The Guardian (41 page)

Patrice hurried after him. “What are you talking about?”

Jason took the steps two at a time. “The key! I know what it is! And more importantly, I know where to find it!”

G
etting elected pope was no easy thing. It required a two-thirds vote. And if after the thirty-fourth vote, no new pontiff was elected, then the cardinals had the option of choosing to take a 51 percent overall majority. This was a provision that Pope John Paul II put in place to end difficult elections. Because there were only to be seven votes per day, the whole process could take several days. And on many occasions, it had.

The crowds stood outside the Sistine Chapel, waiting for the smoke that was sure to come any minute now. Conclave had been in session for nearly thirty minutes. As was custom, there would be a preliminary vote. In most cases, cardinals would vote for themselves, or if they already held strong allegiances, they would vote for their candidate. Usually it was nothing other than a formality—a chance to get everyone used to the system that they would be adhering to for the rest of their sequestration. Still, it would be the first sign of a vote. And once the initial one was out of the way, people would wait on pins and needles until the

announcement was made. Until they saw the white smoke.

Ten minutes later, the crowds gasped. The reporters scrambled to get into place. The people who were gathered began to sing. They began hugging one another, cheering, as all eyes turned toward the roof of the Sistine Chapel and the white smoke that poured from its chimney. A new pope had been elected.

Inside the chapel, Cardinal Joseph McCoy was being ordained as a bishop. The pope-elect could not take office until he was first a bishop. The cardinal dean stepped forward and asked, “Do you accept your canonical election as supreme pontiff?”

“I do,” Joseph replied.

“And what name will you go by?” the cardinal dean asked.

He’d thought about this over the last couple of days. Pope John II was the first pope to take a name other than his birth name. He did this because of his conversion to Christianity. His birth name, Mercury, was not befitting a supreme pontiff, given its relation to the pagan Roman god. Between John II and Sergius IV, only a few popes took different names. But after Sergius IV, every elected pope had taken a different name, save two. And it had been over five hundred years since one had broken that tradition. He looked at the cardinal dean and said, “I shall be known as Joseph I.”

The master of pontifical liturgy was summoned into the hall to record the acceptance and the new name of the pope.

Immediately following, Pope Joseph I was led to the Room of Tears, where every new pope came to clothe himself in the papal robes. He chose his robes and put them on. Next he donned the gold corded pectoral cross and red embroidered stole. Finally, he placed the white zucchetto, the skull cap, on his head. There was only one thing left to do.

He stepped out of the Room of Tears and followed the senior cardinal deacon to the main balcony of the basilica’s main facade.

The senior cardinal deacon opened the french doors, stepped out onto the balcony, and said,
“Annuntio vobis gaudium magnum:

“Habemus Papam!

“Eminentissimum ac Reverendissimum Dominum
,

“Dominum Joseph, Sanctœ Romanœ Ecclesiœ Cardinalem McCoy, qui sibi nomen imposuit Pope Joseph I.”

The crowds erupted as their new pope walked out onto the balcony. He spent at least five minutes listening to the applause, occasionally raising his arms and waving to the masses. Finally, he motioned for the crowds to be quiet. He was about to give his first papal blessing. He stepped up to the small microphone and uttered the words that every pope says as their first papal blessing,
“Urbi et Orbi.” To the city and to the world.

Again the crowds erupted. The people began to sing and dance all around the balcony. The news reporters relayed the news to the world. The cameras focused on the crowds and the celebration that was taking place. Church bells all throughout the city of Rome chimed in one giant symphony of noise.

The rest of the cardinals were dismissed after the vote was confirmed and Joseph accepted his election. Many of the cardinals stayed behind, hoping to get some of the spotlight either by being seen with the new pope or by giving an exclusive to one of the many news reporters.

Wickham, however, was far too busy to waste his time placating reporters, the public, or any other buffoon who wanted to be involved in that circus. He stepped into his office and sat down at his desk. He slid open the top drawer, pulled out a flask, and took a huge gulp of the twelve-year-old single malt. He put it back inside the drawer and stood up.

