The Serpent's Disciple

by Deborah Stevens

  “We believe we’ve found a hidden message concealed within the writings.”

  Words can often change in meaning,” said Father Cossa, “but I will read what I believe to be as close to the translation as I could come.”

  Picking up a sheet of paper, he began reading.

  Blessed is the Keeper of the Key

  For they shall cut off the head of the serpent.

  The Ark of the Testament holds the gift that you seek.

  A statue in my honor will point you to the peak.

  Find the final resting place and remember the words of your father

  Be Pure of Heart.

  There is where you will find the key

  “It’s a riddle,” said Nelli. “It talks about the Ark of the Testament. Mankind has been searching for that for centuries, and there are hundreds of statues of Saint Anthony.” For the first time, she wondered if they would find the book in time.

  Father Cossa saw the disappointment in Nelli’s face.

  Anthony had also hoped for more. He had counted on learning the exact location of the book.

  Nelli sat holding onto the cross her father had given her.

  “Would you please read the message again, Father?” she asked.

  Father Cossa read it again, this time more slowly.

  Nelli realized she heard what she wanted to hear the first time it was read. She was mad at herself. There were other ways to interpret the message. What she has been told over and over again appeared here in the passage from the scroll: “Be pure of heart and you will be shown the way.”

  “Please forgive me,” said Nelli, “I allowed myself to question God’s plan and whether he had chosen the wrong person for this mission. I will not question His plan again.”

  “My child, even the apostles questioned our Lord of the things he asked of them,” replied Father Cossa. “Do not be disheartened by a moment of weakness. When asked, you chose to accept the responsibility that you were given. Your faith won, that’s what’s important.” He smiled as a loving parent would to a child.

  “It’s telling us where to look,” said Nelli. “At first, I thought it was telling us we’re supposed to find the final resting place of the Ark of the Covenant, the Holy Grail, but what if we’re supposed to look for the final resting place of Saint Anthony, and that will point us to this Ark of the Testament that holds a gift we seek?”

  Mary Ellen gasped, remembering something she had read about Saint Anthony and of the testament’s reference she’d come across while searching the Web just before falling asleep.

  “Oh my God!” she shouted.

  Andrew and Mattithyahu pulled out their guns, thinking she saw something. Everyone’s attention was now on Mary Ellen. Grabbing her phone, she began scrolling through her searches on Saint Anthony.

  “Here it is! I came across this doing a Web search just before I fell asleep, the new Pope, Gregory IX, the former Cardinal Ugolino, a friend and sponsor of the young monk Anthony, invited him to preach to the Curia. This was not unusual when a distinguished preacher was available. Preaching from his extensive knowledge of the Scriptures, yet in a way accessible even to the uneducated, the cardinals were impressed and the Pope coined a new title for Anthony, Ark of the Testament.

  “Why did the Pope choose this phrase? Certainly it had something to do with Anthony’s familiarity with the Old and New Testaments. When Anthony wrote the prologue to his Scriptural Commentaries for Sundays, he began with a text from the Book of Chronicles, which tells how King David gave gold to make the figures of the cherubim that decorated the original ark. The theme of the ark returns several times in Anthony’s writings. There are, in fact, two arks mentioned in the Scriptures, that of Moses and that of Noah.”

  Mary Ellen stopped reading and looked up, “You won’t believe what I am going to read next.

  “Anthony wrote that an ark was simply a chest or strongbox, in which valuables were kept safe from theft or damage. Now here, listen later on his tomb was often referred to as the ark.”

  The room fell silent.

  In a quiet voice, Nelli asked, “Father Cossa do you have knowledge of where Saint Anthony’s final resting place might be?”

  “It is well-known and it’s not far from here, about 187 km, or about a two-hour drive. Padua, better known as the city of the saint, the most beloved saint in the world, the one you were named after, my two new friends, Saint Anthony.”

  There it was again, the guiding hand gently leading them on their journey!

