by Ken Fry
“I understand, boss. That’s a deal… say no more. I never thought I’d end up batting for Him upstairs.” He pointed his finger skywards.
“Yes,” Nicholas replied, unable to keep a rare spark of amusement from his voice. “Indeed, God does move in mysterious ways.” He stubbed out his cigarette and reached for the brandy. “There is one other thing…” The cardinal dug into his desk drawer and pulled out two cell phones. He handed one to Cracker. “These are burner cell phones. You may have seen them used in the movies or TV shows like Breaking Bad. I have for you a number where you can reach me, and I also have your number. Both are written on the packaging, which you will destroy back at your hotel. The numbers are temporary and totally disposable. The app allows you to remain anonymous. Once your mission is finished, you must destroy the phone. These phones were purchased in cash and has no service provider, which means that there is no record connecting you or me to the phone numbers to begin with. Do you understand this?”
“You’re taking the piss again, boss. I’ve used them for over a year. There are only two numbers this phone recognises and that’s the two you passed on to me. Correct?”
Nicholas looked surprised. “Forgive me, Mr. Cracker. I should have realised.”
“Forget it. If that’s it, call your driver and I’ll be on my way. Expect to hear from me soon.”
Nicholas pressed his desk buzzer to summon Father Xavier.
* * *
Back at the Vatican Style Hotel, Cracker stood by the window looking out at the distant view of St. Peter’s. In one hand he held a cold beer, and in the other, a photograph he had extracted from the file. It was a clear facial shot of a man entering a coffee bar, and its name was clearly visible, Antico Caffè Greco. Attached to this and to hosts of other material were addresses and route directions from his hotel to numerous locations. The name of the man was Inspector Leonardo Rizzo.
Holy shit! This guy’s from the fuzz and he wants me to whack him. No wonder the cardinal was so bleeding cagey. It’s almost an f12.
Cracker downed his drink at speed and opened another. A hit on a policeman, and an inspector at that, was something he had never encountered before. Minor dickheads were his usual fare, but this knob was senior stuff, and Nicholas, a professional ‘sky pilot,’ was asking him to waste him. No wonder the contract payment was so generous.
After a lot of thought, Cracker decided he had to know a lot more about the man, his life, his routines, and behaviour patterns. This was going to be challenging.
29
Glastonbury
Several days had passed and nothing had been discovered apart from the odd coin and pieces of ancient pottery. It was enough to confirm that the area had been inhabited centuries before, if not longer. There was a silence amongst the team as they had such high hopes, but as yet… nothing.
The LIDAR equipment was assembled and the link and cooperation with the drone was in place. The professor tested it and it worked well. It had been decided that they would work from the furthest edge of the distant and surrounding fields, before reaching the Cretan structure of the Tor itself. Fergy had said he didn’t think there would be much chance of finding anything beyond a certain height.
Miriam remained silent about that. Fergy had yet to learn of her visionary experiences. If what she had seen at the top of the Tor was real, she was sure they would find something there.
Annoyingly so, they had to endure the presence of Vincenzo who was forever poking his camera lens at everything. He was acting like a bleating lost sheep without his companion, Cracker. Where he had gone, Vincenzo wasn’t saying. Not that the team cared a jot about the man.
The furthest extent of the longest field was close to Kelvin’s hidden grove, the Grove of Taranus or Taran – the Bull and Thunder god, as Miriam had discovered in her researches. What was confusing her was the clash she was experiencing between science and what seemed like a world of fantasy, found only in films or books like Dan Brown’s.
A shout from Fergy got her attention.
“Hey Miriam, look at this. Quick!” He was staring hard at the data displayed on the monitor. “I think we found something.”
She rushed over. “What is it?”
He jabbed a finger at the display.
“What are those black lines showing?” She was pointing at a long stretch that seemed to continue beyond the monitor.
“That has to be a tunnel,” Fergy face was not animated. “There has been a rumour of this existing, but nothing has ever been found. This could be it. It seems to appear from somewhere around Kelvin’s grove, and if I’m not mistaken, passes beneath and across this field before reaching the base of the Tor.” He turned to the students. “Activate the drone to pass in a straight line in the direction I am pointing, and let it hover at the end.”
They did this and both Miriam and the professor could see the in-depth readings from both the LIDAR and drone, which fed images to a pair of linked monitors to create a virtual 3D representation of what lay beneath them.
After several minutes of careful scrutiny, Fergy let out a shout. “Bingo!” His fist punched the air. “It’s a tunnel, without a doubt. Look at that!”
On the screen were the fuzzy but unmistakable signs of a long, hollow furrow about six feet high and equal in width. It seemed to stretch out in both directions without end. The highest point of the structure sat six feet below the surface.
“What are we going to do next?” Miriam asked. “We don’t have enough archaeologists here for a full-scale dig.”
Kelvin answered, “We need a JCB excavator.”
“Don’t be so bloody daft,” snapped the professor. “This is an archaeology site not a road repair outfit.”
“There’s a simpler solution,” Miriam added. “Each end must have a way in or out. That’s all we need to find. With any luck, once found, we may be able to pass into it.”
