

Sydney couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “This was out of spite?”

“Trust me,” Griffin said, pulling away from the curb, then back out to the main street. “If Hoagland did it for anything, it was for control. He and Adami are cut from the same cloth. Power and domination.”

“And what better way to dominate world powers than having inside intel into an organization such as ATLAS.”

“Exactly,” he said. “Only now he’ll have to attempt doing it from a federal prison cell.”

At the airport, Griffin and a
carabinieri
contact escorted her through the security entrance at the airport, where she’d be flown home on the ATLAS jet.

Their contact waited a discreet distance from the door that led out to the tarmac, and Griffin held out his hand. “I never did thank you for what you did to help Tex.”

She shook hands with him, said, “I sort of owed you one. I’m only sorry it wasn’t as dramatic as that night at Adami’s villa. Now
that
would make for a good war story at the bar. You’re sure I’m not allowed to talk about any of this?”

“Sorry.” He looked down at her hand, seemed to realize he was still holding it, then let go. “You know, if you ever get tired of the Bureau…”

She smiled. “Sorry. I have a job.”

“At the FBI Academy?”

“I like it. For a reason.”

“To hide.”

“Wrong. It’s giving me time to think where I want to go next.”

“If you change your mind,” he said, handing her bag to her, “you know how to reach me.”

“I do.”

They stood there for several seconds, the silence turning awkward, until Griffin said, “I don’t need to personally walk you to that plane, do I?”

“I’m going. I’m going.” She started toward the jet, thinking about everything that had happened since she’d left Washington. She was damned lonely at times, and hell, life these past few days had been more exhilarating than anything she’d done in a long time. She glanced back, saw that Griffin had turned to leave, was walking toward the security door where the
carabinieri
contact was waiting.

“Griffin!”

He stopped, turned, a bemused expression on his face. “You have a real problem getting on planes.”

Suddenly she was uncomfortable, not sure what he’d say. What she was even going to ask. She’d be on that plane tonight, alone.

He tilted his head, waiting.

“You never did say what you were doing for Thanksgiving…” she finally ventured.

“No plans.”

“Well, if you find yourself in San Francisco, you could stop by my mother’s house. She cooks a mean turkey, and with your connections, I’ll bet you have no trouble finding the address.”

Griffin stood there a moment, his hands shoved in his pockets, as though mulling it over. Suddenly he smiled. “Tell her to set an extra place. I’d like that. A lot.”

One of the more infamous conspiracy theories is that of the Freemasons running a shadow government in the U.S., and controlling the global economy. Proof of this can be found on the back of a dollar bill: the Illuminati’s “all-seeing eye” over the pyramid, which forms one half of a six-pointed star, with five of those points touching the letters to form the anagram that spells MASON. According to these theorists, that same shadow government that originated with our country’s Founding Fathers who were Masons, is still in power today.

Conspiracy theories aside, in this day and age it would be damned difficult to infiltrate and corrupt an entire country’s government, installing criminal networks in with the politicians and the national bankers, all to control the global economy.

Or would it?

In the early 1980s, the Italian government and banking system nearly toppled because of the infiltration and corruption from one Freemason lodge, Propaganda Due, or P2. P2 became a clandestine lodge from 1976 on after being expelled by the Grand Orient of Italy. Counted among its ranks in the lodge before and after the expulsion were prominent journalists, parliamentarians, industrialists, and military
leaders, as well as the heads of all three Italian intelligence services. There were also high-ranking members of the Catholic Church listed in the membership, which perhaps explains how the Holy See’s bank became involved in the scandal with Banco Ambrosiano, becoming a major shareholder in a bank used by both the Mafia and P2’s shadow government—as well as the American government, which used the bank to funnel covert money from the United States to the Contras, among other things.

Add to that the mysterious death of Pope John Paul I in 1978 after a mere thirty-three days in office, allegedly linked to his investigation into the bank’s ties to the Mafia. Then a few years later, the murder of the chairman of the Banco Ambrosiano, found hanged beneath the Blackfriars Bridge in England, his pockets filled with stone and masonry—perhaps a not-so-veiled warning as to what happens to Freemasons who violate their oath of secrecy. His death was originally ruled a suicide—and rumor has it that it was investigated by Freemasons, hence the botched initial investigation. In other words, you have the makings of some great fiction—if not for the fact it was real life. For this novel, I was counting on the possibility that not all the P2 players were caught, and intended to start up again where they left off.

