Bones of Angels (8 page)

Crew Quarters

Aboard the Alamiranta

DJ sat next to the sleeping Quiz on his bunk.

“Hey, lazybones,” she said, kissing him on the forehead lightly. “Want some company?”

Quiz propped himself on one elbow while running the fingers of his free hand through his hair. Squinting, he reached for the watch on his nightstand.

“Holy crap,” he said. “I’m late.”

“For what?” asked DJ.

“Mrs. Caine asked me to show Angela around the ship before the late-morning briefing.”

“Go back to bed,” said DJ. “I’ll give her the grand tour myself.”

“Thanks, but I need to ask her a few questions. I believe there’s an upcoming mission. I’ll, uh, need some historical background.”

DJ stood, her features expressionless. “Very well. Maybe some other time,” she said with no inflection.

“Sure,” said Quiz.

* I believe the modern expression is ‘I told you so.’

You’re in deep trouble, my friend. *

I have to obey Mrs. Caine.

* Quite true. But don’t expect DJ to be happy about it. I’d tell you what’s coming, but you wouldn’t believe me. *

Ignorance is bliss. I have to get going.

Aft Observation Deck

Aboard the Alamiranta

Having completed a tour of those portions of the ship open to civilians, DJ and Angela stood side by side, leaning on the ship’s railing.

* Since you spent years ensconced in your grandfather’s library, reading every book on his shelves, scholarly and otherwise, you know the logical questions to ask. *

Yes, I do. Especially since I think I’ll be assigned to the mission to find my grandfather.

* You most certainly will. *

“Father Reynard and the Council of Nine believe that the discovery of the Archangel’s bones is a harbinger of the end of the world,” Quiz said. “But I’m puzzled over a few things.”

Angela turned towards her tour guide. Her face was inches from his, and she maintained direct eye contact with the young computer expert. Her hair was tossed sensuously by the winds of the languid, blue Mediterranean.

* Body language, my boy. *

Yes. I see that. Now be quiet for a while.

“Archbishop Donovan told us that Reynard’s beliefs are based on ancient texts and Biblical prophecies,” said Quiz thoughtfully. “But the Book of Daniel in the Old Testament speaks of a future battle of good and evil, of a battle of the angels at the end of time. So does the Book of Revelation. What do bones already entombed in rock have to do with the future?  I’m not getting the connection. It sounds like the battle has already taken place.”

Angela nodded her head. “You’re pretty smart.”

Blushing, Quiz gazed momentarily at the azure sea. “I guess so. My head’s been buried in books most of my life.”

Angela laughed. “That’s not a bad thing, Quiz. Remember, you’re talking to an anthropology student.”

“Point taken. So what am I to make of all this?”

“You’ve read Milton’s Paradise Lost, no doubt.”

“Of course,” said Quiz. “An epic poem about the fall of Lucifer.”

“Right. But Milton based his classic on a few sources.”

“Such as?”

“Isaiah, chapter fourteen, mentions the fall of Lucifer, also called the Day Star or Light Bearer. He dared to believe that he and his followers were greater than God himself.”

Quiz nodded, once again looking at the grad student he found so scintillating.

“But Milton’s tale is also derived in part from certain apocryphal Jewish books not included in the Old Testament. The two most famous are the Book of Enoch and the Assumption of Moses. They speak of the fallen angels. More specifically, they talk of a battle between Michael and Lucifer.”

“But I still don’t understand how — ”

Angela put an upraised index finger against Quiz’s lips, silencing his question in mid-sentence. Quiz smelled a lovely fragrance on her hand.

“Patience,” Angela said. “Your grandfather and Archbishop Connolly have believed for some time that there is another text that possibly bridges the two accounts. They believed they were getting very close to a truth hidden for thousands of years. The Fox obviously was — and still is — aware of the additional text.”

“You certainly know a great deal about the subject.”

“Like you,” said Angela, “my head has been buried in books for most of my life. Speaking of the devil, have you ever read Dante?”

“Yes. Many times, in fact. I practically carry the man inside my head.”

Catherine Caine’s Private Office

Aboard the Alamiranta

The brown package retrieved by Hawkeye from Chase Manhattan in New York sat on Catherine Caine’s desk. Several dozen pages of brown parchment, frayed at the edges, lay between two rectangles of thin, cracked leather.

