She laughed. “Oh, I don't know. I guess it was never a priority for me. I never even dated much in high school and college. I heard later I had gotten the reputation for being a ‘cold fish'."
Angelino laughed at that. “Proof no one ever bothered to get to know you."
"I just wanted to be a reporter. I don't remember a time when I didn't. It was the only goal I ever had."
"You don't miss having children?"
She seemed to think long and hard about that question.
"I never thought about it, much. I've never had that biological clock thing, if that's what you mean. I guess some people are born to be mothers. I was never one of them. When I was little, all my girlfriends would play with dolls, or play house with any unsuspecting neighborhood boy they could entice away from the ball field. I hated playing with dolls or playing house. In fact, I'd get angry at the girls who enticed the boys away from a good game of baseball."
"So, you were a bit of a tomboy as a girl?"
"A bit?” She laughed. “My nickname was ‘Rocco.’ I have no idea where it came from, but most of the boys didn't dare mess with me. I packed a mean left.” She made a gesture with her fist.
"Well, I'm glad you softened a bit in adulthood,” Angelino teased.
"Ha! Ask Ray Cutler how ‘soft’ I became. He will give you an argument, I guarantee you.” Then she grew more serious. “Perhaps my toughness kept men at bay, I don't know. Maybe I should have been a little more soft."
"Do you have any regrets about your life, Susan? Perhaps that you never had a child?” Angelino returned to the subject.
Susan again thought for a long time as they walked casually. The long shadows of sunset were replaced by the grays of twilight.
"I wasn't entirely honest with you a moment ago, Father Angelino. Actually, I've thought about that question a lot lately, to tell you the truth. It's funny you should ask it.” She looked over at Angelino's sly smile. “Gee, what am I saying,” she laughed.
"There are things I would do differently today if I had the chance to do them over again, I know that much. But I'm reluctant to say I have any serious regrets. When I think about the course of my life, some of the things that seemed like the greatest mistakes ended up leading me to some of my happiest moments.
"Take the pit bull story, for instance. It was a stupid and arrogant thing to do, falsifying the video and all. I was almost fired. They exiled me to the Vatican for my punishment. I was furious and bitter about that. But if it hadn't happened, I wouldn't have met you."
She looked at him with sincere affection. “And meeting you has been one of the very best things that has ever happened to me."
"I hope you will feel that way a year from now,” he said. He had come to treasure his prodigy. Fate had chosen wisely in assigning her destiny.
She went on. “As for motherhood, maybe someday I will hope for that, but right now, I don't have any regrets about not having had children. I'm not very good mother material anyway. One potential child probably lucks out there,” she smiled wryly.
"I have a something else to talk to you about, Susan,” he said seriously.
"Is it possible somewhere hidden in all this information you are about to give me my purpose will be finally revealed to me?” She smiled playfully at him.
He laughed heartily. “You never can tell, Susan. You should know that about me by now."
"Don't I ever."
"Did Raji ever tell you my true age?"
"What do you mean ‘true’ age? I never knew your age, true, untrue or otherwise. I always assumed you were the same age as Pope Timothy."
Angelino strolled along silently for a while.
"Well?” Susan finally demanded.
"Well what?"
"Cut it out. You know damn well what I mean. Just how old are you?"
"You want exact numbers or a rough approximation?"
"Oh, that old, hey?” she smiled.
"Most definitely, Susan. I'll let you do the math. My birthday was April 3, 1182."
Susan stopped in her tracks. I couldn't have heard him correctly. She giggled and said, “I'm sorry, Father Angelino. For a minute there I thought you said 1182."
"You heard me correctly. I did say 1182."
"But that's ... impossible,” she stammered. “That would make you ... over eight hundred years old."
"Eight hundred twenty, to be exact,” he smiled.
Susan swooned. “I have to sit down,” she said dazedly. She lowered herself onto the soft grass. Twilight was giving way to darkness now. The first stars were becoming visible. A cool but comfortable night breeze wafted through her hair.
