The Serpent's Disciple

by Deborah Stevens

  “Yes, can you tell me what’s up there?” Nelli pointed towards the structure at the top of the hill.

  “Ah si, signorina, it’s the oldest structure in Padua. It was the abbey where our beloved Saint Anthony spent his last days.”

  “Is it open to the public?” asked Nelli.

  “No signorina, it is still a working monastery, inhabited by a small order of Benedictine monks.”

  “Grazie,” Nelli replied.

  The guide then directed his group to follow him, walking towards the entrance to the basilica. Nelli and the others stayed behind.

  “What is it, Nelli?” asked Anthony.

  “Don’t you see? The message says, ‘A statue in my honor will point you to the peak!’ Saint Anthony’s statue is looking past the city to the abbey where he spent the last days of his life. He’s keeping watch. That’s where we’ll find the book.”

  Not far away, another tour guide was pointing out the features of the basilica to his group. Christine pretended to listen but was keeping a close eye on Anthony. Whispering something to the man standing next to her, he nodded, and then signaled to two other men in the group. The three took off, walking in different directions.

  Cephas and Y’hochanan arrived in Pesaro a few hours ago. From a distance they observed the three men separate from the group. At the same time, Cephas heard Judah’s voice in his earpiece.

  “Check out the blonde woman, two o’clock. She keeps looking over at Anthony. She whispered something to the man standing next to her, and now he’s leaving, followed by two men,” said Judah. “I’m getting bad vibes about this.”

  “Got it,” said Cephas. “Mattithyahu, Andrew, and I will each take one. You keep an eye on the blonde. Judah, I have to ask, your injury, are you okay? Or should I have one of the other Guardians take over?”

  “I’m good to go. A little sore but that won’t stop me. There’s something familiar about that blonde though.”

  “Everyone has their targets, let’s go,” said Cephas.

  CHAPTER 87

  Nelli and Anthony walked in front, Father Cossa and Mary Ellen close behind. They didn’t want to draw attention to themselves so they tried to act like any tourist visiting Padua that day, pointing to different things and taking a few pictures. They were two blocks from where the truck was parked, but Anthony led them down a different street and through an alley.

  “Where are you going?” asked Nelli.

  “We’re going to switch vehicles,” replied Anthony. “Mix things up a little.”

  Entering their destination into the car’s GPS, the next voice they heard was that of a woman’s—giving them the first set of directions as the car sped off.

  “Anthony, what if they won’t let us in?” asked Nelli.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll get in.”

  Nelli was beginning to see a different side of Anthony. The gentleness was gone, and he was guarded now, and on edge, but she felt safe with him.

  From the backseat, Mary Ellen blurted out, “I just got a text message from Cardinal McKenna. A plane will be waiting for us at the Venice Treviso Airport. It’s twenty miles north of Padua along SS-515, close to intersection SS-53, and he’s still working on the other request. Do you want me to reply back?”

  Anthony checked the rearview mirror to see if they were being followed and caught a glimpse of Mary Ellen’s face. It crossed his mind that maybe they should try again and wondered if she had considered that possibility too. He couldn’t ignore that it felt good to be with her, but this time it was he who was trying to save someone. His thoughts were interrupted by a new set of directions: “In approximately a quarter mile, turn right on Via Cavalleto and then drive 1.9 kilometers to Via Sorio.”

  “Anthony, should I text the cardinal back?” Mary Ellen asked again.

  “No, not right now,” he answered.

  In the backseat Father Cossa stared out the window thinking how strange it was that at one time he had considered the monastic life. He recalled praying and asking God for guidance. During the discernment process and with the help of a spiritual director, he decided that the ascetic life was not his calling. God had a different plan for him; perhaps the last couple days were the reason for the decision he made so many years ago. Then came another set of directions: “In 500 feet, turn left on Via Sorio, drive .8 kilometers.”

  “There it is,” said Nelli as she tried to picture Saint Anthony walking the grounds of the monastery.

  Mary Ellen looked out her window as the ancient walls got closer and closer. “I feel like we are about to set foot onto sacred grounds.”

  The directions continued: “At the next curve follow it to your right. In .2 kilometers you will arrive at your destination. You have arrived at your destination. Goodbye.”

  Anthony slowed the car to a crawl as he drove over the gravel road up to the main entrance.

  Father Cossa stared at the walls of the monastery. He now knew what God’s plan was for him. He had been selected to help fulfill the prophecy of Saint Anthony.

  The monastery was perched high on a hill. The land immediately surrounding the structure was made up of flat dry earth and cobblestones. The monastery almost seemed as if it were built in the middle of a desert, except for the trees and hills that stretched as far as the eye could see beyond the cobblestones. There was no chance of anyone sneaking up on the building without being noticed.

  Getting out of the car, the four began walking toward massive bronze doors cut into stone that made up the outside walls of the monastery. They were not sure what to do once they reached the doors. Drawing closer, it became clear that the doors consisted of a set of panels with inlaid silver lettering that looked very old. The inscriptions on the doors appeared to show, in detail, the possessions of the monastery and the churches that had depended on it in earlier times. To enter now, as in earlier times, someone inside would have to open the doors. Stepping back, they looked for a way to alert the monks they had visitors.

