James Acton 03 - Broken Dove (13 page)

Acton nodded. “I’ll need my luggage. It has my tools, otherwise you might as well just give me a crow bar.”

“I’ll have them sent over—”

There was a knock on the door.

Reading opened it, smiled and stepped back. A luggage cart was pushed into the room by a young priest, accompanied by Father Morris. “Your luggage has been found,” he said.

Acton jumped up from his chair and retrieved his Desert Storm canvas bag, opened it and reached deep inside, his fingers grasping for the soft leather case he kept his tools in. Almost near the bottom he found it, wrapped his fingers around the bundle and pulled it up and through the clothes. He held it up in triumph. “This is all I need.” He looked at Laura. “You need anything, hon?”

Reading looked at the half dozen suitcases that were a little more upscale than Acton’s worn bag. “It looks like you brought everything you own.”

Laura stood and strode toward them, hands on her hips. “I was packed for a one week visit with James’ family. And with
our
track record, I never know what I’ll need, or how long I may actually be away.” She ran her fingers across one of the bags. “So I pack for every eventuality.”

“On the dig sites we have a cabin just for her luggage,” said Acton.

Laura punched him in the shoulder and Acton feigned injury. “Okay, okay. Do you need anything?”

“No.”

He turned to the Father. “Can you just have these taken to our room, please?”

“Your room?” Father Morris distinctly looked at their ring fingers. “Are you two married?”

Acton blushed and looked at the floor, realizing his gaffe. “Ah, no.”

“Then I shall have your luggage brought to your
rooms.
”

The luggage was rolled out, and Reading followed, a huge grin on his face as he turned to close the doors behind him. Acton flipped him the bird and when the doors sealed behind them, he and Laura burst out laughing. “Oops,” said Acton.

“Maybe tonight I’ll sneak over to your room and we can be the first people to ever have sex in the Vatican.”

“Something tells me we wouldn’t be the first.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “You never know.”

Acton felt a tweak at the thought, then glanced at the chest. “I know you find me irresistible, but first things first, my dear.”

She feigned wounded pride with a pout on her face, then smiled. They both sat in front of the chest, neither touching it. Acton’s heart pounded as he examined it. It was about three feet across, two deep and three high. It was clearly old. Very old. Acton reached out and tentatively touched it. The wood was dry, but smooth. As he ran his fingers across it, no telltale signs of degradation, no splinters, no splits, were to be found. “Well maintained.”

“If they keep it in the Secret Archives, then it would be climate controlled.”

“I wonder if this appears on the Archive’s manifest.”

Laura shook her head. “I doubt it. They claim the manifest is complete, however no one really believes that.”

“What? The Church lies?”

They both stopped and looked around, then up.

“Remember where we are, dear.”

Acton had to admit he was trying to filter his thoughts, filter the words coming from his mouth. But it was difficult.
Damned near impossible.
He did a mental shake of his head.
Watch your language!
He lifted the case with a grunt. It was heavy. “About fifty pounds, give or take.”

“It’s not that big. The sides must be thick.”

Acton raised it and examined the bottom. Other than the four solid, round feet, carved directly from the piece of wood that made the bottom, it was featureless except for an engraving on the front. He ran his fingers over one of the feet, then grasped it and gave it a slight tug. There was no give at all. “Solid, single piece construction of the bottom.”

“Meant to last.”

“And never needing to be maintained. I bet if we asked, we would be told that it’s given a ceremonial polish before being presented, and nothing more.”

Laura nodded. Acton placed it back on the table and she knocked on the side. “Doesn’t sound hollow. I’m guessing the hollow isn’t that big.”

“From the shape, I get the impression it’s designed to store scrolls vertically.”

“Possible.” She ran her fingers over the scene engraved across the front. An upside down cross, with two ornate keys, themselves crossed over the top portion of the engraving. “Saint Peter’s Cross.”

“Interesting.” The upside down cross, signaling Saint Peter’s wish to not die on the cross like Jesus, but upside down, he not considering himself worthy of meeting his fate in the same manner as his friend, and Lord. Streams of heavenly light burst from behind the carved cross, the epicenter the middle, and below this, a man, prostrated in front, with the distinct mitre worn by popes, completed the artistry. Acton ran his finger over the only words carved on the chest. “Unus Veritas”.