"Are you okay, Susan?” Angelino asked gently.
"I ... I ... think so,” she rasped. She looked up at him. “Who are you?” she finally managed to ask.
"Why, I'm me,” he said with a wink. “Nobody does ‘me’ better than I do."
Susan was too stunned to laugh. She could only stare at him, her face ashen.
"Do you remember the first night I met you?” Angelino said. Susan nodded. “Remember the portrait that hung above the fireplace?"
"Yes. I thought it was a portrait of a medieval pope but you told me it was a portrait of Francis of Assisi,” she managed to respond
"It wasn't the most flattering portrait, but it was nevertheless a portrait of me. I am Francis. Or at least I was at one time."
"What?” was all Susan could manage to respond.
Angelino sat on the grass next to Susan. The air was growing cooler.
"Are you cold, my dear?” he asked. She shook her head. She may have been for all she knew, but she was too numb to notice. Angelino sat quietly beside her, allowing her to absorb the news.
Finally, Susan began to regain her equilibrium. “Well, you look pretty good for your age,” she managed a wry smile. “But then, anybody your age with skin still on their bones probably looks pretty good for their age."
She looked at him with awe. “So you're Saint Francis."
"Well, the ‘saint’ part wasn't my idea."
"It wouldn't be mine, either,” she winked.
She had regained her composure remarkably fast. That was Susan for you, he noted with an inward smile. “You know what's really funny?"
"What?"
"Saint Francis was always Gregory's favorite saint. I always found that quite amusing."
Susan laughed at the irony of that. “Why does Gregory despise you so?"
"Oh, he doesn't despise me, Susan. I'm just a constant reminder of his road not traveled. Gregory is a man filled with many regrets, yet unable to admit any of them to himself. He made some choices many years ago, as did Ronald Johnson, and he has had to live with them. They both had the chance to follow God or follow worldly honors. They chose the latter, deluding themselves into thinking they had chosen the former. Oh, he'd tell you he would make those same choices again, but if you look into his soul, you know if he really could do it over again, he'd choose very differently indeed."
Susan sat thoughtfully for a while, her mind filling with questions. “I don't understand something, Father Angelino. History tells us you died at the age of forty-five, if I remember correctly. How could that be?"
"I'm impressed you knew that, Susan,” Angelino smiled. “I've ‘died’ many times, over the centuries. I've had to arrange my own ‘death’ many times. Sometimes I just disappeared and was presumed dead. In the case of my time as Francis, I was able to substitute the body of a vagrant who happened to have died as I was giving him comfort. There were no witnesses and his appearance was close enough to mine. I simply exchanged clothes with him. In death, people don't look exactly like they do when they are alive. His general appearance was close enough to mine that when the body was found, it was simply assumed to be mine. I ‘died’ in similar fashion several times."
"But what about your background? How were you able to get into the seminary without any birth certificate or graduation transcripts?"
"Who said I do
n't have a birth certificate?” he winked. “They are actually quite easy to acquire if you know where to go. After eight hundred years, you learn these sort of things.” He raised his hand and an official Certificate of Birth for one Antonio Sabbatini Angelino appeared in his hand. Susan smiled. He waved his hand and as quickly as it had appeared, the certificate was gone
"How much about my past were you able to actually find out?"
"Not much, I admit. We tried to dig up some background on you, but all we could find was some rumor about you being unfairly convicted of robbing an old man, who you actually saved from the robber."
"Well, that story is actually true. I did some time in juvie. Wasn't the first jail time I ever did, either."
"Juvie? How could you pass as a kid?"
"Susan, you disappoint me. When one has learned to master physical existence, it is a small matter to adjust one's form. I've been all ages throughout the centuries. It widens one's perspective to view life from as many angles as possible."
"I don't understand, Father Angelino. You seem to have all the powers of any of the prophets of the Bible, even Jesus, Himself. What is this drama you are orchestrating all about?"
