Day of Confession - Allan Folsom [147]
My God, he had to stop it!
Abruptly he looked away and back out the train’s window. He was ill. Terribly, mentally ill. Maybe even insane. But he was Thomas Jose Alvarez-Rios Kind. Who the hell could he talk to? Where on God’s earth could he go for help where they wouldn’t catch him and throw him into prison? Or, worse, see his weakness and shun him for the rest of his life.
“Roma Termini”—the metallic voice crackled over the speaker system. The train slowed as it came into the station, and people stood to collect their luggage from the overhead racks. Julia Louise Phelps didn’t have the chance to take hers down; the man she had smiled at did it for her.
“Thank you,” Thomas Kind said in an American accent and sounding singularly feminine.
“Prego, “the man replied.
And then the train stopped, and they departed. One more smile between them. Each going his own way.
112
Lugano, Switzerland. Same time.
HARRY KNOCKED ON THE BEDROOM DOOR, then opened it, and he and Elena went in. Danny was alone, sitting on the edge of the bed intently watching the small television that sat on an antique table nearby.
“Where is Father Bardoni?” Harry asked. It had been more than two hours since the priest had gone upstairs to talk with Danny. Finally Harry had had enough of waiting. He would talk to Father Bardoni himself.
“He’s gone,” Danny said, still preoccupied with the television.
“Where?”
“Back to Rome.”
“He came all the way from Rome and then left. Just like that?”
Danny said nothing. Just continued to watch the TV. The pictures on it were being broadcast live from China. It was night now in Hefei, and there was an eerie silence. Media reporters were saying nothing, only watching. As were the armed soldiers in goggles, masks, and protective clothing who kept them behind barricades. In the distance two separate but distinct red-orange glows were clearly visible against the black sky. Words were not needed. Closer shots, unimaginable. With rescue workers overwhelmed, mass burning of corpses had been ordered to prevent the spread of disease. In the lower right-hand corner of the screen was a muted graphic.
Last official death toll: 77,606
“My God… ,” Danny breathed. This was the first he knew about what had happened in China. He’d come on it by accident after Father Bardoni had left and he’d switched on the TV, looking for news about the police search for Harry and himself.
“Danny—?” Harry was behind him, prodding him.
Suddenly, Danny picked the remote from the edge of the bed and pointed it at the TV.
CLICK.
The screen went dark.
Danny looked to Harry, and then to Elena. “Would you leave us, please, Sister,” he said quietly in Italian.
“Of course, Father…” Elena glanced briefly at Harry and then left.
As the latch clicked into place, Danny looked to his brother.
“Cardinal Marsciano is ill. I have to go back to Rome…. I need your help.”
“Rome?” Harry was incredulous.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I just told you.”
“No, all you said was that Cardinal Marsciano was ill, you didn’t tell me anything.” Harry glared at his brother. Instantly they were back to the conversation they’d had earlier when Danny shut down completely.
“I said before that I can’t talk about it…”
“Okay, you can’t. Let’s try something else…. How did Father Bardoni know you were here?”
“Sister Elena’s mother general…”
“All right. Go on.”
“Go on about what?” Danny asked flatly. “I have to get to Rome, that’s all…. I can’t walk. Can’t even go to the bathroom without help…”
“Then why didn’t you go with Father Bardoni?”
“He had to get back. He was taking a plane from Milan…. I could hardly be seen in an airport, could I, Harry?”
Harry ran a hand across his mouth. Danny was not only lucid, he was determined.
“Danny, our pictures are all over television. In every newspaper. How far into Italy do you think we’d get?”
“We