by M. B. Lewis
“I guess everyone has their problems,” Duke said.
“Constantine must have built this cathedral to prove to his mother that she was still the most important person in his life. To build this in the town where she was from, where he was born, speaks volumes. Most likely, neither of them ever set foot in here. But the treasures he stored here . . . I don’t know if it was to pay for the place to be built, or to store things for a rainy day.”
“I’m thinking a little of both,” Duke said. “The vase. Is it here?”
“I hope so,” she paused. “For all our sakes.” Her eyes scanned the vast interior. The underground cathedral was massive, almost three-quarters the size of Saint Mark’s. It would take some time to search this place.
“Why don’t we split up?” Duke said. “We’ll cover more ground that way. If you find the vase, don’t call out. Come get me, and we’ll check it out together.”
Kadie nodded.
“Brian, you go with your sister. Keep her safe.”
“Okay—Duke.”
Duke split off to the right, and Kadie and Brian began to search on the left. Kadie took a moment to explain to Brian the size and shape of the vase they searched for. He reminded her he had seen the vase in the museum earlier. Vases were tucked away in every nook and cranny in the cathedral. Occasionally, she checked on Duke across the church. He searched as desperately as they did.
Their captors, however, seemed oblivious to their actions. Even Patricia and Curt were swept up in the emotional upheaval that comes with the discovery of a fortune in hidden treasure. Was it possible they might forego their original plan? Creating clones from human DNA had been experimented on for decades. To create a clone of Christ seemed so . . . unholy. She said a silent prayer and begged God to forgive her, Brian, and Duke for their role in this diabolical scheme.
A few rows ahead of her, Curt’s eyes bulged, and a devilish smile stretched across his face. He emptied his backpack and began to fill it with gold coins. The fake soldier lifted his backpack and cursed aloud when he realized it was too heavy for him to carry a long distance. He removed some of the contents, then took the backpack to the entrance and set it on the ground. Curt gave Kadie an unassuming glance as he walked by. He was preoccupied with his newfound riches.
At the front of the cathedral, Patricia wandered to the left transept, acquiring several small gold statues, plates, and cups. Esteban and Cliff hastily collected their booty without being so selective. Kadie thought the two henchmen seemed uninterested in the three of them right now. Greed tended to change people, but unfortunately, in the end, the ones with the guns tended to win.
The search went on for ten minutes when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Duke stood behind her, his forefinger to his lips. She got the message. Duke found the vase. Kadie turned and walked to Brian and whispered in his ear to follow her and Duke.
The trio moved two-thirds of the way toward the front on the right side. There, hidden in plain sight, was an ancient, two-and-a-half-foot tall vase with four handles and Aramaic writing on the outside. Just like the previous two vases, this one also had a Sator Square underneath the inscription, but this Sator Square was different. Hand-carved with a different tool than was used for the Aramaic inscription. This Sator Square was added after the fact to help identify its importance.
Kadie smiled. “You found it,” she said.
Duke nodded. “What does the writing say? The same as the other two?”
“No, the text is different.” Kadie read over the inscription, then re-read it, just to be sure. “It says, For Emperor Tiberius. The manuscript within is written by my hand. May you read and comprehend. Pontius Pilate, Governor of Judah.”
Kadie looked over her shoulder to check on their captors. They were all still absorbed in collecting their treasure, even Patricia. She was surprised the executive was so easily distracted, but then again, the treasure was tempting. With the vase in their possession, now was the time to escape. She watched Curt continue to move bags of gold coins near the entrance of the cathedral but looked in their direction every time he dropped off a bag at the door. There was no way they could escape without getting shot before reaching the entrance. But even if they reached the door, they’d have to race through the tunnel, and if they made it through the tunnel, they’d be stuck in the forest. Her eyes watered as she thought of the fate they faced. She turned back to Duke, who struggled with the lid. “Can you open it?”
“The lid is secured like the other two. The problem this time is I don’t have my Gerber.”