"Susan,” he answered seriously. “I have always loved God and He has been kind to reward me with many blessings, but I am not The Christ. The Christ is yet to come."
"When?"
"You will be the first to know,” he smiled widely.
"What do you mean?” she asked.
"Okay, Susan. I will give you one hint. In the Bible, who was the first to know of the impending arrival of Jesus? Find the answer to that question, and you will know all you need to know."
Angelino stood up abruptly. “Come. Let's rejoin the others. They will be wondering what has happened to us."
He started back toward Raji's house. Susan sat for a moment considering what Angelino had just told her. Who was the first to know of the coming of Jesus? She had some Bible reading to do tonight.
* * * *
"OK, HERE IS the passage of text from the documents being presented by the Syrians and United States as coming from Israel's hidden agenda, and here is a copy of the Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion, which we printed off the internet.” Harold Bennett pointed to the passage. “And this document here, is the Agenda of the Council of Most Highs, which was given to Arnold by Claude Chambleau.” Papers were strewn all over the large conference table in Arnold Wills’ office. They had just barely made the scheduled shuttle flight and now, less than two hours later, were pouring through the documents Claude Chambleau had presented to Arnold in France, comparing them to both the actual Protocols and the documents offered to the United Nations.
"Now, this,” he rummaged through the papers on the table until finding the appropriate one, “is the passage I remembered from the Agenda of the Most Highs. Notice the similarity."
They huddled close together as they examined the documents.
"Yes, I see,” Ray said. “They are almost identical. Just the phrasing is a bit different."
"Now compare these two passages,” Harold instructed.
"Why, they're almost identical, too,” Arnold exclaimed. “I think I'm beginning to understand."
"I think you will find one is simply a slightly paraphrased version of the other,” Harold concluded.
For the next thirty minutes, the three of them compared passage after passage, until the truth of Harold's theory was beyond a doubt.
"Damn, if you're not right, Harold,” Ray said with some admiration. “The only real difference between these new documents and the Protocols is the specific reference to the Arab nations in the new documents. Otherwise, they are essentially identical to the original Protocols. How in the hell did you remember the passage that caught your attention?"
"I wasn't positive, Ray,” he admitted. “I just knew I had seen the same idea recently and remembered where. We were so distracted by the revelation Susan Morgan was the descendant of Jesus that we only paid secondary attention to the actual Agenda itself. I had totally forgotten we had it in our possession."
"I have to confess I had, too,” Ray said. Of all the people in the room, he felt he should have paid more attention. He never would have made that oversight ten years ago.
"Don't be too hard on yourself, Ray,” Arnold said. “Susan is close to you and that discovery was bigger than huge. None of us caught it. Shit, I'm a fucking investigator and I missed it myself."
"At any rate, now we have a determination to make,” Harold said.
"Which is?” Arnold asked.
"Which is, which of these came first, the Protocols or the Agenda?"
A voice came from behind them, startling all of them.
"Perhaps I can be of some assistance,” Angelino offered.
"Sonofabitch!” Arnold started. “I wish you would knock, Father Angelino."
"Knock, knock,” Angelino said, deadpan.
"What are you doing here?” Harold asked. “I have been wondering what had happened to you."
"How's Susan?” Ray wanted to know.
"Susan is doing wonderfully, Mr. Cutler. She sends her love."
"Where is she?” Ray still tended to regard Angelino warily.
"She is safe, Mr. Cutler. That is all I can tell you at this time. Events are approaching a delicate point now, and it is important her whereabouts remain known to only those with the need to know."
"Since you brought the subject up,” Harold interjected, “just what exactly is happening?"
"Gentlemen, please sit. You are on the right track here."
The three of them sat down at the table but Angelino remained standing as he addressed them,
"I congratulate you, Senator Bennett, on your astuteness. You are, of course, correct in your assumption one of the documents is the predecessor of the other. I wondered if any of you would make the connection. I was afraid I would have to spoon feed it to you yet again,” he smiled.
