Free Templar 09 - Secret of the Templars by Paul Christopher

used in old coal and tin mines. They ran off into the distance without a break. Holliday and Lazarus found a dark space at the foot of one of the boilers and shoved their briefcases out of sight.
    â€œI guess we should follow the yellow brick road,” said Lazarus, nodding down at the rails on the floor.
    â€œWell, we sure as shit aren’t in Kansas anymore.” Holliday laughed.
    Freed of their priestly burden, the two men walked down the main passageway surrounded by the sounds of machinery.
    Both the priests’ vestments and the papal boiler suits had been easy enough to come by. They had all been purchased at Barbiconi, a religious department store only a few blocks from the Vatican.
    The two men walked past half a dozen or so similarly dressed workers, who ignored them completely. Holliday saw a clipboard resting on a set of valves and scooped it up; there was nothing like a clipboard to make you look official. They finallyreached the end of the broad alleyway and came to a stop in front of yet another door marked “No Admittance.” They ignored the warning once again and stepped through the door.
    This time they could quickly see that they were out of place. A small room on the left with windows on three sides contained several banks of closed-circuit TV monitors. At the far end of the passageway was an area guarded by what looked like steel bars. The railway tracks went under the steel bars and ran farther on. A security guard sat in a folding chair eating a Quarter Pounder with bacon and cheese and a supersized bag of fries. A giant paper cup stood at his feet. He had neatly made a bib out of a paper napkin and that had only marginally succeeded. There was food in a Niagara of special sauce, ketchup and bacon bits spilling over his large belly.
    â€œVentilatore,”
said Holliday, waving the clipboard vaguely in the direction of the area behind the bars and stretching his Italian vocabulary to the absolute maximum. The guard grunted something with his mouth full toward the television monitor room. There was a clanging noise and the gates popped open. Holliday and Lazarus stepped through the barred gate into what appeared to be the outer chamber of a bank vault. Walls of safety-deposit boxes rose to the ceilingon either wall and directly in front of them were two massive doors, each fitted with a large combination lock. Holliday waved his clipboard at the single large vent in the ceiling and Lazarus nodded in agreement. In fact, both men were focused on the two massive doors and their large locks. The doors had the scrolling escutcheon of Chubb & Sons. Each of the doors had its own turning wheel and combination dial. It looked as though it had been made sometime in the 1920s.
    â€œHow the hell are we expected to get into that?” whispered Lazarus.
    â€œI don’t have the slightest idea. I guess we should ask your friend Saxon Peck.”
    Holliday and Lazarus made their way back down the basement hallway, got into the elevator and made their way out, walking past a tall gray-haired man in what appeared to be an extremely expensive suit. Accompanying him were two tall, burly priests who looked more like bodyguards than clerics. Lazarus frowned as they passed.
    â€œSomething wrong?” Holliday asked.
    â€œYes, but I can’t quite put my finger on it,” Lazarus said.
    They eventually made their way to Saint Peter’s Square and crossed it, heading back to the antiquarian bookstore.
    â€œShit!” Lazarus said. “Now I know what was bugging me.”
    â€œWhat was it? Something to do with those two bully boys we passed in the corridor back there?”
    â€œYes, and the man they were guarding—Eric Bingham. He owns the biggest auction gallery in Palm Beach and he’s run more than one scam in the art world. What the hell is he doing here?”
    â€œWhat kind of scams?” Holliday asked.
    â€œA painting would be sold in a New York auction to a