The Constantine Conspiracy (21 page)

Rick stared at the book, an aged hardback with a brown cover and yellowed pages.

“It’s not titled,” she continued, showing him the cover and spine. “No author either. It’s more a journal than a book, a copy of an original, translated from a variety of languages into English. Composed off and on over seventeen hundred years. Scores of authors wrote their parts as time passed, as different men recorded different events that they saw or heard about. The last writer penned his experiences about fifty years ago.”

She looked at Rick. “You feel like reading a few pages?”

“You think I should, right?”

She nodded, flipped open the volume, and thumbed through it.

“Where should I start?” he asked.

“First page is as good as any.”

Rick exhaled deeply and Shannon laid the book in his lap, then stepped to the fireplace as if to give him space. Although highly skeptical, he knew he had to read at least part of this story. Shannon believed in it, and if she thought the book’s contents would offer insight into his dad’s murder, then he had to give it that chance. He started to read.

Rome, AD 313

The sword stood half the length of a normal man’s body, its point piercing the center of a finely carved oblong table.

Blood-red rubies shaped in the form of a cross adorned the sword’s handle on both sides. . . .

25

S
he sent him a video,” Charbeau reported to Augustine by phone. “Before the police picked her up in the cemetery. I watched it a few moments ago from Tony Gonzalez’s phone. Carson left it here before he skipped out.”

“And the content of the video?”

Nolan quickly gave him the details.

“You think Bridge knows what it means?” Augustine asked.

“Hard to say just yet.”

“She is most enterprising, though, wouldn’t you say? I suspect she is more than a park ranger. Did your assistant in Montana find anything to support my suspicion?”

“Not that he’s reported.”

“Instruct him to keep investigating.”

“Absolutely. Any clues as to our missing couple’s current location?”

“It’s a small cabin across the lake; the lagoon feeds into it. Owned by her father’s brother. I cross-referenced the owner of every house within the five-mile radius—only one other Bridge to be found. Should take you about half an hour to circle the lagoon to the cabin.”

“I should have them in custody within the hour.”

“See that you do. I grow weary of this chase and other matters press in on all sides.”

“Count on me, sir.”

“And Nolan?”

“Yes?”

“Destroy that video and the phone it rode in on.”

Rick finished the chapter and stared at Shannon who had sat down again beside him. The effort had wearied him and his shoulder seemed on fire again, but he needed to talk about this in spite of the pain. “Who wrote this chapter?” he asked.

“One of the original twelve you just read about became a believer a few years later. He wrote his story, that’s how the book started.”

“Fascinating—if I accept it as genuine.”

“Believe me, it is.”

“Let’s assume you’re right. But the big question still remains. How does my father’s death connect to any of this?”

Shannon closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, then looked back at him. “It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, like every other lunatic conspiracy theory I’ve ever heard,” he said, his conviction giving him strength. “The Jews control the world through the Trilateral Commission, the Masons dominate the U.S. government and the military industrial complex, a fleet of black helicopters and infrared satellites spy on us at night, and a herd of unicorns run free on an island in South America, romping around with Elvis, Marilyn Monroe, and John F. Kennedy. This is nuts, Shannon.” He handed her the book and she laid it in her lap.

“Just calm down,” she soothed. “Think through this.”

After a couple of minutes, he shook his head, then spoke again. “Let me get this straight. You want me to believe that seventeen hundred years ago a group of men met after Constantine took the throne. That this cabal, displeased with the emperor’s choice of gods, vowed an eternal pledge to undo what he had done, to reclaim Rome for their godless view of life?”

“Yes, conservative men who thought they were defending their nation and what it stood for.” She said it so confidently it caused him to pause again, to rethink the mocking he’d planned to offer.

“Okay,” he tried again, softer this time. “Again assume that you’re right, it’s all true. What’s new about that? So what if not everyone alive at the time agreed with Constantine? Wouldn’t be the first time somebody rebelled against their leader.”

“It’s more than that and you know it.”

“So you’re saying that this cabal survived its original founders. That it kept working towards its ends through the centuries.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“You’re telling me that it still exists today, it’s still out there, actively trying to suppress Christian faith, to wipe it all out.”

“Remember your history, Rick. In every generation unnamed forces struggled with the truths of the Christian church, not always through force, more often with lies cloaked in the form of intellectual assaults, government control, personal attacks on men and women of faith.”

“But you should expect that, shouldn’t you? The marketplace of ideas, right? What I believe wrestles with what you believe. Nothing sinister about any of that—it’s just opposite sides of the same coin at odds with the other.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “That always happens. But that’s not what I’m talking about here. I’m telling you of a full-fledged conspiracy, a conglomerate of evil funded by vast resources gathered across hundreds of years, empowered by odd alliances from across the globe—atheists, Muslims, secular Jews.” Her voice rose as she spoke, her eyes serious, fraught with sincerity.

“The few Muslims and Jews I know don’t play well together; and aren’t atheists opposed to all forms of religion?”

“Usually yes. You almost never see these groups in agreement on anything. But some of them have made league with each other in their opposition to the Christian faith. They seem to believe that Christianity is the biggest threat to their worldview. Once they get rid of it, then they’ll wage war against each other.”

“Knock off the biggest gorilla first? Then turn on each other?”

“You’re getting the picture now.”

Rick weighed the idea and decided it made some sense, in an odd, bizarre way. That is, if any of it was true.

Shannon kept trying to convince him. “It’s a hidden crusade. Led by some of the smartest, richest, most ruthless people on the planet.”