  Stretching into the sky above the set of doors was an ancient bell tower where Anthony thought he saw someone watching from one of the openings.

  “Hello!” yelled Anthony, “I saw you looking at us. Please, we must speak to the abbot of the monastery.”

  Finally, a face shrouded by a hood appeared in the narrow opening.

  “No one is allowed inside. This is a cloistered community. Why have you come here?”

  Father Cossa stepped back so the monk could see him.

  “Please, we have been sent here by the Holy Spirit. It concerns the Book of Revelation and what Our Lord foretold of what was to come.”

  The monk did not respond and disappeared.

  “Now what?” asked Nelli.

  Anthony was trying to see if there was another way in.

  “Shhhh, listen did you hear that?” whispered Mary Ellen. No one moved or said a word. “There, do you hear it?”

  It sounded like wood being dragged across metal. It was followed by a noise like metal scraping against metal. They waited to see what would happen next, but the bronze doors remained closed, guardians against the outside world.

  Becoming annoyed, Anthony was about to pound on the doors when he heard the release of a metal bolt. A smaller door concealed within the intricate designs of the panel slowly opened inward. A monk appeared, looking as though he could have been from the twelfth century.

  “I am Abbot Giuseppe. My brother told me of what you spoke. We live a monastic life of hermits behind these walls, away from the secular world. He said you spoke of the Holy Spirit guiding you to our monastery. What business is it that you have with us?”

  “We are here because of the prophecy of Saint Anthony.”

  Anthony watched to see if there was any reaction from the monk. The abbot appeared undisturbed and said nothing. He stood in silence waiting for Anthony to continue.

  “We are here in search of a gift the monk Antonio received from his young apprentice who served him while at the monastery before he di
ed.”

  Anthony thought he saw a hint of surprise in the abbot’s eyes when he mentioned the gift.

  “I’m sorry but we cannot help you,” said the abbot as he started to close the door.

  Nelli had been quietly standing behind Anthony. When she saw the door closing, she quickly stepped in front of her brother.

  “Please, wait Abbot Giuseppe, my given name is Antonella. I was named after and have been visited by Saint Anthony since my father’s passing.”

  The door came to an abrupt stop. The abbot stood still then slowly turned to face the young woman. When he came face to face with her, he noticed the cross that hung from her neck.

  “What a beautiful cross. May I ask where you got it from?”

  “I have a feeling you might already know the answer to that question Abbot Giuseppe, but I will tell you anyway. On his deathbed, my father removed the cross he had worn his whole life and passed it on to me for safekeeping.”

  “And what did he say to you when he gave you the cross?”

  “That I was now the Keeper of the Key.”

  “Did he say anything else to you?”

  “That the secret lies within and to be pure of heart.”

  Abbot Giuseppe looked up to heaven and closed his eyes in prayer. When he opened them again he said, “Our order has been preparing for this day, but we did not know when the time would come for the Chosen One to visit us. It appears that time is now. Please, come inside.”

  After they entered, the monk closed the small door and slid the heavy wooden beam back across the metal brackets. They now stood in a large stone courtyard that was surrounded on three sides by arched walkways. Off to the right, seven monks sat on benches facing each other. They did not look up at the strangers in their monastery. Softly they began chanting.

  The abbot saw the visitors’ heads turn to observe the monks. In a calm and respectful voice he said, “The monks have scheduled times of prayer. They will chant for twelve minutes then return back to their daily duties. Now if you please, I ask that you follow me.” He began walking towards the left set of arches.

  Outside, the Guardians watched as Anthony and the others disappeared into the monastery.

  CHAPTER 88

  Thomas got off the phone with D’Amoto and he was furious. He’d planned to be able to report to the Grand Master that the problem had been eliminated and gain back his trust. Secretly he’d put a trail on Christine. Thankfully it paid off.

  D’Amoto was sending a car to drive Thomas to the airstrip where a plane was waiting to take him to Padua. He was banking on the reason why Christine was in Padua: because she had located the two siblings and his only hope was to get to them before she did. If not, he was as good as dead, and it wouldn’t be a pleasant death. He knew Peter left earlier in the day to meet secretly with the fifteen cardinals who would vote him in as Pope. In less than twenty-four hours, Peter Romanus would become the 266th Bishop of Rome and the leader of the New World Order.

  A new Bombardier light business class Learjet was waiting for him when he got to the airstrip. Once on board he was told the flying time to Padua and realized it would be even shorter than he thought.

  The plane cut through some low-hanging clouds, but Thomas’s thoughts were on planning out his next moves. He needed to beat Christine at her own game. He would let her lead him to where these two individuals were located and then eliminate them before she had a chance to do it herself. Afterwards, he would inform the newly elected Pope Peter II that the problem had been taken care of and he planned on bringing back a souvenir to prove it.

  The pilot came on the intercom announcing they would be starting their descent shortly, and the aircraft had been cleared for landing.

  Thomas could see the city coming into view, making out some buildings and homes as the plane continued its descent. Somewhere down there was Christine.

