'Please! This may explain why Dottore Dottore Boyd was in Orvieto and what he is wanting.' Boyd was in Orvieto and what he is wanting.'

They somehow doubted that, but they humored Frankie anyway.

'For years there are stories about Orvieto. When pope looked for shelter during holy war, people say he no live on top of rock. They say he live under rock, deep inside land. No one knows how this be since no one dig for him, but too many stories for me not to believe.'

'What are you saying?' Payne asked. 'He lived underground?'

'Yes! He so scared for his life he do what he can. He make tunnels to escape. He grow crops to eat. He make well to have water. All of this to hide from enemies.'

'We saw the well,' Payne admitted. 'Regrettably, so did our friend with the camera.'

'But what of tunnels? Did you see the tunnels? They are how you say? very cool crap. They go beneath the street like sewer. I feel like Indian Jones when I crawl through them!'

Payne smiled at the reference. 'Didn't you say something about a treasure?'

'Si! A magnificent treasure, one that no one has found.' A magnificent treasure, one that no one has found.'

Jones shook his head. 'Sorry, but I find that hard to believe. I'm a huge history buff, and I've never heard anything about Orvieto's treasure. How famous could it be if I've never heard of it?'

Frankie shrugged. 'Maybe your country no make it famous? I do not know. In my country Orvieto be famous. Catacombs be famous. Everyone in my country know Catacombs.'

'Fine,' Jones relented. 'If that's the case, how come no one has found the treasure? Orvieto isn't a big place. I mean, if there was gold in them there hills, someone would've found it.'

'No! The land beneath town is illegal for shovels. No digging allowed. Not for treasure seekers. Not for anyone. If you caught, you go to jail. You see, big hill is like old mine, filled with many caves. People is worried if someone dig in wrong place, then all of Orvieto go splat!' He slammed his tiny hands together. 'And that would suck big one, no?'

Payne laughed until he realized Jones wasn't. 'You OK?'

Jones blinked a few times. 'You know how there's been a hole in this case, something out of our grasp? What if this turns out to be a treasure hunt? It would explain Boyd's presence in Orvieto and the CIA's interest. If the Feds were able to get data with a few trinkets, imagine what they could get for an entire site.' He paused, thinking things through. 'Furthermore, a jackpot of this size would explain the Italian authorities. I mean, there's no way a local bureau could've pulled the cover-ups that we've witnessed. To hide a helicopter crash and manipulate a bus wreck, you have to have the backing of some very serious people.'

'True, but where do we fit in?'

'Our friends at the CIA must've known Boyd was onto something. That's why they panicked when he disappeared. They knew if the Italians found him first, they'd be screwed out of everything they'd been financing for years. That's why they came to us. They needed to find him ASAP and thought we could do the job.'

In Payne's mind the theory made sense. Of course, he realized it might make even more sense if he knew more about the Catacombs. 'Hey Frankie, tell us about the treasure.'

'My people say that Clement VII feared for Church's wealth. Even when pope return to Vatican, he still be scared for it. That is why people say he leave the best things in Orvieto.'

Jones whistled softly, thinking of the Vatican's treasure. 'Frankie, if we wanted to dig in Orvieto, who would we have to talk to? Is there a local bureau that could give us permission?'

'No, there is nothing like that in all of Umbria... But in Rome, yes, there is an office. It is called Department of Antiques, and it be very high power in government.'

Payne assumed he meant the Department of Antiquities Antiquities. 'How so?'

'The minister of antiques is named Benito Pelati, and he very important man. He is very old, very well-respected throughout Italy. He is done so much to save our treasures, our culture, that people line up to kiss his feet.'

'This Pelati guy, would he have the authority to let someone dig in Orvieto?'