  “Do you know the exact location of where his remains are buried in Padua?” asked Anthony.

  Chuckling, Father Cossa answered, “Being so loved was Saint Anthony that a magnificent basilica was built to house his remains. It is not easily missed when you visit Padua.”

  CHAPTER 83

  Time was critical. The meeting with Commander Valentino Crevelli made that clear. After hearing everything McKenna had to say, the head of the Swiss Guards told the cardinal they had been following the activities of the LC for a long time. McKenna listened as the Commander continued.

  “After Father Roberto’s death, I contacted a longtime friend of mine outside of the Vatican, and asked him to find out everything he could on the cobra symbol that was left next to the body.

  “A few years ago the Italian justice reopened the investigation on the defunct Banco Ambrosiano and an organization called P2—learning that the bank had set up branches in Lima and other South American countries. It has been brought to my attention that secret transactions and possible money laundering has been taking place with a bank in Rio de Janeiro.

  “The bank is run by the son-in-law of a former deputy chairman of Banco Ambrosiano, Carlo De Benedetti, who was convicted of fraud by a Milan court in connection with its collapse.

  “Also, after Pope John Paul I’s death, it was believed P2 had been abolished, but the Vatican remained diligent on following up on any leads on members who might still be active. We could not have a repeat of September 1978.

  “We’ve been monitoring the activities of several cardinals within the Vatican as well as other clergy from around the world.

  “When Ms. O’Farrell started looking into clearing her brother’s name and Father Roberto discovered some aberrant activity associated with the LC, we became concerned. We believe this time there is a threat not only to the Vatican, but also to the world.”

  Cardinal McKenna was speechless; he relayed his meeting with Cardinal Cavallari.

  “He is one of the cardinals we have been watching very closely,” replied the Commander.

  “Are you aware of the strange marking beneath the ring he wears?” asked McKenna.

  “No. Please clarify.”

  “Ms. O’Farrell told me that her brother mentioned an idiosyncrasy he had observed with a few of the priests when he was with the LC. On occasion, a few of them would appear to spin the ring on their finger when they would gather, but he brushed it off as a nervous tic. In my meeting with Cavallari, I caught a glimpse of some kind of tattoo that was hidden under his ring.”

  “Continue,” said Crevelli.

  “I believe it’s a tattoo of a cobra’s head. That is how they acknowledge to each other they are a member of P2.”

  The commander picked up the phone and barked orders to the person on the other end.

  “Pull up all the video we have with Cardinal Cavallari in them and look for any unusual behavior pertaining to the ring finger. Report back to me immediately.” He slammed the phone down.

  “Is there anything else you have not told me, cardinal?”

  McKenna hesitated. He knew that the commander had been around the spiritual leaders of the Vatican most of his life, but his world was one of gathering information, getting evidence, and profiling people. What he was about to tell the commander was based on faith, prophecy, and personal belief.

  “Cardinal McKenna, time is our enemy; you need to tell me everything you know.”

  “All right, here it goes.
Ms. O’Farrell’s friends, the brother and sister … I believe … one of them could be the Chosen One spoken of in the prophecy of Saint Anthony,” said Cardinal McKenna.

  The commander was trying to grasp the ramifications of what Cardinal McKenna had just told him. He had always dealt with facts but could this time be different? Was there more happening here than just the human need for power and money?

  “If you are correct Cardinal McKenna, then we could be facing what the Bible speaks of in the Book of Revelation. May God bless all the souls of the faithful.”

  It seemed as if the commander aged ten years right before McKenna’s eyes.

  “I must tell you Cardinal McKenna, Pope Benedict has always felt a special connection to Saint Anthony. He believes in the prophecy, that a Chosen One or the Keeper of the Key will deliver the words of Our Lord and have the power to convert all the lost souls on earth. If Saint Malachy’s prediction is correct, Pope Benedict is the second to the last Pope on his list to be followed only by one called Peter Romanus, Peter the Roman. Saint Peter being the rock the church was built on, Peter Romanus, with the help of Satan, would be the one to tear down the church.”