Across from his desk he opened the armoire and removed the false back. He turned the knob three times and heard the
click
as the last tumbler rolled into place. He pulled the scroll out and sat back down at the desk. His whole body tingled with excitement. It would still be a few hours before Joseph would finally be left alone. But when that happened, he would be waiting for him in his private chambers. At that point, Joseph would merely need to pick up the phone, and the scroll and its secrets would be decoded in no time.

He opened the drawer again, took another pull from the flask, setting the scroll beside it. He unbuttoned his collar, kicked his feet onto his desk, tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

He had barely drifted off when he could feel the warmth of breath on his cheek. He half opened his eyes to see the man towering over him, bent down only a half inch from his face.

“Wake up, little monkey,” the voice sang.

Wickham fully opened his eyes and sat up. “Hello, my lord. I didn’t see you come in.”

“It’s a talent of mine, Louis. If I wanted you to see me, you would have. Anyway, where’s my scroll? I hear you have it.”

“It’s safe.”

Lucifer’s face grew red. “Did I ask you if it was safe? No! I asked you where it is!”

After their last meeting Wickham was terrified. His hands began to shake. “It’s … it’s right here, my lord.” He opened the drawer. “But … but … I don’t understand it.”

Lucifer grabbed the scroll out of his hand. “What do you mean you don’t understand it, Wickham? Are you an idiot? Did you finally become the monkey that you really are?”

“No … I … I mean I can understand it; I just can’t
decipher
it.

It’s some kind of riddle.”

Lucifer unrolled the scroll and held it in his hand. A thin grin creased his lips. “He who has ears, let him hear.”

“So you know what it means?”

“Yes, Louis, I do.”

Wickham’s face brightened. “Then we win! We know what it means! Tell me! Tell me! What does it mean?”

Lucifer rolled the scroll up and put it in his pocket. He smiled, patted Wickham on the shoulder, and said, “It doesn’t matter.”

Wickham looked confused. “What do you mean, it doesn’t matter? You said that if I got you that scroll, then we win. That I would be given power unlike anything seen on this earth.”

“Don’t worry, Louis, you’re going to get everything you deserve.”

Wickham looked blankly at Lucifer. “I did everything you asked. I gave my life to looking for this stupid thing. You know that. I promised you I would get it. And I did. You told me that I would be a king. That I would rule over millions!”

Lucifer’s eyes grew fiery red. He walked over and grabbed Wickham by the throat. His long fingernails dug into Wickham’s flesh. When he spoke his voice was twisted and pure evil. “This is my world. I rule over it. I do what I want when I want. You are nothing to me. You served a purpose. You were a means to an end. And now I have that end. I told you you’d get what you deserve, and so you will. You will be paid exactly what the going rate for betraying your Creator is.” He continued to squeeze Wickham’s throat. With the other hand, he reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a small velvet bag. He opened it with his thumb and forefinger.

Wickham’s vision was blurring. His brain was losing oxygen and he was getting weak. He could feel his life ending. Somewhere

from deep inside his soul, a tiny voice cried out in sorrow and pain, showing him the vile, corrupt man he’d become. He’d sold his soul for a lie. He wanted to cry out to God for forgiveness but couldn’t. Whether it was pride, guilt, or the fact that God had hardened his heart as he had Pharaoh’s, he just couldn’t.

“Look at me, Louis …” Lucifer toyed with him, dangling the velvet bag in front of him. “Here’s your payment.” He turned the bag over and smiled. A single tear ran down Wickham’s face, as he watched the bag empty itself.

As the last of its contents hit the floor, Lucifer placed his free hand over Wickham’s heart and dug his fingernails into his chest. Wickham would have screamed if he could have. The talons sank deeper.

Lucifer pulled Wickham close to whisper directly into his ear. “And now that you’ve been paid, I’ll take what you owe me. Your life.” Without another word, Lucifer crushed Cardinal Louis Wickham’s larynx. He ripped open his chest and tore out his heart and walked out of the office.

Wickham’s dead body lay in a heap on the floor. Beside him was an empty velvet bag and thirty pieces of silver.

