About a hundred yards from the Cardinal’s Nest, and connected to it by a covered, heated passage, was a small cottage designed to house a dozen men, the men who, in shifts of four, patrolled the area around the Cardinal’s Nest twenty-four hours a day.

Like their counterparts who maintained security at the Palace of the Archbishops in Vienna, they were all seasoned men, veterans chosen from the ranks of the world’s best military units. The twelve men were under the direction of Rolf Engels, a former member of Hitler’s elite Mountain Corps. He had been recommended early on by a member of the ecumenical council as a suitable bodyguard for the then-up-and-coming bishop who spoke so eloquently against communism and who had very quickly become a target for its agents of violence.

Rolf Engels was at the gondola house drinking hot tea with the gondola operator and his security man when he heard the blades of the helicopter. Quickly, he glanced at his watch. His eyebrows rose slightly when he noted the time.

“Bernhard,” Engels said to his soldier. “Step outside and tell me what you see.”

Bernhard, a ruggedly built man in a white alpine camouflage suit, stepped outside. He was back in a moment

“A yellow helicopter,” Bernhard reported. “With black writing. It’s too far off to make out the words on the side, but it looks like the same one the cardinal usually flies.”

Engels nodded. “Thank you, sergeant.” He took another sip from his tea, looked in his cup to see how much, was left and sighed.

“Better crank up the gondola,” Engels said to the lift operator.

“Would you like me to come with you?” Bernhard asked.

Engels shook his head. “Strictly routine,” he said, draining the rest of the liquid from the plastic cup. He tossed the cup into a trash can, followed the gondola operator into the motor shed, and watched while he started up the smoothly oiled mechanism that carried the gondola car up the almost sheer cliff to the Cardinal’s Nest.

The helicopter’s skids had barely touched the snow on the chalet’s helipad when the door opened. Ridgeway jumped out first and helped both Zoe and Morgen out. A set of stairs led down from the pad to a railed catwalk that led across the roof to a door set into an outhouse-sized structure.

“I’ll wait here,” the pilot spoke to Morgen. “No need for me to go back to the airport and then return for the cardinal’s trip. Tell him to take his time. I’ll be here.”

Morgen nodded and joined Seth and Zoe, who waited for him on the catwalk.

As Morgen had promised, the door was not locked. Seth pulled out the heavy old revolver as he stepped through the door. There was nothing but a set of stairs leading downward.

“Come on,” he whispered, and began padding softly down the steps. The stairs were made of welded metal and covered with a rubbery nonskid material. They descended in silence.