Twisted Linen (14 page)

Genovi wastes no time preparing his
Gulfstream to return to San Sebastian. For over an hour he has been
patiently waiting in the jet’s common area. His hands are lightly
clasped together over a polished lacquered table, expectantly
praying for Simon to surface from his venture into the Vatican
grottoes.

As if summoned by Genovi’s prayer, Simon
enters the jet hangar, grasping an archival box containing the
treasured Shroud of Turin. Frazzled and a bit disheveled in his
priest garb, Simon quickly carries the box up the stairs and into
the jet cabin.

“Good. I see you were successful,” Genovi
utters with a sense of satisfaction.

Simon slaps the box down on the table, and
then tosses the pectoral cross necklace into Genovi’s lap.

“The image of me impersonating a priest and
stealing from the Vatican is recorded on our surveillance system.
I’m a wanted man now…is that what you consider successful?”

“I’ll deal with that later,” Genovi
cavalierly replies as he gently lays his hands on the box holding
the Shroud.

“You better…I’m trusting you,” Simon
flippantly remarks.

“You know that this is the blood of Jesus
that you just threw down.”

Simon scowls as if to say he doesn’t give a
darn.

“Do you understand the labor of love that
went into making a burial shroud like this some 2000 years
ago?”

“No. But I assume you’re going to explain it
anyway.”

“Yes, I am,” Genovi declares as he gently
runs his hands over the top of the box.

“It was made by highly skilled workers who
laboriously hand-stitched every thread of it, without use of
fasteners of any kind. The fabric is finely twisted linen in honor
of the garments worn by the Hebrew priesthood. The universal use of
shrouds meant the poor would not be differentiated or embar¬rassed
because they could not afford lavish burial clothes. It’s a far cry
from the lavish funerals people give each other today, wouldn’t you
say?”

Simon’s not in the mood for this. His eyes
flutter and roll as he looks away.

Genovi won’t relent and begins to talk
quickly now.

“God’s truth is that wealth and status cannot
be expressed at death. Everything we acquire on this earth is
temporal; nothing comes with us to the next life. That is why there
are no pockets in a burial shroud. It symbolizes the hymn, ‘nothing
in my hands I bring, simply to the cross I cling.’”

“That’s an interesting history lesson,
Genovi. Now how about showing me some emotional intelligence.”

Genovi recognizes his sermon was ill-timed
and attempts to recover. “Well, I think you look good as a
priest.”

“Give me a break,” Simon retorts with a huff,
obviously short of patience. “Have you heard from Baculo? What’s
the plan?”

Genovi tosses Simon a small bag containing a
change of clothes and says, “Get changed, then we'll talk.”

“Here? In the aisle?”

“Use my cabin,” Genovi suggests waving his
hand.

“Oh, now I see. So priests get cabin
privileges? I’m really moving up in the world.”

Simon let’s his sarcasm settle over Genovi
for a moment, but Genovi is unrelenting. Simon grabs the bag and
marches into the back cabin.

As Simon closes the cabin door Genovi takes a
deep breath, then lets out a long sigh. He then calls out to the
pilots, “Gents, we’re all aboard…let's get this bird in the
air!”

* * *

32

Shed for Me

Across the Mediterranean Sea, deep within the
Golden Dawn’s subterranean bunker, Baculo unlocks the door to his
science lab. He calmly strolls toward the lone scientist and places
a vial containing Grace’s blood on the desk.

“The blood…will it do?” Baculo asks.

The scientist picks up the vial to examine
the quantity.

"Yes, it’s fine.”

“Are you making the required progress?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve figured it out. Things
are moving along quickly now.”

“Good,” Baculo grunts as he turns to
leave.

“But I'll need the third specimen of blood to
complete the serum,” the scientist calls out.

“Soon…you will have it soon,” Baculo says,
not breaking stride. “Get back to work. I must pray.”

Baculo exits the lab and locks the door
behind him.

Baculo glides down the hallway of holding
cells, as if he is floating over the floor. He drags his hand along
the passing cell doors while reciting a passage from the Book of
Revelation: “He'll wipe away every tear and be their God. And there
will be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying, nor pain, for the
old order of things has passed away.”

