"Jesus was more than a spiritual leader. He was the descendant of the Jewish King, David. Thus, he was not only a king in the spiritual sense, but in the secular sense as well. The distinction between those two aspects of kingship is a modern invention, however. To the Jews, that distinction was meaningless. King of Israel was both a religious and secular title. But it was this secular title that the Romans feared most. The last thing the Romans wanted was to hold stewardship over a people united behind a strong inspirational leader. Their grip on the Jews was tenuous enough as it was, with periodic rebellions springing up throughout the region governed by Pilate. For the greater part of the century following the crucifixion, the Jewish people were in a constant state of open rebellion, which culminated in the heroic stand at the fortress of Masada.
"Jesus’ ministry contributed more to this rebellion than historians and biblical scholars wish to acknowledge. But again, we must always remember that their ranks are peppered with agents of the Council, whose charge it is to ensure that history remains muddled.
"We can now understand why not only the Romans, but the Jewish King, Herod had a vested interest in preventing the influence of Jesus from spreading. The corrupt Jews of the Sanhedrin, along with their king, had managed to create a symbiotic relationship with their Roman slave masters. The Romans granted many privileges to the Jewish leadership. In exchange, the leadership contained the rebellious nature of their people. Both sides benefited from this arrangement. The advent of the young ‘pretender’ to the Jewish crown—one possessed with charismatic charm, eloquence, and spiritual power—was a fatal threat to this arrangement. Jesus’ fate was sealed from the outset.
"Of course, Jesus was no less aware of all of this than his enemies were. Make no mistake about it, Jesus was, as he maintained, the Son of God. The nature of that Sonship, however, is greatly misunderstood by modern man. But that is a discussion for another time.
"With his innate divinity, Jesus was aware of all that surrounded him. He always confounded his adversaries by being one step ahead of them. Jesus waged spiritual guerrilla warfare, in a manner of speaking, always picking his battles, speaking at moments of his own choosing, performing his miraculous acts in settings of his own design, and always disappearing magically as the crowd closed in upon him. His influence and popularity were growing rapidly. It quickly became clear to the powers of both the Sanhedrin and the Romans that he must be dealt with. And being ‘dealt with’ by the Romans meant execution.
"One of the questions that has plagued believers over the years is the question of why Jesus allowed events to unfold as they did. Surely, he must have known his fate. Certainly he must have had the power to extricate himself from the events that unfolded. Undoubtedly he must have possessed the means to remove himself from the cross which claimed his earthly life. Yet he did none of those things, allowing himself to suffer a most excruciating death under the most unjust of circumstances.
"The truth is, that although the seeming victim of events, Jesus manipulated them from the moment he began his public ministry to create that very outcome. He constantly taught that Man was the originator of his destiny and that he was the author of events, and he demonstrated that daily by the acts he performed. But the true message that Jesus sought to teach ... the lesson that was the key to Man's liberation ... was the overcoming of death itself. To accomplish this ... to demonstrate it in the most dramatic and unmistakable manner ... he orchestrated events so that he would be publicly executed in a way that his death could be observed by many. This removed any possible claims of trickery later.
"The Shroud that lies before me contains the image seared into it at the very moment of resurrection. It has defied analysis even in these days of technology, where we have the tools to examine the cloth at the molecular level. No one has been able to adequately explain how the image of Jesus was created. The simple explanation is the truthful one. The image was created by the life force of Christ Himself as it reentered his body, purifying it with a spiritual essence.
"The resurrection was the message of Jesus to the world. It is a message that is still little understood.
"Jesus knew very well the forces aligned against him. Upon his resurrection, he instructed his disciples to disperse into enclaves. Each was to carry with him a key element of the Christ teaching—twelve in all. Each was to pass that portion of knowledge he was given from generation to generation by word of mouth until the time when their descendants would reassemble, bringing the entire teaching together once again.
