He would wait long enough for the poison to enter the bloodstream before calling for help, knowing it would be too late to save the life of the Holy Father. During that time he would switch the rings, placing the duplicate one back into the box.
The committee of fifteen cardinals would be immediately informed of the pope’s death and would be summoned to convene. Using the procedure of Compromise, they would elect the next pope, Pope Peter Romanus II.
Miles away in Padua, Judah had followed the blonde woman back to a hotel. He now remembered where he’d seen her; it was back at the castle. Those eyes were hard to forget. Across town the other Guardians were pursuing their assigned targets.
As Judah waited for his target to come back out he heard Cephas’s voice in his earpiece.
“Judah, the three men have joined back up and got into a black SUV heading out of town. It looks like they are headed in the direction of the monastery. Where’s your target?”
“She went inside the Hotel Donatello near the basilica on Via del Santo,” said Judah. “She picked up a key at the front desk and headed to a room on the fourth floor. I’m outside the hotel now waiting for her to come back out. I remember where I saw her before Judah. It was back at Gradara Castle. She was the one in the chapel and watched the whole thing but her hair was black then.”
“Don’t let her out of your sight, Judah. She could be in there changing her appearance again, so stay alert.”
“The eyes will give her away,” said Judah. “I’ll never forget those eyes.”
“Have all the exits been covered?” Cephas asked.
“Taken care of.”
“Okay, looks like we’re all headed to the monastery on this end. Report in when you have her in your sight again.”
Judah sipped a cup of espresso as he kept an eye on the entrance. A small group of men and women exited and were standing in front of the hotel trying to decide which way to go. The tall, slim man in the group seemed to be the leader. He had a map and was pointing in different directions. Judah noticed one of the young men texting and a woman at the back of the group talking on her cell phone.
The redhead at the back on her phone seemed annoyed by the phone call. She had on a pair of khaki cargo pants and boots. She wore a white tank top with a denim shirt. She wasn’t carrying a purse and wore sunglasses that complemented the color of her hair. Her phone call ended, and she turned her attention to the tall slim man. The group had decided to head north on Via del Santo.
Judah started to turn his attention back to the hotel entrance when out of the corner of his eye, he caught the redhead removing her sunglasses and looking at the man coming out of the hotel. She watched him as he turned south and headed in the opposite direction. That’s when Judah saw her eyes. He watched as the woman dropped back from the group and disappeared down a side street.
Speaking softly so no one would overhear, he said, “She’s changed her hair color; she’s a redhead this time. I’ll follow her, one of you follow the man headed south on del Santo, six feet, short black hair, tan slacks, and navy sweater.”
Judah ran across the street, barely avoiding being hit by a young Italian driving a Vespa. He yelled something in Italian at Judah, and Judah returned the greeting. Reaching the side street, he caught sight of a denim shirt as the woman turned right again at the next corner.
Running now, Judah reached the end of the street and stopped. He had to find out if the woman suspected that she was being followed. A man and woman speaking Italian passed by as he stood there deciding his next move. Using the opportunity presented to him, he walked after them requesting help with directions, at the same time giving him a cover, and allowing him to observe the redheaded woman. A couple streets down, coming from the opposite direction he spotted the man in the tan slacks and navy sweater.
Judah pretended to be having trouble understanding the directions the couple was trying to give him as he continued to observe the redhead. She stopped to talk with the man in the tan slacks and then they both headed east at the next corner. Judah thanked the couple and said he understood now. Pulling out his phone, he headed east.
CHAPTER 89
Nelli and the others followed the abbot wondering where he was taking them. Up ahead two monks were walking towards them. They wore tunics tied around the waist with a cloth belt. Over each tunic was a scapula. As they passed by, the two men nodded, acknowledging the abbot, and continued on their way in silence.
Picturesque gardens encompassed most of the cloistered courtyard. Off to the right a monk knelt in prayer in front of a statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary, praying the rosary and surrounded by beds of red roses. If he was aware of the visitor’s presence, he did not give any indication of it.
“We come here to pray and reflect during the day,” said Abbot Giuseppe, breaking the silence, “and to be surrounded by God’s many creations.”
The abbot never even turned around. It was as if he had read their minds. He continued walking and was now headed towards the arched arcades to the left of the courtyard. As they came near the end of the colonnaded walkway, there was a narrow opening to their left. You could see a large vegetable garden and beyond that a grove of olive trees and fruit trees.
Again reading their thoughts, Abbot Giuseppe said, “As you can see, we grow most of our own food here on the grounds of the monastery. Besides making olive oil for our own use, we produce and sell it under our own private label. It is one way we earn money to purchase items we cannot make on our own.
“We go into town once a week to buy the things we need and we also deliver the latest production of olive oil. If you look up ahead,” he said pointing, “and to your left, you will see the abbey. This is where we gather each morning to celebrate mass and begin our day.”
Abbot Giuseppe stopped walking and now turned to face the strangers Saint Anthony sent to him.
“You may or may not know the tomb of the beloved Saint Anthony is often referred to as the ark.”
