Chapter Fifty-One
New York
The interrogation of former Mafia chieftain John Spedino was held in a secure room inside the facility where the godfather was incarcerated. The U.S. Attorney for Manhattan attended along with Underwood, Spedino’s attorney and the Deputy Director of the FBI in Washington. It was a high-profile cast for an important meeting.
A court reporter created a record of every word spoken in the room. Two tape recorders provided redundancy. No one would miss a word of this testimony.
Spedino’s attorney said his client wished to make a statement to begin the proceedings, after which the usual question-and-answer session could occur. The parties agreed and Spedino began to talk.
And talk, and talk. John Spedino was an educated man and an eloquent speaker. In front of him lay a notepad on which he’d made several pages of entries. He referred to it often. He quietly described his long-time relationship with Dominic Conti, from the days when the Cardinal was a young cleric in Rome until now. The mobster talked about the Templars manuscript and Conti’s obsession to have it at any cost. He filled in the missing conversation that occurred just after the bombing, the part Conti had deleted from the tape recording he gave the FBI.
Obviously John Spedino was coming clean because of his enmity toward his former friend. He had no need to further implicate himself, but he had chosen this path for one reason – revenge. His career as a criminal was finished. The rest of his life would be in a prison cell. And if it was to be, he was going to take his Judas to the cross with him. Regardless, those in the room were surprised at how calmly and quietly he described how he’d masterminded the Fifth Avenue bombing and the deaths of eleven people, the killing of Arthur Borland and the attempted murder of Nicole Farber. Those were personal, the godfather pointed out. They had nothing to do with Dominic Conti. Those were paybacks for previous wrongs against him.
By the end of the day John Spedino had handed Dominic Cardinal Conti to the authorities, wrapped, bow-tied and on a silver plate. The cleric was in this up to his eyeballs.
The godfather slept well that night in his prison cell. Ah, but revenge was a satisfying accomplishment.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Vatican City
Dominic Conti was at his desk in the Vatican early. He was close to a solution. On his notepad he outlined points. He would transfer ten million Euros from the bank to a personal account he’d set up in a tax haven country. Then he’d travel to Sicily, birthplace of the Mafia. He’d be incognito – no one would recognize him as a priest. He’d ask around, throw some cash at the right people and come up with a name. He’d hire a hit man who could arrange the whole thing. For enough Euros that man would kill Spedino, Sadler and the nameless librarian.
Cardinal Conti was a desperate man. Thoughts had flown through his mind all night and he’d prudently jotted each one down. Sometimes the best ideas came to you in the middle of the night, he’d thought. He had them all on his notepad. Crazy ideas, ranging from hiring a demolitions man to blow up the Monument Club in London with Brian and the librarian in it, to using his priestly garb to get into the prison in New York City and hire a killer to assault John Spedino. Some of them were easier than others to wrap his mind around, but he wrote them all down.
Around a quarter to nine a knock came on his office door and his secretary entered. Conti glanced up, then went back to work on his idea sheet.
“Get me a cup of coffee when you have a chance, please,” Conti said without raising his head.
“Eminence, there are some men here to see you.”
What? Why would the secretary allow visitors into Conti’s office unannounced? What on earth was he thinking?
The Cardinal glanced up, looked across his massive desk and down the long office to the door where his faithful assistant stood next to three persons – two Swiss Guards with pistols drawn and Frederico Messina, the head of the Gendarmerie Corps of Vatican City. He became lightheaded as bile rose into his throat.
“The Pope wishes to have a word with you, Eminence,” Messina said, smiling. “Please come with us.”
Conti glanced down at his desk. “I’ll just clean this up,” he muttered as he picked up the notepad full of his plans and ideas.
Messina strode quickly to the desk and pulled the pad from the cleric’s hand. “Please leave everything just as it is, Cardinal Conti. We’ll take care of your things.” Conti’s shoulders sank. That little notepad would be the death of him.
The Cardinal walked slowly around his desk, taking in all the personal mementos in the bookshelves of his office. Here was a record of his life – pictures with Popes and world leaders, little keepsakes he’d picked up in his travels, things he’d considered important.
He knew this was the last time he’d ever see them. It made him sad. Given his religious upbringing, he should have been sorry he’d betrayed everything a man of God stood for. That thought crossed his mind but Dominic was sad because he hadn’t had time to finish the Templars project. He knew what was in the pit. He just wasn’t sure how to let the world know about it. He wanted the fame and glory for revealing it, but he hadn’t finished planning how to keep it from hurting the Church.
Dominic Cardinal Conti was deeply saddened, but not because of things he had done. He was sad he’d gotten caught.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Nova Scotia
Brian met Harold Mulhaney at the Oak Island Inn at six am for breakfast. It was a gorgeous fall morning and they were ready to begin excavating the Money Pit. The crew had moved heavy equipment into place over the weekend and today at eight everything would commence.
The crater on the northeast side of Oak Island looked like a construction site by nine am. Heavy equipment moved earth from the bottom of the indention and a boring truck sat idling nearby, waiting for its chance to move into place and begin excavating. The place was noisy – Brian and Harold watched a dozen men engaged in a variety of tasks.
