“Quentin and Olivia Fox returned to Miami,” Vitali said, “where Quentin opened up a new gallery. She gave birth to a son six months later. Nicolas. Here’s where it gets interesting.” Vitali clicked his remote and a new image filled the screen. It was a man wearing a traditional keffiyeh, a red and white checked headdress favored by men in Arabic countries. “This is Quentin Fox in Cairo, about to meet with an international arms dealer who would be found dead two weeks later.”
Everything about Nick’s body language changed. He leaned forward in his chair, staring at the screen intently.
“Here he is two years later,” Vitali went on, “in Barcelona, meeting with two members of a Basque separatist group.”
Another image on the screen, the same man who’d been wearing the keffiyeh, now wearing a suit and sitting at a table with two other men.
“Three years later, in Cyprus. With a key figure in a human trafficking ring.”
Another image, two men in another café.
“We don’t have many other photographs,” Vitali went on. “We did find three confirmed identities so far. I’m sure there are more.”
One more image came up, with three more passports, Quentin’s face in each, but each with a different name and country of origin.
Vitali stopped talking and stood in front of everyone, with the different faces of Quentin Fox still projected onto the screen behind him. He stared at Nick, clearly waiting for something to be said.
Nick stayed silent.
“Mr. Fox,” Vitali said, “were you aware of your father’s career as a foreign operative?”
“My father was an art dealer,” Nick said. “He bought paintings, pottery, and rugs. He traveled a lot, brought items home, and sold them in his gallery. When he came home, he’d play with his model trains. I thought he had the most boring life in the world. I had no idea there was this whole other side to it.”
“But you did find out?”
Nick hesitated. “I did. Later.”
“Later as in when?”
“Later as in later.”
Vitali stared him down.
“If you must know,” Nick said, “I found out the day before my mother died. She made him promise to tell me. My father and I haven’t spoken much since then.”
Vitali nodded. “And were you aware that your father was capable of an operation like this?”
Nick almost smiled at that. “I didn’t know he was this good, no.”
“So you had no idea that he would be—”
“No,” Nick said, cutting him off. “Of course not.”
“We have just been informed that Quentin Fox worked as an off-the-books resource for the CIA,” Vitali said, glancing over at Jessup. “Apparently, this was as big a surprise to the FBI as it was to myself.”
Jessup shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “The CIA does not generally share such information with my bureau,” he said. “Not unless there’s a specific need to know.”
“I believe we have that today,” Vitali said, barely disguising his disgust at American bureaucracy, “but now that they’ve seen fit to share the information, it’s clear that Quentin Fox worked for the CIA in some capacity for at least twenty years.”
“It’s a good cover,” Nick said. “An art dealer has a plausible reason for traveling anywhere in the world.”
“We’ve been told that his assignments ended twelve years ago,” Vitali said, looking at Jessup again. “We’ve also been assured that Quentin Fox was not acting on behalf of the American government in any way. Whatever he was doing here, it was on his own initiative.”
Nick shook his head. This didn’t make any sense.
“I’m going to ask you one more time,” Vitali said to Nick. “I’d like you to really think about your answer this time. Did you have any idea that your father would break into the Vatican last night?”
“Yes, that was our plan,” Nick said. “ ‘Meet you at the top of the dome. Bring a parachute.’ ”
Vitali didn’t look amused by this, but he pressed on. “The parachute, now that you bring it up, was found in an alley near the city wall. It’s a specific type of chute that the SAS forces in the UK use. Again, I think I know what your answer is going to be, but do you have any idea how he might have gotten his hands on such a thing?”
“No.”
“And you’re not at all surprised that your father could make a jump like this? At his age?”
“He’s sixty-two, not ninety-two,” Nick said. “I think he just proved he can do it. And no, to answer your next question before you ask it, I have no idea where he is right now.”
“Mr. Fox, if we find out you’re not being honest with us—”
“You’re the guys who asked me to come out here to help you,” Nick said, keeping his voice level. “Are you going to accuse me, or not? Go ahead, Inspector Vitali, don’t be shy. Just come out and say it. You’ll feel so much better.”
Agent Jessup recognized this as the moment he should shake off his jet lag. “Nick, that’s enough. Just answer the questions.”
“There’s nothing to answer,” Nick said. “I don’t know anything about any of this. But I do have one question for the inspector, if he doesn’t mind.”
“Go ahead,” Vitali said.
“What was stolen last night?”
“You mean what did your father steal from the Vatican?”
“If you want to put it that way,” Nick said. “What did my sixty-two-year-old father steal after he single-handedly defeated your entire team?”
Vitali hit the button to advance to the next projected image. “This is what your father took from the Galleria delle Carte Geografiche, Mr. Fox.”
It was a map, the paper yellowed and the ink faded. There were contour lines as if marking topography, and scattered across the map in a seemingly random sequence were a dozen crude symbols. Like something you’d scratch into the ground, a rough X, then an S, then something like an arrow. On the right side of the map, set apart in a separate banner, ran a string of words. Auf dem Turm, Deutschland Siegt Auf Allen Fronten.
Everyone squinted at the map, tilted their heads, trying to make sense of it.
“This map is seventy-five years old,” Vitali said. “The inscription on the side translates to ‘On the tower, Germany is victorious on all fronts.’ ”
“What is the purpose of this map?” Nick asked.
“We don’t know for sure, but some of our experts believe this is, essentially—”
“A treasure map?”
“Pirates use treasure maps,” Vitali said, his voice dripping with disdain. “With a dotted line to lead them around the quicksand and the alligators, and then the big X to mark where they should start digging.” He turned to the map, pointed to some of the symbols. “This is a complex series of coded symbols, using Germanic runes from the eighth century as a lexicon.”
“That leads to a treasure,” Nick said.
Vitali let out a breath. “Ultimately, yes.”
“So it’s a treasure map,” Nick said. “But for smart people.”