'No,' she assured Payne. 'If we did, we'd have something to pursue. But as it stands now, we don't know where to look next. Paccius's death has knocked the wind from our sails.'

Payne leaned back, astonished. How could four of the smartest people he'd ever met be so blind to the obvious? 'I don't want to step on any toes, but I think I might be able to help.'

'Oh?' she said in a less-than-confident tone. 'How is that?'

'By telling you how the Romans amazed Jerusalem.'

'Jon,' Jones whispered, 'this isn't the time to be joking around.'

'Who's joking? The truth is, I have a theory about Tiberius. In fact, I'm surprised you guys haven't figured it out by now. It's actually kind of obvious.'

'Obvious?' Boyd snarled. 'We've been thinking about this for two days now, researching day and night, trying to grasp this bloody thing, and you mock us by calling it obvious?'

'Just a second. I wasn't trying to insult you. The truth is, sometimes a person can become so immersed in things that he loses sight of the obvious. And I think that's what's happening here, because I'm pretty sure I know what the Romans did to fool the masses. Remember when I said I'd interpreted the archway differently than you? Well, if you don't mind, I'd like to fill you in on my theory. I think it could be the key to everything.'

'Your theory is the key?' Boyd laughed. 'Oh, this ought to be rich.'

'Professore! You're being rude! If it wasn't for Jonathon, we'd probably be dead right now.' You're being rude! If it wasn't for Jonathon, we'd probably be dead right now.'

Payne looked at Maria and thanked her, glad to see at least one person was taking him seriously. 'Now, I admit I don't know a whole lot about first-century Jerusalem, but if I remember correctly, you're searching for an event in Christ's life that would've amazed everyone.'

'Let me cut you off right there,' Boyd snapped. 'We examined each of Christ's miracles turning water into wine at Cana, feeding the hungry of Bethsaida, and so on but didn't feel any of them were miraculous enough to influence the masses. Furthermore, Tiberius claimed that his event needed to be staged in Jerusalem, and Christ's miracles were performed elsewhere.'

'Doc, if I'm not mistaken, Tiberius talked about staging a single event, an act so magical that people couldn't possibly ignore it, no matter how hard they tried?'

'Or words to that effect, yes.'

'But only one event, not two or three?'

Boyd nodded. 'That's correct. The scroll refers to a single single act that future generations would sing about for eternity. Something magical and mystifying in the heart of Jerusalem.' act that future generations would sing about for eternity. Something magical and mystifying in the heart of Jerusalem.'

Suddenly, Payne was more confident than ever. 'If that's the case, then there's only one event in Jesus's life that can fit your criteria... And trust me, people are still talking about it.'

50

Henri Toulon had a history of showing up late and going home early. So Nick Dial was far from surprised when he called Interpol and Toulon was nowhere to be found. It wouldn't be the first time that they butted heads partially because Dial got the position that Toulon had coveted and partially because Toulon was an agitator who loved picking fights with everyone. Yet Dial put up with all the bullshit because Toulon did his job better than anyone he'd ever worked with.

After leaving a message, Dial focused on the bulletin board in his Boston hotel room. He looked at the crime photos from all three cases and tried to figure out a connection. A priest from Finland who was kidnapped in Italy yet was killed in Denmark. A prince from Nepal who was kidnapped in Thailand but murdered in Libya. A ballplayer from Brazil who was kidnapped in New York, then crucified in Boston. What was the thread?

Jansen, Narayan, and Pope were healthy men under the age of forty. None of them were married, had children, or had significant others of any kind. In fact, all of them went out of their way to avoid relationships. Jansen had taken a vow of celibacy, Narayan preferred prostitutes, and Pope was a borderline recluse. On the other hand, their list of differences was twice as long. They practiced different religions, had different ethnic backgrounds, and came from opposite ends of the globe. They spoke different languages, had different jobs, and had no connections other than the way they died.

To Dial it was clear this case wasn't about the victims. It was about the message.

While sipping coffee, he shifted his focus to the crime scenes themselves. Normally he would've worked with a single map because his cases were usually contained in a limited area. In this case, though, he had to look at the entire world because his victims and their locations were so scattered.

To keep track of things, he used a series of pushpins, each color representing something different. He marked the hometowns of all three men with white pins, placing one in Lokka, Finland, one in Katmandu, Nepal, and one in So Paulo, Brazil. Next he located their abduction points with blue pins: Rome, Bangkok, and New York. Finally he tracked the murder sites with red ones, a fitting color, considering how much blood was found at each scene.

