That seemed to be the case when the group went out to the street. Rafael was in pretty bad shape, but even so, he helped Sarah support the captain, who could not walk on his own. Close behind them was Marius Ferris, who still couldn’t believe their good luck. All the others—Geoffrey Barnes, Staughton, Thompson, the servant, the assistant, the Master—helplessly witnessed their exit. In the end, Barnes would not have the pleasure of erasing Jack, after all.

“Take the van,” Barnes ordered. “Someone will come to get it later.”

Rafael was the one who drove the vehicle to the meeting with the Vatican messenger, who in turn was to lead them, safe and sound, out of the country, and they were to recover the valuable documents that Sarah declared she had asked someone to send to the Holy See. Raul Brandão Monteiro touched his wound, lying in the backseat with his head resting on his daughter’s lap.

“Does anybody know what’s going on?” The question came from the shy Marius Ferris, whose melodious voice still showed some anxiety.

“That’s exactly what I was going to ask you,” Rafael said to him as he drove. “Do you understand what happened, Captain?”

Sarah answered for her father.

“It’s very simple. While we were at the Altis Hotel in Lisbon, I called the Vatican embassy and explained our situation. The man who answered was very friendly but didn’t promise anything. He insisted that I send him some proof of what I was saying, which I did immediately.”

“What did you say?” Rafael asked, astonished by the explanation. Sarah had acted behind his back, surely while he was taking a shower.

“I faxed the documents.”

“And then?”

Sarah didn’t appreciate Rafael’s grilling. He didn’t seem to like the idea that she had solved the problem and saved everyone’s life.

“Then the man asked me to send the originals to the Vatican Library in Rome, and I asked the receptionist to take care of it.”

“Go on.”

“The nuncio’s secretary emphasized that he couldn’t promise anything, but he assured me that the matter would be presented to the appropriate authorities.”

“And that explains our here and now,” Rafael concluded.

“Exactly.”

Rafael looked at Sarah’s father through the rearview mirror.

“What do you think, Captain?”

The officer attempted to utter a few words but could only manage to produce an incomprehensible sound.

“Speak slowly, don’t force it,” his daughter recommended, gently.

“Am—am—”

“An ambush?” Rafael guessed. The officer nodded.

“An ambush? Why?” Sarah was confused by the two men’s conviction. “Didn’t I solve the problem?”

“Of course not,” Rafael declared emphatically.

Raul squeezed his daughter’s arm, as if asking her to listen to Rafael.

“Look. The Vatican doesn’t act that way. It uses much more subtle tactics. It would never give an ultimatum of that type, much less to save our lives. J.C. knows that.”

“Maybe,” Sarah said mysteriously, “but I’ve still got an ace up my sleeve.”

“Do you think they’re following us?” Ferris asked nervously.

“That’s easy enough to find out,” Rafael said. “The Waldorf is north of us, and we’ll change our route. Captain, what do you think about stopping by a hospital to have them take a look at that wound?”

Rafael turned right at the first street and sped up, heading into the tumultuous heart of Manhattan. In less than a half minute there were three patrol cars from the New York City Police Department with lights flashing. Rather than block the way to force the van to stop, they did just the opposite: two patrol cars followed behind them, while the other led the way in front, through the dense traffic in the area.

The New York City police escorted them to their destination, for security reasons. “Please follow us,” sounded the loudspeaker from one of the patrol cars.

“How nice!” Rafael exclaimed ironically, at once following the new route marked by the police vehicles. “Now, tell me, did the Vatican also send us this escort?”

“Supposing that you’re right,” Sarah said, “why stage this farce if we were already in their power? They’re giving us a chance to escape. What are they gaining?”

“No matter how hard we tried, we couldn’t throw them off our track. Surely there are several satellites watching us. Besides, the van is theirs. It’s equipped with all the detection devices you ever dreamed of,” Rafael pointed out. “As for the dramatics, I think the old man, deep down, knows exactly what he’s doing. In spite of everything, our situation hasn’t improved.”

“Yeah, we were better off chained up in that room,” Sarah agreed sarcastically.

“You don’t have . . . don’t have all the pieces to . . . to put the puzzle together, Sarah,” her father said.

The young woman turned to Rafael.

“All right, then, mister puzzle man, tell me what we’re going to do.”

“Nothing.”

“What do you mean, nothing?” Sarah and Marius Ferris asked in unison.

Rafael disregarded the priest and looked directly at Sarah. “I do sincerely appreciate your having granted me another half hour of life.”

“Hail Mary, Mother of God . . .” Marius Ferris prayed, crossing himself, in an effort to overcome his fear.

“Does this mean that they don’t believe the papers are in the Vatican?”

“Exactly. They know they’re not there. You aren’t the only one with contacts in the Holy See,” Rafael answered.

“But they seem to have believed it. It’s all very confusing. Who do you think called to give them the ultimatum?”

“Nobody,” Rafael answered decisively. He quickly changed his authoritative voice to a softer, more reflective tone, to avoid hurting Sarah’s feelings. “Even assuming there really was an ultimatum, they would disregard it.

And I can’t imagine the Vatican worrying about us. Think—why are we getting this escort?”

“That’s something I can’t explain,” Sarah said to herself. But she was still annoyed. Of course there was an ultimatum. “I’m sorry to inform you that the ultimatum is no figment of my imagination.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Do you have all the pieces of the puzzle?” she asked defiantly. “Are you sure we’re not going to meet a messenger?”

“The messenger will be there.”

“Well, I played my cards, I did what I could,” Sarah said. “Whatever will be will be.”

They exchanged looks for a few seconds. Each could see the other’s worries, for themselves and for the others.

Minutes later they turned onto Park Avenue, with all the pomp conferred by their escort. They stopped in front of 301, the celebrated Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, the lodging place of innumerable celebrities for more than a century.

After a struggle, Raul managed to sit up on the seat. Marius Ferris was the first to open the door, but before he could step out, someone slammed the door shut from the outside. It was a man dressed in black whom he’d never seen before.

“My apologies. His Excellency prefers not to meet with the whole group. Only with the young lady,” the man said, peeking into the window by Marius Ferris’s seat.

Rafael took the opportunity to glance at Sarah, silently asking her whether her pieces of the puzzle now fit together. Sarah didn’t understand the glance at first, so Rafael signaled her to come closer, and whispered his question. Sarah said nothing, but she didn’t hide her uncertainty and anxiety.

“Only the woman can come with me,” the man in black insisted.

The daughter tenderly grasped her father’s hand.

“Everything will be fine. Don’t worry.”

The man in black opened the door and Sarah stepped out of the van. He escorted her inside the hotel. Rafael also got out of the vehicle but was immediately intercepted by another thug.

“Didn’t you hear my partner?” he asked menacingly.

“Yes, I heard him.”

“Then you’d better get back in.”

“Unfortunately that’s not possible. I must go with the woman,” he insisted impassively.

“Get back in the van right now,” the guy ordered. “I won’t ask you again.”

“I can’t. Do you know why?”

“Do I look like I’ve got any interest in knowing?”

“If you don’t, you ought to.” He paused for a moment to let the words sink in. “I’m the only one who knows where the papers are.” Another brief silence before the crowning touch. “The woman doesn’t know anything.”