“It’s the Book of Angels, sometimes called the Codex Angelorum by scholars,” Donovan said, his eyes wide with wonder as he gazed at the manuscript. “One of the Dead Sea Scrolls that was never officially catalogued after its discovery in the caves of Qumran, Palestine in 1945. I personally think that a copy of this very scroll was found by Godfroi St. Omer in 1098. It is believed that Vatican agents stole the actual Qumran manuscript from the Rockefeller Museum in 1966. It’s content is thought to be too controversial.”

Wearing latex gloves, Donovan removed the leather cover and looked at the top page. “It’s written in Aramaic.”

“The Dead Sea Scrolls,” said Caine, “were composed by a Jewish sect called the Essenes in the second century after the birth of Christ. Many of the scrolls were gospels that were never accepted into the New Testament, such as the gospels of Phillip, Thomas, Bartholomew, Judas, Mary Magdalene, and many others.”

“Correct,” said Donovan. “Other scrolls were apocalyptic texts based on Jewish scripture. In the early third century, Bishop Irenaeus of Gaul, now France, chose certain books for the Old and New Testament in order to unify the early Christian community. Most of the other texts were later destroyed over time and were not rediscovered until 1945. I believe this is one of them, however. It is rumored that a few copies of the Codex Angelorum were not destroyed and were circulated throughout the Middle Ages. Some scholars say that most, but not all, were eventually confiscated by the Vatican.”

“So you’re saying that some people have been reading underground copies of this text for centuries.”

“Yes. For almost two thousand years.”

Caine’s eyes narrowed as she assimilated Donovan’s data. “Do you read Aramaic, Archbishop?”

“Yes. In searching for the bones of Michael, it was imperative that I learn the ancient tongue.”  He studied the top lines of the parchment and read the following:

Blessed is the one who reads the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear it and take to heart what is written in it, because the time is near.

“My assumption,” said Donovan, “is that the Council of Nine has possessed one of the underground copies of the text for quite some time. My inner circle within the Church of England has only heard rumors of what is in the text and its dire prophecy of the end of the world in relation to the discovery of Michael’s bones. Now . . . ”  Archbishop Donovan was clearly moved by the manuscript just inches from his fingertips. “Now, we can see the prophecy for ourselves and learn the alleged connection between the Apocalypse and Michael’s bones.”

“Angela Marshall is studying the maps found on Whittington’s computer,” Caine said. “Do you mind if she reads the manuscript before our next briefing?  She has been helping Charles research this whole matter for quite a while.”

“Angela?”  Donovan hesitated for several seconds. “No, of course not.”  He smiled. “The more minds we have working on this, the better.”

Baybridge Abbey, 1408

Sussex, England

Father Albertus followed the Benedictine rule as few other monks at Baybridge Abbey. Some of his brothers regarded him as a recluse or a zealot. He fasted more than the others and knelt for hours at a time on the gray flagstones of the courtyard between the order’s cloister and Baybridge Cathedral. Sometimes he smiled as if in possession of some divine secret. Other times he wept.

Most thought him to be a mad, or possibly even a fool.

He was indeed in possession of a secret, but it was far from divine. In his duties as porter and keeper of the gate into the monastery, he had occasion to meet those from the village who came to attend mass or conduct business.

One person he admitted to the monastery on a weekly basis was a comely young woman from the village. Claudette sold the monks baskets to use in gathering vegetables from their many gardens. For Albertus, Claudette became his own personal garden. He seduced the willing maiden many times in the abandoned stables on the edge of the forest.

It gave him great joy, but it also caused him extreme guilt. It was in those moments when he was most aware of his sinfulness that he practiced extra penance.

Training Gym #3

Aboard the Alamiranta

Both Quiz and Angela wore a traditional loose-fitting white gi as Quiz showed his guest basic karate moves and stances. He also showed her how to absorb a blow, fall, and roll. Angela lay on her back after Quiz had thrown her to the mat in super-slow motion in order to demonstrate how the move would look and feel at normal speed. He knelt by her prostrate body.

That’s when DJ entered, a towel draped over her shoulders.

* This is going to get ugly. *

Be quiet!

“Well, well, well,” DJ said to Quiz. “I see you’re giving private lessons now?”

“I anticipate that Mrs. Caine will ask Angela to be a part of the next mission,” Quiz stated as he and Angela climbed to their feet.

“Hi,” Angela said with a smile, extending her hand to the German beauty.

DJ ignored the greeting.

“Quiz, how about you and me show your guest how things are really done?” said DJ.

