The contents of the archives cover more than fifty miles of shelves, some of the information on Saint Anthony and the prophecy had been easily obtained by Cardinal McKenna. What surprised him was how many different versions there were of the saint’s life. There were details no one else would consider important but to him they could be a clue.
McKenna got up from his desk chair, walked across the antique burgundy and blue Oriental carpet that he had acquired upon taking over the office he now occupied and headed across the room to a leaded glass door that opened out onto a small balcony. Overlooking one of the many gardens inside the walls of Vatican City, there was a sudden shift in the wind and the sky filled with dark menacing clouds. But the winds shifted again and in a matter of seconds there were only blue skies as far as one could see. Dismissing the strange weather he wondered what significance each of the words on the list held. “What is it you stumbled upon?” said McKenna. Asking the question out loud as if he thought Father Roberto might answer.
Could any of this have relevance to the case against Devlin O’Farrell? McKenna remembered Mary Ellen mentioning something about a paper trail that would prove her brother’s innocence. He met Devlin once and recalled thinking how fortunate the Church was to have this young priest accept his calling and to be a servant to the faithful. It was a great shock when he heard the priest had given in to temptation. Walking back to his desk he buzzed for Robert.
“Yes, Cardinal McKenna?”
“Has anything been delivered for me?”
“No. Would you like me to check into to it?”
“No, just let me know as soon as anything is delivered.”
Something kept nagging at him, something he’d read about the LC. What was it? If only he could remember. His suspicions about the order were growing. He had questions about its founder. Rumors had been floating around for years but they had been dismissed as nothing more than rumors until now.
The scandal of Father Maciel’s secret life was the last straw. Catholics around the world wanted the Vatican and more specifically the Pope to acknowledge the corruption and cover-up that had taken place by high-ranking authorities within the Church. People were angry and struggling with the decision to stay or leave the Catholic Church. Lawsuits were being brought against not just parish priests but against bishops and cardinals.
The media was having a heyday with the latest developments, circling like sharks waiting for the kill, unrelenting with their attacks against the Vatican and the Pope. They were getting bold with their opinions for the need for new leadership and even suggested restructuring the Vatican. They even seemed to be hinting they had someone in mind to replace Pope Benedict.
Looking to the heavens Cardinal McKenna asked God for the strength to complete the task His Holiness had asked of him. Whatever God’s plan was he prayed that he would be shown how to stop Satan before it was too late. His thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing.
“Yes Robert, has the file arrived?”
“Not exactly Cardinal McKenna, Ms. O’Farrell is here and adamant she speaks to you. She has something important she must show you.”
He hadn’t expected Mary Ellen to personally show up at his office. She was just supposed to send the file. “That’s fine, please show her into my office.”
Mary Ellen waited until Robert closed the door. Then she walked over to the desk, set down the file, and flipped open the cover.
“There’s something very strange here. I asked Devlin to tell me everything he could remember even if it felt trivial. One of the things he talked about was seeing Vingenzo Parocchi from the Banca Nazionale del Lavoro meeting with Father Maciel on a regular basis. It seemed strange Parocchi himself would personally handle the banking issues with Father Maciel and the LC.”
McKenna was also surprised. “Mr. Parocchi is the director-general of the largest bank in Italy and also a shareholder in the Vatican Bank. As director of Banca Nazionale, he has a close relationship with the Secretary of State for the Vatican. I don’t understand why a man in his position would personally consult with Father Maciel.”
Mary Ellen continued, “There’s more. Parocchi has traveled to Switzerland four times over the last year, each time making a visit to the Union Bank of Switzerland in Lugano.”
She spread out photos taken of him entering the bank on the four separate occasions. On a sheet of paper, she had written the dates of each visit and set it next to the photos.
“Then there’s this,” Mary Ellen said.
She pulled out another sheet of paper with four dates written on it and placed it next to the first sheet of paper.
“So what am I supposed to be seeing here?”
“Cardinal McKenna, look at the dates on both sheets of paper. What stands out?”
McKenna leaned closer and adjusted his reading glasses.
“The dates on the second sheet of paper are each within a few days of the first sheet. So what do you make of it?” asked McKenna.
“The second sheet shows the dates when Mr. Parrochi visited Father Maciel at the LC offices. Is there any way to get the financial records for the LC for the last ten years? I have a feeling we are going to see more similarities. Where was the money coming from for him to support the secret life he had hidden for so many years?”
McKenna’s mind was reeling. Could it be happening again! It had been more than twenty-five years since Roberto Calvi, the president of the Banco Ambrosiano, was found dead hanging from the end of a rope under Blackfriars Bridge. The official record was suicide. But in 1990, new forensic methods reinforced the suspicion he was murdered. With the collapse of Banco Ambrosiano, owned in part by the Vatican Bank, and the murder of Calvi, it was suspected that some of the plundered funds had gone to P2 or its members.
McKenna was in his twenties back then. It was believed Pope John Paul I was going to expose the names of clergy who were members of P2 that were plotting against the Church. The day Pope John Paul I was going to announce changes he was found dead. The talk was he was murdered before he could expose the names.