“Latin,” said Laura. “One truth?”

“Curious,” said Acton.
One truth?
“What do you think it means?”

“I would assume the word of God, the Bible? Only one source of truth?”

“Makes sense.” Acton examined the lock then reached over and untied his leather case, rolling it open, revealing a set of delicate tools, along with additional trappings of the trade. He retrieved a magnifying glass and examined the lock. “Not very secure. I think this was more of a ceremonial lock than anything else.”

“It probably wouldn’t occur to anyone to try and open it, considering where it’s stored, and who it’s meant for.”

Acton nodded. “It looks like—” He stopped and held a knuckle up to the lock. “Ring maybe?”

“The Piscatory Ring perhaps?”

“The Ring of the Fisherman.” Acton traced the outline of the opening with his finger. “It could be. This lock has a slightly odd shape to it that if memory serves, might just match the shape of that ring.” He whipped out his Blackberry and Googled the ring. Within moments he had an image and held it up triumphantly to Laura. “You were right!”

“So the ring is used to open the chest,” said Laura. She paused for a moment, running her thumb over the opening. “I wonder which came first.”

“What do you mean?”

“Was the ring created to open the chest, or was the lock created to be opened by the ring?”

Acton tapped his chin. “That’s a good question.” He leaned back. “A very good question.” He turned to Laura, excitement building inside. “The Ring of the Fisherman has been handed down for at least eight hundred years, and most think far longer than that. Some historians think it goes back to Peter himself.”

Laura’s hand ran over the carving of the cross. “My word, how old
is
this chest?”

“I’m not sure, but we could be dealing with something that goes back to the very founding of the original church of Christ. Not just the Roman Catholic Church, but to the Apostles themselves.”

Laura leaned back, her hand on her mouth, her cheeks flushed, eyes focused laser-like on the chest. “I’ve never considered myself very religious, but at this moment, I feel—” She paused, as if searching for the words. She looked at Acton. “Filled with joy.”

Acton smiled, knowing exactly how she felt. His heart was shoving against his ribcage, and he even felt a tiny bit lightheaded. The thought of this predating the Church, predating everything that corrupted it after the deaths of the Apostles, excited him in a way he couldn’t remember having been in the past. If this chest did indeed date back to Peter, then what it contained could be the true teachings of Christ, not those the Nicene Creed had deemed them to be. He looked at Laura and gripped her hand. “The original Bible?”

Laura gasped. “That would be brilliant,” she whispered. “How do we open it though, without the ring?”

Acton smiled. “As I said, fairly primitive.” He took a small compressed can of foam, and sprayed it into the hole, quickly filling it. He put the can down and took a small T-type socket wrench, and stuck it into the rapidly hardening foam. Within moments it had turned solid, and, looking at Laura, he paused, enjoying the anticipation on her face, then twisted the makeshift key. Bits of excess foam broke away, falling to the table top, as the key slowly turned. At forty-five degrees he felt something start to give, then at ninety there was a click, and the lid popped open a sliver. He let go of the wrench and leaned forward further, grasping both sides of the top.

“Here we go.”

He lifted the top, both he and Laura rising to their feet as it swung open. Laura gasped as the opened top revealed the hidden treasure inside.

“I wasn’t expecting that!”

Neither was Acton. He was almost disappointed. Before them, sitting at the top of the box, was a jewel case containing a compact disc. “Ancient CD? Jesus was a DJ?”

Laura elbowed him. “Respect,” she hissed.

He placed a quick kiss on her forehead, then carefully lifted the CD case and placed it on the table. Underneath where the CD had sat, was a wood insert with a leather clasp in the center. He gently pulled, and the insert lifted out. This time they gasped together, smiles quickly exchanged. Below the insert was a stone tablet, the text mostly illegible, but one thing on the ancient stone was unmistakable.

A fish.

He pointed. “Saint Peter.”

Laura nodded. “I wonder what it said.”

