The Guardian (9 page)

“Latin.” Father Vin interrupted.

“Yeah, Latin. And all of a sudden, the clouds went away. The sun was shining through the stained glass like it was when we got there. I told Father Vin I thought it was magic! I remember he told me that it wasn’t magic; it was truth. That’s it. After that, Grandpa and I went home.”

Father Ruiz smiled and said, “Your grandfather and I spent every night talking about the exact story you just told me. Please forgive my hesitancy. I need to make sure the information your grandfather gave me doesn’t get into the wrong hands.”

Father Ruiz stood up and walked to the little desk sitting against the far wall of his chambers. He moved it away from the wall. He reached behind the back of the desk and pulled an envelope from a slot hidden in the back of the desktop. He handed it to Anna.

“This is from your grandfather. He told me someday he would try to come for it. He said, however, that if something happened to him and he didn’t return, he explicitly forbade me to give it to anyone other than you.”

Anna took the envelope. It was light. There couldn’t be more than a single sheet of paper inside. She looked at Father Vin with anticipation. “Should we open it here?” She asked.

“I think you should,” Father Ruiz said. “Your grandfather told me to burn it after you read it.”

Anna opened the envelope and pulled the piece of paper out. She unfolded it and began to read out loud.

“I have no idea what in the world he is talking about here.” Anna looked defeated. She hung her head and handed the paper to Father Vin.

Father Vin studied the note for a long time. Father Ruiz and Anna watched him intently, hoping that he could make something of it.

“I think I have an idea.” Father Vin stood and grabbed his hat. He handed the letter back to Father Ruiz. He shook the man’s hand enthusiastically, with great joy. “Thank you! Thank you, so much, Father Ruiz. You have been most helpful.” He turned his attention back to Anna. “Come, Anna. We have to get to the plane. Immediately!”

B
rothers, it’s good to see all of you.” Cardinal Wickham greeted the rest of the brothers as they each took their seats. All eight chairs at the antique table were now filled.

Cardinal Wickham rarely called a meeting of the Brotherhood in the middle of the day. Today was different. He had been thinking a lot these past several hours. For too long he’d sat at the head of this table scheming and plotting, unfortunately to no avail.

The members of the council each took his seat. The pleasantries were over. It was time to get down to business. Cardinal Wickham opened a manila envelope that was lying in front of him on the table and passed out a paper-clipped stack of papers to each person. “What we have here is the answer to our problem.” He held the top sheet of his packet, a photo, up for all to see. “This,” he said, wiggling the photo, “is Anna Riley.” A few eyebrows shot up. “Good. Now that I have your complete attention, let’s begin.”

He spent the next ten minutes updating everybody on the whereabouts of Anna Riley and Father Vincent Marcella. He assured them that everything had been going smoothly—a lie—and he should have access to the scroll very soon.

“How do we know she has it?” one priest asked.

“Because she’s Thomas’s granddaughter,” Cardinal Wickham explained. “And she’s running all over the place with Marcella. If she doesn’t have it now, she will.”

“But what if she doesn’t? What if this is just Vin’s way of throwing us off?” another brother asked.

“Trust me, Ibrahim. I have it all taken care of.”

Finished answering petty questions, Wickham turned the conversation back to his original statement.

“Like I said, she is the answer to our problem. I have a man on her right now. As soon as he’s confident she has the scroll, he’ll take possession of it.”

The members nodded their approval. There was a little murmuring among the other cardinals. The excitement of possessing the scroll was too enticing.

“Now,” Cardinal Wickham continued, “on to the reason why we’re here.”

“You already stated this was our reason,” Ibrahim said.

“No, unfortunately not.” Wickham placed his hands on the table. He was going to have to be delicate with this matter. While each of the cardinals here shared his greed for worldly pleasures and power, he wasn’t sure they would be committed to what he was about to suggest. He cleared his throat and began.

“Gentlemen, I believe we have a great problem. You all know of the scroll. You all know that this scroll was given to John during the Revelation. We all know that it has been protected for almost two thousand years. Why? Why hasn’t the church been allowed to keep it here, in the archives? Why does some half-wit get to carry it around and never let anyone see it? I’ll tell you why. Because that scroll contains information that leads to unfathomable knowledge. It must. Why else would it be kept secret from the Holy Church? Let alone the rest of the world? Obviously, John was afraid of that scroll falling into the wrong hands. While we don’t yet know what is on that scroll, we are soon to find out. That, in and of itself, becomes our problem.”

There were mutterings of confusion and impatience. Wickham raised his hands for silence.

“Let me ask each of you a question.” Wickham stood from his chair and walked around the table. “We all know why we’re here—in this brotherhood, I mean. That’s obvious. We don’t like the way our pontiff runs things around the Vatican. We all think he is weak. He has no backbone. Always blessing this and blessing that. Bah! Who cares! The man has unlimited power at his disposal and refuses to use it, for good or bad. Most of you don’t even know the true purpose of this brotherhood.” He watched as the inquisitive looks settled upon him. “I bet none of you know that this brotherhood was actually started by a pope for the sole purpose of finding that scroll. Pope Leo XIII to be exact. Yes, I will admit that our motives were somewhat different then. But our objective still remains.”

“I remember hearing this,” Ibrahim said. “But is it not true that Pope Leo XIII also disbanded this brotherhood several years later. So how is it exactly that we still exist?”

There were several people in the Brotherhood that Wickham had grown to dislike immensely. Ibrahim was at the top of that list. He knew that his colleague loved to goad him into bickering. He was always having to put Ibrahim back in his place. He fixed an icy stare on him. “Well Ibrahim, we haven’t found the scroll yet, have we?”