“Good thinking, Batman!” Fergy quipped. “Let’s follow the lines to their fullest extent. There must be a beginning and an end.”
“Yes. That way,” Miriam continued, “if we dig down at either end, we should be able to find a way through.”
Vincenzo was called over. He was shown the screens and informed about what they were planning to do. A screen printout was given to him, and he began photographing everything, ready to send the latest discovery to the cardinal who was still in Rome.
The professor didn’t doubt they would all find their way to the cardinal. But how much of it would reach Pope Adrian, he couldn’t say. It doesn’t matter. The pope would get all the information, right down to the smallest detail, from himself.
30
The Vatican
He looked down at his swollen and painful knees. The beginnings of arthritis worsened his physical discomfort. He had been kneeling for almost an hour and praying that his suspicions would be unfounded. Pope Adrian raised his eyes skywards, to the open window where he could see the rising sun blazing in a clear blue sky. In spite of his prayers, he was unable to shake off his disturbed thoughts.
All was not well in Rome and the Vatican.
Several dark clouds swept through his mind. First was Inspector Rizzo’s disclosure of traces of Cardinal Nicholas’s DNA found on the clothing and body of the deceased Bishop Vincent Fisher. How did that come about? It was something that Rizzo would have to discover. His next thought was more alarming. For some time now, rumours of a deeply reactionary clique of priests, bishops and even cardinals, were escalating. This group was supposedly being fermented by no less than Cardinal Nicholas, and that this ‘secret’ order was becoming increasingly militant. They were dedicated to countering any liberalism within the church.
He had known of this earlier and had confided his worries to Rizzo. It was being circulated that Cardinal Nicholas was planning a revolution in the Church. That they were attempting to form a church within a church – ultimately to overthrow the God-given authority of the Vatican itself.
The cardinal rumoured
involvement was of no concern to the pope. These sorts of events had happened many times in the past and had come to nothing. He knew what various priests, bishops and cardinals were saying about him, their elected pope.
“He’s soft on the homosexuals, the lesbians, and the transsexuals.”
“How dare he criticize the Curia? Accusing us of spiritual Alzheimer’s just because his papacy is unravelling.”
That had shaken the pope’s confidence. It gave Rizzo’s DNA discovery added impetus. Was not the dead bishop an arch liberal and enemy of reactionary Catholicism? He had headed up the clandestine archaeology society, SOTA, which the pope himself had established. Now it was being suggested that Cardinal Nicholas, the very man he had appointed to continue the research, was the head of a militant group.
He had prayed this would not be so. Part of him suggested that he should relieve the cardinal of his role in the research, but he was still hoping the rumours were unfounded.
Underlying his suspicions were two reports he had received concerning the excavations in England. There was the cardinal’s report and that of Professor Christie. They did not match up. From the start, he had noticed that the cardinal’s reports were scanty on detail, dismissive, and made no mention of tunnels and the attempts to unravel the meanings behind the mysterious verses. Nor did it mention any of the Celtic stories and possible legends of Jesus having lived amongst them – the very reason for the project. The cardinal had also suggested that he thought such stories were planted to assist tourism in the area. He considered such stories were mainly superstition and make believe. However, the cardinal maintained that the excavation should continue. Just to prove a point and lay to rest the absurdity of it all.
Hardly the stance Bishop Vincent would have adopted.
Despite all that, the pope could not easily accept that the cardinal’s explanation was intended to deceive him.
Why is the cardinal holding back on information? Is there no hope in his heart or is it part of a militant agenda? I must ask him soon.
Many thoughts ran through his head. I believe, as did the bishop, that there is every chance the Magdalene’s cup is real. If so, mankind can be saved for eternity – if not physically, then spiritually. If discovered, I wonder if still holds any liquid. It was all an enchanting mystery.
There were too many unanswered questions revolving around Cardinal Nicholas…
With that in mind, Pope Adrian pulled out his android smartphone equipped with the Signal encryption app. The Vatican Intelligence Service, the Santa Alleanza, had all but demanded he equip himself with this state-of-the-art encryption service. He had noted that Rizzo used the system too. Any message or phone call he had with Rizzo would be encrypted from end-to-end. There would be no way for anybody to eavesdrop or access the conversation. That factor gave him a sense of reassurance.
He was prepared to wager that God had no use for such devices!
* * *
Rome
It had been going on for two days. This was something new. He had never been tailed before, and he was not being paranoid. The thuggish, shaven headed man matched every step he took. He forever seemed to be in close proximity to him.
Rizzo had always been a cautious man. His job demanded it. Now, he was even more so. The worry lines on his well-worn features creased as he gazed out from his Via del Boccacio apartment window. He was careful to stand to one side so as not to be seen. At first glance, there was no sign of his stalker. Then he spotted him. He was seated in a café bar across the street and reading a newspaper. Rizzo doubted it was Italian. The man never looked up, and Rizzo knew it would be pointless to confront him direct. Whoever he was, someone had presumably hired him… but why? The only case he was working on was Bishop Vincent’s.
