The Secret of Fatima (11 page)

“Where does the Vatican fit in all this?”

“That coded message that your cardinal buddy gave you had the first clue. It mentioned a trigger and a date. Our guys think this Alameda character knows where the triggers are going. He's trying to sell that information to the Israelis.”

“So why did he visit Tehran? That doesn't make sense.”

Toby sighed. “Yeah, we haven't figured that out either. Working on it. Right now, the big worry is that the Israelis would bomb the shit out of the trigger site so the Iranians can't build a nuclear bomb. That's why the Israelis aren't talking to us. If Israel were to attack Iran, we wouldn't have known about it in advance, which gives us Washington's favorite state of affairs: plausible deniability.”

“Great! I should have stayed home. The parish priest life is starting to look just fine.”

“Well, it seems that you've been called on to do a lot more than an average parish priest.”

“What's your take, Toby?”

“Have you considered that your higher-ups may be playing you?”

Kevin thought about that for a few seconds. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. “Why would they do that?”

“I don't know. But I suspect they're not telling you everything.”

If that's even remotely true
, Kevin thought,
I'm outta here
. His next thought was even more chilling.
What if I'm being framed, set up as a scapegoat for something?

“I'll look into it,” Kevin finally said.

“I'm sure you will, pal, but I've got another problem. Given what we uncovered here, I can't sit on it. I have no choice but to send this stuff to Defense and the White House, especially since June 3rd, the date on the encrypted note you sent me, is only a couple of days away. Since the lead came from you, your name will be smeared all over this.”

Kevin shook his head.
Damn!
“Do what you have to, Toby.”

Kevin hung up, hoping the pause and quiet would calm him. It didn't. Cardinal Porter had mentioned the Israel-Iran war which Opus Mundi might use to justify fulfilling a prophecy and taking over the Vatican.
But could the Vatican, or Opus Mundi, for that matter, be involved in this, in starting the war?
If so, had they told him everything? And what was his role in it?

Toby's questions about his role in this rang loud and clear.
Was he being played? How could the whole thing possibly have eluded him?
His temper was now ready to burst, and he knew how dangerous that could be. There was only one way to get some answers: Cardinal Porter.

While he was still fuming, his blood pressure rising, Kevin's mind quickly turned to Katie's dilemma. He couldn't ask Toby for anything else right now, so he decided to do some research himself. He googled Greg Maggio. Precious little came up. He was a member of the Sons of Italy organization and had been involved in various import/export businesses that mostly traded with Italy. A couple of awards, a wife, then a divorce. Nothing else. Consolidated Investors United produced precisely nothing.

Kevin closed his laptop and went back to stewing about why he was here in Rome.

Chapter Twelve

Rome, Italy

Kevin always had to have the last word.

“I quit,” he said as he walked into Cardinal Porter's office. Without being invited, he'd barged in and flung himself in the chair facing Porter's desk. He took note of the ornate, gaudy trappings, a gold and white Vatican flag, a Louis XVI desk, an assortment of gaudy baubles and gewgaws, high ceilings, and a communications array on the desk that'd make a general proud. Kevin thought he was perfect in his new role. It was good to be a prince of the Church.

“What's going on, Kevin?” Porter asked, sitting down at the desk. The cardinal was dressed in a simple black cassock, a ribbon of red buttons signaling his lofty post in the hierarchy. His gray hair was combed immaculately, and was a cloud obscuring his blue eyes.

“I don't have all the details, and I don't know what the hell I'm doing here. I want out. I can't do an assignment like this half-assed, and that's how it's turning out.” Kevin felt his anger festering at a dangerously high level. He was fighting to keep it in check.

“Calm down. Please.” Porter inhaled deeply. “What specifically is bothering you?”

“I'll tell you, cardinal. I think I was brought here as some kind of scapegoat or distraction … I don't know. I'm afraid I've been played like a puppet. I need the truth!”

“And what truth would that be?”