Nine pins in total, scattered all around the map. Three in Europe, two in Asia, two in North America, one in South America, and one in Africa. The only continents not covered were Australia and Antarctica, which was fine with Dial. He didn't feel like fighting dingoes in the Outback or frostbite at the South Pole.

A ringing phone snapped him back to reality. He hustled over to his desk. 'This is Dial.'

'This is not,' teased Henri Toulon.

Dial wasn't in the mood for games, so he got right to the point. 'Last night when I arrived in Boston, I found an interesting fact about the latest victim... He wasn't dead yet.'

'What? You mean he's still alive? I heard on the '

'No, Henri, he's dead now, although that wasn't the case when I was landing at Logan. In fact, according to 911 logs, the cops didn't know about it until I was in America.'

Toulon paused for a moment, letting the information sink in. 'But how can that be? We were faxed about the murder last night.'

'That's my point. We knew about the case before there was a case. Looks like we've got another taunter.'

Toulon mumbled a bunch of curse words in French, then shouted to one of his assistants in German, which illustrated why Toulon was so valuable to the department. He could speak a dozen languages, which enabled him to talk to nearly every employee at Interpol, witnesses from multiple nations, plus NCB officers from around the world.

'Sorry about that,' he apologized. 'I had the fax right here on my desk, but some asshole on the late shift messed with my things again. I'm telling you, Nick, if you want me to be efficient, I need an office of my own.'

'I'm not in the mood, Henri. Just tell me about the fax.'

'It came from a police station in Boston, maybe ten minutes before I called your cell phone. It said another victim had been found at the baseball stadium in Boston, and they needed someone from our office to verify its link to our other cases.'

'Do you have a name or a number or a station location?'

'I had all of that, Nick, right on the fax. It came in on stationery.'

Dial growled softly. This was the best lead they had, and someone at his office had lost it.

'Nick?' Toulon said. 'Hans is checking the fax machine right now. It stores the last fifty documents in its memory, so there's a chance we'll be able to print another copy. I'll also check our phone records to find out where the fax came from. That way, you can investigate the suspicious fax machine before you leave Boston.'

Dial took a deep breath. Maybe this wouldn't be a total disaster after all. 'Get me that info as soon as possible. This could be the break we've been waiting for.'

Frankie Cione loved hanging out with Payne and Jones. He didn't know if it was their coolness under pressure, their good-natured teasing, or the fact that they were tall. Whatever it was, Frankie knew that they were special. Not only did they go out of their way to make him feel important something his friends and colleagues rarely did but he got the sense that they actually liked him for who he was, not not what he could do for them. what he could do for them.

After Payne and Jones left Milan, Frankie pondered ways he could continue to help them. It took him all day to figure it out, but he realized that they had left several scraps of evidence in his possession, including photographs of the helicopter crash site and data from the car rental office. Of course Frankie had no idea where any of it was going to lead, yet the thought of helping them in any capacity was enough to give him chills.

Francesco Cione, Italian private eye. No case is too big, although I'm quite small.

Laughing to himself, Frankie realized the pictures of Orvieto were the best place to start, since Payne and Jones had left his office before they had a chance to enlarge them all.

The initial picture he examined was one that Jones had scanned into the computer. Frankie took his time searching every centimeter of the film, blowing up the image to eight times its normal size and viewing it from four different angles, before he decided it was time to move on. After clearing the file from his screen, he thumbed through the rest of the photographs and settled on the last two pictures in the roll.

At first glance there was no visible reason for his selection, though Frankie figured if Donald Barnes was as obese as Payne and Jones had claimed, then something something had to motivate him to walk halfway across the plateau and take additional photographs of the wreck. And since that something didn't jump out at him, he hoped he might find it under magnification. had to motivate him to walk halfway across the plateau and take additional photographs of the wreck. And since that something didn't jump out at him, he hoped he might find it under magnification.

By moving his mouse, Frankie was able to slide the image in any direction. That allowed him to focus on several areas of the crash site that Payne and Jones had never seen.

The first section of the photograph proved to be nothing more than a shadow created by a wisp of smoke and the rays of the summer sun. The second was a rock, partially covered in green moss, while the third turned out to be part of the rotor blade that Boyd had fractured with his toolbox. The fourth section, though, proved to be much harder for Frankie to define. So much so that he was forced to magnify it to five times its normal size, then brighten the pixels of the image before he could even hazard a guess as to its identity. After doing all that, there was little doubt in his mind as to what he was looking at, for the scene was quite horrific.

