The Man Who Came to Warn Her

The knock came again. It was soft, deliberate, and measured. Jessica didn’t move. Neither did Olivia. The silence stretched between them, thick and electric.

Jessica’s fingers tightened around the grip of her 1911, her breathing slow and steady. Olivia flicked her gaze toward the hotel window, a possible exit if things went south. Jessica nodded slightly in an unspoken understanding.

There was another knock. Louder this time. Jessica took a step toward the door, gun at her side.

“Who is it?” she called, voice even.

There was a pause. Then a low, calm man’s voice in Italian, “Apri la porta. Open the door.”

Jessica exhaled through her nose. “I don’t open doors for ghosts.”

There was a slight chuckle of amusement. Then the man said in a very serious voice, “If I were a ghost, I wouldn’t have knocked.”

Jessica and Olivia exchanged a glance. The voice had an edge to it. It was controlled, and deliberate. Not panicked. Not a hired gun. Not a random threat. Someone who wanted to talk.

Jessica sighed. She wasn’t in the mood for guessing games.

She reached for the lock, then hesitated. She met Olivia’s gaze. “Cover me.”

Olivia’s jaw tightened, but she gave a sharp nod. She moved behind the desk, her own weapon in hand.

Jessica exhaled and unlocked the door. She didn’t open it all the way, just enough to see who was standing there. It was a man in his early fifties, Italian features but something distinctly Vatican about his posture. He wore a long coat and a creased but expensive suit with a Vatican Intelligence ID badge hanging from his breast pocket. His tie was Vatican-issue black, but slightly askew, like the uniform didn’t quite fit the man anymore.

Her pulse ticked up slightly. The man studied her for a moment. Then, in crisp English, he said, “Jessica Sanchez. You’ve been busy.”

Jessica didn’t respond. She just tilted her head slightly.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said, voice carefully neutral.

The man smirked faintly. “Not formally. But you’ve been digging into things that don’t concern you.”

Jessica raised an eyebrow. “That’s funny. Everything I dig into concerns me eventually.”

The man sighed. He shifted slightly, as if aware that Jessica hadn’t loosened her grip on her weapon. He gestured at the door. “May I come in?”

Jessica considered that. Then she shook her head. “Not yet.”

The man’s expression didn’t change. “I’m not here to kill you.”

Jessica smirked. “That’s usually what people say before they try.”

A slight chuckle. Not nervous. Not afraid.

That was what bothered Jessica. He hadn’t come to kill her. He hadn’t come to stop her. Which meant he was here to redirect her. The question was: away from what?

Jessica leaned against the doorframe. “Alright. Let’s pretend for a second I trust you. What do you want?”

The man exhaled. “To warn you.”

Jessica arched an eyebrow. “You’re a little late. Someone already tried.”

The man’s face darkened slightly. “That wasn’t us.”

Jessica glanced at Olivia, who hadn’t moved from her position. Then back at the man.

“Who are you?” she asked finally.

The man’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. He reached into his coat. Jessica tensed. But he didn’t pull a gun. He pulled a folded document.

He held it out. “This is what Ricci was looking for.”

Jessica didn’t move at first. Then, slowly, she took it. She unfolded the paper, scanning it quickly. It was a transcript of a conversation dated November 1st, 1975, the night before Pasolini was killed.

Jessica’s stomach tightened. The conversation was between two men. One of them was Pier Paolo Pasolini. The other was a name she didn’t recognize. But the last line sent a chill down her spine.

“They know I have it. If I die, you know where to look.”

Jessica exhaled sharply. She looked back at the Vatican agent. “What is this?”

The man’s expression didn’t change. “A breadcrumb.”

Jessica narrowed her eyes. “So what’s the catch?”

The man smiled faintly. “The catch, Miss Sanchez, is that you walk away.”

Jessica stared at him. Then she smirked. “You don’t know me very well, do you?”

The man sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that.” He took a step back. Then continued, “If you keep looking, they won’t let you stop.”

Jessica tilted her head. “Who’s they?”

The man held her gaze. Then, softly said, “The ones who have always been watching.”

He turned, walking back down the hallway. Jessica watched him go.

Olivia stepped forward, arms crossed. “Well. That wasn’t ominous at all.”

Jessica sighed, looking down at the transcript again.

Pasolini had said:

“If I die, you know where to look.”

Jessica smirked faintly. Then her smile faded. She knew where she was going next. And she knew exactly how dangerous it would be.