Anything can happen in a circle to which only a select few are invited. Such is the history of Freemasonry, the largest secret organization in the world. But where did they come from? John J. Robinson, author of
Born in Blood: The Lost Secrets of Freemasonry
, argues—quite convincingly—that after the King of France (assisted by the pope) hunted down the Templar Knights in 1307, the Templars went underground and emerged several centuries later as Freemasons. If true, what happened to the Templar treasure? And what was listed among the contents of this legendary cache? Unfortunately, when it comes to the treasure, history is murky. Was it simply accumulated wealth from the Templars’ vast banking and land holdings, or, as some historians surmise, the treasure from Solomon’s Temple, which contained some of the most amazing religious artifacts known to mankind, including the Ark of the Covenant?

That, of course, got me to thinking about the Bible and the plagues brought down to earth by Moses, so that the pharaoh would free the people of Israel. Scientific evidence has been offered to show that the plagues were possible, and that there was a natural explanation—whether one believes or not. Some historians have surmised that the Ark may contain the staff that Moses used to bring forth the deadly plagues. Is it possible that this Ark, built to specific standards as indicated in the Bible, contained the original source or location of these plagues, so that Moses could bring them forth at the right time?

More importantly, can a deadly plague remain dormant for centuries, only to emerge as dangerous or even more so than it once was? My medical sources and research state yes. (For further reading on this subject, try:
Plague Wars: The Terrifying Reality of Biological Warfare
, by Tom Mangold and Jeff Goldberg.)

But back to the Templars and Freemasons. I bring up the historical figure of Raimondo di Sangro, Prince of Sansevero, and perhaps my own contribution to the idea that the Templars emerged centuries later as the Freemasons. In 1750, di Sangro, a genius (mad genius according to some), became the first Grand Master of the Freemasons in Naples, and because of this was excommunicated by the pope. (And why is it that the church is so dead set against the Masons?) How does this connect di Sangro to the Templars? Quite simply, the principality that gave him his namesake, the town of San Severo, was sold to the Templar Knights in 1233. If the Templar Knights emerged as the Freemasons in the 1700s, it is certainly conceivable that a man, a Freemason, whose principality was owned by the Templars, could be hiding a treasure that they intended to guard—a treasure still being sought to this day.

Beyond that, the prince’s body has never been found, he did plan to enlarge his crypt, and his entire chapel is filled with Freemason iconography. Adding to the mystery are the vast miles of tunnels beneath Naples equal in size to the entire Vatican City, and even more still unexplored to this day—it certainly sparks the imagination that there might be a chamber or two left holding secrets that we may never know about. Why not a missing treasure or map?

This book would not have been a twinkle in my eye without author extraordinaire James Rollins, who helped me come up with the first germ of a plot by showing me the back of a dollar bill and its relation to conspiracy theories. That plot grew with the help of my dear friend and writer Susan Crosby. Thanks also to my fellow investigator Arnd Gartner, history buff, who (not on duty—should our bosses read this) helped me with plot points. And to John Clausen; he knows why.

Any FBI agents depicted are not based on real persons. But if I were to include any qualities of real agents it would be those of my good friend Supervising Special Agent George Fong, for answering questions and coming up with a really cool plot idea when I needed something plausible with which to threaten the world. Any deviation from reality is my fault, not his. I also owe thanks to Peter Mygdal, MD, who helped vet one such idea to determine if it was still plausible two thousand years later when this book takes place.

Thanks also to my mother, Dr. Francesca Santoro L’Hoir, who accompanied me on my research trip to Rome and Naples, sharing her extensive knowledge of Italy and the columbaria. While in Rome, we dined at the Hostaria Antica Roma (one of her favorite restaurants); therefore thanks are owed to Paolo Magnanimi for the use of his name, his res
taurant and the wonderful food he served. If you go, try the tiramisu. It’s to die for.

Last but not least, thanks to my agent, Jane Chelius. To Barbara Peters, Robert Rosenwald, and all at Poisoned Pen Press who ensured a top-notch special edition hardcover. To all at HarperCollins for an awesome book and cover. To Wendy Lee, for all her help. And most of all to my editor, Lyssa Keusch, who let me try something different, embracing the idea for
The Bone Chamber
the moment she heard it.

For a Couple Worthy Causes

To my friends who contributed to the LHS cheer/drill team fundraiser, on behalf of my daughter: Special thanks to Dan Randolph of The Randolph Investigative Group for your sponsorship. You guys rock! And to HarperCollins for sending books for a raffle.

For the character auction: On behalf of the team, to Ron Nicholas McNiel II, for his son, Ron Nicholas McNiel III. To Natalie Bay and Kris Talley for their friend, Denise Woods. And on behalf of Sacramento DART (Drowning Accident Rescue Team), to Robin Morgan, for her daughter, Amber Jacobsen.