"Thus was formed the tradition of the Twelve Knights of the Ascension. Until this very day, they have existed in complete and total secrecy. They have existed with the knowledge of the remaining eleven, without knowing who comprised their number. They continue to exist in this manner to this very day.
"I am one!
"The teaching in my possession was passed down to me by my mentor and friend, Father Michael O'Brian, who, unbeknownst to all who knew him save me, was one of The Twelve."
* * * *
Pope Timothy's shock was total. Cardinal MacArthur sat with a look of total befuddlement. Father O'Brian? This couldn't be true. All three of them had studied at his feet. Never once did he make mention of any secret tradition. They merely knew him as a kindly, if somewhat eccentric, old man who seemed to genuinely love everyone he met. What other kind of man could have tolerated the insufferable Angelino, who even then exhibited the characteristics of a heathen? The very idea that Angelino was the possessor of some secret knowledge was totally unthinkable. Timothy shook in his chair. MacArthur couldn't determine if he shook in fear or in rage. Angelino continued on the screen.
* * * *
"The time of the great Gathering is upon us. I am now the only one of the Twelve whose identity is known by the others. I have revealed myself at great risk to not only my own life, but to the teaching itself. I do not do this lightly, or with a sense of bravado. I am the one chosen among the Twelve to make the time of reassembly known to the others. I have chosen this method as the means by which to accomplish this. Thus I am acting within my mission. I am also the only one of the twelve who knows the identities of the remaining eleven.
"What will happen now depends upon a great number of things. I must go underground for a while for reasons which I'm sure are obvious. I will speak to you from time to time, if those at this network are agreeable. I cannot predict that they will be. If you are viewing this, the chances are favorable that you may hear from me again.
"Events will unfold quickly. How Mankind responds to the challenges of the coming days will determine not only the future course of Mankind, itself, but the very nature of the Soul of Man. I pray that we of the Twelve succeed. And I pray that Mankind chooses wisely.
"With that hope and prayer, I bid you all Godspeed in the coming days, which are certain to challenge the heart and soul of Man as it has never been challenged before. Thank you for hearing me out. Libertus Kristos est, Kristos Libertus est—Freedom is Christ, Christ is Freedom."
The image of Angelino faded from the screen, replaced with the serious face of Ray Cutler.
After a studied pause, Ray addressed the camera.
"One does not know quite what to say as a follow-up to Father Angelino's message. Certainly, on the surface, it is a hard story to believe. I have spent my entire career dedicated to reporting the truth to the American people. I sat on this story for quite a while, skeptical, as I'm sure most of you who are viewing this are. What convinced me to air it is an incident that occurred while I was at Susan Morgan's bedside as she lay dying.” Ray recounted the incident in which Angelino restored the breath of life to Susan Morgan's lifeless body, and then said, “I have observed some remarkable incidents in my thirty-plus years of broadcasting, but never have I seen anything like what I witnessed in her hospital room that day. It is clear to this reporter that something beyond our understanding is happening. What exactly that may be, remains to be seen.
"For NBS Special Report, I'
m Ray Cutler. Thank you for watching."
* * * *
THE SILENCE IN the Vatican was palpable. Timothy paced back and forth with a contained rage and ... something else, perhaps fear, MacArthur observed. Neither of them paid any attention to Cutler's epilogue.
"Get Father Mancini in here now,” the Pope barked to MacArthur. He left the room and returned momentarily with a nervous Father Mancini.
"Yes, Your Holiness?"
"You know what to do. Be quick about it."
"Yes, Your Holiness,” Father Mancini bowed quickly and backed out of the room as rapidly as protocol allowed.
Timothy continued his brisk pacing. MacArthur decided to brave an interruption.
"Your Holiness, what are you going to do?"
"Do?” Timothy shot back. “I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I am going to destroy him once and for all.” His face grew red with rage. “I will not allow him to destroy everything the church has created. We will expose him for the liar that he is."