  The phone rang, startling both men.

  “Yes, when was the last one noticed and where?” asked Crevelli. All the color drained from the commander’s face.

  “Bring those to me now and prepare to move the Pope.”

  “Cardinal McKenna, I need to get in touch with Ms. O’Farrell immediately. If what you believe is correct, the world is in grave danger. I am moving the Pope to a secure location for his safety. We need to know if she is the Chosen One and if this book has been found that Saint Anthony speaks of in his prophecy. We must get it to Pope Benedict. It could be our last hope for the church and all mankind. I have arranged for additional security for you. And once you know the location of Ms. O’Farrell and her friends, they will have protection 24/7. You must excuse me now cardinal.”

  “Yes of course. I will contact you as soon as I know anything.” As he exited, he could already hear Commander Crevelli giving orders over the phone.

  Heading back to his office, McKenna passed by colleagues he’d known for years. Now he wondered if any of them had the cobra tattoo. As he got closer to the Apostolic Palace he saw Cardinal Cavallari up ahead talking with two other priests. One of the men looked up when he sensed McKenna approaching. McKenna could tell they did not want their conversation to be overheard. Cavallari turned to see what his companion was looking at. If looks could kill McKenna would now be with Father Roberto. Turning his back, Cavallari said a few words to his companions, and then they dispersed going in separate directions.

  Time was running out. It was as if his body knew it before his brain did and was pushing him to walk faster. His heart was pounding and his mind racing. He had to talk to Mary Ellen and find out if her friend was the Chosen One and if she had the book. When he entered his office he found out that his assistant, Robert, had been replaced with an officer from the Swiss Guard.

  “Cardinal McKenna my name is Angelo; Commander Crevelli has asked me to be of service to you for the next few days. Robert was asked to help on a project over at the Vatican Archives. While you were out, we took the liberty to sweep your office for any unwanted devices.”

  “Thank you, Angelo. That is comforting to know.”

  He missed having Robert there, but he did feel safer with this young officer outside his door. Wanting to contact Mary Ellen immediately, he entered his office, but decided to first stop and wind his father’s clock just a few turns.

  Reaching for the key, it accidentally slipped off the edge and fell on the floor. As he bent down to pick it up, the window behind his desk suddenly exploded. As he dove to the floor, a bullet missed his head by inches.

  Angelo came rushing through the door, his gun pointed, ready to kill the intruder. Not seeing anyone, he immediately looked to find out where the shot came from, at the same time yelling, “Cardinal McKenna have you been hit?”

  “No, it missed me.”

  “Stay down,” Angelo shouted, taking a quick glance to make sure the cardinal was telling the truth, then ran to the window to see if he could tell where the shot came from. The two Swiss Guards outside the entrance to the office were now in the room. One of them was on his cell phone, getting instructions.

  “Cardinal, if you would please come with us, we must get you to a safe location,” said Angelo.

  One of the guards helped McKenna up, who stood for a moment staring at his father’s clock. It was his usual routine to stop and wind the clock every evening as he left the office but something had told him to wind it this morning.

  “Please, Cardinal McKenna, we must go,” Angelo said now in a commanding tone.

  “I’m sorry, please lead the way,” he answered.

  Before turning his back on the clock, McKenna silently thanked his father for saving his life.

  McKenna was taken through a secret door that led into the tunnels beneath St. Peter’s. Angelo seemed to know his way among the catacombs, taking them to a secure location underground that the cardinal didn’t even know existed.

  Once inside, he was asked to make a list of any materials he wanted from his office and they would be brought to him. He handed the list to a young man that looked too young to be a member of the Swiss Guard.

