The Power of Five Oblivion

special about it, that the Vatican authorities knew something that they would never share. In any event, it was still there now. Tasso knew exactly where it was. He had passed it a hundred times.
    And this strange, foreign boy was asking to be taken there.
    Leonardo Emilio Tassio had a choice to make. He could call the Swiss Guard. In which case, Pedro would be dragged out and deposited on the other side of the Vatican walls. That would be the end of the matter. He would go on with his cleaning and after a while he would forget that this meeting had ever taken place. Or he could do as Pedro asked. He knew perfectly well that there was a flight of steps in the corner of the Cortile Borgia that led down to a dark, narrow tunnel, which ran underground for about a hundred metres before it emerged in the sanctury of St Peter’s Basilica. Senior members of the Pope’s office occasionally used it as a short cut. He himself sometimes went down there to smoke a secret cigarette.
    “Please…” Pedro muttered.
    The cleaner did not realize that he had arrived at the single most important moment of his entire life. All he knew was that he should do something to help this dying boy.
    He let his broom fall to the ground.
    “Come with me,” he said.

ANTARCTICA
    Scott followed the stairs down to the courtyard with the great doors locked on one side, the mountain behind. It was strangely quiet, the snow falling more heavily and blanketing any sound. There were no guards in sight; they were no longer needed. The pathetic rabble that called itself the World Army had gone, scurrying for ships that they thought would take them to safety, unaware that nowhere in the world would ever be safe again. And Matt Freeman had been taken. Even now he was providing entertainment for the massed ranks of the Old Ones. Only the man on the scaffold was still here. He had frozen solid. The snow was settling on his shoulders and head.
    Scott was wearing only a shirt, trousers and jacket. The cold cut into him almost gleefully and in seconds his fingers, his ears and his cheekbones were both numb and hurting at the same time. He realized that if he stayed out very long the weather would kill him – but he didn’t care. It was likely that quite soon he would be dead anyway.
    He walked towards the cave set in the mountainside, opposite the gatehouse and the two towers. He saw the five-pointed star carved into the rock. There was the silver chain drawn across the mouth with the two pale white hands clasped together, keeping it locked. All he had to do was separate them and the way ahead would be clear. He would take ten steps and he would find himself in London. He wondered what Jamie would say. Would his brother even be glad to see him after everything that had happened? How much did he know?
    There was also the question of the chain itself. The electricity or whatever deadly force ran through it. If there had been a guard or a servant around, Scott could have ordered them to pull the chain apart for him. But something inside him rebelled against the idea. Why should anyone else die because of him? Much better to do it himself.
    He stepped forward, anxious to get it over with. He was very cold. His breath was coming out white and he could actually feel his lips freezing. It was time to get it over with.
    But then something hot sliced across his shoulders. He yelled and spun round, just in time to see a glint of silver whip through the air, coming at him again. Instinctively, he jerked back. He had been wounded. He could feel blood trickling down his back. But the second blow had missed.
    Jonas Mortlake stood opposite him.
    Unlike Scott, Jonas was dressed for the weather with a padded anorak, gloves, hood, heavy boots with thick soles. He was holding a sword, one of the weapons that Scott had seen being manufactured only two days before. Somehow it looked incongruous in his hands … the antique weapon contrasting with the modern clothes. At least, it would have done if it hadn’t been so deadly.
    “Are you going somewhere, Scott?” he demanded. “You’re not leaving us, are you?”
    He swung again. Scott fell backwards and the blade passed just above his head. Jonas smiled at him, his eyes wide and bright behind his wire-framed spectacles, his artificially whitened teeth displayed in a brilliant smile. Scott knew that everything had changed. The Old Ones had Matt. They no longer needed him. And Jonas had been given permission to kill or