The Secret of Fatima (20 page)

Kevin parked his car and made his way on foot to the church. Kevin dressed in a clerical black suit to simplify the identification for Ivan Koncik. Max had given Kevin a good idea of Koncik's style.

Milling in the crowd, and fitting Max's description, was a middle-aged man with long hair and a beard, a rumpled jacket, and a general appearance that might be characterized as unkempt. Kevin knew it was his man, and wasted no time accosting him and shaking hands.

“So nice to meet you, Father,” Koncik said.

Kevin smiled back. “Call me Kevin, please.”

“Indeed, Kevin. And, of course, I am Ivan. Welcome to our holy village. Let me show you around.”

Entering the church, Kevin genuflected and made the sign of the cross. The interior of the church was dark and vast, with rows of wooden pews.

Ivan gave a brief history of St. James and then said, “Come, I'll drive us to Podbrdo Mountain. It's too far to walk.”

“Apparition Mountain,” said Kevin. “Correct?”

“Correct,” said Ivan. “That's its nickname.”

Once there, they hiked up the steep, rock-strewn path leading to the location where Our Lady appeared. Tens of millions had climbed this very path—pilgrims from all over the world.

Reaching the top, they paused, looking down on the village. St. James dominated the landscape, nestled amongst stone cottages and winding streets.

“In 1981, this is where it all began,” Ivan said, looking out across the horizon. “Apparition Hill.” He gestured toward the town. “In this village, we are all believers.”

“It feels holy and sacred,” said Kevin.

“It is. Come, I'll take you to the exact spot of the first apparition.” As they started down the path, Ivan motioned for Kevin to follow.

Not far away, they happened upon a plain wooden cross partially buried in a mound of rocks. “This is it,” Ivan said. “This is where Our Lady first appeared to Mirija, not to be confused with Mirjana, who's also one of the six.”

Seeing the cross, Kevin knelt down and said a prayer.

“Down below,” Ivan said, pointing to a footpath leading down the other side of the hill, “I'll show you the other cross.”

Kevin nodded.

Continuing down the footpath at the bottom of the hill, they found another wooden cross, this one painted blue. Near the base of the cross stood a wooden statue of Our Lady.

“This is where another man, also named Ivan, also a visionary, comes regularly, and the Virgin Mary appears to him.”

Kevin looked back up to the top of Apparition Hill. “Is it that, up there, where the ‘permanent vision' the visionaries spoke about will take place?”

“Yes,” Ivan responded. “We don't know what it'll be, but it'll be like nothing we've ever seen. And it will be permanent.”

“Ivan, do you believe the revelation about the ‘permanent vision'?”

“Of course. But when I've seen it I'll believe even more.” Ivan smiled wryly.

“I understand,” said Kevin.

“Come, let's head back to the car. That's all I have to show you,” Ivan said.

“Sure, but could we go sit somewhere when we get to Medjugorje? A café or something? We need to talk.”

“Yes, of course.”

The two men climbed into the Fiat and drove back to the hamlet. Once they parked on the side of the street, Ivan selected an outdoor café in the middle of Medjugorje. Priests, brothers, and nuns were crowding its main square.

Kevin ordered a coffee, Ivan, a cold beer.

“May I ask what you do?” Kevin asked.

“Years ago I was a mechanic,” Ivan said. “But when the Virgin Mary appearances began, I devoted my life to the Church. I know the visionaries. They trust me.”

“That's good,” said Kevin, stirring a sugar cube into his coffee.

Ivan's bushy brows furrowed, and his eyes narrowed. “I don't abuse my relationship with them. My money is earned as a tour guide.” Ivan leaned in, winked at Kevin, and continued. “Let me share something with you, my friend. Miracles are good for business.”

“I imagine so,” said Kevin. He didn't relish the idea of miracles being traded like business commodities, but at the same time, he didn't think Ivan's soothsaying could be far from the truth.

Leaning back, Kevin took in the full view of Apparition Hill. A throng of pilgrims were strolling around the town square.

“You wanted to talk?” Ivan sipped his beer, folded his hands on the table, and leaned forward.

“Ivan, I need your help,” Kevin said. “There's a monstrous threat to the Catholic Church. You and I both love the Church and are committed to it.”

