Haatim clicked through the various websites somewhat absently, sleepiness creeping in. He had trawled through the information for days and had a mind-numbing headache from spending so much time in front of a computer.

Dominick told himself that he did this for the sake of what Frieda wanted him to do. After all, he couldn’t do his job if the security team wouldn’t let him.

Father Paladina and Haatim arrived at an old building in an older district of the city early the next morning.

Dominick spent most of his time in the lounge on the second floor of the estate and tried not to think about just how much money someone had to have that their estate would have multiple lounges inside the same building.

Haatim arrived at St. Peter’s Basilica Cathedral early the next morning. A car waited for him when he awoke and drove him from the hotel and across the border into Vatican City.

Jill Reinfer had worked as a member of the Council about ten years ago, though she had only lasted a few months. Just until her father died, and she had inherited his vast fortune. George Reinfer had been a good man. His daughter, not so much.

Early the next morning, when his flight landed at the John Glenn International Airport, Dominick felt exhausted. Though still dark outside, it promised to become a dreary day. He rented a car and headed away from the airport, struggling to stay awake.

Desperation and worry settled over Frieda as soon as both Dominick and Haatim got on their flights out of Switzerland. It worried her that they might get stopped and their passports confiscated, but luckily, they had made it through all right.

“Who—or what—is Surgat?” Haatim asked. “And what do you mean by ‘the original seven’?”