“I have a knife,” Brian said and pulled a beautiful double-edged blade with gold grip from his pocket. Kadie shook her head and smiled. He must have picked it up as they searched. Smart boy.
Duke chuckled and took the knife. He worked the blade in the seam, around the edge, until the lid began to creep up. The lid slid up quickly. His experience with the two previous vases had paid off.
Kadie moved closer as he finished. Gradually, the lid popped free with a deep hiss as oxygen entered the vase for the first time in at least eighteen hundred years. Duke rested the lid against a wall and peeked inside.
60
Kadie moved closer, her head hovering over Duke’s right shoulder. Duke turned his head to her and smiled. “I think we found the Pilate Scroll,” he whispered.
He reached inside and pulled out a cloth-covered object.
“Is that a blanket?” she said.
Duke held the white cloth with blue trim in his hands. “No, it’s a Jewish prayer shawl. I’m willing to bet this prayer shawl belonged to Jesus. Claudia must have taken it from the guards before they tortured him.”
“It looks brand new.”
“Must be a heck of a vase.” Duke shrugged his shoulders, unwrapped the shawl, and gave it to Kadie, who turned and handed it to Brian.
“Hold this,” she said. “We don’t want to lose it.”
Kadie looked back at Duke, who held a scroll in his hands. The Scroll consisted of two dowels with the papyrus rolled on each stick, meeting toward the middle. The Scroll also appeared to be new. At least, as new as a scroll could look in biblical times.
Duke had a smile on his face as he passed the Scroll to Kadie. “Here you go. It’s what we’ve been searching for.”
Kadie flashed a smile. “I know. It’s what happens next that concerns me.”
Duke nodded. His grim expression said everything. “Hebrews 11:1.”
Confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we cannot see. Kadie hoped God had a plan because Duke didn’t, and neither did she.
A ribbon wrapped around the center of the two dowels of the rolled-up Scroll kept them together. The clasp of the ribbon contained a small metal emblem with Chi-Rho engraved on the surface.
“Constantine’s standard,” Kadie said. Duke and Brian nodded. “He must have placed this seal on the Scroll when he read it.”
Carefully, she removed the metal clip and ribbon and slipped it into her pocket. When she unrolled the Scroll, her eyes grew wide. The text was handwritten in Latin, the ink still bold and vibrant. The papyrus looked so new; she could see how it had been intricately woven together.
“Well?”
Kadie unrolled the lengthy scroll to the point where she could read the entire message. Her eyes danced across the page.
* * *
Noble Excellency,
Greetings! I pray this letter finds you in good health. There has been much upheaval in the state of Israel as of late. One of their own, a prophet named Jesus, a Nazarene, claimed to be the son of the Jewish God. Such a claim created an uproar amongst the elders of the Jews. He was brought before me, and they insisted he be crucified. After much debate and internal struggle, I granted the wishes of the elders and washed my hands clean of their efforts.
My wife had recently converted to a follower of The Way, the religious doctrine this Nazarene professed. She had a fatal illness, and despite that, received dreams about this prophet and the pers
ecution he faced from his people. While the prophet was under arrest, my wife spoke to him, and he blessed her. We don’t know why or how, but her illness went away.
She begged me to spare the prophet, but the decision had been made. The prophet Jesus was crucified and died on the cross. The earth physically shook when he died, cracking the ground beneath him. I saw it myself. He was buried in a tomb, and because there were rumors that he would rise from the dead, I posted guards outside his tomb. These men were some of my finest, as we could not have someone steal away his body.
Yet within three days, the prophet’s body disappeared. His followers claimed he rose from the dead. This was impossible, I thought. But my soldiers never saw anyone enter the tomb, or the prophet’s body removed. Over the next few days, my wife explained the premise of this “Way.” I believe this is what saved her. To learn more about this prophet Jesus, I sought out his followers. Several weeks after the disappearance of the body, I found his Disciples meeting on a hill outside Jerusalem. I approached them and inquired about this man Jesus. They claimed they had seen him on several occasions prior, risen from the dead. While I was with them, something happened that can only be described as miraculous.
