enlists Marcone

"Yeah," I said, and strode out of the room and back toward the blood-spattered stairs. "Clock's running."
Michael and Sanya kept pace. "Where are we going?"
"The airfield," I said. "He's smart. He'll figure it out. He'll be there."
"Who?" Michael asked.
I didn't answer. I led them back down through the garage area and out onto the airfield tarmac. We hurried down along the concourse, and then out onto the open acres of asphalt that led from the concourses to the landing fields. Once we'd gotten out there, I took off my pentacle amulet and held it aloft, focusing on it in order to cause it to begin to shed a distinctive blue light.
"What are you doing?" Sanya asked.
"Signaling," I said.
"Who?"
"Our ride."
It took maybe forty-five seconds before the sound of a helicopter's blades whirled closer to us. The aircraft, a blue-and-white-painted commercial job, zipped down to hover over us before dropping down for a precise if hurried landing.
"Come on," I said, and headed for the craft. The side door opened, and I climbed in with Michael and Sanya close behind me.
Gentleman Johnny Marcone, dressed in dark fatigues, nodded to me and to the two Knights. "Good evening, gentlemen," he said. "Just tell me where to take you."
"Southwest," I said, yelling over the noise of the chopper. "They're going to be on a commercial train heading for St. Louis."
Michael stared at Marcone in shock. "This is the man who ordered the Shroud stolen to begin with," he said. "You don't think he's going to work with us?"
"Sure he will," I said. "If Nicodemus gets away with the Shroud and pulls off this big curse, Marcone's spent all that money for nothing."
"Not to mention that the plague would be bad for business," Marcone added. "I think we can agree to help one another against this Nicodemus. We can discuss the disposition of the Shroud afterward." He turned and thumped the pilot's shoulder a couple of times, and yelled directions. The pilot glanced back at us, and I saw Card's profile against the flight instruments. Hendricks leaned in from the passenger seat, listening to Marcone, and nodded himself.
"Very well then," Marcone called, leaning back into the cabin. He took a large-caliber hunting rifle down from a rack and settled into a seat, buckling up. "Best strap in, gentlemen. Let's go recover the holy Shroud."


Death Masks Chapter 31, Page 283-285