The Second Messiah (33 page)

He wore scuffed leather sandals and a simple white cassock. Kelly rose. “Holy Father, it’s good to see you, as always.”

Becket extended both his hands and gripped Kelly’s warmly before kissing him on the cheeks. “Liam, old friend.”

As Kelly went to kneel and kiss the papal ring, the pope protested. “Please, we know each other a long time, you embarrass me. Do you like my hideaway? Abbot Fabrio is an old acquaintance and spoils me, of course. Wine with dinner and clean sheets every day. I’m ruined for kindness.”

Kelly stood and admired the garden. “It’s certainly peaceful and quiet, and you can’t hear the traffic, a miracle in itself. The Romans drive like they’re still competing in an ancient chariot race to the death. Yesterday a madman tried to run me over as I crossed near the Colosseum.”

The pope chuckled. “Poor Liam. And what did you do?”

“I called him an ignorant
eegit
in my best Italian.”

The pope laughed warmly and gestured to the bench facing the pond. “Let’s sit. We’ll be out of hearing of the guards and can talk in private.”

They sat by the bubbling pond. “Tell me what’s so important you wanted to talk about, Liam.”

Kelly sighed and stared at the bubbling water. “Holy Father, with every passing day your cardinals and bishops hear stories about your inspectors burrowing away like mad beavers in the archives’ vaults.”

Kelly’s good-humored lilt had disappeared. The pope said patiently, “What else do they hear, old friend?”

“That they are discovering all kinds of material. Much of it a terrible embarrassment to the church and best consigned to history. They have also heard that
all
records of church financial dealings are being prepared for public scrutiny.”

“This is simply as I promised, Liam. How can we speak of truth and then hide from truth ourselves?”

Kelly turned red-faced. “Then there was an episode with a prostitute. And now this, Holy Father. You leave your Vatican quarters for … for a monastery. Permit me to be frank.”

“Haven’t we always been, with each other?”

“John, all this may impress the young bloods in the church who seem to consider you a second messiah, but to the gray hairs among us, this is pushing it a bit far. I’ve heard the fearful whispers too. Antipope. Antichrist. For some older, more conservative cardinals, these controversial decisions of yours only seem to confirm it. And now to top it all you’ve left your official Vatican residence, for heaven’s sake.”

There was no trace of anger in the pope’s reply. “Am I less of a pope because I choose to live here, Liam?”

“That wasn’t what I meant.” Kelly’s face flushed again. “The Vatican press office has managed to keep it a secret so far, but surely when the media gets hold of this story it might appear to some that you’re either choosing to live like a hermit or losing your mind. Or both. And then there’s the suggestion of reaching out in friendship to other Christian churches. What next? Even other religions, perhaps?”

“Christians share many core beliefs and values, Liam. And may I remind you of a favorite saying of yours in the seminary—that the face of God can be seen from a thousand different angles?”

“Fair enough, but your mission may be too much for some of my fellow cardinals. The fact that you want to embrace
everyone
might be seen as being overzealous.”

“I thought that’s what Jesus wanted us to do—to embrace everyone.”

“Well, yes, but the point is, there may be those among the Curia who will see your mission as threatening.”

The pope stared back. “Who put you up to this, Liam? Was it your fellow senior Irish-American clerics? The ones we often jokingly called the ‘Murphia’? Have they sent one of my fellow countrymen to change my mind?”

“I came here simply as a trusted friend, Holy Father. And out of concern for both you and the church.” Kelly leaned closer, his voice a fierce whisper. “For the love of heaven, John, can you not see that all this will set the church back centuries?”

The pope met Kelly’s stare. “No, Liam. This is what the flock has been waiting for. A fresh start. A renewal. A return to the simple values that Jesus professed.”

Kelly’s voice took on a bitter edge. “You mean there’ll really be a chance of that
after
the Italian tax authorities have torn us asunder by suing the Vatican for billions because of past financial misdeeds? And after half the flock have disowned us for some of the revelations made public from the archives?”

“Liam, I must tell you that some of the archives my inspectors hoped to find have gone missing. Deliberately, it may seem.”

Kelly blushed. “Are you suggesting that I, one of your most trusted cardinals, had something to do with that?”

“No, Liam, of course not. I will put the matter in Monsignor Ryan’s hands. I am hopeful he’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“Then what are you saying, Holy Father?”

The pope put a hand on Kelly’s arm. “Simply that the church must bear the responsibility for its sins, Liam. Just as we ask our flock to bear responsibility for theirs. My plans will go ahead.”

“I see.” Kelly ran a palm across his face again, as if in despair. Then
he
slowly reached under his gown and removed a newspaper clipping. He placed it on the bench space between them. “I wanted to show you this.”

A headline announced in Italian:

BRUTAL MURDER—MYSTERIOUS TWO-THOUSAND-YEAR-OLD SCROLL FOUND IN ISRAEL VANISHES

Kelly tapped the cutting. “Another scroll has been found at Qumran. A renowned expert, Professor Green, was murdered there. It seems the Israeli police have so far not yet apprehended anyone for the crime.”

The pope scanned the page, his face bleak. “Yes. I’ve read this.”

“The Holy Father is better informed than I thought.”

Becket met Kelly’s stare. “It seems there’s no end to the misfortune that follows the scrolls, is there, Liam? It’s like a curse.”

Kelly folded the clipping and put it away. “I know of another curse. Your intention to open the archives. It could mean ruin for all of us who know what really happened at Qumran twenty years ago. What if some smart researcher reading the files pieces together the truth? It could be the nail in all our coffins.”

“Yes, I know.”

“You, me, Cassini, Father Kubel. We know what Robert Cane found and why it had to be kept secret. Just like the other scrolls were kept secret.”