Acton pointed at several sharp edges. “Looks like a chisel was used to remove the words.”

“I wonder why.”

Acton shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps after we read what’s inside, we’ll know why.” He carefully removed the stone, and placed it aside, revealing a honeycomb of several dozen slots, each numbered consecutively in Roman numerals. Inside the first dozen slots were carefully rolled parchments.

“Where to start?” he asked, as he snapped on a pair of latex gloves.

“Crazy idea. How about number one?”

“I.” He said it like a pirate.

“Would you take this seriously?”

“Sorry, I get giddy when I’m excited.”

“That explains a few things the first night we were together.”

Acton blushed. “I was better the second time.”

She kissed his cheek and patted it. “Yes, dear, you definitely were.”

Acton stared at her for a moment, not sure if his manhood had just been insulted, when she winked at him. He decided his ego needed to take that as the acknowledgment of a joke. He reached inside and carefully removed the first scroll. Laying it on the table, he gently unrolled it then sat back slightly, each end held by his latex covered fingertips.

“That doesn’t look very old,” said Laura.

“It isn’t.” Acton pointed to the bottom. “Look at the date.”

“May twelfth, nineteen-eighty-one. Why is that familiar?” She pulled Acton’s Blackberry off his belt and quickly Googled the date. A ‘this day in history’ site appeared, and she found nothing of significance. She swiped her thumb to show the next day and smiled, holding it up for Acton to see. “It’s the day before the assassination attempt on Pope John Paul the Second.”

“That’s too big of a coincidence.” Acton pointed at the document. “That’s the seal of the Ring of the Fisherman there, with his name.”

“So it would appear that recent events are not the only time violence has surrounded this chest.”

Acton nodded, quickly reading the Latin text on the page, the hairs on his arms rising as he did.
Should we even be looking at this?

“What’s it say?” asked Laura.

“My Latin’s a little rough—”

“Near perfect compared to mine.”

Acton smiled. “Well, here goes.” He cleared his throat. “Your Holiness, Let me begin by congratulating you on your new post. I too remember that day as if it were yesterday, the fear I felt in wondering if I was worthy, and the humbleness I felt in having been chosen by my peers to be their conduit to our Lord. On the eve of my first day, I was presented the chest now before you, with instructions to open it immediately, and read its contents. What I found, and what you shall find, shall shock you. The information contained herein is terrifying, and shall test your faith. But I know you are strong, as you would not be here today. It has served to strengthen my own faith, and to believe there is only one truth, and it is that taught by our Church.

“The documents contained herein are ancient, and thus fragile. I took it upon myself to have the documents scanned and transcribed by a trusted associate. They are contained within the box, and I urge you to use any currently available methods to preserve these contents, in secret, so they are not lost. For when secrets are lost, they are then bound to be found. And we cannot risk that.”

Acton traced his finger across the signature. “Yours in God, John Paul the Second, May twelfth, year of our Lord, nineteen-eighty-one.”

“What could possibly be in here that is so bad, that is worth killing for?” asked Laura, her arm now intertwined with his as she held herself close to him. She looked at him, a touch of fear in her slightly widened eyes. “I’m having second thoughts.”

Acton nodded. “Me too. But the answers to saving two people’s lives, including someone who almost died to save ours, could be in here.”

She squeezed his arm and nodded, letting go. “Of course, you’re right.” She stood. “I’ll get the laptop.” She quickly exited the office, the doors closing behind her. Acton busied himself clearing out the foam he had squeezed into the lock, adding a neutralizing agent to break it down. He was just finishing when Laura returned, the laptop case slung over her shoulder. She closed the doors behind her, took a quick glance around the room, then joined him at the table. Moments later the laptop was fired up and the CD inserted.

They found a series of directories, each labeled with the Roman numerals they had observed in the chest. Laura clicked on the first directory, labeled ‘I’, and they found three files, one an image, the other two text documents. She opened the image, and a scan of the page Acton had just read appeared. She closed it, opened ‘I.doc’, and it proved to be the same text they had just read. The third file, ‘I-eng.doc’, was an English translation of what Acton had just read. They both reread it just to be sure.