As Baculo passes by Grace’s cell door, he
taps his knuckle twice on her door and emphasizes the "nor crying"
phrase. By the next cell door, where the scientist’s wife is held,
he taps his knuckle twice and emphasizes the "nor pain" phrase.
God’s Word has been spoken, now it’s time to pray.

Within Baculo’s prayer closet sits a small
table covered with a twisted linen cloth. On the table is a slice
of unleavened bread and a small communion cup that’s filled with a
thick, red substance. Next to the cup lays the large syringe he
used to collect Grace’s blood.

Baculo steps toward the table, then pauses in
front of it while he pulls his hood over his head. With his hands
extended forward, palms up, he begins to silently pray. After a
moment of prayer, Baculo drops to his knees; prayer is over, now
it’s time for an unholy communion.

“Father, this is your body shed for me.”

Baculo tears a piece of bread and eats
it.

“Father, this is her blood shed for me.”

Baculo gulps a mouthful of Grace's blood and
swallows, allowing her blood to slowly slide down his throat. As he
savors the moment his eyes flutter in ecstasy and his body begins
to twitch. He then lifts his chin upward like he is trying to
discern a vision just coming into focus. Baculo now sees something
we cannot, and he smiles a wicked smile. In a heightened sense of
euphoria he reaches toward the vision, trying to touch the abyss
before him.

* * *

33

Dr. Seed

Simon emerges from Genovi’s private cabin, no
longer wearing the priest garb. Genovi blankly gazes forward while
casually fiddling with his phone, as if he just ended a phone
call.

“Was that Baculo?” Simon demands with
intensity.

“Yes,” Genovi responds flatly. “Take a
seat.”

“Is Grace ok?”

“Yes, they’re willing to make the trade.”

“How do you know she's ok? Did you talk to
her?” Simon asks in earnest.

“No…now listen to me. They want us separated
for the exchange.”

“Separated…where?”

“They want you at the San Telmo Museum.
That’s where they’ll release her.

“Where will you be?” Simon demands.

“They want me at The Cave of Souls.
Apparently, I need to terminate a relationship with an old
friend.”

“That's the last thing we’re going to do!
Call him back. Negotiate a different plan.”

“I think you blew our negotiations when you
told Baculo you'd
gut
him.”

“Yeah…I still might.”

Genovi tries to placate Simon. “I'll make
sure you and Grace are free before I confront them.”

“This is ridiculous! We’re playing right into
their hands.”

“We might be, but as long as I have the
Shroud, they’ll have to free Grace.”

Simon slides his hands back over his temples
and down the back of his neck, trying to deal with constantly
changing variables. As the emotional strain builds inside him, he
blurts out, “I don’t get it. What is this cave?”

“I assume it’s a sacred place where they
conjure up spirits and conduct their rituals.”

“And who will be there?”

“Other than the Chief Priest, I don’t
care.”

“And Baculo…do you think he’ll be there?”

“No, he wants to meet you at the museum with
Grace.”

A vicious look comes over Simon’s face. No
more meetings, no more talking. He wants to track down Baculo and
kill him.

“What time?” Simon demands. “What time does
he want to meet me?”

“Late tonight. They won't tell me
exactly.”

Simon looks at his watch.

“So I should have at least an hour after we
land.”

“To do what?” Genovi asks in angst.

“To get ahead of this guy,” Simon declares
with an overcaffeinated glint in his eye.

Simon snatches his tablet computer from the
nearby seat.

Genovi reacts with words of warning: “Don't
do anything stupid. Let's follow their lead. They don't need Grace
once they have the Shroud.”

Simon quickly logs in to the Vatican security
system and begins typing feverishly. He wants to gather more
information on Baculo. Maybe his alias Magick will reveal
something.

“I should have done this at the start. I’m
not letting this guy control the situation any longer.”

Simon types “Magick” into the alias search
field, and the name Dr. Garard Seed, PhD appears on the screen.