Quiz laughed. “Sure. I mean, I guess.”  He turned to Angela. “Remember that I’m just a student. “I still have a long way to — ”

DJ advanced and threw Quiz to the mat by extending her left foot and pushing backwards against the man’s shoulders.

“That was a cheap shot,” he said. “I see you’re playful today.”

“Playful?” said DJ. “Oh yes. Very playful.”

DJ began executing a series of maneuvers in rapid succession, all resulting in Quiz landing hard on the mat. She allowed him no advantage. Her lightning strikes dealt her lover one humiliating blow after another.

“Okay, enough,” Quiz said, palms open and extended in a gesture of surrender as he lay on his back.

DJ smiled and left the gym.

“What was that about?” Angela asked.

Attempting to regain his breath as he struggled to stand, Quiz smiled. “That?  Nothing really. DJ and I work out together sometimes. As you can see, she’s had years of experience and is very aggressive. ”

* Aggressive is an understatement. Will you be showing Ms. Marshall other moves DJ has taught you? *

I’m trying to be a proper host.

* Of course you are. *

“Here,” said Angela, pulling Quiz’s arm gently. “Sit on the mat. I’ll massage your shoulders before they get sore.”

“Thanks.”

Quiz felt Angela’s fingers digging into his shoulder muscles. She had a firm but reassuring touch.

He knew he was in trouble, but for the moment, trouble had never felt better.

The Armory

Aboard the Alamiranta

Hawkeye, Tank, Shooter, Gator, and Pyro stood before Dr. Grace Nguyen.

“What kind of mojo do you have for us today, Doc?” asked Tank.

“Just a single injection,” Nguyen answered. “Want to see in the dark without night vision goggles?”

“Hell yeah,” said Gator.

“I’ll be injecting each of you with nanobots that will lodge in the visual cortex in your brains. You’ll be able to see in almost total darkness, and things won’t have that strange shade of green caused by goggles.”

“Wait a sec,” said Tank. “Sometimes I actually like the dark. I’m not sure this is such a great idea.”

Nguyen laughed. “Don’t worry. The aim of Titan Global is not to create mutants. The nanbots in your visual cortex will need to be activated by the Ops Center.”

Tank rubbed his chin and smiled. “Gotcha, Doc. Let’s have it.”

Thirty minutes later, Titan Six stood in Shotgun Alley. No streetlamps had been programmed into the simulation.

“Incredible,” said Hawkeye. “I can see cars and buildings in a hundred different shades of gray. And they’re all clear as a bell. Not grainy like the hazy green of night vision goggles. I can see every detail on the street.”

Shooter turned and addressed Hawkeye. “No, compadre. Not everything. You still have a very large blind spot.”

She walked away, not waiting for a reply.

Hawkeye scratched his head. “What the hell did I do?”

In point of fact, he knew exactly what she meant.

* * *

Hawkeye remained behind at the request of Dr. Nguyen.

“Here’s a new gadget sure to be popular with covert agents everywhere,” Nguyen said good-naturedly. “The AR-615. It shoots a bullet that aerosolizes on contact. The silencer is already built into the barrel.”

“Cool,” said Hawkeye, “but what does it do?”

“It deposits magnetic tracking residue on the target. Completely invisible.”

“But Touchdown can already track our targets from the Ops Center.”

“But he can’t always distinguish between individual targets,” said Nguyen proudly. “This will cause his monitors, as well as the holographic display, to show a crimson target if it has been tagged with a shot from the AR-615. If there’s someone special you want to keep an eye on, this weapon will enable you and Touchdown to do it.”

Hawkeye kissed Nguyen on the cheek. “You’re the best, Grace.”

“Are you flirting with me, Michael?”

“Nah,” he said, “but if you want to have dinner one evening, you know where to find me.”

Nguyen shook her head. The man was incorrigible.

The Gallery

Aboard the Alamiranta

Of the Titan Six members, only Hawkeye, Tank, and Shooter had been summoned to the Gallery to join Catherine Caine, DJ, Quiz, Angela, and Archbishop Donovan for the briefing.

“I’ll let Angela begin,” said Caine, “since she is confident that she knows where the bones of St. Michael are presently located. Father Reynard is undoubtedly already there, presumably with Charles Whittington.”

Angela cleared her throat, feeling a bit intimidated. She was speaking to a group of very intelligent, well-trained individuals. And one was an archbishop, the other the head of a global empire. She had felt far more comfortable talking with her friendly, slightly eccentric employer back on Long Island.