MacArthur pretended not to notice the hypocrisy of Timothy's intentions. “Holy Father, the people will be expecting some sort of statement from you.” He walked over to the large glass window which opened to the Papal balcony and peered out. “Already they are congregating outside."
It was true. Confused and unsure, people nearby had begun to stream into the Vatican courtyard. There was a somberness about this crowd that MacArthur had never seen before. It was a sadness that exceeded even that which accompanied the death of a sitting Pope, probably the saddest occasion in the Catholic Church.
MacArthur was overtaken by a sense that events were beginning to spin out of control. He knew about the Exalted Council of Most Highs and now the Curia did as well, having been filled in by the Pope earlier. But the Twelve Knights of the Ascension was a complete shock to all of them. How had they escaped detection so completely for two thousand years? As careful as the Council had been, inevitably news of its works would leak out from time to time. The Council had many contingencies for those occasions and had always managed to contain the awareness of its existence. For a brief period of time, it even went so far as to adopt the name Illuminati, until that cover, too, was detected. It had managed to disappear completely about 150 years ago, totally undetected and unsuspected ... until then.
In that 150 years, it had managed to make the greatest strides of its existence. The creation of the Federal Reserve Board in America had been one of its greatest victories. The Common Market in Europe had been yet another. Modern communication had been a great tool for the Council and they had mastered its use very early.
Yet this unique knighthood to which Angelino had alluded ... its existence had been totally unsuspected. He knew, from Timothy's reaction, that even he had been taken by surprise. He knew at that moment that the entire Council and its complete network were equally blind-sided. Undoubtedly, there was equal confusion at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington and 10 Downing Street in London. It was clear that there could be no communication between them ... at least not yet. That would cast too much light on them. Damage control was the first priority. There would be time to assess the damage only after the damage was contained, as paradoxical as that seemed.
The Pope was aware of all of this as well. MacArthur felt nothing but sympathy for his old friend. How horrible it must be to be presiding over the oldest office on earth at a time when every reason for its existence teetered on the brink of destruction.
"Gregory, I'd like you to go out there and keep an eye on Father Mancini. This may all be too much for him to handle on his own,” Timothy said evenly.
"Of course, Your Holiness.” He moved toward the door, but stopped and turned back to address his old friend with some concern. “Are you okay, Your Holiness?"
Timothy nodded unconvincingly and waved his hand slightly as if to say, Now go tend to your duties. MacArthur obeyed.
* * * *
"MR. PRESIDENT, WHAT do you want Franklin to tell the press?” Gene Crowley's trusted advisor and current Chief of Staff, Harvey Thatcher, was referring to press secretary Franklin Morris, who was standing by outside the Oval Office awaiting instructions.
Crowley swiveled his chair to look out onto the White House lawn, contemplating the best initial reaction. He whirled back around to face Thatcher, who, along with White House counsel Roger Harmon, was standing almost at attention.
"At ease, gentleman,” Crowley attempted to appear unconcerned, as if this were just another silly attempt by the political opposition to get some badly needed press. He flashed his famous smile at them. Crowley thought that perhaps he saw one hair on each of their heads relax a bit.
"Tell Franklin to tell the press that the president is amused and that he wonders what Ray Cutler hopes to accomplish by parading an obviously insane priest in front of the camera."
The two lieutenants glanced at each other. Crowley picked it up.
"Ok, boys. Tell me what's on your mind."
Thatcher spoke. He usually was the one to speak up. “Mr. President, I'm not sure you can afford to be cavalier about this."
Crowley did not need to ask for any elaboration. His administration had been besieged by an endless barrage of scandals that had created an attitude of suspicion among both the press corps and the American people. Most of the alleged scandals had been manufactured fantasies of the opposition, of course. Yet there were a few matters that Crowley would just as soon not have the press examining too closely. Quite a few, he would remind himself, whenever he bothered to take the time to contemplate them all. It was bad enough that Congress had approved the appointment of Special Prosecutor Arnold Wills to poke around in his affairs.