“Cardinal McKenna, did you hear my question?”
All the color drained from his face and he collapsed into his chair.
“Are you feeling okay? You look white as a ghost!”
He looked up with a blank stare. What she saw was pure fear in his eyes.
“What is it? Do you want me to get medical help?” She was ready to pick up the phone when McKenna raised his hand to stop her.
“I’m fine my child, sit down. You’ve questioned if there could be a link between the LC and the Banca Nazionale del Lavoro, which brought back memories of 1981. You might not have even been born yet, or you were just a small child at the time.
“I’m sure you are familiar with some history on the succession of the Popes. You may or may not know in 1978 Pope John Paul I reigned for only thirty-three days.”
“Yes, I recall reading about that. What does that have to do with any of this?”
“I don’t know if it does. I was a young man at that time, just ordained. I remember watching the news coverage on TV as the conclave to elect the next Pope was taking place, waiting to see the white smoke announcing that a new Pope had been elected.
“When Pope John Paul I was chosen, I was very happy. He would be perfect for the Church for those times, a beacon of light. Then a month later he was dead.
“Are you saying you believe his death was not natural?” she was a little surprised the cardinal would actually consider the possibility.
“Many things were never reported after the Pope’s death.”
He went on to tell her the full story. When he finished she now understood why he might be afraid that something similar could be happening again. If there was evidence of questionable transactions in the bank’s records, could history be repeating itself? If Devlin was set up to look like he was guilty of the allegations, then how many others could be innocent?
She really hadn’t thought of it in that con
text before. She just assumed that someone had it in for Devlin. Her focus had been on finding the person that might have felt her brother had wronged them somehow. It had never occurred to her that this could be a much larger plan by someone to destroy the image of the Church for millions of people around the world. Outside it had started to rain.
“Do you think we could have accidentally stumbled upon a plan by someone to take control of the Catholic Church and possibly more?”
As the rain fell harder, the skies darkened, and day turned to night. The sky lit up with bolts of lighting and clashes of thunder shook the windows. The cardinal clicked on his desk lamp. The warmth of the burgundy walls and the thick plush Oriental carpet created a feeling of being wrapped in a favorite blanket. You felt safe and protected against the world and you felt nothing could harm you, but if you looked out the window it was dark and menacing, as if something evil was trying to get in.
“Evil exists Mary Ellen. Satan feeds on the weaknesses of man. All you have to do is look around. Jesus warns us of false prophets. When Michael the Archangel cast Lucifer out of heaven, it became Satan’s one and only goal to reign as king of his own world. The battle between good and evil began. He would use God’s gift of free will against him. False prophets would gather souls to build their army. If the conspiracy theory surrounding Pope John Paul I is true, we could be witnesses to another well-orchestrated plan of what God warns us of in the last chapter of the New Testament.”
“If what you are saying is true cardinal, then it is out of our hands. There is little the two of us can do to alter the course of the whole world.”
The storm seemed to be worsening if that was possible. Between the light show and the cracks of thunder it almost seemed like the heavens were being ripped open.
Mary Ellen had never been one to ever back away from a problem. This was different. Leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes and asked for God’s blessings.
Cardinal McKenna cleared his throat and spoke in a soft, calm voice. “Actually the answer is quite simple. All God has ever asked of us is to believe in Him. That is what we must do now more than we have ever done before.”
Mary Ellen opened her eyes. “We lose sight of that so often, don’t we?”
“Yes, unfortunately Mary Ellen, we do. That is the one weapon evil has no power over, but that does not release us from our duties here on earth.”
“Cardinal McKenna, I mentioned that I had two friends that were named after Saint Anthony when we were walking in the gardens yesterday.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Sadly, Alberto their father, passed away not too long ago. He was a wonderful man. He gave Nelli the most beautiful necklace before he died. I’m sorry, that’s nothing you would need to know. Anyway, he was born in Pesaro and they decided to come to Italy and visit the place where their father was born. They have invited me to spend the weekend with them. I was planning on leaving around noon tomorrow and coming back on Sunday. If you could get me the records we just talked about and anything else you think might be of interest, I will take them with me. Actually Anthony is an expert on religious history. If it’s okay with you, I will pick his brain a little without raising any red flags.”
McKenna logged the newest information away about Mary Ellen’s friends.
“I will assume your friends will be picking you up on the other end?” McKenna asked.
“Yes.” She knew that he was concerned about her safety. She felt silly telling him that Anthony had also gotten a bodyguard for her.
The worst of the storm had passed and the skies were beginning to lighten. McKenna clicked off his desk lamp.
“Perhaps God is pleased that we understand the only thing He asks of us is to trust in Him. We should never forget the story of Adam and Eve. Then as now the serpent is using the gift of free will to gather his souls.”
Mary Ellen placed a copy of the file on Cardinal McKenna’s desk.
“Here is a copy of everything I received from Father Roberto that morning. This weekend I will speak more with my brother and see what I can learn from Anthony, then study whatever information you can get for me on the financial records of the LC.”