Heads turned and followed Wickham as he walked around the table.

“So,” Wickham continued, “the question is this: How far are you willing to go to get the knowledge of that scroll … and keep it? The pope, in all of his glory, happens to be one of three people in this world who ‘supposedly’ knows about the scroll. We know of course, but he doesn’t know that. The moment we take that scroll, he’ll be notified. Then, my brothers, our problem becomes serious. We will be hunted down like dogs. Probably by the Swiss Guard or whoever he decides to sic on us. I, for one, don’t want that.”

“So, what is it you suggest?” Ibrahim asked.

“I
suggest
, quite simply, that we remove the pope.”

Instantly a cacophony of noise broke out. Everyone in the room stood up and began attacking him with, “What?” or “You have completely lost your mind!” or “Insanity!”

“Everyone, sit down!” Cardinal Wickham shouted, slamming his fist on the table. “Sit down and shut up!”

The room restored itself to order with a few cardinals still mumbling their objections. Everyone retook their seats.

“The bottom line is this: we are about to be in possession of a piece of paper that John was given during the Revelation of Jesus Christ. It has been kept secret for two thousand years. No one, especially the pope, is going to allow us to have it. Now we have two choices: either abandon our work right here and now or get rid of Pope Paul VII. Period. Those are our choices. I, for one, am not willing to quit when we are this close. I refuse!”

The room was silent for several seconds. Each cardinal sat in his seat thinking over his options. Finally, the silence was broken.

“How would this be done?”

That was Father McCoy. He actually had a smirk on his face. Wickham smiled. He had one on board. Six more to go.

Again Ibrahim stood up. “Joseph! You cannot be serious!”

“I am. You listen to me, Ibrahim. Louis is right. This scroll is going to give us power beyond our wildest imagination. We have to. It’s the only way.”

Once again the murmurs started. Wickham held up his hands to halt the chatter. The room settled down once more.

“He
is
old,” Cardinal Bracken spoke for the first time.

“Yes he is,” said Wickham. “His health could fail at any time.”

“And how do we proceed once he has been
removed
, as you said?” one of the other cardinals asked.

“Well,” Wickham said, “I would be temporarily in charge, of course. But Conclave would have to take place. I think we have enough pull between all of us to put whoever we want in that seat. We can discuss who later.” He looked to Cardinal Joseph, whose eyes had lit up like spotlights. “Right now, let’s just worry about getting him out of the way.”

Wickham and the rest of the cardinals talked at length about what their options were. It was finally decided that getting rid of Pope Paul VII was their only option. One by one the brothers began to come around. A little over an hour later, Wickham had all seven votes. Yes. It would be done.

T
here they go. Come on.” Jonathan and Larry watched Father Vin and Anna exit the church and hail a cab. They hurried to the street, found their own taxi, and told the driver to follow the cab up ahead.

Minutes later they pulled up in front of the hotel. Anna and Father Vin had already gone inside. Handing the driver a fifty-dollar bill, Jonathan told him to pull over to the alley. He didn’t want to be seen. The young man excitedly stomped on the gas and nearly ran over an older couple as he whipped into the adjacent alley.

“We’re not going in?” Larry asked.

“Did you see them come out of there with anything?”

“Maybe she stuck it in her purse,” said Larry.

“Did you see her holding a purse?”

“Maybe she hid it!”

“You’re an idiot. You know that? It’s a two-thousand-year-old piece of paper. What? You think she just folded it up and stuck it in her jeans pocket?”

Larry decided not to answer. Instead, he just shrugged his shoulders and looked away. This was the second time Jonathan had yelled at him today. He was making a habit out of getting himself in trouble. He figured it would be best just to do as Jonathan said: keep his mouth shut.

“Trust me,” Jonathan said. “When she has it, we’ll know. Until then we just follow.”

“You’re the boss, man.”

“Anna,” Father Vin shouted from his bedroom. “We must hurry. The car service will be here in five minutes. I’ve called the plane. They’ll be waiting for us.”

“That’s kind of fast, isn’t it?” Anna yelled back.

“Money talks, dear. And you’ve got a lot of it. Remember?”

“Yeah.” Anna walked into the bedroom where Father Vin was finishing packing up his toiletry bag. “I keep hearing about it. But I haven’t seen it!”

“In due time, Anna. Are you ready?”

“Yep! I only brought this one bag. So, explain all of this to me again. We’re going to Europe, but we don’t know where in Europe?”

“That’s right.”

“Then why are we going?”

“Because Thomas and Olivia were married in Europe.” “But you don’t know where?”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t. But we are going to find out.” “How?”

“That shouldn’t be too hard. All we need is Olivia’s grandmother’s name. We should be able to find that on the Internet.” “I suppose we have Internet access on the plane?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. Satellites are amazing things, you know. And you own three of them.”

Father Vin and Anna left the room and headed downstairs. They stopped by the front desk and checked out. Their car was waiting for them when they walked out of the lobby.

As soon as the cab had gotten inside the airport grounds, Jonathan told the driver to forget about following the car in front of them. That was pointless now. “We’re gonna have to find out where they’re going.”

“How much money you got?” The driver asked.

“Excuse me?” Jonathan asked.

“I know guy at airport. You got enough dough, he tell you where they go.” The driver smiled confidently.

“I’ll tell ya what, chief,” Jonathan chuckled, “you find out for me and I’ll pay you enough you can take the whole next month off if you like.” He turned to Larry. “I like this guy. Maybe we should give him your job.”

“I be right back, man,” he said. He took off at a dead run into the terminal. Ten minutes later, he was back.

“My guy say France.” The cabbie was still sucking air into his lungs.