Simon is not surprised that the mainframe’s
algorithm found some type of social correlation because all
information communicated over a phone, typed into a computer, or
posted on a social profile page is gathered and centralized on
supercomputers. Through casual communication people inadvertently
disclose intricate details about their relationships and opinions,
and using data mining algorithms a person’s in-depth profile comes
to light. There’s no hiding, and the
sheeple
willingly
accept it as the new normal. They have no choice.

The search results state that Dr. Garard Seed
led the Reproductive Genetics Unit at Georgetown University decades
ago.

“Have you looked into this guy, Genovi?”

Genovi apprehensively looks away, and then
says, “No…I haven’t.”

“It says that this sick bastard cloaked his
research experiments while posing as a fertility doctor. In the
1980’s, he led the way in artificial insemination. He apparently
used his own semen in hundreds of unsuspecting female
patients.”

Simon continues to read silently to himself:
Dr. Seed expressed intentions to be the first to clone a man. He
believed God intended man to become
one
with God using
scientific methods.

“That sounds like the Golden Dawn,” Simon
mumbles inwardly.

After Dr. Seed lost his medical license, he
fled to Europe and became one of the early founders of the Human
Cloning Organization whose research and experimentation were
privately funded.

“Genovi, did you ever follow their money
trail?”

Genovi shakes his head and firmly says,
“No.”

“Where is that paper slip?” Simon says,
talking to himself.

He pulls the creased paper from his pocket
and types the bank account number into a reverse ID lookup query.
Within seconds the result is returned – the account reveals a
relationship with the Banco Nacional de San Sebastian.

“Well, how about that!” Simon says in an
insolent way.

The Cloning Organization holds its finances
with the Banco Nacional, managed by a Mr. Aaron Diego.

“Let’s take a look at Aaron Diego,” Simon
says as his fingers dance over the tablet’s touchscreen
keyboard.

Simon gets his confirmation: Aaron Diego
married Dr. Seed’s granddaughter. Aaron currently works as a
private banker serving the wealthy at the Banco Nacional.

“Alright! So, now I need to find a pressure
point. How shall I squeeze Mr. Aaron Diego?” Simon mumbles, still
talking to himself.

Genovi’s expressions and movements cannot
hide his nervousness. He walks forward a few steps and then turns
back to say something, but before he can, Simon continues, “Yes,
here…Aaron has a brother.”

Simon crosses his arms with a tight smile as
he leans back in the chair.

“Well how about that…the family has a
religious bent to them. His brother is a priest in San Sebastian.”
Simon says with an arrogant smirk.

At that moment, the pilot comes over the
intercom to announce it’s time to prepare the cabin for landing:
they’ll be on the ground in a few minutes.

“I’m on it,” Simon says as he tosses the
tablet aside.

Simon confidently looks at Genovi, who
blankly stares back.

“What’s that look for?” Simon quips. “I know
where to find Father Diego. I’m going to pay a visit to his church
and kindly ask for a private introduction to his brother.”

“Simon, slow down. Think this through…this
could be disastrous.”

Simon can’t wait to have a chat with the good
Father: a little chat about God’s Kingdom, a friendly discussion
about his brother Aaron, the Golden Dawn’s finances, and how Aaron
might more efficiently use God’s money in exchange for Grace.

* * *

34

Forgive Me
Father

Under the warm glow of early evening
twilight, Simon leaps onto the front stoop of a small and very old
church in the outskirts of San Sebastian. The church windows are
adorned with ornate stained glass, while its entrance is dominated
by two large wooden doors. The doors are currently propped open, as
they are most of the time.

Simon strides through the doorway into what
appears to be a vacant church. Suddenly, a noticeably upset woman
steps out of the confessional booth at the front of the church; she
has been crying. Simon and the women make awkward eye contact, then
she looks down and scurries toward the exit. Simon slowly walks
forward, offering a gentle smile just in case she looks up. After
she passes, Simon pauses to look back, confirming that she exited
the church.
Maybe I should confess my sins to the good Father
Diego
, Simon thinks.