The Third Hour

by Richard Devin

  Dominic stood in the center of the room, his back to Tonita. His hands were pressed together and his head bowed down. He spoke quietly, “Oh Saint Joseph, whose protection is so great, so strong, so prompt before the throne of God, I place in you all my interest and desires. Oh Saint Joseph, do assist me by your powerful intercession and obtain for me from your divine Son all spiritual blessings through Jesus Christ, our Lord. So that, having engaged here below your heavenly power, I may offer my thanksgiving and homage to the most Loving of Fathers.” Dominic raised his head to the ceiling of the room, reflected, and then continued, “Oh Saint Joseph, I never weary contemplating you, and Jesus asleep in your arms; I dare not approach while He reposes near your heart. Press Him in my name and kiss His fine head for me, and ask Him to return the kiss when I draw my dying breath.” Dominic moved his hand to his forehead, then his chest, then to his left shoulder, finishing the sign of the cross at his right shoulder. “Saint Joseph, Patron of departed souls, pray for me.”

  Tonita shuffled in her position in a subtle attempt to alert Dominic that she was awake. “Are you praying?” Tonita stood up, sliding her back against the wall, while pushing against the floor with her legs.

  “I was. Habits of a priest are hard to break.”

  And you’re a priest again?” She walked toward Dominic.

  Dominic glared at her. “I’ve never stopped.”

  “It’s funny how people find salvation when they have no other choice.”

  “I’ve always been a priest.”

  “Hey, you don’t have to convince me.” Tonita turned away from him slowly, walking in a circle around the room.

  “I’m not trying to. And the prayer was not one of salvation. It was a prayer to Saint Joseph asking for strength,” he paused and cocked his head, raising his chin up. “Strength in battle.”

  Tonita looked at him, massaged her still aching arm, and said, “Oh? Battle? As in a battle with our inner demons?” She contemplated pushing him harder, conjuring up those inner demons that Dominic kept so deeply confined, then backed off. Time for revelations later, she thought.

  “As in,” Dominic sarcastically mocked. “The Pope sent the prayer to the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V in the early fifteen hundreds. It was said that anyone who reads, says, or hears the prayer shall never die by drowning, poison, fire, or be captured by the enemy.” Dominic let the words set in, then continued, “I thought we could use it.”

  “Well, we certainly fit into the ‘captured by the enemy’ part of that prayer.”

  Dominic paused. “Were you listening?”

  “Kind of.”

  “Good then. We’re both covered.” He raised an eyebrow and smiled. “I would hate for you to remain ‘captured by the enemy,’ when I’m protected by the prayer and get to go free.”

  “You wouldn’t rescue me?”

  “Maybe?”

  “I get a maybe?”

  “Since I got an ‘oh, you’re a priest again,’ yeah. You get a maybe.”

  “I’m only testing your resolve.”

  “Dominic, not Abraham.”

  Tonita shook her head. “What?”

  “I’m Dominic, not Abraham.”

  “I still don’t get it.”

  “Abraham and Isaac. It’s the biblical story of Abraham and how he was tested by God, so that God would see what was truly in his heart. God ordered Abraham to take his son Isaac, his only son, to a mountain and slit his throat, then burn him as a sacrifice.”

  “And you are not like Abraham?”

  “Not in the—I would do whatever God commanded without question, area. You should know that by now. Abraham did not question God’s words and set out to sacrifice his beloved son. I, on the other hand, question everything that God asks of me.” Dominic paused, looked up. “Is there not room for both; those who obey without question and those who question before they obey? Isn’t God testing us all in different ways to see what is truly in each of our hearts?”

  “Spoken like a true priest.” Tonita moved closer to Dominic and stared into his eyes.

  “Maybe?” he said.

  She smiled, then wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. “Dominic, I’m scared.”

  Dominic engulfed her with his arms and pulled her in as close as he could. “I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t.”