The pope bowed his head in shame, his hands clasped together, as if he were silently offering a prayer. “What happened to Robert Cane was a terrible tragedy.”

Kelly said anxiously, “May the Lord have mercy on our souls for what was done back then in the name of the church, but had Robert Cane had his way and exposed his document to the world, the tragedy would have been worse.”

“Your point, Liam?”

“The threat is no less great now than it was twenty years ago. Can’t
you
see what will happen if we divulge the truth about the scrolls? We both played a part in the crime that was committed back then. It could ultimately destroy your papacy, the church, all of us.”

The pope ran a hand over his grim face in a gesture of anguish. “You don’t think I have considered that? My conscience has been wrestling with that dilemma.”

“And?”

“It still wrestles with it. Part of me believes that telling the truth will be our finest hour. But sometimes, just sometimes I confess I have my doubts about revealing this one dark secret we share, Liam. Pray for my guidance. Will you do that for me?”

“I always do, Holy Father. Just as I pray that you will at least keep
our
secret to ourselves. We don’t need to scratch an old sore. You can still open up the archives, you can still reach out to other Christians, but without sacrificing the fates of your oldest friends. And consider your own position. A revelation this epic, along with everything else, could ruin the church.”

“Liam, you know where I stand on truth—”

“
Please
, I merely ask you to consider it again. For an old friend. Just to reflect a little longer.”

“I can promise nothing, Liam.”

Kelly pleaded, “Just reflect some more, it’s all I ask. What harm is there in that, John?”

The pope stared back at Kelly, mulled over the request, then finally nodded reluctantly. “Very well, I will give it consideration.”

The relief was evident on Kelly’s craggy face, as if a small victory had been won. “Thank you for that. Thank you sincerely.” He glanced at his watch and rose to his feet. “Excuse me, Holy Father, but I’m afraid I have an appointment. Robert Cane’s son, Jack, is in Rome.”

The pope paled. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s ironic, I know. But he’s the one who found the latest Qumran scroll. The newspapers didn’t mention him by name but he’s an archaeologist, like his father.”

The pope sat there, baffled. “How—how do you know this?”

“He called me from Israel. He flew to Rome this afternoon and wants to meet me urgently and talk. I’m already late.”

The pope’s face sparked with a look close to fear. “Talk about what, Liam?”

“Jack Cane has a special request. One I will need your permission to grant, Holy Father. But in return he’s made an intriguing offer.”

ROME

THE LEAR JET
carrying Lela and Ari touched down at Da Vinci Airport and taxied to a halt outside a commercial hangar. Ten minutes later, escorted through customs and immigration, they entered a private airport lounge.

Ari got on his cell phone to check his messages, then flicked it shut. “I’ll go meet our local Mossad contact; he’s waiting outside. He’ll take us to Cane and the woman.”

“Rome’s a big city. How can you know where they are?”

“Because we’ve been watching them since they landed. Right now they’re heading for the Vatican.”

“Why there?”

Ari smiled and slid his cell phone back in his pocket. “I don’t know, but it’s interesting, isn’t it? Let’s go.”

“Give me a couple of minutes to freshen up, Ari. I need to find a restroom.”

“Okay, but try not to be long. I’ll meet you by the exit doors.”

Lela spotted the restroom sign down a hallway. A public pay phone sign was next to it.

As she stepped toward the bank of phones she recalled Julius Weiss’s order not to involve herself further in the murder investigation until he ordered to do so. But she had a desperate need to know the investigation’s progress.

She didn’t want to use her cell phone in case Mossad was monitoring her calls back in Tel Aviv. One of the pay phones took credit cards
and
Lela found her Visa in her purse and swiped it through the slot. She punched in the number from memory, adding the international prefix for Israel, 972.

The line seemed to ring forever until it was answered by a blunt male voice. “Sergeant Mosberg.”

“It’s Inspector Raul.”

“Inspector. This is a surprise. I was told you were on sick leave and couldn’t be contacted.”

“I am, but just between you and me, Mosberg, I wanted to find out if you’ve made any headway.”

“I certainly have, and I’m glad you rang,” the sergeant said brightly.

Lela glanced back over her shoulder. She was horrified to see that Ari hadn’t left the terminal but was lingering by a vending machine, fifty yards away. He had his back to her as he clinked some coins into the machine. Lela felt a stab of panic. If Ari looked her way he’d see her making the call.

Mosberg went on, “First of all, the scroll’s been carbon-dated, and it’s genuine. Between
A.D.
25 and
A.D.
50. Second of all, Jack Cane has disappeared.”

Lela was about to say
I know
to both statements when she caught herself. “Really?”

“We’re not sure where he’s gone but I haven’t put out a bulletin just yet. I’m still looking for him.”

Lela kept her eyes fixed on Ari’s back, praying that he wouldn’t turn round. She watched him reach down and retrieve a Coke from the vending machine. “You’re right, he may turn up. You said you’d made headway.”

“Yes, there’s something important. It’s kind of bizarre and it muddies things.”

“In what way bizarre?”

Lela observed Ari crack open the Coke. He sipped from the can and started to turn round, idly surveying the terminal. She felt her pulse quicken.

Mosberg said, “I checked out Yasmin Green, like you asked me to. I called her uncle’s relatives in New York and here’s the weird thing …”

“Go on.” Lela’s heart pounded as Ari turned around and spotted her. Their eyes locked. Ari frowned. Lela offered him a limp wave. She’d been caught. But her mind was focused on Mosberg’s next words.

“According to the professor’s relatives, his niece Yasmin Green was killed ten years ago in an auto accident.”