18 ...

It was still early when the Swiss Guard began the search in earnest, but because thousands of tourists immediately began to flood the corridors when the Vatican Museums opened at 9:00 a.m., an average-looking, middle-aged white man might as well have been the proverbial needle in a haystack. From the video they had captured in the Sistine Chapel, Bandone had been unable to offer much in the way of a description: height about 6', weight maybe 180 pounds, white hair, glasses, black t-shirt and jeans – that was about it. He and Marchese had decided that it would be prudent not to mention the camera they had installed under orders – without informing the Vatican – in Michelangelo's Last Judgement. As far as the Swiss Guard were concerned, this was simply a request to detain someone wanted for questioning by the Guardia.

They got lucky. Two alert young Guards noticed a group of five men leaving the shaded colonnades of the Piazza San Pietro, and heading toward the Via della Conciliazone, Mussolini's grand boulevard that led away from the Vatican and back into the city of Rome itself. One of the men bent down to retrieve a pamphlet of some sort that he had dropped. That and the fact that three of them were dressed in costume attracted the attention not only of the guards, but of the crowd of passing tourists. One guard checked the photo he'd been given, nodded to his partner. In their colourful uniforms, they pushed forward. The Red Sea of tourists parted respectfully, and perhaps a bit nervously. Four of the five men were leaving, shaking hands as they left. The first guard addressed the only person his superiors had directed him to detain, Newkirk.

"Signore Newkirk." The guard consulted his orders to check the name and photo that had been provided. "Per favore, venite con noi."

"Certamente, signori, ma perché." No answer.

Newkirk was directed to a waiting police car and gently guided into the backseat by an expressionless Carabinieri officer as his partner watched from the driver's seat. Having delivered the suspect, the two Swiss Guards turned back toward St. Peter's and disappeared into the crowds. 

Like police cars everywhere, this one had a steel mesh partition between front and back seats, and the rear doors had no handles. Newkirk felt queasy and claustrophobic as the car sped away into the city. 

It was only logical to think that the camera they had found in the Sistine was being monitored by some authority or other, and that its discovery was the reason for Newkirk's arrest, if that's what this was. But what would those authorities have thought about the other artists who'd been with him in the chapel? Well naturally the police (or whoever) would have dismissed their identities as a prank, a hoax, or a costume a party ... wouldn't they? His mind raced with the implications of the situation. "I suppose," he mused, "now I'm some kind of perp." The thought made him smile despite his discomfort.

Within minutes they arrived in front of a nondescript building not far from the Carabinieri Stazione they had just passed in the Piazza Adriana. The same officer who had seated Newkirk in the squad car opened the door and gestured toward the building's entrance. Newkirk had never seen such elegance and grace in police officers. These men were not simply in uniform, they were dressed. And they did not simply stand up or walk forward; each movement seemed to have been choreographed. Ah, Roma. Looking down at his t-shirt and jeans, he felt rather grubby and clumsy as they climbed the few steps and entered the building.