  “Let’s just get out of this room and go someplace where no one will bother us. Where we won’t be looking for something, and no one will be looking for us. We could live in a nice quiet little town in the country somewhere. Where there are woods and fields...and a canal.”

  “A canal?”

  “We could move to Perinton,” Tonita said, clapping her hands together.

  “Where the hell is Perinton?”

  “In western New York somewhere. I saw an article on it in a magazine on the plane. It’s a quiet town in the hills with creeks and trains and...”

  “And I know...a canal.”

  “Right.”

  “And we’re just going to move there? Run away?”

  Tonita let her arms fall away from Dominic and took a step back. “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing all along?”

  Dominic closed his eyes and breathed in and out deeply. He opened his eyes and looked into Tonita’s. “Is that what you think?”

  Tonita began to step toward him, then stopped. “Dominic, you left the states after seminary, moved to Italy, joined a church, left a church, and hid in Rome from yourself and from the church. Now, you’re running again, this time chasing after some mystery.”

  “I didn’t ask to get involved in this.”

  Tonita took that step toward him. “I’m not saying it’s wrong, what you’re doing. But you’ve got to admit that...” She let her voice trail off.

  “Admit what?”

  “It’s just kind of strange that Cardinal Celent and the church wanted you.”

  Dominic laughed. “Why is that strange? Am I such a bad choice?”

  “Dominic? You don’t even believe in God.”

  “Why would you say that?” Dominic turned away from her. “I believe in ...” he began, then stopped. He walked to a corner of the room, leaned his head against the wall, and remained silent for several minutes. Dominic turned back to Tonita.

  “I’ve always had my doubts. That’s why I joined the church.” He paused, sighed then let the words out. “And that’s why I took a sabbatical from the church. I think God is there. Sometimes, I know he’s there. When I look at all the church has. All the wealth, the power—hell, the church was a government for the longest time and maybe still is. That’s when I doubt God exists. That’s when I think that God is just an invention of man to keep other men in their place. To keep me in my place.”

  “And where is that, Dom? Where is your place?”

  Dominic ran a hand through his hair, pushing it off his face. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice choking. “Maybe I have no place. Maybe it’s me they’re afraid of. Tonita, did you ever think that I might be the bad guy here. And that the good guys are trying to kill me. And that I’m the one being protected by evil?”

  “No, Dom. I’ve never thought that.”

  “Do you mean that?”

  “Of course I mean it. If anyone would know, I would know if you were one of the bad guys.”

  “How? How could you know?”

  Tonita remained silent. The smile on her face faded and she turned away from him.

  “You don’t know,” he said, walking away from Tonita. He faced a corner of the room, his back to her and hers to him. “You don’t know and neither do I.” He turned around staring at the back of her. “And you know what Tonita? God doesn’t know either.”

  FIFTY

  “GOLGOTHA.” BILL SAID the word aloud. “Golgotha,” he said it again, as if he didn’t believe it the first time.

  Something was wrong. Very wrong. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Bill thought back, retracing his actions and the course of events that led up t
o the countdown.

  All systems were a go. There were no warning signals. All fail-safes were green and working. The crew had been locked in and the capsule was set.

  He clearly remembered hearing the end of the countdown through the small speaker mounted inside the capsule. Seven...six...five...four...three...two. Odd, he thought. He couldn’t recall hearing the countdown to one. But he must have as he was here, near the rock at Golgotha, he considered. Not where he was supposed to be in the desert of New Mexico, but here.

  He rubbed his hands over his face and shook his head and body. But the result was the same. He could not deny that he was standing outside of the Damascus Gate of old Jerusalem, some two thousand years in the past. And he was now witnessing the procession that would bring a man to the cross. As the reality of the time and place hit him, he whispered, “Oh my God. Oh my God. What have we done?” And for an instant, he thought he saw the man burdened by the heavy wooden beam, mocked and spat upon, bleeding and tired, pause in his steps.