'Si, but this is something that but this is something that Signor Signor Pelati no gonna do. We Italians is very proud. And because of pride, sometimes we is very stubborn. For long time, Pelati no gonna do. We Italians is very proud. And because of pride, sometimes we is very stubborn. For long time, Signor Signor Pelati has said to my people that Pelati has said to my people that Catacomba di Orvieto Catacomba di Orvieto is made-up. He even go on TV and say it no real, that people should forget tales because they not true. But some scholars want proof. They no even want to dig. They just want pictures of ground with giant X-ray to see if anything is there, and he no even allow that. Too much at stake for him.' is made-up. He even go on TV and say it no real, that people should forget tales because they not true. But some scholars want proof. They no even want to dig. They just want pictures of ground with giant X-ray to see if anything is there, and he no even allow that. Too much at stake for him.'

Payne nodded in understanding. 'Out of curiosity, how does Mr Pelati prevent illegal digs?'

'He has special team who live in Orvieto and watch everything. Many people sneaked into town to find the Catacombs and many people not come back. In time, people no longer look for treasure... Myth not worth dead.'

'Hypothetically,' Jones said, 'if someone wanted to dig there, what would it take?'

Frankie shrugged. 'Permission from Signor Signor Pelati. But, like me say, that no gonna happen. Pelati. But, like me say, that no gonna happen. Signor Signor Pelati is no gonna let someone find treasure in Orvieto. Pelati is no gonna let someone find treasure in Orvieto. In nessun momento! In nessun momento! In Italy, an important man like Benito Pelati would rather be dead than look foolish.' In Italy, an important man like Benito Pelati would rather be dead than look foolish.'

Payne and Jones continued talking with Frankie until he was called back to the library on business. They stayed in the photo lab, though, using a work-table to examine the photos of the crash site. Each of the pictures had been taken atop the plateau. The initial shot revealed a panoramic view of the landscape, followed by several of the wreckage itself, concentrating on Boyd's truck and the left side of the helicopter. Most of the chopper's rear section was scorched, but not enough to obscure the last three digits of its serial number.

'That's about all I found, unless you count these,' Payne said.

Oddly, the final two pictures of the roll were taken from the opposite end of the ridge, which meant Barnes walked several hundred feet to film the reverse angle of the crash. To Payne's eye it seemed like a huge waste of time, because they didn't reveal anything of value mostly scorched grass, huge rocks, and chunks of burnt metal. 'So, what did we learn?'

'We learned that Barnes was telling the truth. The helicopter crashed on top of the truck, even though the truck wasn't mentioned in the newspaper. That seems strange to me.'

'Maybe it has something to do with the truck's location,' Payne suggested. 'There isn't a road at the bottom of the plateau, which tells me that Boyd went way out of his way to get down there. Why would he do that? If he was a thief like the CIA claims, why would he risk driving down there unless it was necessary? If he wanted to blend in, he would've parked in the lot where we parked then walked into Orvieto like a tourist.'

Jones nodded. 'Furthermore, if Boyd was there for an illegal dig, there's no way he would've parked at the bottom, not with Pelati's men running around. They would've spotted him for sure. Unless, of course, he wasn't worried about Pelati's men... Wait, maybe that's the thing we've been missing. Maybe he wasn't hiding from Pelati because he was working for him?'

'Doing what? Searching for buried treasure?'

'Maybe. That would explain why Boyd's truck was in the valley. He wasn't worried about being spotted and wanted his equipment as close to the site as possible.'

'And the helicopter?'

Jones shrugged. 'Who knows? Maybe it was there to protect Boyd and some interlopers shot it down. Or maybe it belonged to treasure hunters and Pelati's crew took them out?'

'Or maybe it belonged to the CIA. Ever think of that?'

'The thought had crossed my mind.' He studied the chopper's rear section. 'If I had to guess, I'd say this bird was made by Bell. Perhaps part of their 206 series. Possibly an L-I.'

'You can tell all that from one picture?'

'Trust me, this was a Bell. Just like the chopper that Manzak and Buckner used. Same color, too. As black as my uncle Jerome.'

Payne took the picture out of Jones's hand. 'Probably not a coincidence, huh?'

