The Secret of Fatima (31 page)

Security men leapt onto the podium, throwing their bodies over the leaders.

“My God!” Max said, leaning forward.

“Please, God, no!” shouted Kevin at the TV screen.

“Good God Almighty!” said Toby. “They're trying to assassinate the pope!”

MC stared at the TV with shock all over her face.

The pope remained standing, immobile, and was shoved to the side by his security guard. But he insisted on staying where he was. Standing. The leaders of Iran and Israel lay covered on the ground, shielded by their security guards, while a group of unidentified men, guns drawn, shoved through the crowd.

The camera captured a close-up of the shooter, a young priest with dark hair and a tan, oval face, dressed in a black cassock. He continued to shout in Italian, his pistol waving wildly in the air, when one of the security guards, waiting for a clear target, shot him in the chest. The crowd fled from his area, stampeding the doors.

Max made the Sign of the Cross and cried out, “I hope His Holiness is safe.”

The cameras focused on the stage, where the two visiting leaders had already been escorted backstage. At the lectern, His Holiness, Pope Linus II, remained standing, flanked by two Vatican policemen.

The gunman lay immobile and was presumed dead. Now with some degree of calm restored, the TV commentators re-emerged from hiding, trying to make sense of what had just happened. All were thankful that no one besides the shooter had been harmed. The leaders of Israel and Iran were safe and secured in undisclosed locations. The only one standing, still exposed, was the pope.

Commentators marveled at the pope's courage, his
sang froid
, as the anchor for France One Television put it.

“An awesome display of courage,” added the BBC.

“The Jews have a word for a guy like that,” Toby said to no one in particular. “A
mensch
. This pope rocks.”

MC hadn't said a word. She was still staring blankly at the screen, as if she'd seen a ghost.

“Mary Catherine?” Kevin called out, as he suddenly noticed her white face and blank eyes.

She didn't respond.

“MARY CATHERINE!” Kevin shouted.

MC jumped.

“I'm sorry,” she said faintly. “I … I recognized the priest.”

Toby shook his head. “Oh, really? Another one of your buddies?”

“Lay off, Toby,” Kevin said. Turning back to MC, he realized she was not just shocked by what had happened. She was in shock.

“They're crazy … they're all crazy,” she said, shaking her head.

Max said, “You're just figuring that out?”

Kevin lowered the volume on the TV and stepped up. “Listen up, everyone. It looks like Opus Mundi isn't going to stop. They're hell-bent on killing the pope and getting one of their own as the leader of the Church. We've no idea how many more shooters are out there. Unless we put a stop to it, one of them is going to succeed.”

He turned to MC, who'd buried her face in her hands. “MC, we need to get a list of everyone in Opus Mundi you know.”

She nodded.

“Maybe the missing pages to the secret will help,” Toby said.

Kevin nodded. He didn't want to let on that he was under orders from the top man. The missing pages couldn't help because no one would see them. Only the pope could read the missing pages.
Oh hell
, he thought.
Toby won't mind
.

The group continued to watch the news. CNN replayed the shooting and the pope's heroic reaction over and over again.

Finally, Kevin grabbed the remote and turned the TV off.

“We need to plan our mission to get those pages,” Kevin said. “Gather 'round, everyone.” He moved to the kitchen table.

Kevin started drawing on a yellow legal pad. “Here's where it is,” he said, pointing to a spot on his drawing. “With a few tools, and a lightweight folding ladder, tomorrow night we're going in.”

Chapter Forty-Three

Seville, Spain

Early Sunday morning, Toby and Kevin checked in on their prisoners. They were still tied up and weak. They gave them water and gagged them again. “If you've lied to us, Roberto, there'll be dire consequences,” Toby said.

“I didn't lie,” Roberto said. “Please, let us go.”

“We'll be back later,” Kevin said.

Checking their ropes were secure, they left their prisoners and locked the door.

