GENESIS (GODS CHAIN) (28 page)

Francesca
pressed her ear to
the door
so tightly that it hurt—
for a sp
l
it
second, she
imagined that she could still hear breathing
from
behind the air tight door
.
That was impossible
;
the door was built for fire safety
, and was soundproof—airtight!
Then
the breathing
stopped suddenly, as if on the other side and
at
exactly the same time
,
the
breather had realized the
same thing
....
Panic in her eyes
,
Francesca
ra
ced
down the corridor towards the lifts.

**********

Completely spooked
,
Francesca
emerged from the lifts and quickly passed the
c
ommissioner
’
s desk,
which was
still unmanned. The
Swiss g
uards were reassuringly silent outside the front doors
,
although they must be bored to tears
.
O
ne yawned widely as he looked over the grounds and the small
car park
.

St Peter
’
s Cathedral was most visible
that evening,
soaring high
into the sky
not far
off before them
.
The
g
uards looked
i
nto the surrounding tall trees at the Church of Santo Stefano to their right.

The sound of tumultuous water from the crystal fountain brought a sense of normality back into
Francesca’s
mind
,
helping to
block out her horrible experience.
The administrator entered the IT
division,
passing
again
the unmanned
h
elpdesk
.
She wondered
who was
supposed to be
on tonight
.
She sat
down at her console and composed herself; Francesca was not easily scared
—
it must have been a very long day
for her nerves to get so rattled, she decided
.

She c
heck
ed on the servers one final time
,
and
things looked normal again
:
all
d
isciples display
ed
all green
lights
with synchronisation checks
of
good health and good stats.

Brill
iant
, I’ll check the logons
just to make sure
.
S
he
spen
t
longer than normal viewing the log files
,
read
ing
each line to line in sequence pedantically
from
top to bottom.

So what we have is someone gaining access to the system
—
how
,
at this stage
,
I do not know
—and
then creating a back
door and Trojan
ing
the
s
erver, but who?
Is
Michaelangelo
Apostol
?
No
,
it’s
too obvious
...
.
Francesca found herself caught in a fierce yawn.
Time
to go home girl,
she reminded herself.
T
omorrow is another day.
I will talk to Paulina in the morning.

She logged out and picked up her expensive
, brown-
leather jacket with matching handbag
and left
at eight thirty, her shift over.
As Francesca left the office
,
she was unaware that an
e-mail
from POPE had arrived in her inbox.

The weather seemed to be changing
—the wind seemed nippier than usual,
remaindering her that
it was the end of autumn and much colder times lay ahead.
Twist
ing
her face into the cold wind
,
Francesca
headed for home
.

**********

The
s
un
rose
early over Vatican City
.
Francesca looked towards the rear of the Administration Building and
,
above it
,
part of the magnificent St Peter’s Basilica could be seen beyond the building
.
T
he sun peak
ed
over the
d
ome
,
silhouetting its crucifix against
the
blue morning sky on its rise.
It was a lovely and warm morning for the time of the year and just about
7:20 a.m
.
on
Friday
—the
last day of the week!

The
Vatican
gardens were rich and beautiful
in the sunlight
, every shade full of colour
,
almost like summer again
....
H
er senses were alive and Francesca seemed comfortable, almost happy.

The Vatican gardens dated back to medieval times
,
when orchards and vineyards grew to the North of the Apostolic Palace.
However
,
the gardens
had
developed in many other
areas beyond and around the Palazzo del
Governmantorato
since then
.

A mass of vegetation surrounded
Francesca as she walked
inside the maze
-
like gardens, passing flowers of all colours
,
shapes and sizes. Red
s
tripes,
w
ild
s
napdragon and little blue flowers
rose
to the humble
, bowing
yellow
b
uttercups.
Tall
Cupressus sempervirens
,
“Glauca”
,
or Italian
c
ypress trees
,
had
gr
own up
here over centuries, brought by the conquering Romans from Eastern Mediterranean countries like Syria, Bulgaria and Turkey over two thousand years ago.
These forty
-
foot specimens were branched with dense blue-green leaves
,
tapering at the top.
Arizona Cypress
,
also known as
Cupressus
g
labra
,
grew
to about thirty f
ee
t
in height and
stood
showing
their fine textured
,
thread
-
like silver-blue leaves.
It was always a pleasure
for Francesca
to sit in this area of
the
garden, while the sun
light made such beautiful shadows
.

Forgetting about her work problems and friend for a moment, Francesca took a deep breath of fresh morning air.
It
i
s great to be alive
,
even if it is the last day of October in Rome
.
Francesca
contemplat
ed
th
e
lovely time of the year.
She
wore a nice red
s
atin
b
louse with black jeans and smart brown flat shoes.
Carrying her l
eather jacket in her hand and
her
bag over her shoulder
,
she walked slowly along the twisting paths; the gardens had small walls
on either side
of her
,
bordering the many varieties of flowers and high shrubs which
grew well-above
above her shoulder height
,
making it difficult
for her
to view
anything
above
eye level.