Jesus, the prophet I had condemned to death weeks before, appeared on the hill with us. I personally verified the holes in his hands and his side from his crucifixion. We ate, and the Nazarene told his followers they would receive the Holy Spirit. When we finished, Jesus rose into the sky and disappeared into a cloud.
I was stunned. Everything the followers said about him was true. This man had been crucified by my hand, yet three days later rose from the dead. I saw the man die on the cross, yet I saw him standing among his followers several weeks later. The prophet had no animosity or anger toward me. He forgave me for doing, in his words, what was necessary.
Jesus of Nazareth truly is the Son of God. That experience persuaded me also to become a follower of The Way and the son of the one true God. I urge you to share this message with the people of the Roman Empire.
Pontius Pilate, Prefect of Israel
* * *
Tears streamed down Kadie’s face; Duke and Brian moved in front of her. Brian wiped the tears from her face with the corner of the shawl.
“What’s wrong?” Duke said.
“I’ve been such a fool my entire life. I let my pride rule my actions.” She sobbed heavily. “I’ve wasted so much time. Will God ever forgive me for being such a sinner?”
Duke put his arm around her. “That’s kind of what this is all about, isn’t it?” He put both hands on her shoulders and gazed into her eyes. “It’s not how you start, Kadie. It’s how you finish.”
Brian held her hand. “What does it say?” he said.
Kadie told them what the Scroll said, and that she believed it to be authentic.
“I wish Mac was here to see this,” Duke said.
Kadie nodded.
“How come it looks so new?” Duke said.
Kadie shook her head. “I don’t know.” She glanced at the shawl that Brian had draped around his shoulders. “Perhaps something inside the vase preserved the papyrus and the shawl.”
“But you’re sure the Scroll is authentic?”
“Yes. If it’s a fake, it’s the best fake in the history of deception. Every detail is perfect for the period.” She paused. “Duke, we’ve got to figure out what to do. This finding must be shared with the world. This is proof that a real and significant historical figure was an eyewitness to both the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Pontius Pilate saw the wounds in Jesus’ hands, feet, and side just as Thomas did. This—this will change everything.”
Duke nodded. “I agree, but we’ve got to get out of here first. Alive. And we’ve got to take this with us.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” they heard from behind them. Kadie recognized the voice immediately.
She turned to see Patricia, a wry smile on her face, pointing a pistol at them.
61
Kadie stared down the barrel of the Kimber 1911 pointed at her. The chrome-plated pistol glistened in the flickering sheen of firelight. It resembled a cannon at a firing squad—out of place in her tiny hands.
“Well,” Patricia said, “it seems you found what we’re searching for.” Her tongue wet her lips, and her eyes never moved from the Scroll. Several heavy gold necklaces she found in the church hung around her neck, and her pockets bulged with treasures.
Kadie gave a hesitant nod.
“Give it to me.”
Cautious, Kadie handed the Scroll to Patricia. The executive vice president of GDI unrolled it in both hands; the pistol still clasped within her right. The woman’s eyes danced around the ancient papyrus and examined the dowels. She rolled it back up and tucked it under her arm.
“It’ a fake,” she said.
Kadie shook her head. “I don’t think so. The construction is too perfect for that era.”
“It looks brand new. The Pilate Scroll is almost two-thousand years old.” She pulled the Scroll out with her free hand. “This is not that old.”
“Patricia, this is the document—”
“Stop playing games with me.” Her voice raised several octaves. “The dowels are supposed to be coated with amber. There’s nothing like that here.”
“But that’s a legend. It doesn’t mean that’s what it actually is.”
“The dowels are made from the cross Jesus was crucified on,” she screamed. “The DNA of the most popular man in world history is embedded within the dowels of the Pilate Scroll. These appear like they were purchased at an arts and crafts store.”