“For one, who are the bad guys? So far, I've been told that a gaggle of clerics in Spain are waiting for a war—which they'll use as a cover to take over the Church. Well, there's more to it than that, and you know it. Now, thanks to Father Kevin Thrall, the White House is involved and my friends in high places think I'm being played. So I need you to come clean. The entire story. Or I'm out of here.”

Pursing his lips Porter started tapping his fingers on the desk. Finally, he spoke slowly and deliberately. “You are not being played. You were being tested, son. What you have uncovered in such a short time was your first test. Yes, we knew about the threat from Seville. But we don't know who's giving the orders in the Curia. We would have told Washington in due course, but there is no assurance that anyone, at this point, can stop the Israelis.”

“Where does the Church fit in all this?”

“As I told you the last time we met, Opus Mundi wants Israel to attack Iran to start a nuclear holocaust. In their twisted psycho-drama reasoning, this will trigger the apocalypse when Jesus, or someone posing as Jesus, will return to earth. They believe God is upset at the Church for becoming so liberal. To them, the Church has strayed from where it began and God will punish the liberal leaders unless corrective action is taken—by them. Their solution and strategy is to replace the leadership, by force if necessary, to steer us back on the righteous path—as they see it.”

Kevin stared in disbelief. “Let me get this straight, Opus Mundi is prepared to start a nuclear war over liberalism in the Church?”

“The Church is a constituency of over a billion people. The vast majority will need to be convinced their new leadership is the right one. They'll prove it by pointing at the false prophets and the corruption in the Catholic Church. The war is a necessary, integral part of the prophecy—remember Matthew 24.”

“‘For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom,'” Kevin recited from memory. For a few seconds he closed his eyes before speaking again. “Are we talking about a direct attack on the pope?”

“We don't know. But this is the group who masterminded the 1981 assassination attempt of John Paul II. You can take it from there.” Again, Porter started drumming his fingers on the desktop. Clearly he was agitated.

“Why was I was being tested? Why was I kept in the dark?”

“We hadn't planned on telling you so soon.” Porter leaned back and took a deep breath. “Kevin, there's a deeper and more sinister mystery lurking. It's highly secret, and it's the reason we wanted you here. We needed to test your skills in action first, before exposing you to the big one. You passed with flying colors.”

Gee, isn't that great
. It all felt ridiculously juvenile—this being tested. Kevin still couldn't grasp the real reason he'd been brought to Rome. If his only friends in the Church, including the man he respected more than anyone, were playing games with him, who could he trust? Kevin's confidence in the Church was slipping into a dark abyss.

“Anything else to tell me, Eminence?” Kevin asked.

Cardinal Porter looked at his watch. “We've got a lot to tell you. In thirty minutes, meet me at the gate of the Apostolic Palace.”

Briefly, Kevin stewed over this. “I'll be there, Eminence. And after I hear what you have to say, I'll make up my mind about two things: whether I'm sticking it out with you and your melodramatic puppet show, and whether I'll be staying in the priesthood.”

Chapter Thirteen

Pope Quintus II

Following the contentious meeting, Kevin walked back to his apartment to freshen up before the appointment at the Apostolic Palace. Although the clear air lifted his mood, his calm was abruptly eclipsed by the buzz of his cell. He hoped it was Katie.

It was Toby.

“I think we solved the Teheran mystery.”

“Meaning you know why Alameda went to Tehran?” Kevin asked.

“Precisely. We got some good intel that Alameda brokered the sale of the triggers between Pakistan and Iran. The Tehran trip was to complete the sale. After that, the Iranians arranged for delivery by truck from the Pakistani embassy in Teheran to the nuclear site. Problem was, the package had a secret tracking device, a thin array of electronics built into the brown wrapping paper, to tell Alameda exactly where it went. But when the package location data was uploaded, the signal, the tracker, fizzled into burnt cardboard.”

“So now what? We don't know where it is?” Kevin asked, keeping an eye on the time.

“No. We assume Alameda sold this information to the Israelis so they'd know which site to bomb. I'm telling you this to give you a sense of how dangerous this is. If you can find out anything—anything at all—about these wackos or their plans, pass it on.”