“What's this threat?” asked Ivan, his eyes growing bigger.

“I can only tell you that it has to do with the secret of Fatima. I'm here because many trusted observers have claimed that the Fatima and the Medjugorje revelations are related. Does that ring a bell with you?”

Ivan nodded. “Indeed, it does. And I've heard it from the highest authority, if you understand what I'm saying.” He paused, leaned forward, and whispered, “One of the ten secrets is about Fatima, of that I'm certain.”

“Which one, Ivan? And how is it related?”

“I cannot say.”

“Well, perhaps you could arrange for me to meet one of the visionaries?”

Ivan shook his head. “As a rule, they don't talk to outsiders, but perhaps I could convey a message?”

Kevin thought for minute. “Look, I need to know about the secrets they've heard. I've got to find out if and how their secrets are connected to the secret of Fatima. It'll be easier for me to figure it out if Mirjana, or one of the others, is willing to talk directly to me. If it'd help, I'll get a high Vatican official to endorse this.”

“I understand, Kevin. I do. But the visionaries have their own rules.” He pointed to the sky. “I will see what I can do. Could we meet here again tomorrow?”

Kevin had played his hand, gone as far as he could. “Yes. Thanks very much, Ivan. Can we meet in the morning? I'm returning to Rome tomorrow afternoon.”

“Certainly. Ten o'clock. I'll wait for you here.”

When Ivan left, Kevin lingered in Medjugorje. He hadn't made plans for the evening and he was drawn to this place, curious about it. Since 1981 it'd attracted more than twenty million visitors. The Virgin Mary had appeared to three children, who were now grown adults, and she was continuing to appear to some of them daily! The Vatican hadn't officially sanctioned these apparitions as miracles, but on the other hand, they hadn't discredited them, either. To Kevin, it was fascinating.

Like most towns where a religious occurrence had taken on fantastic proportions, the economy was thriving. Lourdes, Fatima, and now Medjugorje, all had a bustling industry of inns, restaurants, and tourist shops.

Kevin walked down the street and went in one of the shops. Rosaries were a big seller, as were statues of the Virgin Mary and a solar-powered miniature of the children waving. Exploitive commercialism was everywhere. Kevin wondered how much of this was a hoax, engineered by the greed of these villagers.

Kevin walked back up Apparition Hill. He was drawn to this mystical place. But when he got there, his thoughts turned to Katie. It would be hard for him to get past her marriage and her having started a life with another man. Even if he left the priesthood, it was too late: The only woman he'd ever loved had committed to someone else.

Kevin wasn't sure about Jimmy. He seemed decent enough, but in Sarajevo, Jimmy had gone out of his way to say as little as possible to him. Perhaps Jimmy was still wary of Kevin's past with Katie. But surely he knew Kevin wasn't still a threat. Something bothered Kevin about him, though. He wasn't sure what.

Kevin dined alone in Mostar at an outdoor café. He was looking forward to getting back to Rome. When he finished his meal and got back to his room, he turned on the TV and clicked on CNN. The death of Pope Quintus II was still the main story. After a while, the coverage became unbearably repetitive. Kevin turned it off and went to bed.

In the morning, Kevin rose, prayed, and dressed in civilian clothes. His three-day beard had turned into a scruffy four-day beard, and his jacket was musty and wrinkled. He didn't care. He had more serious things to worry about. He checked out of the hotel, then drove to Medjugorje and parked near the café. Ivan was there already, seated at an outdoor table and nursing a breakfast beer.

The café was half-filled with tourists and clerics. The sky was bright and the aroma of coffee filled the air.

“Good morning, Kevin.” Ivan rose and shook his hand.

“Good morning, Ivan.” Kevin sat down, gestured for a waiter, and ordered a croissant and a double espresso. “Any news for me?”

Ivan squirmed in his chair. Finally, he leaned over and spoke in hushed tones. “Last night I met with one of the visionaries. I can't say which one.”

Kevin realized that whatever it was that Ivan was going to say, it wasn't going to be easy for him.

“Perhaps this is my imagination, but the visionary seemed to know you,” Ivan said.