Kevin and Toby went back to the suite where Max had stayed with MC. Kevin and Max left for Mass at the Cathedral. Since arriving in Seville, they'd not dressed as priests. Today would be no exception. Wearing slacks and a jacket, they looked like ordinary citizens attending Mass. Of course, Kevin and Max had a major objective: to find the missing pages of the secret of Fatima.

Father Roberto had told them the secret of Fatima was hidden where no one would find it, inside Christopher Columbus's tomb, in the Cathedral of Seville.

“Those bastards are ghoulish,” Max commented.

Entering the cathedral through a side door, Kevin and Max settled in a pew in front of the Capilla Mayor, separated from other rows by a black iron grill facade. Behind the grill stood the altar with six large silver candelabras and behind the altar, the well-known gilded carved altarpiece.

Kneeling to pray, Kevin couldn't take his eyes off the gold altarpiece. All he was thinking about was recovering the lost pages of the secret of Fatima.

Deciding to skip the service, Kevin whispered to Max he was leaving. But before exiting, he turned for a look at Columbus's tomb. Then he went to the gift shop and bought an oversized book about the cathedral with full-color photos. Only one page interested him: a large four-color photo of the tomb. He waited to examine and study it before returning later that night.

Returning to the hotel, Kevin paused in a park near the Cathedral to study the photo and read about Christopher Columbus's resting place. The tomb had been in the cathedral since 1899. Before that, it'd been in Havana. Part of a larger sculpture, the tomb was high up, resting atop the shoulders of four larger-than-life figures representing the four kingdoms of Spain: Aragon, Castile, Leon, and Navarre. It was befittingly majestic.

Father Roberto had said the missing pages were inside Christopher Columbus's tomb. But to get to the tomb, Kevin would have to climb above the four towering statues.

Kevin started back to his hotel, the book tucked under his arm. Entering the suite, he found MC by herself on the living room sofa, sobbing inconsolably.
Why was MC always crying? Hard to believe this was the same vixen who'd tried to poison him.

“What's wrong?” he implored.

“Oh Kevin, I need to talk,” she pleaded.

“Go ahead,” Kevin said, calmly.

“May I speak to you as my confessor?”

“No. Let's just talk.” Kevin sat down by her. Her confessor? He couldn't be bound by its strict confidentiality.

“Kevin, as a young nun I had an indiscretion,” she began.

Kevin thought,
So what else is new?

“There's a young priest at Opus Mundi from Perugia. His name is Francesco. When I first arrived in Rome, he took me under wing. I was lonely and vulnerable. He was the one who introduced me to Opus Mundi. I joined, mostly because he'd swept me off my feet. We had an affair. I thought I loved him, but reflecting on it now, I was just feminine bait for seduction, and for his recruiting efforts. I think he really just wanted me to join up.”

“We all make mistakes,” said Kevin. “Why bring that up now?”

“Because he just called me. He's scared. He says that Alameda—one of the big OM leaders—accused him of helping me. OM now considers me a traitor; anybody who helps me in turn becomes a traitor.”

“What's he scared of, MC?”

“His life! They'll kill him! He wants my help. He says OM is planning something big in the States.”

“In the U.S.?”

“That's what he said.”

If OM's planning a U.S. operation, it might be retaliation against the Vatican for electing an American pope. On the other hand, Opus Mundi was wildly crazy, erratic, and unpredictably dangerous.

Kevin took MC's hand. “Listen MC, call this Francesco, tell him you'll help him. I want you to fly back to Rome tonight. Toby will find a safe place for you to stay. When we're finished here tomorrow, we'll join you there.”

MC nodded. “I'm frightened, Kevin,” she whimpered putting her arms around him.

Kevin patted her tenderly on the back. “You'll be okay. Don't worry. I'll make your flight arrangements.”

Kevin called Toby, who was souvenir shopping near the cathedral. He filled him in. Toby said he knew a safe house in Rome for MC, and he'd arrange for security for her.