Thatcher had a point. Crowley had maintained an aloof posture with the public in the face of all allegations. It was a tactic with mixed blessings, to be sure, but it had not been altogether unsuccessful. Here was yet another allegation against him. However ludicrous it might seem on the surface, the press had grown weary of stonewalling. It was difficult to predict how they would report this latest allegation.
Crowley contemplated this in his classic pose—leaning back in his chair, eyes looking downward, hands placed together as if in prayer, except for the fact that his fingers were spaced apart, his chin resting on the tip of his connected forefingers.
"No. Let's low-key this. The charges are silly and everyone will see that. Let's see how the press approaches this. If it seems necessary, I'll address them myself."
This seemed to surprise Thatcher and Harmon both. Undoubtedly, they couldn't understand why Crowley would consider addressing the press over such a silly allegation when he had made it an art form to avoid it about the more serious ones.
"Very well, Mr. President,” Thatcher said. “I'll brief Franklin right away."
* * * *
THE REVEREND ARMAND Mathias could scarcely believe his good fortune. He was in on a secret that only a few others in the world knew. In a small storage room only a few feet away from where he sat, was the nearly fully developed body of the cloned Jesus. Mathias was practically giddy with delight. Surely God was smiling upon him, placing him in the center of events that would undoubtedly alter the course of history forevermore. If what he had just seen on the television were true, his good luck was multiplied. He would walk shoulder to shoulder with Jesus and the Twelve Knights of the Ascension into history. It didn't even matter if this Angelino was telling the truth. He knew the hearts of the religious, and he was convinced that they would believe it. They would believe it because they needed to believe it. And when Armand Mathias appeared at the side of Jesus Christ, the doubters would become believers as well. The world would speak the name of Armand Mathias with the same reverence modern day clerics reserved for the twelve Apostles.
He awaited, with anxious anticipation, the quickening of Jesus. Certainly he would bless Armand Mathias for the great works he had done. All of this joy was going on inside of Mathias. With great effort, he contained any outward manifestation of it, lest D
octors Hamilton and Barber jump to judgmental conclusions. Outwardly, he displayed the proper expression of wonder at the new revelations from the priest, Angelino.
Steven clicked off the television. He remained silent for a long time, apparently contemplating all he had just seen and heard. John seemed equally introspective. Mathias mused that if he had started doing handstands at that moment, neither of them would have even noticed, so deeply were they absorbed in their own thoughts. How naive scientists were. They couldn't see past their computer printouts and experimental data.
Steven was the first to break the silence.
"Whew. What do you think, John? Do you believe Angelino?"
John answered without hesitation. “I think he's a flake, Steven. Until tonight, I would have said a harmless flake. But, Jesus! If people take him seriously, all hell's gonna break loose."
"I'm not so sure, John. I'm not sure I believe all that religious mumbo jumbo, but I can certainly believe that a bunch of power brokers are calling the shots. Look at how quickly we were shut down,” he shot a glance at Mathias who pretended not to notice. “That kind of thing takes power to pull off."
Mathias remained silent. Power was something he understood. Soon he would show them, and the heathens who had laughed and ridiculed him throughout the tenure of his ministry, what real power was.
* * * *
IF ANYONE HAD taken a photo of Harold Bennett's face at that very moment, he certainly would not have wanted it used on a campaign poster. So, that weasel Crowley had more to hide than anyone ever imagined. Get a grip, Harold. This is all pretty speculative. He had to speculate, however. How could he avoid doing so? Crowley was going to be his opponent in the next presidential election and he couldn't afford to underestimate him. He had made that mistake once, and only once, in his career, when he had lost his House seat to an opponent who was not above any tactic that it took to win. That opponent had been none other than Eugene Crowley. Harold would never repeat that misjudgment again.
Shrouded Destiny Page 15