by James Codlin
“Torquemada’s plan was to grow the initial capital and add frequent contributions that would be made through secret automatic transfers from the royal treasury. He also devised a detailed method of accounting that Fernando could use to hide the transfers of money from his own financial chancellors and the auditors from the cortes. As the crown became more and more impoverished, auditors checked more and more frequently how their king was spending public money.
“In the document Torquemada writes over and over again how vital it is that an absolute minimum number of clergymen know about the fortune, but at the same time, he had to make sure its existence would not be lost if some of those men died. The information had to be carried forward as kings and clerics were succeeded or died, and at the same time absolute secrecy had to be maintained. Anyone suspected of having seen this document who was not needed for the stratagem was to be killed. The couriers who carried the message, the accountant who set up the accounts—even the other members of the governing council of the Inquisition—were to be killed.
“This was to be a secret not only from the councils of the Spanish royal government, but also from the papacy in Rome. Torquemada arranged for three monks at three monasteries in Valladolid, Burgos, and Toribio de Liébana to be bound by a secret blood oath to never reveal the secret fund to anyone outside of their group. The monks were to always be men who had no other living family members and who were fanatically supportive of the doctrines of the Inquisition.”
“Preposterous,” Nicolás said. “You’re suggesting they received a constant return on their deposits for more than 500 years? Capitalism is far too unstable. They would have been wiped out during the Thirty Years’ War or in the aftermaths of the world wars. And if they weren’t, you think these German bankers would release this immense fortune known only to them and a few murderous priests?”
“Maybe they diversified,” Gina murmured.
“They figured something out, vaquero,” Dennis said. “Their minions are swarming from Juárez to Tierra del Fuego.”
“Anyway,” Lenin said, annoyed to be interrupted in the middle of his lecture, “Torquemada referred to these ‘murderous priests’ as the Guardians of the Fourth Angel. The Guardians were prohibited from meeting in person, but each would receive detailed physical descriptions of the others, and they had to exchange letters every 15 days to keep the others informed that they were still alive. The contents of the letters were coded using a transposition of letters—”
“Enough,” Nicolás said. “Get to the point.”
Lenin took a deep breath. “I have to make some assumptions.”
“Bullshit!” Nicolás shouted. “You told me this would absolutely prove your fairy tales.”
“It’s not a fairy tale,” Lenin said. “I have strong evidence that both the Spanish king and the pope were appointed as a result of fraudulent machinations to restore the Hapsburgs to power. Now we also know that the Inquisition has returned. All so they can usher in Christ’s return.”
“Fairy tales,” Nicolás repeated. “Three monks from Spain taking over the world.”
“Three monks, the pope, the Spanish king, and billions—if not trillions—of dollars. And, by the way, a Japanese CEO who controls the entirety of the Latino Union’s communications networks. Once they decided to strike, they were going to land a heavy blow.”
“And why single out my brother?” Nicolás asked.
“He’s the principal architect of the Latino Union capital and the ancestor of a famous Jewish family. Some interpretations of the book of Revelation say the conversion of Jews to Christianity is one of the preconditions to Christ’s return.”
“And if he converts, they’ll let him go?” Gina asked.
Lenin looked at Gina and then dropped his eyes apologetically. “As they see it, Martín is stained by his family’s false conversion to Christianity. Once he’s said what they want—under duress of torture—they will show him ‘mercy’ by burning him alive at the stake. A cleansing by the Fourth Angel.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Professor Ohi, an expert in classical Spanish from the University of Tokyo, arrived at Moto Electric headquarters by helicopter. Thirty minutes earlier a company computer technician had broken the simple encryption of the document that had been transferred from the Archive of the Indies website to a computer in San Juan Diego, but the procesal that appeared on-screen baffled the company’s translation staff.
The professor arrived wearing his pajamas and bathrobe, having been awakened in the middle of the night by a call from the university’s president ordering him to board the helicopter that was inbound to the professor’s house and lend all necessary assistance. In return, he would be paid a stipend for his “trouble.” When the lifetime academic heard the amount of his stipend, all thoughts of protesting this sudden and unexpected reassignment vanished. On the other end of the line, the president thanked Ohi for his cooperation and hung up the phone. For his own “troubles” he was about to be granted a new state-of-the-art wing for the school of physics.
Professor Ohi was taken to a large office containing a bookcase stuffed with Spanish dictionaries that spanned an entire wall. He stared at them, taking them all in, and realized that the dictionaries covered all of the eras and dialects that Ohi could possibly name. This library of dictionaries was supplemented by a computer with bookmarks for a large and diverse repository of online Spanish language resources. Curious, he typed in the URL for Google, then YouTube, and concluded that he had been blocked from the rest of the internet.
Ohi looked around at his surroundings—opulent beyond his wildest dreams—and let out a short breath of disbelief and wonder. He put his hands on the keyboard, brought up the first page of the document, and squinted at the first line of curling cursive. On a yellow pad of paper, he carefully penned the Japanese characters for “The Fourth Angel.”
*
“Mr. Ibarra—” Lenin started to say, but Nicolás cut him off.