“Oh? How is that?” Kevin asked.

“The visionary nodded repeatedly when I spoke of you and your visit and your interest in Fatima.”

“Go on.”

“The visionary said to give you a message. I … I wrote it down.” Ivan fumbled in his jacket pocket for a piece of paper. “Forgive me, but I wrote it in Croatian. I will translate.”

“Yes, please,” Kevin said.

“The visionary said, ‘Dear Father, please understand that Our Lady prays for you. Your true mission begins now. Please be careful. Much rests on your success.' That is the message from the visionary.” Ivan crumpled the paper in his fists and looked up.

“Ivan, are you sure that's all there is? It tells me nothing.”

“I'm sorry, Father. I wrote faithfully what was said.” Ivan hesitated for a second, then continued. “The visionary added something she said was for you personally, Kevin.”

“Oh?”

“She said, Mary has heard you. You will soon find answers to questions about your life.”

With his sophisticated counterintelligence training, Kevin was above emotional entrapment. Rarely in these situations could he be provoked into reacting. But this time, it was hard not to, to maintain his reserve. He shivered. The message was both personal and jarring. After a moment of awkward silence, he said, “I'm very grateful for this message, Ivan. As you indicated, it'll all become clear in time.”

“I hope this has helped,” said Ivan.

“Yes, yes, it has.”

Kevin settled the bill and the two men walked to his car.

“Thank you again, Ivan,” he said. “You have been a true friend.”

Ivan bowed and then put his hand on his heart, adding with a broad smile, “God bless you, Father. And should you know of others coming for a pilgrimage to Medjugorje, please remember me.”

Just before Kevin started the car, his phone buzzed. A text from Katie.
Made it home OK. Got a nanny for little William K. Off to Cayman Islands with Greg next week to set up a new offshore company. Oof!

Something troubled Kevin, and it wasn't just that Katie was off to the Caribbean with her client and occasional dinner companion. It didn't ring right, but he wasn't sure why. Jealousy? Uncertainty? He couldn't rationalize the concern but his instinct had always been his friend. To add to his discomfort, he had only given Katie a perfunctory report on the company she had asked him about, not wanting to bother Toby with it. He searched through his Google history and came up with the names. He called Toby and gave him the names of Greg Maggio and Consolidated Investors United. Toby agreed to do the work and didn't even make a wisecrack about it. Everyone needs a friend like Toby.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The Vatican, Rome, Italy

On the flight back to Rome, Kevin slept the whole way. He was only jarred awake when the plane's landing gear jolted the passengers as its wheels hit the runway. Yawning, he switched his phone on, just as a text buzzed in from Max: “I'm here at the airport.”

“Thanks,” Kevin texted back. “Just landed.”

When Kevin got off the plane and had made his way through customs to exit, he saw Max waiting for him.

“Hey, thanks for picking me up,” said Kevin.

“No problem,” said Max. “Good flight?” He was dressed in a cassock and mozzetta, uniform for those with the title of monsignor.

“I slept the entire way.”

“Was the trip successful?”

“Yes, somewhat,” said Kevin. “I'll explain more later.”

“I'm parked over here,” Max said, motioning to the Alfa Romeo in the parking lot.

The two men walked quietly to Max's car and got in. As Max drove back into the city, following the signposts to the Vatican, they spoke little.

Max commented on how Rome had changed. The pending election of a new pope had given the city an aura so electrifying, you could feel it humming through the streets and cafés.

As Kevin rode in the car, Max reminded him about the last time the two of them had made this trip from the airport.

“No one's trailing us this time,” said Kevin. “I've been looking out.”

“That's good,” said Max. “I don't really enjoy a cat and mouse chase—especially when it involves guns.”

“I know,” said Kevin. “Oh, they're too preoccupied with the conclave to bother with us.”

“Right,” said Max. “Nine days from now, the Assembly of Cardinals who've been summoned will meet to elect the new pope. It usually starts fifteen days after the pope's death.”

“When will he be buried?”

“He's lying in state at St. Peter's, but must be buried within six days of his death. That's Friday.”

“That's right, I remember,” said Kevin. “Cardinal Porter wanted to see me?”

“We're going there now. I've been invited along.”