All avenues in that direction had come to a dead end. No new information had emerged. The only immediate, unanswered question concerned the cardinal’s DNA and two other specimens. It was inexplicable, but it was not enough to make a case out of.
As he continued to observe the man from his concealed position, a sudden but compelling thought struck him. For a fleeting second, he was ready to dismiss it… but the thought persisted.
Could the cardinal be behind this man’s unwelcome attentions?
All permutations were possible.
Reaching into his desk drawer, he checked his Beretta 93R police issue firearm. It was fully loaded. He strapped it to his shoulder and put on a casual jacket. It was expected and part of Italian police officer regulations to carry this weapon at all times.
If he was being tailed, what was the point of that? Unless it was a prelude to a nasty episode of some kind. A firearm was a wise precaution.
The time had arrived to reverse the process. The hunter was to become the hunted, and Rizzo had enough experience and cunning to accomplish that. Unnerving an opponent was always an effective strategy.
He went over his plan again before moving to the door. The ringtone of his mobile phone stopped him short. He pulled it out of his pocket and was surprised to see that it was Pope Adrian. That didn’t happen to anybody every day.
Ten minutes later, their conversation ended. He could not help but think the bread was beginning to bake. After the conversation, there was little doubt that Pope Adrian would have made a first-rate detective. They shared the same thoughts and suspicions. The DNA was the cohesive factor.
Stepping out of the apartment and into the sunlit street, he noticed his adversary was still seated and looking his way. It was time to put into gear his plan of action. Increasing his pace, he was amused to see the man struggling to keep with him on the other side of the road. Rounding a sharp corner, Rizzo slipped into the entrance of a small hotel.
Cracker was forced to dash across the busy road, and in doing so, he lost sight of Rizzo. He turned both left and right and behind him, but the Inspector was nowhere to be seen. He set off at a fast rate in the direction Rizzo had been heading.
Rizzo set off after him, keeping a safe distance between them. He wanted the man to glimpse him, then he would give him a wave and disappear again. The man would then know that Rizzo was on to him and effectively sabotage whatever plans he had in mind. He would have to report his initial failure to his provider. Could that be Cardinal Nicholas? He was starting to believe it. There was no such thing as a coincidence in his field.
Reaching a bar, Cracker stopped to look inside but there was no trace of the inspector. Rizzo watched him turn around, looking in all directions. That was when he gave him a short, sharp wave. The man saw it and appeared to freeze on the spot. His reaction was obvious. He had been rumbled. The inspector slipped away, down a short flight of steps and into an alleyway. It had been a dangerous manoeuvre for it signalled the gloves were off. Both would now be on high alert in what could be a deadly game of cat and mouse.
31
Glastonbury
The dig to reveal the tunnel had entered its third day and was proving to be a sterner task than they thought. Miriam and Kelvin plus two archaeologists from a local society were there to assist. They were operating at the furthest end of the GPR readings, and closer to the base of the Cretan maze that formed the first ring of the Tor. Back at the other end, the professor and three others made up of students and other members of the local group had set to work. Trowels, small hand shovels like coal shovels, normal sized shovels, spades, buckets, and wheelbarrows were used to clear away the loose dirt – known as ‘spoil’ – and take it to the spoil heap. They had also brought along mattocks, which were large hand tools used to break up hard ground. With these, there was an assortment of marker pegs, location cards and balls of high-quality string.
Vincenzo appeared to have given up wearing his priestly attire and was clad in his sweat suit. Moving from one group to another, he made constant notes and took countless pictures. Both Fergy and Miriam had similar equipment but relied extensively on the constant readouts and printouts from their equipment. Without complaint, it continued to operate tirel
essly.
The location gave Miriam a chance to talk to Kelvin about her experience up at St. Michael’s. She told him what she had seen – the people, their colourful clothing and the smells of cooking, smells that she had experienced for a full day after. At the end of her story, she looked hard at him. There was a look of anticipation across her face.
“Well what do you make of that? Am I going mad?” She hoped his answer would tell her she wasn’t. Whatever was going on with her pulled her in two directions. She was a scientist – an academic – not given to fanciful notions.
Kelvin put down the trowel he had been using. “Of course not. Following on from your previous experience, it should be a clue to what’s going on with you, and the strange power of this place. You are being called. By whom, I don’t know, and the why remains a mystery. This matter is far from over and there will be more to come. I have had similar visions in the past, but your experiences and visions are particularly powerful. The reason for your presence here are being manifested through you and nobody else. You are being singled out as some type of conduit. I sense we are getting closer to something. There is more to find, of that I’m certain. I also feel that the story doesn’t end here. If I’m wrong, your experience, the small things we have discovered, and those enigmatic verses become meaningless. Don’t you agree? So, let’s dig and allow time to reveal what has been hidden.”
Miriam looked pensive. She began biting down on her lip, a childhood reaction when uncertainty presented itself. “Thanks for that, Kelvin. I honestly don’t know whether to feel excited or scared. I can’t find an explanation apart from what you have said. You are right. They could be nothing or they could mean something. I should let it be and see what happens.”
“Yes, just let it be,” He nodded and gave her a small smile. “Hand it over to the universe and it will do what is required.”