J
ason ran to the top of the stairs and into his room. He grabbed his Bible off the nightstand and flipped it open. He thumbed through the pages until he found what he was looking for: the book of Revelation. He perused the text until he found the verse that mattered. This had to be it, what Thomas had spent his life trying to find. And all this time, it was right in front of them. Jesus had always said, “He who has ears, let him hear!” Understanding Jesus wasn’t about your physical ears. It was about spiritual discernment. Jason realized that the same held true for the scroll. But in this case, it was more a metaphor than a parable.

He threw some clothes in his bag, grabbed his Bible, put it in the front pocket, and zipped it up. He woke Anna up and told her to be ready to leave in the next half hour. He then ran downstairs into the study and gathered a few maps, Thomas’s journal, and the notebook that he’d been taking notes in. In his haste, he accidentally knocked over a porcelain lamp on one of the small tables. It fell to the floor and shattered. Jason moved to clean it

up. When he stooped down, he noticed that inside the lamp was hidden a roll of papers rubber-banded together, along with a small electronic device. He picked up the papers and pushed the power button on the device. The small screen came to life. Jason laughed out loud and lifted his face upward. “Thank you.”

Anna walked into the study. She was rubbing her eyes and looked like she was still asleep. “Okay, I’m up. What’s going on?”

He held up the bundle of papers. “I figured it out!”

Anna was awake instantly. “What! You did? Well, tell me!”

“I will. On the way. Get dressed. We’re leaving.”

“And where are we going?”

“Where’s who going?” Patrice stuck her head in the room. “Me and Anna,” Jason answered. “We’re going to the airport.” “Not without me.” Patrice left the room to gather her belongings.

“Hey!” Anna shouted. “Someone tell me what’s going on!”

But Jason was too hurried to reply. There was time to explain, but not now. He grinned. He looked forward to telling her everything.

The plane was in the air thirty minutes later. Anna appeared ready to burst. “Explain. Now.”

Yeah, it was time. He took out his Bible. “You know what a parable is?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You mean like Jesus’ parables?” Patrice asked. “Exactly!” Jason said. “He who has ears, let him hear!” Anna slumped. “I’m confused.”

“Anna, when Jesus taught, he used stories that would convey His message to the people. He told His disciples that the god of this age, Satan, had blinded unbelievers from seeing the truth. Therefore, if anyone was going to understand Jesus’ message, the Father would draw them and they would need to seek it. It wouldn’t just be obvious to them.”

“Okay,” she said, shrugging her shoulders, “I still don’t get it.”

“Jesus said, ‘He who has ears, let him hear.’ That meant that anyone whom God was drawing to Him could hear His voice and receive His message. They just had to look deeper. That’s what I did, Anna. I looked deeper. And I found it!” He slapped his leg. “The scroll, it’s Jesus’ words, too. Remember?”

“Yeah, I guess so …”

“Anna, there is no ‘key.’ There is no ‘temple.’“

Anna looked at him as if he were an idiot. “What are you talking about? The scroll said in black and white that the key is found in the temple. There is a key, Jason. And we don’t have it, nor do we know where the temple is.”

Jason’s face softened a little. “Don’t get mad at me when I tell you this. I don’t mean it condescendingly.”

Anna looked on with anticipation.

“Technically, there is a key and a temple. Just not what you think. And I have it. Actually, millions of people have the key. Unfortunately, you don’t. Not yet. But you can. And when you have the key, you’ll know where the temple is.”

Anna looked sourly at him. “I don’t know what you are talking about. But I really have to tell you, you’re making me awfully mad. Would you stop talking in riddles and just say it straight out?”

“Anna,” he said softly, “the key is salvation. It’s Jesus.”

Anna leaned back in her chair. Her breath came in little pants, and her face was sickly pale.

“Anna,” Jason said worriedly, “what’s wrong? Are you all right?”

“I … it feels like someone has punched me in the stomach.”

Jason grabbed her wrist. “Your pulse is racing. Are you feeling sick?”

She shook her head. “No.” She gasped for air. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She gripped his hand. “You didn’t. I mean … you did. But I’m okay. I believe you. I know it’s true, but I feel so … strange.” She started fidgeting with her seat belt. “I need to use the lavatory.”

The latch flopped open and her belt fell to the sides of the chair. She staggered to the back of the plane where the restroom was. Jason and Patrice just watched as she left the cabin.