She paused and Rick studied her for a moment, but then shook his head. “I have no doubt you believe what you’re saying,” he said. “But you’ll have to excuse me for not drinking the Kool-Aid. What you’re telling me is worthy of Ripley’s Believe It or Not, way over the top.”

Shannon bit her lip, frustration written all over her face. “The Conspiracy supported Muslims during the Crusades, especially Saladin, gave him money, information. He killed every Templar he captured in 1187 when he retook Palestine for Islam. Then the Conspiracy suppressed Bible reading during the Dark Ages, became patrons of the secularists during the Enlightenment. They funded Joseph Stalin who co-opted the Russian Revolution—which wasn’t atheistic at first—and made disbelief in God a major plank in his political platform. China, as you know, followed in the same vein, again assisted by members of the Conspiracy who helped write the documents that forced atheism on their people. Don’t believe Communism is dead either. The Conspiracy is pouring billions into the effort to resurrect it.”

“That’s quite a list.”

“I could name scores of others. This journal chronicles much of the story.” She held up the book again.

“Is the journal all the proof you have?”

Shannon sighed. “It’s not like they’re going to leave a lot of clues around, Rick.”

“Okay,” he said, feeling a little apologetic for his skepticism. “So what are they doing now?”

“For the past hundred years they’ve focused their efforts on the United States. They believe that what happens here over the next century will determine what happens in the rest of the world. And they’ve made incredible progress, especially since the liberal 1950s. You’re aware of that, at least some of it.
Time
magazine, 1966—remember the famous ‘God Is Dead’ cover?”

“But America isn’t antireligious. Sometimes I think it’s more religious than ever. A church on every corner, television preachers all over cable, preacher books on the bestseller lists.”

“All that’s true, but it’s in spite of what’s happening in political circles, particularly the courts. And it won’t stay that way much longer if current trends continue. You know about Bible reading and prayer expelled from schools, Christmas pushed further and further from public conversation, the laundry list of legal decisions that have swept away many of the moral principles that formed our society. We have a list of over a hundred federal judges either officially part of, or controlled by, the Conspiracy. They’re the ones who’ll go on the Supreme Court when the openings come. Plus the Conspiracy owns the publishing houses that have recently inundated us with the ranting of atheists paid millions to write their books. They fund the coffers of scores of left-leaning organizations, support almost every loony-liberal politician who runs for office, give aid and comfort to Islamic jihadists who want to destroy Christianity in all its forms. The Conspiracy supports almost anyone who will work with them.”

Rick paused, his body just about out of gas, his shoulder barking. Although not convinced at all by her arguments, he felt moved by Shannon’s passion. He needed to ask one more question but didn’t feel sure he wanted the answer, so he postponed it for the moment, choosing to go in another direction. “So how do you personally know all this?” he asked. “Where do you fit in?”

Shannon brushed back her hair. “Anytime one force arises, another also comes into existence. I’m a . . . well . . . let me say it this way—I’m a soldier in the opposing army.”

“What? You have to be more specific if you want me to swallow all this. It’s time to come clean Shannon, open the vault. Who are you?”

She threw back her head, stared at the ceiling a second, then faced Rick again. “Like I said, I’m a soldier, part of a group called the Sovereign Military Order of St. John.”

“You’re part of what?” His curiosity pushed away his pain for a moment.

“The Order, we call it. You might have heard of the public work it does, mostly in the medical field, helping people who suffer because of natural disasters, famines, that kind of thing.”

Rick searched his brain. “I remember a couple of guys I ran into in the Congo a few years back. Cool guys, handing out food during the civil unrest. Real humanitarians.”

“They could have been with the Order. We do all kinds of charitable works—80,000 volunteers, 13,000 of them doctors or nurses. Have envoys in over a hundred countries, categorized as observers in the United Nations . . .”

“Where does the soldier part come in?”

“We have two faces, one public, one private. I serve in the private arena. Nobody knows about us.”

“What got you involved?”

Shannon shook her head. “My personal history isn’t important, leave it at that. The Order came into existence in the eleventh century, during the Crusades. Knights serving God, fighting battles, defending their homeland against Muslims. Others—non-knights—cared for the sick, the wounded from battles. The fighting wing of the Order went underground when the Crusades ended.”

“But it still continued?”

“Yes, because the Constantine Conspiracy did. That treachery demanded a defense, and the Order provided it, not always successfully, but persistently.”

“So you’re a knight?”

“Actually, I’m called a dame, but with a weapon.”

Rick shifted and groaned, his arm hurting worse by the second.

“We need to go,” Shannon said. “Get a doctor for you.”

“Another second,” he grunted. “All this sounds like a novel: an ancient cabal bent on destroying the religious underpinnings of the modern world. An unknown but equally ancient defender stands ready to oppose it.”

“Novels usually find their themes in some basic truth.”

“Look,” he said. “I’m not a believer, Shannon, you know that already. Spiritual? Yeah, I’d say I’m that. Reincarnation maybe, who knows? A Great Spirit, I like that notion. Native American culture, I can embrace some of that. But Christianity? Never paid it much attention, and when I did, it pretty much made me want to barf. Priests molesting children, pastors paying off prostitutes, a bunch of nosy big shots playing politics, usually with the Republican party, trying to jam their views down everyone else’s throats. Not a pretty bunch, know what I mean?”

Shannon dropped her eyes, then faced him again. “I can’t defend everything that Christians do. But I’m telling you that things aren’t always what they seem. You know the mosque bombing the day your dad died, the shooting of the abortion doctors, the whole polygamy deal in Massachusetts?”