McKenna stood up now, “Thank you Mary Ellen. Please call me on my private number if you have any questions or come across anything you think I should know. I plan on spending most of the weekend in the Vatican Archives.”
After Mary Ellen left, McKenna remembered what Pope Benedict said to him at the end of their meeting. He would have access to anything he needed. So he made a call and requested all the information on the banking scandal in 1981 surrounding Banco Ambrosiano and the IOR, more commonly known as the Vatican Bank.
Besides the other information, he also requested financial records for both the IOR and the LC for the last ten years.
He was told he would have the information by the end of the day.
CHAPTER 50
The guests had been arriving for the last hour. Everyone attending was being helicoptered in from a small airport approximately thirty miles from the villa, none of the guests knew the actual location of the estate, and Peter wanted it that way.
As one helicopter landed with guests, another helicopter was in the air, headed back to the airport to pick up more of the evening’s attendees. Airspace surrounding both the airstrip and estate had been secured for the next twenty-four hours. The weather forecast had turned out to be ideal conditions for flying, and the forecast was the same for the evening. There had not been a single cloud visible all afternoon. The evening sky would create a dome of stars as a backdrop for the fireworks at the end of the night. Plans for the evening’s festivities out in the gardens and on the terrace would not have to be changed.
The guests were made up of members of P2 in powerful positions from around the world. Also on the list: the Grand Master of the United Grand Lodge of England (UGLE) as well as orders that were not recognized by the UGLE, appendant bodies such as female-only orders and Co-Freemasonry or mixed orders. There were also a handful of newly initiated P2 members. They were the fortunate ones. They would be the last brought into the order before the world changed forever.
Peter watched his guests from his office on the closed circuit TVs. He saw that everyone had arrived. Shortly he would join his guests. He smiled, thinking about how easy it was to tempt the soul of Eve. Since that day countless souls had followed Satan.
Many times God stepped in and punished man for breaking the covenant, but the battle of good versus evil continued. This time Peter was about to achieve his ultimate goal to occupy the throne of Saint Peter and possess the keys to heaven. The sounds of music and laugher drifted up from the floor below. It was time for him to join the party. He buzzed for Thomas. Thomas heard the signal in his earpiece, excused himself from the guests he was talking to, and headed to the Grand Master’s study. Touching his earpiece to open the two-way radio transceiver he said, “I am on my way Naj Hannah.”
Peter laid the pen he’d been using into the handcrafted box made especially for it. In his travels many years back, a friend introduced him to a man who had a private collection of some very unusual pieces. One in particular had captured his attention. He had never seen anything like it before. The collector believed he owned the only one that existed in the world. It was a handmade pen that depicted “the Creation” like the famous painting between God and Adam. Both figures were rendered in a silver and gold overlay that surrounded the full length of the pen.
Peter became obsessed with having his own one of a kind pen but his would be designed with the first description given to him found in the book of Genesis, depicting a serpent when he became Grand Master of Propaganda Due. He commissioned Paul DuClos, the designer of the pen from the private collection, to make one to his specifications. It was the only pen he would use to sign his name on important documents.
The barrel of the pen was made from the rarest wood in the world, Piratinera Guianensis. It was a hardwood, reddish brown in color
with irregular black speckles also called snakewood. How fitting he thought.
He chose the king cobra for the symbol of the serpent and had it made out of solid gold. The detailing of the skin was superb. Throughout the body were randomly placed red diamonds, the rarest of gemstones. First the artist coiled the tail of the snake around the section part of the pen then flawlessly joined it to the body of the snake mounted onto the barrel. The third and final part, the head of the king cobra with its iconic hood fully extended, was mounted on the cap and again flawlessly joined to the body of the snake. The mouth was open wide with its fangs exposed, as if ready to attack its prey. The finishing touch was the distinctive blue lapis eye.
There was a secret about the pen that only one other person knew and if he ever divulged the secret he would meet an unpleasant death. The secret was in the reservoir of the pen. At the same time Peter commissioned the pen he also hired a chemist to create special ink for it. It was to contain the venom and blood from the king cobra snake. He loved the thrill of knowing that a touch from the nib of the pen could kill a person within seconds, and he had the pleasure of witnessing it only a few times. The last appraisal valued it at five million dollars.
There was an abrupt knock and a hooded disciple opened the door to announce Thomas. As he entered, Thomas greeted the Grand Master.
“You look well Naj Hannah. All of the guests have arrived.”
“It sounds as if they are already getting into the spirit of the evening.”
Walking over to a large black lacquered armoire Peter opened the doors; inside hung his dinner jacket for the evening. Removing it from the hanger he turned and faced the mirror. Placing one arm into a sleeve he imagined himself standing in the Room of Tears donning the white papal cassock of the newly elected Pope.
As he caught the reflection of Thomas looking at him he said, “The next time you see me in formal attire, I will be wearing all white,” then he smiled with self-satisfaction. Giving a last check to his appearance, he ran his fingers through his hair and he was ready to attend the party.
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