"What do you mean, ‘again'?” Arnold asked.
Suddenly, before their eyes, the robed figure of Angelino morphed into the small frame of Claude Chambleau. “Do you not recognize me, Monsieur Wills?” he said with the familiar thick French accent Arnold immediately recognized.
"It was you?"
"Oui, Monsieur,” Angelino/Chambleau said. He once again morphed back to his familiar form.
Ray started laughing, while Arnold and Harold sat in dazed confusion.
"I don't understand, Ray,” Harold said. “What's so funny?"
"Don't you see?” Ray said through his laughter. “It's all just a fucking game."
"A game?” Arnold said with irritation. “I don't see how that makes all of this so goddamned funny."
"Angelino has been orchestrating everything from the beginning,” Ray continued, his laughter having abated. “Haven't you, Angelino?"
Angelino merely responded with a smile.
"Well, of course he has,” Harold said, somewhat irritated at Ray's stating of the obvious. “We all knew that."
"No, I don't think we knew it, Harold,” Ray explained. “We suspected it. But we know it now."
"Goddammit!” Harold said, angrily, surprising the others a bit. “It's not enough the fucking Council is yanking our chain, we have Angelino yanking it too."
"Take it easy, Harold,” Arnold said, trying to calm down the senator.
Harold took the hint and said no more, but glared angrily at Angelino.
"May I continue, gentlemen?” Angelino said, clearly unperturbed by the outburst.
"I must share with you what I have shared with Susan Morgan countless times ... things are not always as they seem to be, as I just demonstrated to you quite clearly. All events are manipulated by someone or something. There are no accidents. You, more than anyone, should know that, Senator Bennett."
Harold had to admit to himself the entire game of politics was about manipulation. Angelino was right. His anger began to subside.
Angelino was being uncharacteristi
cally serious. Absent was his usual light-hearted playfulness. Before them stood a man of strength and conviction. This Angelino fellow was a chameleon, indeed, Harold marveled.
"Gentlemen, your efforts have been noted and are greatly appreciated by the Knights of the Ascension. You have performed a great service—you have bought us the time we need to assemble. Soon, we will be ready to perform the task for which we were created. You have helped keep the spark of what we are working to preserve alive. I know it seems you are failing miserably, that people have been seduced by the promises of the anti-Christ's Golden Age, but your courageous fight has not been in vain, I promise you. Always there are those who hear, even if they do not yet possess the courage to stand with you. Comfort yourself in that realization."
"I have to confess that's not much comfort, quite frankly, Angelino,” Ray said, with a deep sigh. His eyes moved to meet Harold's, then to Arnold, and finally to Angelino. They all returned his gaze expectantly. He decided to voice that which had been bubbling beneath his awareness for the past several months as he had watched events unfolding.
"I don't see much hope for my country anymore. The whole world is going crazy all around me and nobody but me seems to be noticing. Does that make me the insane one, I wonder?” The others accepted the question as rhetorical. He continued. “There was a time when I had great faith in the people. I believed they would always, when push came to shove, speak out against totalitarianism. I believed the American people were too steeped in liberty to be misled by demagogues and petty politicians. I believed people cherished their liberty above all else.
"I see now I was wrong,” he said sadly. “The people don't even seem to be able to recognize totalitarianism and demagoguery anymore. If they cannot recognize it, how can they fight it?"
"Oh, I don't know, Ray,” Harold said. “I think that might be a bit harsh."
"Is it?” he countered. “You and Stuart just delivered some of the most stirring and well-reasoned arguments I have ever heard in defense of the constitution and of liberty in general, and the world simply yawned. Hell, some commentators had the gall to label your speech as ‘fascist,’ for God's sake. I honestly thought we had a chance to turn things around, that people, when they were reminded of why this country exists, would wake up and resist the clear attempts to enslave them with golden chains of prosperity. At least then, however the rest of the world might have gone, we could have been a beacon of hope and freedom. I was wrong ... and I've never been more wrong."
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