“I’ve been unable to find where the maps came from or who drew them,” Angela began, motioning to the conference room video screen. “They appear to date anywhere from the twelfth to the fourteenth centuries. There is Latin text written below some of the maps, but the phrases are very brief. All of the maps portray in varying scales a portion of France’s Normandy coast. In each rendering is the island of Mont St. Michel, located in the Gulf of San Malo, one-half mile off the coast. Here are a few of the phrases at the bottom of the maps.”

The following appeared on the viewing screen.

He shines like the radiant sun

The leader of heavenly armies

Let his wings glorify God

He shall vanquish the enemy

“The most interesting inscription is on the map that shows only Mont St. Michel and nothing else.”

The trumpeting place of St. Michael

As before, so shall it be again

“According to legend,” Angela continued, “the Archangel Michael appeared to a French Bishop named Aubert and commanded him to build a church on the island. In the centuries that followed, the island was home to a Benedictine monastery. The transept of the cathedral crosses the top of the mountain. Deep below the church are numerous chambers, chapels, and catacombs.”

“What does that last inscription mean?” asked Hawkeye. “As before, so shall it be again.”

“I means,” said Archbishop Donovan, “that the bones of Michael are almost certainly at Mont St. Michel, as Ms. Marshall has indicated.”

“I don’t follow,” said Tank.

“Allow me to explain,” Donovan said.

Caine nodded.

“For those who believe, the Bible indicates that there will be a great battle between good and evil at the end of time. St. Michael the Archangel shall defeat Satan and his angels. But the Bible and several other texts also indicate that there was an angelic battle in the distant past. Obviously, the two battles are separated by millennia.”

“But if the bones of St. Michael do indeed exist,” said Hawkeye, “it sounds as if he has already been defeated.”

“Let me read a portion of one of the Dead Sea Scrolls that further explains this seeming contradiction,” said Donovan, who produced a transcript of the Book of Angels.

And lo, the Light Bearer fell to the heavenly host, defeated by the Thrones and Dominions and Principalities. The Day Star lay writhing in agony, defeated by St. Michael, prince of angels, who gives victory and glory to God. The dragon and father of lies, who is called Satan, shall be unleashed upon the world in latter days, free to wreak havoc upon the children of God and men. To God’s eternal praise, Michael the Archangel shall take upon himself once more the armor of battle so as to conquer the Evil One for all time, to the praise of Christ the Lord, who is Alpha and Omega. Let those who hear this prophecy believe, for when the bones of St. Michael have been found, the world shall already know great misery, famine, and war. The Four Horseman shall unleash their fury and justice upon the world when the word is given from the throne of the Father.

“This is the source of the prophecy,” said Donovan. “There was an initial battle, but the final conflict is still to come. Or as the inscription on the map says, ‘As before, so shall it be again.’  When the bones are discovered, the scroll says that the end of the world shall be upon us.”

“And just how shall Michael fight if he is nothing but bones now?” said Hawkeye. “How can he once more put on the armor of battle?”

Donovan reclined in the leather conference chair, clasped his hands, and shook his head. “That, Mr. Hawke, is an unknown. I submit, however, that we’ll find the answer to your question when we get to Mont St. Michel.”

“We?” said Hawkeye.

“I’m going with Titan Six,” said the Archbishop.

“I’m sorry,” said Hawkeye, “but I’m in command, and you’re not trained in our maneuvers.”

Catherine Caine stood and began walking around the table.

“Archbishop Donovan was a chaplain in the Army,” she said. “He was a paratrooper with the 82
^nd
Airborne in the First Gulf War. He’s going. We need him. Angela will also accompany you because of her knowledge of Professor Whittington’s research. Quiz will go since he has a vested interest in the welfare of his grandfather. Also, I’m sending DJ in place of Gator and Pyro. She has asked to be put in the field again, and I’ve agreed. That leaves you, Mr. Hawke, as well as Tank and Shooter.”

DJ exchanged a quick glance with Quiz.

* Someone wants to keep an eye on you. *

I should have seen that one coming. It’s going to be awkward.

The briefing concluded.

On her way out of the Gallery, Shooter looked at Hawkeye squarely.

“If you ask me, your brother should lead Titan Six,” Shooter said. “This mission isn’t for you.”

Hawkeye frowned, unsure how to respond.

“Carry on,” Mr. Hawke,” said Caine from across the Gallery. “This mission shall be conducted by the book.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Hawkeye.

Shooter smiled smugly and pulled a pocket Bible from her camouflage vest. “I’ve got my book,” she said to Hawkeye. “Do you have one?”