“Everyone—even capitalists—calls me Nico.”
“Okay then, Nico. There are two things we have to do, and fast. One, we have to meet the young woman flying into Bogotá in a few hours, and two, we have to figure out where Martín is—before the Inquisition makes an example of him.”
Lenin expected Nicolás to vehemently protest. Instead he just sat in his chair and stared into space.
“Did you hear me?” Lenin asked. “We have to act now to get the proof of this conspiracy.” Lenin’s voice softened as he realized that Nicolás’s face was contorted with anguish. “What is it, Nico? What’s troubling you?”
The gray-haired man looked up at Lenin. “I’m not saying I believe anything you’ve said, but in this scenario of yours, do you see any reason for the new Inquisition to… manipulate my revolution?”
Lenin thought for a moment. “As Orwell wrote, totalitarian governments seek to unite their subjects via a common enemy.”
“Before I left camp, my co-leader in the movement was acting strangely—always going off by herself. At this moment she is in complete charge of the army I left behind. And now you are telling me, professor, that the communist revolutionary force I spent my lifetime building and guiding may be taking orders from a theocracy funded by the fortunes of kings.”
Lenin remained silent. Nicolás balled his fists in rage.
*
Three Lexus automobiles stopped at a Mitsubishi Emerald corporate jet at the San Juan Diego airport, and eight Japanese men and one woman got out and walked quickly up the passenger stairs into the airplane. As the last of the passengers disappeared into the fuselage, the stairs folded up automatically, and the door was closed and sealed. The pilot immediately called ground control to get clearance to depart for Bogotá’s El Dorado Airport.
*
After gaining Nicolás’s permission, Lenin used Dennis’s computer to Google that day’s flights from San Juan Diego to Bogotá.
“There’s a flight leaving San Juan Diego in an hour an
d a half, and it will arrive before the Iberia flight touches down. To get on it, I have to leave right now. There won’t be another flight for five hours.”
Nicolás stared at the tabletop as he clicked the safety of his gun on and off.
“Nico, did you hear what I said? I have to go now.”
Nicolás set the pistol down. “They’re going to make me a martyr—a perversion of the legacy of Che Guevara.” He slumped in his chair, pointedly looking away from Lenin. “They’ve stolen my revolution out from under me, but perhaps I can save my brother. Doctor Lenin, you are not going anywhere. Prinn, we have to make a recording.”
*
Nicolás dialed the number Gina had given him. Dennis had taken several countermeasures in order to minimize the risk that the device’s location would be traceable by the call’s recipient, but he fidgeted nervously nonetheless.
“Hello?” a man answered.
“President Ishikawa, this is Nicolás Ibarra. I will be brief. I know your daughter is still alive and I have her. My revolution demands an act of submission to our authority, or many innocent people will die. Iberia Airlines Flight 004 is two hours out of its destination, Bogotá. You will divert that flight to San Juan Diego immediately or else a bomb that has been placed on the plane will be detonated, killing all on board. At the same time, your daughter will be executed and her body publicly displayed. A video has been delivered to the San Juan Diego studios of the Latino Union’s state television network. It will authenticate that I have Gina. It will also give you additional instructions. I am monitoring communications to and from the airliner. Goodbye.”
Nicolás ended the call just as the man on the other end let out a distressed cry.
“Well, professor,” Nicolás said, “the die has been cast.”
*
Takeshi Ishikawa sat in front of the television in his private office. This was the third time he had watched the video.
Nicolás Ibarra did indeed have Gina, and in a quiet, reasonable voice Nicolás had ordered the LU president to divert the Iberia 747 to San Juan Diego where it was to land and then park on a taxiway just off of runway 18 right, which abutted a forest. The moment the aircraft stopped the doors were to be opened and the inflatable slides deployed. All passengers were to be quickly evacuated and ordered to run into the forest, not stopping until they could no longer see the airplane. If any soldiers were spotted anywhere at the airport or in the forest, Nicolás insisted that the bomb would be detonated before the passengers were evacuated. He also stated that if there were any aircraft overhead within fifty nautical miles of the airport, the plane and passengers would be destroyed. One by one Nicolás identified and forbade any possible methods of intervention.
Ishikawa’s chief of military staff reluctantly concurred with the president that there was no option but to comply and to deploy troops into the forest to hunt down Nicolás and any others who might be with him. Ishikawa asked about the probabilities of success, and his advisers conceded that they were slim.
Ishikawa picked up his phone and made two calls. First he ordered the LU television network to run a specific ten-second clip of one of his speeches to the LU congress during the on-the-hour newscast. This was the signal that Nicolás had required for the president to acknowledge that he was complying with the revolutionary’s demands.
Next the president called his military command center, which then patched the president via the Iberia Airlines company to the pilot of Flight 004.
*
Alejandra Rojas looked up when the plane’s intercom clicked on.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the pilot said, “a minor technical situation has arisen, and we are diverting to San Juan Diego as a precaution. There is absolutely no cause for alarm, although I apologize for the inconvenience. As we approach the airport, your flight attendants will give you additional information and instructions.”
Alejandra gnawed her knuckle as she felt the aircraft bank into a turn.
