“Don’t be fooled, Your Eminence,” Stratton said. “Those guns are relics. The ammunition’s forty years old.”

“Hold it, Stratton,’ Seth ordered. “Stop right where you are.” Seth smiled. “Just look over here, Your Disgrace,” he said harshly. Braun’s head turned. “Your stooge here has stopped because he knows that the gun just might blow his head off.” Seth grinned at Stratton. He paused. “Are you willing to chance the odds that the gun might not fire?”

“No.” Braun swallowed trying to restrain his anger. “No, of course not. You’ve obviously got us at a disadvantage.” As, he faced Zoe’s gun, Braun tried to figure out where Rolf would be. The old soldier was a man of routine and he made his inspections of the grounds on a schedule that kept better time than most watches. His mind raced, trying to remember. Then the floor beneath his feet rumbled faintly. The gondola lift motor had started.

Inwardly, Braun smiled. It took the gondola about three minutes to climb the precipitous slope. Three minutes. He had to keep them talking long enough for Rolf to finish making his rounds.

Seth stepped back until both Stratton and Braun were in his field of vision. “Put your gun on the table,” Seth told Stratton. The NSA man hesitated as if he was calculating the chances that Seth’s revolver wouldn’t fire. Seth stepped toward him. “On the table, friend.” Stratton reached inside his coat. “Easy,” Seth said. “Bring it out by the grip with thumb and forefinger. If I see a finger near the trigger you’re a dead man.”

Stratton nodded and pulled his gun out from under his armpit and laid it on the conference table. It was a heavy U.S. Army Colt .45 automatic.

“You were clever, Stratton,” Seth said. “And convincing. You certainly made a fool out of me.”

“Now don’t be angry, Mr. Ridgeway,” Braun said, his confidence rising with the knowledge that Rolf would be along shortly. “We’re reasonable men. Why don’t we talk.”

“Reasonable?” Seth thundered. “You call killing people reasonable? You self-righteous, hypocritical bastard. We ought to kill you right now. You’ve got the nerve to try and call yourself reasonable? You’ve betrayed everyone and everything you’ve come in contact with.” He looked toward the box. “Or lock it up so no one will know what it really is. You want to hide Hitler’s blackmail, hide the shame.” Seth paused. “Or maybe you want to blackmail somebody yourself.” Seth looked at the flicker of recognition in the cardinal’s eyes.

“Who do you want to blackmail, Mr. Cardinal Archbishop? What are you going to do with the shroud?”

“You misunderstand me, Mr. Ridgeway,” Braun said.

“Yeah,” said Seth. “Hitler and Eichmann were misunderstood too.”

Braun raised his hand slowly. “Please let me say something, if you will?” Seth nodded. “What I want to do with the shroud is nothing more than save the Christian world.”

Seth looked at him in shocked silence for a moment. “You’re joking,” Seth said, then coughed a small cynical laugh. “I know people like you, Braun. You’re out for yourself. You don’t give a good goddamn for saving anything or doing anything that doesn’t benefit yourself. You don’t care how you get the power or which side you have to be on to get it You’re interchangeable, people like you. Just unplug you from one side and plug you in on the other. Well, whatever you’ve got in mind for the shroud isn’t going to come through for you.”