  On the outskirts of the city an old monastery sat on the top of a small mountain. That must be the same one they could see from the terrace at the compound, he thought.

  General D’Amoto watched from the ground as the Learjet 40 XR landed and taxied to the hangar. The air steps were ready to be placed as soon as the plane came to a stop. The door on the side of the aircraft opened and there stood Thomas. He locked eyes with D’Amoto. Heading down the steps, he yelled over the noise from the engines, “Do we know their location?”

  Most likely the general had not spoken to anyone else, and Thomas wanted to give the appearance that his authority hadn’t changed.

  “We’ve followed Christine as you asked,” replied D’Amoto. “It appears she is headed to a monastery on the outskirts of Padua. You most likely saw it from the plane when you started your approach for landing.

  “I don’t like changes at the last minute,” said D’Amoto angrily.

  Thomas was infuriated that D’Amoto would dare chastise him.

  “Just take me to where Christine is,” said Thomas.

  Knowing he wouldn’t get any answers from Thomas, the general turned abruptly, “Of course. If you will follow me please,” D’Amoto did not like the feeling he was getting. They walked in silence towards the waiting vehicle.

  Thomas decided to deal with Christine after he took care of the problem. It would be easy enough to say she had been caught and killed in an exchange of gunfire. If Christine was on her way to the monastery then that must be where the brother and sister were headed. But why the monastery? What was so important about going there? His biggest concern was whether Christine talked to Peter and, if so, what she had told him.

  “Tell the driver to take us immediately to the monastery,” Thomas said, climbing into the backseat of the black Cadillac SUV. Settling in, he asked, “Do we have any idea why they would be going there?”

  “What we know is that the monastery is inhabited by forty monks who spend their days in prayer and doing tasks associated with maintaining a self-sustaining community. They produce olive oil from their own trees under a private label and sell it in town and through some other sources.

  “Once a week, someone from the monastery goes into Padua to fill orders and purchase items they cannot grow or make on their own. It is said their chanting can be heard for miles when the wind conditions are right. It is also where Saint Anthony spent his last days before being canonized, one year after his death.

  “There is a folklore that the monks are the Guardians of an artifact that Saint Anthony willed to his order for safekeeping but the Vatican has stated that any relics of the saint have been obtained and are under their dominion. So it is believed that the rumor was made up by the townspeople to create a mystery around the abbey.”

  All Thomas knew was that he wanted to be the one to tell Peter that the people responsible for killing two of his disciples were no longer a threat; they had been eliminated. Whatever they were up to, it was too late to stop what was about to happen but he would make sure they wouldn’t cause him or Peter any future problems.

  “Are you certain Christine does not suspect she’s being followed?” asked Thomas.

  “Yes, I have no evidence to the contrary to believe she is aware of our presence.”

  “Excellent,” smiled Thomas. “Tell your men to be ready to move on my command. Let’s see what the Worthy Matron has found for us.”

  General D’Amoto didn’t show his anger but there was no way in hell Thomas was going to tell his men what to do.

  Thomas looked at his watch. Peter’s meeting with the cardinals would be ending very shortly. Next he would be getting together secretly with his disciples. Thomas was never allowed to be present at these meetings. This was the private world of the Grand Master and no one was allowed in when he met with his henchmen. He wondered if Peter had already replaced the two who had been killed.

  A few hours away just outside of Rome, Peter gave the final orders to his disciples. He watched as they left the room headed to their assigned locations. Everything was in now in place. In a matter of hours the world would be
his to rule.

  Staring out the window Peter could see his future home. He visualized himself standing on the balcony of the papal apartment overlooking the mass of people there to see the new Pope and to receive his blessing. All he could do now was wait.

  His thoughts drifted as he wondered who would be victorious, Thomas or Christine, in eliminating the problem that had gotten two of his men killed. He assumed it had been taken care of. Even if they both failed, the committee of cardinals was already setting in motion the proceedings to have him become the next successor to Saint Peter. The cardinals were made to believe that a scandal surrounding the Pope would be cause for him to step down.

  None of the fifteen had been told of Peter’s plan to have Pope Benedict killed except for one, Cardinal Cavallari. His reward would be a position within the New World Order that would give him more power than what he ever had at the Vatican under the Pope.

  Cavallari had sent a message that the Pope was seen heading to his apartment about an hour ago. It was well-known that when the Pope is in residency, Swiss Guards are posted outside his apartment 24/7, and they were now stationed outside the door. Later that evening, Cavallari would request an emergency audience with the His Holiness.

  Cavallari had already received what he needed to carry out his part of the plan. The gold ring had been delivered in a box made especially for it. It was an exact duplicate of the one he’d received during the consistory ceremony in which he received his red zucchetto upon becoming a cardinal and a full member of the Sacred College.

  Besides the ring, the box contained a vial of liquid. He had already carefully injected the small amount of venom into the empty chamber of the ring and set the spring.

  When he would go to see the Pope later that night and kneeled to kiss his ring, the pressure when he grasped the Pope’s hand would be enough to trigger the spring. The prick from the needle would release the venom from the King Cobra into the bloodstream of Pope Benedict XVI.