*
Dennis made a call to Switzerland.
“Colsen Transport Services.”
“I want to leave a message for Captain Dubronski. Notify him immediately that a caller has said ‘Bugle.’ I’ll wait on the line for a reply.”
“Bugle,” a man said two minutes later.
“Four niner,” Dennis said, “break, one, zero, zero, break, four, break, break, five, six, two, five, break, null, break, null.”
“Standby.” Ten seconds passed, and then came the response, “One six.”
Dennis hung up the phone without another word.
“We’ve got transport,” he told Nicolás. “Four hours from now.” Dennis began bustling around the container securing items, disconnecting cables, and locking cabinet doors.
“How are we traveling?” Gina asked.
Dennis paused to smirk at her and give her a conspiratorial wink. “Believe me, it’ll be big. You and Lenin just stay put. You’ll feel some thumping and bumping when the container is picked up, and it’ll be delivered to the airport and loaded into an aircraft. Don’t worry about it, just sit tight and Bob’s your uncle.”
Gina spontaneously gave Dennis a bear hug. He blushed.
“What the hell is that for?”
“I know what abandoning your post is going to do to your business, Dennis. The networks are going to be furious, and I know that your unblemished record of reliability is your biggest point of pride. It… it means a lot to me.”
“Ah, hell, Gina. The way I see it is that once Nico got here I was heading out of San Juan Diego one way or another. At least this way it’s on the right side of the ledger.” In a clumsy effort to diffuse the emotional moment, Dennis reached out and mussed the top of Gina’s hair. “We all knew that this tin can’s days were numbered. Hell, people can do live reporting from their bloody phones these days! Maybe it’s the kick in the arse I needed. I do feel bad about letting down the networks, though.”
There was a pregnant pause as both Gina and Dennis processed the fact that he was sabotaging the only career he had ever known.
Dennis suddenly brightened. “Course, it helps that most of those guys are total wankers! I wish I could see some of their faces when they get on the horn and can’t find me anywhere!”
Gina laughed, gave Dennis another hug, and let him get on with the business of packing up his rig.
*
“What does this woman look like?” Nicolás asked. “How will she be dressed? Anything that would help us identify her.”
“I’ve never seen her,” Lenin said. He coughed. “All I really know is that she’s a flamenco dancer. Based on the amount she charged to my credit card, I would bet she’s in first class. That would mean she should be exiting from one of the slides at the front of the aircraft.”
Nicolás thought for a moment. “Dennis, do you have a portable amplifier?”
Dennis pulled open a large box and began rummaging. After some muttered curse words, he extracted an electric megaphone. “I can charge it on the drive.”
Nicolás nodded in satisfaction. “When the time comes, I’ll need your phone.”
Dennis grinned. “You bet. Alright, my revolutionary compadre, time’s a-wasting! Let’s go.” He pulled the final circuit breaker, blacking out the container, and closed the door behind him as he and Nicolás departed.
*
Waro Moto burst into the room filled with young men working at a conference table that was buried beneath stacks of papers. He ordered all of them out except for his chief of staff.
“What do you know about this diversion of the Iberia flight?” he demanded.
“President Ishikawa ordered it, talking to the pilot himself. He said there is a bomb on board.”
“Who controls the bomb?” Moto asked.
“Nicolás Ibarra, according to the president.”
Moto made a deep growling sound in his throat. “And do I understand correctly that there was a phone call placed that was routed through the same IP address of the comput
er that downloaded the Archive document?”
“Yes, sir. We were able to isolate the audio. It was Dennis Prinn.”
“Of course it was Prinn. What did he say?”
The young assistant withered under Moto’s glare. “A series of numbers, sir. A code. We don’t know what it means.”
“You say he called a transport company in Switzerland?”
“Yes, sir. In Geneva. They broker heavy cargo lifts, chartering specialized aircraft. Lockheed Hercules, the cargo version of the 747, and the Russian AN 124. He told the receptionist to contact a Captain—” He consulted a note— “Dubronski. He used the word ‘Bugle.’”
Moto frowned. “More code.”
“We are working on it, sir, and finding out who Dubronski is.”
“I want men watching that container every minute. It’s the key to all of this.” Moto looked up at the ceiling and frowned, pondering for a few moments. Then he looked back at his chief of staff, who was anxiously awaiting Moto’s next words.
“What has Professor Ohi turned up?” Moto asked.
“He has almost completed the translation. The document was written by Tomás de Torquemada. He was the—”
“I know who he was.”
“Yes, sir. The document is called ‘The Fourth Angel’ and it is a detailed plan to build a vast fortune to be used to reinstate the Inquisition, and to build a Hapsburg dynasty. Very intricate, and—”
“Have him complete the translation, and then kill him,” Moto said.
The subordinate bowed deeply. “Yes, sir.”
*
Gina was almost asleep in the bed when she heard a diesel engine approaching. There were a series of noises outside, and the container started to move. One end tilted up, and after a brief cacophony of metal screeching on metal, the box returned to a stable, horizontal position. Gina and Lenin felt acceleration beneath them as the truck they had just been loaded onto departed.