Kadie studied the ends of the dowels extending from the Scroll. They were hand-carved and skillfully sanded. Custom fitted and sturdy, far from anything that could be bought in a store. Patricia’s expectations were clearly something else. The older woman aimed her pistol at Kadie.
“I’m tired of you screwing around. You’re going to tell me the location of the Pilate Scroll, or I’ll shoot you all right here.”
The woman was serious but delusional. How was she supposed to know the location of the Scroll? Did Patricia think they brought a substitute with them and swapped it out? Kadie glanced at Duke, who focused on the pistol. She turned to look at Brian, who’s eyes were glassy and unfocused.
“Brian?” Kadie’s heart skipped a beat. He was unresponsive.
“Uuuuungh.” It was only a sound, but a sound she’d heard many times before. His body became rigid for a few seconds, then convulsed. He fell, his head impacting the stone wall with a loud smack. Kadie raced toward him as he collapsed. She grabbed him before he hit the ground.
“Oh, please,” Patricia said. “Save the theatrics for someone else.”
“He’s having a seizure,” Kadie said. How long has it been since he’d had any Lamictal? She laid Brian on the hard floor of the cathedral. A small gash oozed blood on the right side of his head, dripping down his face. She put him gently on the ground, whispering words of comfort while his body shook for a few more seconds.
Dear Lord, don’t let the poor boy die here. Not like this. Not now.
As Kadie turned back to Patricia, Duke rushed toward the GDI executive VP. She whirled the pistol in his direction and squeezed the trigger.
BOOM!
The roar of the .45 caliber round echoed across the underground church. Duke lunged at Patricia as she fired. His face flinched as the bullet ripped into his arm, spewing blood from the wound. His momentum thrust him forward, and he was on top of her in a flash. Duke knocked the gun out of her hand and reached for the Scroll, but the pain in his arm seemed to keep him from putting up much of a fight.
Patricia wrestled away from the wounded pilot and ran to the pulpit. Duke spied her pistol on the floor and dove for it just as her accomplices stopped what they were doing across the cathedral. Esteban was on top of him immediately, wielding a jewel-encrusted sword. Duke swung the .45 caliber in his direction and fired. The sound rever
berated again throughout the church as the man crumpled to the ground, dead.
Kadie could feel the vibration of the shot in her feet, her ears ringing from the noise.
Curt and Cliff opened fire in their direction. Every pull of the trigger multiplied the sounds from the excellent acoustics inside the church. Duke took cover behind one of the royal chairs and a chest filled with treasures. Kadie shielded Brian as best she could. She jerked her head to the right when a small piece of the ceiling fell a few feet from her.
There was another loud crack, and both Kadie and Duke looked upward. The ceiling began to split from one side to the other.
“Duke, the ceiling is collapsing,” she said.
“Yeah, I see that.”
Duke shifted his gaze from the ceiling and peered around the edge of the stone pew. Cliff stepped away from the ceiling debris. He wandered aimlessly in the open, exposed; his side bled profusely, his weapon still clenched in his hands. He must have been struck by something that fell from the ceiling, the gaping wound causing him to lose focus.
Unseen by the thug, Duke took aim. Despite the “fire lamps” in the cathedral, it was a challenge to line up the sights on the 1911. This would be an excellent time for night-vision sights, he thought. Who buys a Kimber 1911 and doesn’t put night-vision sights on the thing? With the forward and aft sights centered on the thug, Duke squeezed off three more shots. Cliff’s chest exploded as the .45 caliber slugs ripped into him. His rifle clattered on the ground as he curled over and collapsed.
Curt swung his rifle in Duke’s direction and started spitting hot lead. Duke dove to the floor, rolled under a stone bench, and crawled forward as deadly 7.62 rounds peppered the stonework around him. He flinched and yelped when he rolled on top of the bullet wound in his arm. Won’t make that mistake again, he thought. Duke then ejected the magazine to check his ammo—a double-stack, thank God. Eight more rounds.