“OK, OK. I will, Toby. Promise.”

With no time to spare, Kevin turned around and went straight to meet Cardinal Porter. In short order, he arrived at the black iron gates marking the entrance to the largest building in the Vatican, the Apostolic Palace. He waited for security to let him in.

Moments later, Kevin saw Cardinal Porter approach. He was dressed formally in a scarlet red cassock, a red mozzeta cape, and the traditional red biretta cap. He was the picture of a prince of the Church.

The cardinal nodded to Kevin, who nodded back.

The colorful Swiss guards on duty made their way over to Kevin, where officiously they scrutinized his credentials. They didn't ask to see Cardinal Porter's credentials. With a snappy salute, the guards affirmed both could pass into the dark hallway leading to the offices of the most powerful men in the Catholic Church.

Kevin was curious about the next meeting.
Who would be there? Would he finally get the first honest briefing on his mission since this whole mess started?

As shoes pounded the wooden floors, the clatter echoed through the cavernous halls. A welcoming party consisting of two monsignors and two Swiss guards approached Cardinal John Porter, walking on either side of him. Kevin followed the group up three flights of stairs to a large regal room. At first, it seemed to be a library. Period desks and chairs, gold candelabra, and tall cherry bookcases were clues to his whereabouts. The coffered ceilings were, Kevin guessed, easily twenty feet tall. A magnificent vista of St. Peter's was visible through the window. Kevin was impressed by the whole aura of opulence. This would be a high-level meeting.

As the library door opened, a dark-suited official with a chain around his neck and a silver walking stick entered. He banged the stick on the floor, commanding the immediate attention of everyone in the room.

“
Il Santissimo Padre
!” the man announced in a high-pitched voice.

Behind him stood the recognizable figure of Pope Quintus II, his white zucchetto resting elegantly on his head, descending to layers of white silk robes. As always, a large pectoral cross hung from his neck.

As the pope entered, everyone in the room bowed simultaneously. The pope waved the traditional backhanded greeting.

Cardinal Porter approached the pontiff with reverence, kissing his ring. “Your Holiness,” Porter began, “may I present Father Kevin Thrall.”

Instinctively, Kevin bowed his head.

The pope addressed him in nearly flawless English. “I am happy to meet you. Come, sit over here.” His Holiness directed Kevin to a table and chairs. With a simple hand gesture, he dismissed some of his official entourage, leaving Cardinal Porter, Kevin, Cardinal Claudio Marini, and Cardinal Gianni Serrano alone with him in the papal library.

Marini was well known, a cardinal who'd spent most of his career behind Vatican walls in a variety of top-level posts. His face was unusual, with contours which, on first glance, made it seem like he'd been pummeled at birth.

Cardinal Serrano had been bishop of Venice and now was in charge of special missions, a job calling for experienced administrative and managerial skills. At sixty-eight, he was young by senior church standards. He stood tall and had a stately demeanor and a regal Italian expression.

“Welcome back to Rome, Father,” Marini said in serviceable English.

Cardinal Serrano nodded, his hands crossed on his lap.

Kevin thanked them in Italian. To Kevin, this was all surreal. He was sitting in the presence of the spiritual leader of a billion Catholics. It defied reality. Kevin noticed the pope's skin was darker in the light of day than it had appeared in pictures, perhaps reflecting his Tuscan origins. At only sixty-three, his relative youth explained his exuberance and high energy. Kevin recalled how impressed he'd been when he first read how Pope Quintus II had revolutionized the Vatican by bringing in a top management consulting firm, KPMG Consulting. They'd swarmed over the place, looking for ways to improve its efficiency. The consultants' conclusion was that the venerable institution had a long way to go to undo eight centuries of deeply-rooted, essentially ineradicable habits and systems.

“I have heard much good about you from Cardinal Porter, Father,” the pontiff said. “How have you found your assignment so far?”

“I'm honored to be in your presence, Your Holiness.” Feeling unsure of himself, Kevin decided to not say more, and listen for what was coming.

The pope looked over at Cardinal Serrano and nodded for him to continue.