Brian’s cellphone rang. He saw the London number and walked to Harold’s pickup. He climbed in, shut the door and answered the call. It was significantly quieter inside the cab.
Jeffrey Montfort’s usually cheerful voice was positively bubbly today. “Good afternoon, my good man!” the librarian said.
“You sound chipper!”
“Oh yes. I am chipper. I’ve found something I overlooked earlier. I don’t know if you even knew about this or not, but I’ve got something that’s going to make your life a lot easier!”
“Don’t keep me in suspense. What is it, Jeffrey?”
“When I first met you we perused a list of the documents and books Arthur Borland had viewed during his hours at the library. I believe I mentioned there were a few odds and ends he’d requested, but you and I focused on the Templars manuscripts. That was my fault, dear boy. I led you astray, I’m afraid.”
Brian could hear the excitement in Jeffrey Montfort’s voice. The man wanted to reveal his information to Brian his way, in his own time, so Brian resisted the urge to hurry him up.
“I can’t wait to hear what you’ve found.”
“Do you recall Lord Borland mentioning anything about a man named Simeon Lynds? And that we have his diary from the early nineteenth century?”
“Absolutely. We discussed it briefly. Arthur said Simeon was either a Templar himself or he was involved with those who were. I think Arthur believed Simeon Lynds found out from the Templars what was in the pit.”
“I’ve read the entire diary in the past twenty-four hours. Didn’t get much sleep last night, frankly. I couldn’t put it down because I knew you were right there at the Money Pit. I knew today you’d be standing on the very ground where Simeon Lynds searched for the treasure in 1804. And I found something, Brian. This is so exciting I couldn’t wait to call you, but I had to get my friend from Cambridge University to do one more decoding project. Then I had to bide my time and wait until it was daylight on your side of the pond. Now it’s time to reveal my secret!”<
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Brian was getting caught up in the man’s exuberance. Suddenly he was jolted back to reality by a harsh rap on the passenger window of the pickup. Harold Mulhaney was standing just outside the truck.
“One sec, Jeffrey. Have to deal with something. I’ll be right back.”
He put the phone on mute and opened the car door. Mulhaney told him the bulldozer had scraped the land down about three feet and they had uncovered a much smaller circular crater. “OK with you if we pull the dozer back and let the boring start there?”
Brian gave his approval and returned to Jeffrey. “OK, I’m back. Ready to hear your secret!”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Vatican City
Dominic Cardinal Conti sat in the same chair at the Pope’s desk where Frederico Messina had interrogated him a few weeks ago. His life was crumbling before his very eyes. He had even vomited in the hallway a few minutes ago as he was being brought here. Some young priests had seen the whole thing – policemen surrounding him, the indignity of throwing up and soiling one’s priestly garb, and the shame of what these young priests would ultimately learn about him. It was all over. Dominic knew that. He just didn’t know what was next.
After the usual formalities of greeting the pontiff, Conti was told to sit. The three policemen stood at the back of the Pope’s office. The pontiff said, “Dominic, I feel certain you know why you’re here. I’m willing to hear your confession if you feel the need.”
“I do, Holiness. I have grievously sinned.”
The Pope asked the officers to wait outside his office. He came around his desk and sat in a chair by the disgraced Cardinal. He held Conti’s hands in his own and the man told him everything. It took almost half an hour, so long that Officer Messina had quietly peeked in the door two times just to be sure everything was all right. Conti had cried real tears, not tears of contrition but tears of remorse…that his life of finery, wealth and stature was over.
When the confession was finished the officers returned.
“You’re going to be arrested now, Dominic,” the Pope said gently. “I’m removing you from all your duties in the Church and with the bank. I’m greatly disappointed in you. You’ve disgraced the priesthood and shamed yourself. You’ve cast a stain on the Church. Is there anything else you’d like to say before these men take you away?”
“There is, Holiness. It’s for your ears only. May I approach you?”
The officers instantly went on alert, fearful the deranged man might harm the Pope. But the gentle pontiff waved them away and walked around his desk. He spoke soothingly to the obviously agitated, mentally fragile cleric.
“Come, Dominic. Speak, my child.”
Conti whispered in the pontiff’s ear. The Pope’s eyes opened wide. He was clearly startled at what Conti had said. “How can you be sure?” he stammered. “Are you sure?”
The disgraced Cardinal whispered, “It’s true, Holiness. A man named Brian Sadler is going to find what the Templars hid in the pit. The relics. I’ve finally figured out what they are. What they must be. There’s no other answer, given the information passed down for centuries in code.”
Conti looked in the Pope’s eyes and said again, “The relics in the pit are the bones of Jesus Christ.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
London
The diary of Simeon Lynds had given Arthur Borland information on his work at Oak Island and his possible ties to the Knights Templars. But Borland apparently hadn’t read the entire volume. It was excruciatingly detailed and tended to be repetitive – the librarian stayed with it to the end only because he felt it might provide a clue.
And what a clue he had found.
A dozen pages from the end of the diary was a page that had been inserted into the diary, presumably by Lynds himself. It was full of symbols – the very same ones that appeared throughout the Knights Templars manuscripts.