'Probably not.'

'Which means one chopper was in Pamplona while a second was in Orvieto.'

Jones nodded. 'But that's where things get tricky. No one knows what the chopper was doing there. Furthermore, we don't know who we talked to in Pamplona, because Manzak and Buckner are dead. Speaking of which, why kill Donald Barnes and all the people on the bus?'

'Yeah, that doesn't make sen '

The sound of ringing stopped Payne midword. He probably shouldn't have answered it, but it was after midnight, and he was curious. Thankfully, it turned out to be a good choice because Frankie was on the line, and he sounded very excited. 'I leaving library right now. Bring pictures and meet me in my office. I promise, you will like! This will be good!'

39

The thought of asking her father for help was enough to keep Maria awake. No matter how she rationalized it, she just couldn't get past his basic ideology of life. Women were weak, and men were strong. God, it infuriated her. How could someone living in the twenty-first century think in such an old-fashioned way? To make matters worse, she knew if she went to him for assistance, he'd use it as proof that when the going got tough, all women turned to men for help.

Then again, what choice did she have? She realized if she wanted to go public with the Catacombs, she needed to get everything documented by her father's office. Otherwise she and Boyd would be labeled grave robbers, not archaeologists, and they would lose the rights to everything they found. The fact that he was a blatant sexist and an asshole of a father shouldn't factor into it. He was the minister of antiquities, and he needed to be notified immediately.

Both she and Boyd knew it. Yet it was a call she was unwilling to make.

The thought of him saying that he he would rescue would rescue her her was one she couldn't bear. The bastard had abandoned her as a little girl and turned his back on her when she needed him the most. So she refused to turn to him now. Not if she could help it. No way in hell. was one she couldn't bear. The bastard had abandoned her as a little girl and turned his back on her when she needed him the most. So she refused to turn to him now. Not if she could help it. No way in hell.

'Professore,' she whispered. 'It's time to wake up. The sun will be up shortly.' she whispered. 'It's time to wake up. The sun will be up shortly.'

Boyd opened one eye, then the other, desperately searching for clues to his location. The first thing he noticed was the intricate design of the spiderwebs that hung from the ceiling. Next he felt the coldness of the concrete floor against his back. Breathing deeply, he noticed the distinct stench of urine in the air. Ah, yes! The memories came flooding back. He was in a warehouse.

'Come on,' she snapped. 'We need to get out of town before breakfast.'

'Why's that, my dear?'

'Because we're bound to be on the front page of the local paper. Once people see that, the odds of us being spotted go up significantly.'

The moment Payne and Jones got to Frankie's office they could tell he was bubbling with enthusiasm. 'One of my jobs is making monthly bulletin for our school. Lotsa pictures, lotsa stories, lotsa nothing.' Frankie rummaged through his desk and found an old newsletter. It was the type of thing sent to graduates and big-money donors. 'I do whole thing myself from here.'

'That's great,' Payne said. 'But what's that have to do with us?'

Frankie walked over to his computer and opened his scanner. 'We scan pictures. We make pictures big on screen. We see why pictures is so important. Good idea, no?'

Payne agreed and handed him the pictures. Frankie put the first photo in and hit start.

The basic purpose of a scanner is to convert a document into a digital format (i.e., a computer file) so it can be stored on disk or manipulated on-screen. They were interested in option two, hoping to magnify Barnes's pictures to several times their original size. Ten seconds passed before the first signs of color started to appear. The three of them stared at the image as it slowly filled the screen. A rainbow of dots here, a massive shape there. After a while it was obvious that the photo was coming in upside down. Jones had the most experience in the computer field, so he offered to man the keyboard.

'Not to worry,' he bragged. With a touch of his mouse, the image flipped 180 degrees and continued to grow. 'OK, what do you want to look at first?'

Payne pointed to a section of wreckage. 'Zoom in on the helicopter. I want to see if we can make out more of the serial number besides the last three digits.'