“It's urgent, Toby. When can you have this for her?” asked Kevin.

“Is tonight soon enough?” Toby asked.

“Perfect,” Kevin said.

“I'll be back in a few,” said Toby, “and you can tell me about it then. I'm almost finished shopping.”

“Don't forget the glow-in-the-dark Mary statues,” Kevin added.

“You're right—got 'em.”

Once back in the suite, it didn't take long for Toby to make the arrangements. Kevin, Max, and Toby drove MC to the Seville airport for her flight to Rome. Kevin gave her final instructions and a warm embrace.

MC wiped her eyes and smiled.

Returning to the hotel for the equipment, they agreed to meet at the cathedral after its ten p.m. closing. Kevin and Toby both dressed all in black, slacks and sweaters. Toby carried the satchel with tools, and Kevin toted the portable ladder, concealed in an oversized nylon artist's folio. Max was assigned to be the lookout, which suited him. He didn't like this burglary idea, even if they were retrieving “secret” pages that'd prevent worldwide catastrophe.

Pointing to the map he'd drawn, Kevin also showed them the picture in the oversized photo book he'd bought. “Here's where we enter, through this side door,” he said. “It's a simple lock we can break easily. Max, you stay outside. Good you're dressed as a priest. No one will question your presence.” Kevin smiled. “You'll have a walkie-talkie to warn us if anything goes wrong.”

Max nodded.

They left the hotel together and walked to the cathedral separately. Not a soul was on the street. At this late hour, most Spaniards were just starting dinner.

Near the cathedral, Toby pointed at the Doorway of Forgiveness, located on the quiet Calle Alemanes. The doorway led to a courtyard and a grove of orange trees, a memento left by the Arabs of a different era.

Max stayed discreetly at a distance, sitting on a bench under the orange trees, clutching his walkie-talkie, just in case.

In a matter of seconds, Toby unlocked the first door and approached a second door leading from the courtyard into the church. He unlocked it quickly.

Kevin looked up at the cathedral's majestic vaults, barely visible in the dark. He motioned to Toby to follow him across one of the middle aisles to the Christopher Columbus monument.

As they crossed, Kevin blessed himself, glancing at the chancel, the cathedral within the cathedral, where he'd prayed earlier.

“It's higher than I'd thought,” Toby commented as they came upon the Columbus monument, his voice echoing resoundingly throughout the empty cathedral. He looked up at the four tall bronze statues carrying the coffin. “Let's get started,” he whispered, opening his satchel.

Unzipping the leather portfolio, Toby assembled the aluminum ladder, placing it on the pedestal between two of the bronze statues. Kevin held it steady with one hand, a flashlight in the other. Toby climbed to the top of the coffin.

“Hand me the crowbar,” he said.

Lifting it out of the bag, Kevin handed it to Toby. Using both hands, Toby applied pressure on the lid to move it. Once open, Toby stood on top of the small ladder and peered down into the tomb. There was a putrid stench; the smell of death, which mysteriously lingers.

“Kevin, there's room for both of us up here.”

Kevin steadied the ladder and cautiously climbed the three rungs. Now they both stood precariously on the top, peering down into the tomb. To their dismay, they could see nothing but the bony remains of a body wrapped in a dark, decayed, rotting cloth. There was no sign of paper. Or of anything that might contain papers.

Using a crowbar, Toby calmly and methodically moved the remains. Both Toby and Kevin pointed flashlights on all the corners of the dusty, smelly tomb.

Nothing
.

“Damn,” Toby said.

“Wait a minute,” Kevin muttered, aiming his beam on the crown of the head of the leader of Aragon. “Roberto referred to Columbus as
capo
. In Italian that means ‘head'. Maybe he wasn't talking about the body of Columbus, but about the hiding place.” Kevin flickered the light around the crown, onto the statue of the leader of Aragon.