Buried in rubble at the base of the cliff was the flattened corpse of an Italian soldier. His head had been crushed by the initial impact of the avalanche, while the rest of him was mangled by the 400-foot drop that followed. Limbs pointed backward. Entrails oozed from his midsection like uncooked sausage links. Blood covered everything nearby.

'Mamma mia!' Frankie said to himself. 'This be why fat man is killed! Not because he speak to my friends. He dead because he film this body!' Frankie said to himself. 'This be why fat man is killed! Not because he speak to my friends. He dead because he film this body!'

And he was right, too. Of course, that was nothing compared to the evidence that Frankie was about to uncover next. Evidence that would help Payne and Jones put everything together.

51

The hush that filled the room reminded Payne of his days with the MANIACs. Everyone was staring at him, waiting to be briefed. Eventually, Maria couldn't handle it any longer.

She said, 'Tell us what you're talking about. We're dying to know.'

Payne grimaced at her choice of words. 'It's ironic that you mentioned dying dying because that has a lot to do with my theory.' because that has a lot to do with my theory.'

And just like that they realized Payne was talking about the crucifixion. The The crucifixion. That was the event that Tiberius had used to trick the masses. It had to be. Nothing else made sense. Especially if you consider the artwork in the Catacombs. crucifixion. That was the event that Tiberius had used to trick the masses. It had to be. Nothing else made sense. Especially if you consider the artwork in the Catacombs.

In Payne's mind the hand-carved images of the archway weren't there to mock the death of Christ. They were there to honor a special moment in Roman history. And the only thing that would make Christ's death an important event to the Romans was if it wasn't a real real crucifixion. It had to be a ploy, an event staged by Tiberius to help the Empire get a stranglehold on the new religion and the flood of donations that was bound to follow. crucifixion. It had to be a ploy, an event staged by Tiberius to help the Empire get a stranglehold on the new religion and the flood of donations that was bound to follow.

'For the good of all things Roman, we shall begin at once, using the Nazarene as our tool, the one we have chosen as the Jewish Messiah.' using the Nazarene as our tool, the one we have chosen as the Jewish Messiah.'

Boyd considered the theory. 'Why are you so certain that Tiberius faked the crucifixion?'

'Why? Because if Jesus wasn't the Son of God, how can you explain his resurrection? Either they faked his crucifixion to make it look like he came back from the dead, or they didn't, and Jesus is actually actually the Messiah. I mean, those are the two possibilities, right?' the Messiah. I mean, those are the two possibilities, right?'

Payne figured, without assistance from Rome, there was no way a mortal could've cheated death and made a triumphant return to society. Not after what they put him through or seemed seemed to put him through. If Jesus wasn't the savior, the only thing that could've saved his life was the mercy of the Empire. However, mercy was the one thing they to put him through. If Jesus wasn't the savior, the only thing that could've saved his life was the mercy of the Empire. However, mercy was the one thing they weren't weren't known for. known for.

Maria said, 'Not to play devil's advocate, but wouldn't it be impossible to fake a crucifixion in first-century Jerusalem? They'd be lacking the special effects that modern magicians have. Plus they'd be dealing with an unwilling subject.'

Jones motioned toward Payne. 'Hey, you're talking to an expert in that field. Jon's been studying magic tricks for as long as I've known him.'

And he was right, too. Payne had been intrigued by magic since his grandfather pulled a quarter out of his ear back when Payne was still wearing pajamas with feet. The tricks. The secrets. The performers. The history. He'd been a connoisseur for as long as he could remember.

So he said, 'The first documented magic tricks were performed in Egypt about 3,000 years before the Roman Empire. Their tricks ranged from the simplistic the ball and cup tricks that are still prevalent today to the complex. Around 2700 BC, an Egyptian magician named Dedi gave a performance where he decapitated two birds and an ox and then restored their heads.'

'Really? How'd he do that?' Ulster wondered.

Payne ignored his question. 'With enough preparation the Romans could've figured out a way to make it work. In fact, it probably would've been easier than Dedi's performance because everybody in his audience would've been expecting a trick, whereas the people in Jerusalem were expecting a crucifixion. I mean, nobody would've been looking for a sleight of hand or a last-minute substitution since they weren't expecting a show.'

Maria grimaced. 'That being said, how would you you have done it?' have done it?'