  No one else. Not a Roman centurion, not a priest or peasant or pilgrim or child had taken notice of Bill standing upon a desert embankment beyond the ridge from the path that led in and out of the gate. Not one in the crowd had noticed him, except the one man that all others’ eyes were upon. This one man, who could not have heard the words that Bill spoke above the chanting, scolding rants of the crowd, and the distance, yet he turned. He raised his head and this one man those in the crowd were calling Jesus Christ, looked directly in Bill’s direction.

  FIFTY ONE

  THE MUFFLED CLICK OF an electric motor starting up caught Dominic’s attention. He cocked his head to the side to listen.

  “Dom? What?” Tonita took a step toward him.

  He held up his hand. “Wait.”

  A second later the sliding wall began to move.

  Tonita moved quickly to Dominic’s side, allowing her hand to slide into his as she did so. She looked to him, “They’re back,” she said, using the same tone as the little girl in the “Poltergeist” movie.

  Dominic shook his head and squeezed her fingers together in his hand, “Quiet.”

  The wall slid, nearly silent, along the track embedded in the floor. Only the faint “hum” of the electric motor hidden behind the thick masonry walls gave away the wall’s pending motion.

  The wall was midpoint along the track, revealing half of the dimly lit hallway and a portion of an arm. A moment later, the wall had cleared the figure. A lone man stood.

  “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. My old legs do not move as fast as they once did,” Senator Scott said, turning around and taking a step back down the long hallway. He turned back to Dominic and Tonita. “Do you wish to remain in that room or will you be coming along?”

  A moment of indecision, and then Tonita spoke up, “No. We’re coming,” she said, pushing ahead of Dominic. She high-stepped over the track as if the wall might come suddenly slamming back.

  Dominic laughed, stepping out of the room as the wall reversed direction and started to close.

  Tonita glared at him. “Not so funny now.”

  “Yeah, if I were a snail.”

  Dominic and Tonita caught up easily to Senator Scott who had continued down the hallway.

  “The traffic on the way in was just horrendous. And then the airport in D.C. was a mess. You’ve been to Washington before haven’t you?” He turned to Dominic.

  “No, I’m afraid not,” Dominic said, shooting a quick glare to Tonita behind the Senator’s back.

  “Well, you really must come sometime. Be my guest. Both of you. I’ll take you on a tour of the place personally,” Senator Scott continued, “I have a bit of experience in the D.C. area, you know.”

  Tonita glanced quickly at Dominic. “Well honestly sir, we don’t know.”

  Senator Scott stopped. “I’m sorry. That was foolish of me. Of course you don’t.” He moved the cane in his right hand to his left. Then, completing the switch, he extended his right hand. “My name is Ray Scott. Senator Scott.”

  “Well, Senator, thank you for coming to get us.” Dominic extended his hand to the Senator. Were you sent by the Vatican?”

  Senator Scott motioned forward with his cane. “No, my boy. It wasn’t the Vatican. No not the Vatican.” He stepped forward, continuing the long walk down the hall. “Let me just say that it was a friend.”

  “A friend of mine, Senator?”

  “Of course.”

  “Or would I be off saying a friend of yours?”

  “You are very smart to draw the distinction.” Senator Scott picked up the pace. “There are many times in my career that I wish I had asked the same question. Perhaps, then we would not be in the position we are today.”

  “And that position?”

  “I’m here to give you aid, my son. I am both the friend of your friend’s and a friend of yours.”

  “I am sure that you are...” Dominic began.

  “But you doubt,” Senator Scott cut him off. “As I’m sure that I would if I were in your place. You are here and I am here...to help you. Just as I’m sure your friend,” he glanced at Tonita, “is here to do.”

  Tonita smiled at the Senator.

  A smile that caused Dominic to hesitate.

  “I’m sorry about the room back there, but we needed to keep you until I arrived. I hope that you were not too uncomfortable. We don’t use that holding cell...” Senator Scott looked quickly in the direction of Tonita and Dominic. “I mean room, much. It’s practically forgotten. I hope that the Secret Service did not frighten you?”