Jones clicked a few of buttons on the toolbar and waited for the image to be redrawn. Charred metal filled the screen, but no additional numbers could be seen. 'Now what?'

'I don't know. I was hoping the chopper would show us something useful. Maybe if we ' That's when Payne thought of a different approach. 'Hey Frankie, give me the photos.' He glanced through the pile until he found the one he wanted. 'Try this instead.'

Frankie put it in the scanner, and soon they were looking at the picture on-screen.

'Zoom in on the truck,' Payne said. 'Maybe we can see a make or model.'

Jones moved his mouse across the desk. 'And what good will that do?'

'I bet Boyd's truck was a rental. And if we figure out where he rented it, we might be able to get some additional information, right?'

The moment the close-up of the truck filled the screen, they realized they were on the verge of a major discovery. Jones attacked the keyboard with zeal, hoping to magnify the picture. Soon they were able to see the make and model of Boyd's truck and his license plate as well.

'Mamma mia!' Frankie blurted. 'You guys is good!' Frankie blurted. 'You guys is good!'

'Thanks,' Jones said as he sent the image to the printer. 'But we ain't done yet.'

Seconds later, Jones logged on to the Internet and went to his personal website, where he punched in his secret code. Even though he rarely used his system outside the office, he'd set it up so he could access it from any terminal in the world. Once his password was accepted, he typed the truck's license plate number into a military search engine where he was given the name of the vehicle's title holder. The truck belonged to Golden Chariots, a rental agency on the outskirts of Rome. Next, with a quick click of the mouse, he went to the company's website, looking for anything that might help their search.

'What you looking for?' Frankie wondered. 'Name? Address? Money-saving coupon?'

Jones shook his head. 'I need a twenty-four-hour hotline that I can call this late at night.'

Frankie pointed to the screen. 'Look! Right there. That is number, no?'

Jones nodded. 'And since you found it, I'm going to let you make the call.'

'Me? Why me? Why do I make call?'

'Frankie, relax. I'll do the hard part. All I want you to do is call this number and pretend you're the manager of a local hotel. I don't care which hotel, just pick one, OK? Then I want you to find out if the rental agent speaks English. If he does, tell him one of your guests needs to talk to him about a car problem. Got it?'

'Si, I got it. And if he no speak English?' I got it. And if he no speak English?'

'If that's the case, I'll talk to him in Italian. But our charade will work better in English.'

Frankie nodded and dialed the number, although he had no idea what Jones was planning. Neither did Payne, for that matter, yet he patted Frankie on the shoulder and assured him he'd be fine. A woman answered on the fourth ring, and Frankie spoke to her in rapid Italian, explaining who he was and what he needed. Thankfully, she said she could speak English and would be willing to talk to Jones. Frankie handed him the phone and whispered, 'Her name is Gia.'

Jones thanked him with a wink. 'Gia, I'm so sorry to call you at such a late hour, but there's been an accident.'

'Are you all right?' she asked in near-perfect English.

'I'm fine. A little banged up but fine. Although I can't say the same about your truck.'

'The vehicle is in bad shape?'

'Yeah, the whole side's caved in. I plowed into it something good.'

'Pardon me?' she said, confused. 'I don't understand. You hit your own truck?'

'What? No!' Jones sighed loud enough for her to hear. 'I'm sorry. I guess I'm doing a pretty bad job of explaining this. You'll have to forgive me. I'm still a little shaken up from things.'

'Not a problem, sir. Just take a deep breath and tell me what happened.'

He sucked in a gulp of air for her benefit. 'Boy, let me try this again. I rented my car from a different agency, not yours, and as I was backing out of my parking space, I slammed into one of your trucks. I should've seen it because it was just sitting there. But, man, I hit it pretty good.'

The sound of typing preceded her next comment. 'And the vehicle is heavily damaged?'

'Yes, ma'am. I caved in the whole side and shattered its window.'