Free A Sacred Storm by Dominic C. James Page A

antipasti. But before it reached his mouth he started to feel faint. It dropped from his hand limply as he first struggled for breath, and then seconds later fell to the floor. As he clasped his throat the world turned black.
    A minute later the boy from room service re-entered the suite with his pass key. His graceless gait gone, he strode confidently across to Anatol’s suitcase and rifled through, finding what he sought in the side zipper. Folding the paper delicately he placed it in his breast pocket. He took one last look at the dead man, shrugged, and left, strolling casually out of the hotel and losing himself in the crowded piazza.

Chapter 13
    It was a beautiful morning and the sun pierced Cardinal Vittori’s chambers like a divine spear. He unlocked his desk drawer, took out a small flask of cognac and added some to his rich dark coffee. Although his physician had warned him away from alcohol, it was part of his ritual and he believed that giving it up would do him more harm than good. And on a day like today, when everything was falling into place so very nicely, he felt it only right that he should allow himself a little indulgence. After all, lent had finished weeks ago.
    He took a sip from his freshly charged drink then looked down at the piece of paper on his desk and smiled. Although he could easily have mustered together twenty million dollars, in the present financial climate he felt that taking the frugal approach had been the correct thing to do. Of course, a man had lost his life, but then – was that man really worth saving? There were too many gangsters in the world anyway. He had done mankind a favour.
    Smoothing the paper with his hand he leant forward and studied it closely. Some of the symbols appeared incredibly intricate, and he wondered if the recently deceased Anatol had copied them accurately enough. Although from experience he knew there was some leeway with the four main Reiki symbols, he wasn’t sure how exact one had to be with these new characters. Just one erroneous line could theoretically be quite disastrous. Unfortunately the only way to find out was to use what they had and hope for the best.
    After five minutes of scrutinizing the page he sat back to give his eyes a rest. He finished the dregs of his coffee and poured himself another, again adding a little extra treat for good measure. The clock on the far wall indicated that it was coming up for ten am, telling him that it would not be long before his important guest arrived with the last piece of the puzzle. Smiling broadly he sipped his drink and let out a satisfied sigh. Years of searching were about to come to fruition.
    Ten minutes later there was a knock on the door. Vittori felt a pulse of electricity shoot up his spine. For a moment he was giddy with excitement, but then remembering his position and the need to remain authoritative, he took a few deep, steady breaths and called for his guest to come in.
    Due to their respective positions Cardinal Vittori had only met Jonathan Ayres in person twice before, but their correspondence dated back many years and he felt closer to his fellow conspirator than any of the Vatican flunkies he dealt with on a day-to-day basis.
    â€œJonathan!” Vittori beamed, rising from his chair offering an outstretched palm. “How very good to see you!”
    Ayres returned the smile and took the cardinal’s hand. “Fabio! It’s been too long.”
    Vittori motioned for his assistant to leave them alone and they both sat down. He offered the British PM a coffee, which was gratefully accepted, as was the shot of cognac.
    â€œA man after my own heart,” said Ayres. “If you ask me coffee just doesn’t taste right without a little snifter. I swear by it myself.” He looked down at the piece of paper on Vittori’s desk. “Is that what I think it is?”
    â€œYes,” said Vittori. “This is it. Have you brought the key with