  “Thank you, Cardinal McKenna. What you have requested will be brought to you as quickly as possible. Commander Crevelli would like me to remind you of his request for you to make a call to the person the two of you spoke of at the end of your meeting.”

  McKenna almost forgot, with what had just happened.

  The guard continued, “To your right is a room with a desk and a secured phone line for your use.”

  “Thank you,” replied McKenna. “I will make the call immediately. Please inform the commander and bring me my things as soon as they arrive.”

  “Of course.”

  McKenna didn’t need to fear a bullet finding him down here, there were no windows. It was some kind of underground bunker. Angelo would return to the office and remain stationed at the desk. He would spend the rest of the day answering calls and rescheduling meetings, telling everyone that Cardinal McKenna had come down with a nasty flu bug.

  CHAPTER 84

  General D’Amoto understood that there was to be no further communication between the members of the Inner Circle or with Thomas until the announcement by the new Pope establishing the New World Order. So why was he receiving this call?

  He was chosen because of his expertise and he had done his job well, if he must say so himself, to perfection. The final stage of the plan was underway and as a military leader he taught his soldiers to follow orders even if it meant death. When he was told there was a call from a man named Thomas, it did not sit well with him.

  He stared at the phone trying to decide if he should take the call. On the other end, Thomas waited impatiently.

  Finally, D’Amoto reached for the phone.

  “This is General D’Amoto.”

  “It took you long enough to answer,” snapped Thomas. “Something has come up. I need you to send someone to pick up a brother and sister and their companions. They’ve rented a villa outside of Pesaro.”

  “There was to be no .... ” but before D’Amoto could finish his sentence, Thomas cut him off.

  “Just do it,” he said, “and bring them to the compound.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “I will make the necessary arrangements.”

  Outside of Pesaro the dark blue Alfa Romeo with the unmistakable white roof and red stripe on the side sped up the cypress-lined gravel road to the circle drive of the Villa Cattani Stuart. The patrol car carried the captain and one other officer of the Carabinieri police force, followed closely behind by an Iveco VM 90 van holding four more officers. The captain was a longtime friend of General D’Amoto. If called, he would assist his friend, no questions asked. Once his officers had surrounded the vill
a, the captain pounded on the door.

  “Polizia!” Noticing the ring on his finger had shifted slightly, exposing the corner of a tattoo, he pushed it back in place.

  Franco never much liked the man that was now knocking at the door but he would give him the respect he demanded as the local police captain.

  “Buon giorno. How may I assist you today, captain?” said Franco politely.

  “Your guests, the Americans, where are they?”

  Franco acted surprised.

  “They’re no longer here. I’m just finishing the last of cleaning before locking up and heading home. Why, has something happened?”

  The captain didn’t bother to answer, walking right past Franco.

  “If you don’t mind, I will take a look for myself.” He pointed to his other officer to cover the first floor while he headed upstairs.

  “Chiaramente, of course,” said Franco, stepping to the side. As he stood waiting he could feel sweat beading up under his shirt. After a few minutes, the captain was back.

  “Where are they headed?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know. Although, I overhear signore mention Rome. They asked phone numbers of airlines and car rental agencies, then got into vehicle and left. Perhaps they are taking scenic drive back to Rome.” Franco prayed he believed him.

  The police officer knew the man’s family well. They were devout Catholics, he still wondered if Franco was telling the truth.

  “What kind of car were they driving?”

  Franco knew the captain was trying to decide if he was lying or not. He needed to appear calm and not allow the captain to see he was scared.

  “I’m so sorry, I do not know the make of car. I can tell you it was dark green. If you’re finished here, I need to lock up and get home to my Angelina.”

  “Si, but do not go far. I may need to have you come down to the station later.” The police captain turned and headed to his car.

  On the way back to headquarters he started working on locating the car. He had someone call all the rental car companies trying to find out the make, model, and license plate number of the vehicle the Americans were driving. He was determined to hand these Americans over to D’Amoto before evening.