Payne gave it some thought. 'Hypothetically, you could fake a crucifixion by drugging the victim. I mean, the victim would look like he died on the cross, right? And a large crowd would've witnessed it. From there you hide the victim until he wakes up. Just like that, the illusion of resurrection.'

The room grew silent as they considered Payne's theory.

'Of course, the toughest part would've been figuring out what drug and dosage to use. In addition, you'd have to administer the drug in front of an audience, which might've been tricky.'

'Actually,' Ulster stated, 'the Romans had a great understanding of pharmaceuticals and had mastered the art of capital punishment. The guards sometimes killed up to 500 prisoners a day, so they would know the best way to accomplish this. All they'd have to do is slip the prisoner a drug while he was on the cross, and he'd fall into a comalike sleep within minutes.'

Jones asked, 'But how would they do that? Wasn't Jesus surrounded by his followers at the time? Surely they would've objected if the Romans had tried to drug him.'

Maria shook her head. 'According to the Bible, Jesus sipped wine vinegar from the end of a long stalk while he was hanging on the cross. It was such a common practice during crucifixions that no one would've given it much thought.'

Boyd added, 'I recall several historical references to mandrake, mandrake, a plant that still grows in Israel today. The Romans used the ground-up root as a primitive anesthetic.' a plant that still grows in Israel today. The Romans used the ground-up root as a primitive anesthetic.'

'Furthermore,' Ulster added, 'mandrake would explain the speed of Christ's death.'

'How so?' Payne wondered.

'To put it simply, crucifixion was a lengthy process, one that typically lasted more than thirty-six hours and sometimes as long as nine or ten days. In the end the victim usually died from hunger or traumatic exposure, not because he bled to death.' Ulster paused for a moment, searching for the right words. 'On occasion, when the Romans wanted to accelerate the process, they would smash the victim's legs with a hammer or a war club to steal his ability to breathe. After that the victim was no longer able to prop himself up on the nail through his feet, and that put too much strain on his arms and chest to take in any air. Suffocation quickly followed.'

Payne asked, 'But they didn't do that with Christ, right?'

'No, they didn't,' Boyd assured him. 'Which is an issue that has bothered historians for centuries. Most victims lasted at least thirty-six hours, like Petr mentioned, whereas Christ died very quickly, spending no more than a few hours on the cross. Remember, Christ was crucified alongside two other criminals, men who had their legs broken to hasten their deaths. Yet when the Romans moved into position to shatter Christ's legs, they realized he was already dead.'

'"Not one bone of his will be broken,"' Maria whispered, quoting the scripture. 'The way Christ died fulfilled a prophecy. A prophecy that the Romans would've known about.'

Boyd nodded. 'So did the actions of Longinus, the centurion who stabbed Christ in the side after his death. John 19:3137 stated, "They will look to the one whom they have pierced." And in time, the Romans looked to Jesus as their God. Just like Tiberius and his accomplice wanted.'

Jones asked, 'Out of curiosity, what proof do we have that a drugging took place?'

Boyd frowned. 'One panel in the archway does does show Jesus drinking from the hyssop stalk. I failed to give it much thought at the time since it's a fairly obscure moment to memorialize. Come to think of it, I can't remember seeing that event honored in stone before.' show Jesus drinking from the hyssop stalk. I failed to give it much thought at the time since it's a fairly obscure moment to memorialize. Come to think of it, I can't remember seeing that event honored in stone before.'

'Nor I,' Ulster said. 'What about you, Maria?'

'Not really.' Then after a moment of silence, she surprised everyone by blurting, 'Wait! The archway! I just remembered something about the archway.' She leapt to her feet and bolted toward the door. 'Nobody move. I have to check on something. I'll be right back.'

The four of them nodded in unison, half afraid to disobey her order. At least for the first few seconds. After that, Payne's curiosity got the best of him. He had a feeling that she was on the verge of a major breakthrough and wanted to be there when she had it.

'Damn, D.J., will you look at the time? We're missing my favorite show!' He grabbed the photo of the Lipizzaner stallions and rushed toward the hallway. 'Wait, Oprah! I'm coming!'

To keep from laughing, Jones nearly bit through his bottom lip. 'Sorry you had to see that. Jon's in a delicate place in his life right now and my ebony sister is teaching him how to cope.'

Payne and Jones hustled down the wooden stairs and found Maria sitting in Ulster's office, scouring her videotape for new evidence about the crucifixion.

She said to them, 'You must think I'm crazy, running out of the room. It's just all that talk about the archway made me realize something. I think there's a clue on one of the carvings.'