“Brian, I can’t tell you how excited I was when I came across this page! I laughed, I cried, I jumped up and down! Thank God no one was here to see me – I was acting like a schoolboy.
“I immediately went back to the Templars manuscript and confirmed the symbols were identical. To me that means that Simeon Lynds was a Templar for sure. He was there when the author of the Templars diaries wrote some of the entries and he definitely knew how to read the encoded pages. He knew the Most Holy Relics were in the pit because he had decoded the same pages you and I did!”
“You’ve definitely got my attention, Jeffrey. When do I get to find out what Simeon Lynds’ page of code said?”
“Soon, very soon. I’m so excited to tell you about this. Let me give you just a bit more background then I’ll reveal the secret!”
Montfort said he immediately scanned and emailed the page of code to his professor friend at Cambridge for decrypting. Since there was only one page the decoding went very quickly and Jeffrey had his answer within two hours.
“While you slept, Brian, I read about something you need. Something critical to the project you’re working on at this very moment!”
Brian waited. Jeffrey’s penchant for the dramatic, especially coupled with his unbridled enthusiasm, could be frustrating at times. But Brian didn’t want to stifle his excitement. The man probably hadn’t had this much fun in years.
“All right, Jeffrey. Shall we have a drum roll?”
“Ah, if only we could. I wish I were there with you to see your face…but enough! I know you’re ready to hear what I learned. You of course know that the Money Pit has booby-traps – two tunnels that bring seawater from Smith’s Cove to the pit itself. Whenever a dig gets to a certain level, the pit always floods. It always happens and no syndicate, no matter how much money they spent, ever learned how to stop it. That single thing is the reason no one has ever gotten to the bottom of the pit…and the bottom of the mystery, for that matter.” He laughed.
“Simeon Lynds was a Templar, and he had secret knowledge about the Money Pit. Why, you say? Because on that one sheet of coded symbols, the sheet he stuck in his diary, he revealed the way to turn off the tunnels that flood the pit.”
Brian was stunned. This was monumental. With this information they would succeed in finding what was in the bottom of the pit. The Most Holy Relics of the Knights Templars. Whatever they were.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Vatican City
A brief press release from the Vatican made world news. The two-paragraph statement stated that Dominic Cardinal Conti, head of the Institute for the Works of Religion, had been relieved of all duties by the Pope effective immediately. The Gendarmerie Corps of Vatican City had arrested Cardinal Conti that day. He was charged with misappropriation of funds from the Vatican Bank for the purpose of engaging in criminal activity. An investigation was underway to determine possible links to other crimes, including the Fifth Avenue bombing.
Back in the Gendarmerie office, Frederico Messina summarized the information he had gathered on the Cardinal’s crimes, including his complicity in the bombing of Bijan Rarities in New York. The notepad Conti had been holding when he was arrested was particularly damning. It showed his future plan to arrange the murders of Brian Sadler, the librarian from London and the Mafia godfather John Spedino. Conti was in serious trouble.
In addition to removing Conti from his duties with the Bank, the Vatican issued two papal edicts. The first was a decree from the Pope removing Dominic Cardinal Conti from his office as head of the secretive Knights Templars. Secondly, in a sweeping move the Pope directed the Knights Templars be disbanded. Henceforth it would be a crime to assemble in the name of the Order. Interestingly, it was the second time in history a Pope had disbanded the Templars. The last time this happened the Pope had burned them all. This time it was a bit more civilized although the penalty for anyone caught disobeying the pontiff’s order was severe – excommunication from the Church.
The Vatican has only rudimentary cells for the temporary detention of prisoners. The holding area is usually reserved for unr
uly visitors who break the rules or fail to respect the property of the Holy See. At the Pope’s order, Dominic Conti sat in one of these cells. Ordinarily he would have been immediately transferred to the City of Rome’s jail to await arraignment but the pontiff wanted to know more about this thing with Jesus’ bones. He wanted to find out what Dominic knew and how he’d found it. So the disgraced Cardinal sat in a tiny cell while his bored guard read a newspaper in the next room.
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The Pope prayed. It was the same prayer he had offered perhaps a hundred times since this distasteful episode with Dominic Conti had reared its ugly head. It was a prayer for guidance.
The matter of the bones of Jesus was monumental. It would impact Christianity like nothing else ever had. The very basis of this religion was that Jesus Christ was immortal – the actual Son of God. Although he became a man, all Christians believe he died, was resurrected and ascended to heaven to live with his Father.
There could be no bones of Jesus.
If there were bones then he wasn’t the Son of God. He was just a man who wasn’t immortal at all.
Atheists, Muslims, Jews and Christians alike would be interested in this little dilemma, for strikingly different reasons. As leader of the Catholic Church the pontiff had to bear responsibility for handling this affair. No Pope in history had ever faced such a problem. This one prayed once more for guidance. Then he ordered Dominic Cardinal Conti to be brought to his office.
The men conferred in private for over an hour. Conti told the Pope what he read on the Templars’ encoded pages. He said the American Brian Sadler had read them too and he was going to Nova Scotia to find what was in the Money Pit.
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