  “Secret Service, Tonita,” Dominic gloated.

  Senator Scott stopped at a door about fifty yards from the hidden room. He looked back down the hallway toward the hidden room noting that the wall has closed completely. And once again, the hall looked as though it came to an abrupt end. “We go through here,” he said, gesturing to the door.

  Dominic looked in the opposite direction of the hidden room, scanning the length of the hall, then turned his gaze down the hallway following the Senator’s. He returned to the door that they were now standing in front of. The metal encased door was void of any markings. No red painted warnings of impending alarms and arrest were apparent, should anyone venture through, and no numbers. Dominic thought back and could not remember the door when he and Tonita had been prodded along by the Secret Service. There were several others along the hallway that he did remember seeing. They were all clearly marked with warnings. Perhaps, that’s why he missed this one. It just was not as noticeable, he concluded.

  “Shall we?” Senator Scott motioned in the direction of the door.

  Dominic pushed on the bar that was bolted into the door, running perpendicular to the floor. The protruding bar slid into the base and the latch clicked. With the door open only an inch or two, the acrid smell of jet fuel gusted in and the roaring sound of jet engines assaulted their ears.

  Senator Scott raised his voice above the noise of the revving aircraft engine, “Our ride.”

  FIFTY TWO

  CARDINAL CELENT’S EYES popped open. For a moment, he wasn’t sure where he was. The peep of the nearby cardiac monitor and the intravenous tube running from the back of his hand up to the clear liquid filled bag, brought him back fully awake. The lighting in the room had been dimmed. The curtains drawn. He looked around for a clock, but found none. He checked the LCD windows on each of the many pieces of electronic equipment in the room for a digital display of the time. And again, found none.

  He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath and then exhaled. His heart was racing with the memories that filled his dreams. He fought to slow his pulse and gain control of his thoughts and emotions, just as he had done that Wednesday so many years ago.

  THE AIR WAS CLEAR THAT July day in 1947. A fierce storm was brewing in the distance and threatened to delay the experiment. The desert smelled clean with just a hint of ozone lingering on the breeze.

  “How are you feeling?” Ray Scott came up
alongside of Bill. The young director of the experiment dressed in a crisp white shirt, black rimmed glasses, and slicked back dark hair, looked every bit the part of a government employee.

  “Nervous. Anxious. Scared.” Bill listed.

  “Don’t be,” Ray said in response, patting Bill on the back. “We’ve got it all under control.”

  Bill raised an eyebrow, smiled, and said, “Would you like to trade places?”

  Ray slapped Bill on the back again. “Sure would like to. But you know I’m not the man for this job.” He looked at the jumpsuit Bill was wearing. “I’m not much for shiny gray jumpsuits either.” He laughed.

  “How’s it looking?”

  “Like a man wrapped in tin foil.”

  Bill shook his head, then motioned toward the four large generators surrounding the thick metal building. “The experiment. How’s that looking? Not me.”

  “All’s a go.”

  The two men circled the small building, carefully stepping over and around the multitude of cables that ran from the generators about twenty five yards away from the building. Thick metal walls surrounded a small inner chamber that severed as the cockpit.

  “Gentlemen,” air force pilot, Lynda Lee said, as she stepped out of the cockpit.

  “Well, I must say that you look better in shiny gray than this old man does.” Ray jabbed his fist at Bill.

  Bill ignored him, as did Lynda.

  “All is well?” Bill took control of the situation turning his attention to the experiment about to take place. “Ray says ‘all is go.’” He looked quickly in Ray’s direction for confirmation. Ray shook his head. “You’re all set then?” He turned back to Lynda.

  “I’m ready. Everything’s locked up and secure.”

  Bill picked up one of the three-inch thick cables and traced its length back to the generators. He tugged on it, then let it drop back to the ground.