The four of them looked at each other, stunned by what they had just been told.
“If you will please follow me I have something to show you that I believe might be of interest to you. In his will, our brother Antonio asked that a gift he received from a young apprentice, a small wooden box, be kept here at the monastery. It was said that when the time came the Chosen One would come seeking it.” He then turned and headed towards the abbey.
When Giuseppe saw the cross hanging from the chain around Nelli’s neck, he believed that she could be the Chosen One, but when he saw the stigmata on her hand he no longer questioned it.
Since arriving at the monastery Nelli had the growing presence of the past Keepers of the Key surrounding her and knew this was the end of her journey. She was about to be shown the gift a young boy made for a monk, which had been hidden from the world for 600 hundred years.
CHAPTER 90
God knew that mankind would turn away from his teachings and the dark forces would become so powerful that the faithful would be in peril. Nelli didn’t know if finding the book would save the world, but she knew what she had to do. She thought about everything that had transpired since that day when her father gave her the necklace just before he died. Now more than ever she needed to have faith that she would be shown the secret of the box. The rest was in God’s hands.
Having reached the entrance to the abbey, they were about to walk up the three steps to the door when Nelli asked, “I’m curious, Abbot Giuseppe, have you looked inside the box?”
Giuseppe stopped and faced the young woman.
“No, my child, we do not have the key. Only the Chosen One possesses the secret to unlocking the box.”
“But I was never given a key,” said Nelli.
“Our Holy Father has not brought you here to us without the necessary tools,” the abbot said.
Standing beside Nelli, Father Cossa gently touched her arm. In a reassuring voice he said, “You have been guided to this spot by Saint Anthony. Trust in him that
he will show you what you need to know.”
Mary Ellen leaned forward and whispered, “We are right here with you, Nelli, and we’ll figure this out together. Remember what you were told by your father and Saint Anthony, be pure of heart, there is where you will find the key.”
They followed Abbot Giuseppe into the little church where the monks met every morning for the first of their daily devotions. Once inside, each of them expected to find a statue of Saint Anthony. The space was smaller than they envisioned, and it was devoid of any religious decoration. The walls were stucco and the floor and pews were made of wood. At the far end of the church was a simple altar with a crucifix on the wall behind it.
Nelli was the first to speak. “I don’t understand. There’s nothing here that has to do with Saint Anthony.”
The abbot nodded, acknowledging he had heard the question, but only said, “Please, follow me,” and proceeded to walk to the front of the church.
When they reached the altar, their eyes were drawn to the cross. It was not the standard four-pointed Latin crucifix. It consisted of the upright post and single crosspiece but on it was no corpus or representation of Jesus. Instead, a crown of thorns was wrapped around the crossbars and in the center was the most beautiful white stone set inside a halo of gold. One by one each realized where they had seen the cross before. It was identical to the one Nelli wore, except for the crown of thorns.
Nelli held up the cross her father gave her to compare it to the one that hung above the altar. There could be no mistake, it was identical. On top of the altar sat a tabernacle with a small crucifix beside it. The wooden arched doors were exquisitely carved with scenes of a young man’s life. Anthony and Father Cossa moved closer to study them.
“I presume that the scenes portrayed on these doors are the life of a young monk named Antonio?” stated Father Cossa.
“Yes, you are correct.”
Nelli and Mary Ellen moved closer to examine the doors.
Starting in the lower left hand corner was a scene depicting a privileged young man who wore the clothing of his time. Another one showed him donning a monk’s robe. There were scenes of him speaking to large crowds of people. In another scene, a young boy handed a box to the monk. One showed him in a grove of olive trees looking up towards a glowing light in the sky. The story of Saint Anthony’s whole life was documented on these doors.
They had been so focused on studying the carvings depicting the life of Saint Anthony that at first they didn’t notice the small engraved letters along the edges of the doors. Then, one by one, they recognized the letters.
“Are you familiar with boustrophedon script, Abbot Giuseppe?” said Father Cossa.
“Ah, I see you are aware of the ancient writing. Good. Yes, one of our labors of love here at the monastery is copying old text to preserve it for future generations.”
“Then I imagine you have translated the message on these doors,” Anthony said.
“Yes, a long time ago.” The abbot followed the script using his finger. “When the time comes, the Chosen One must carry the words of God to the one who bears the symbol of the olive branch.”
Father Cossa gasped, startling everyone in the room.
“What’s wrong Father?” asked Nelli.
“The prophecy of Saint Malachy uses the cryptic phrase ‘olive branch’ to symbolize Pope Benedict XVI. Saint Anthony is telling the Chosen One to whom she must travel to see.”
Abbot Giuseppe reverently opened the intricately carved wooden doors, exposing a second set. This time they were made of gold and in the center was the acronym IHS. Genuflecting first, he slowly opened the doors and removed the chalice of consecrated hosts, placing it on the altar next to the tabernacle. Walking to the end of the altar, he pushed against one of the wooden panels; a small secret compartment was revealed. Inside laid a key.
Returning with it, he reached inside a second time and began searching for something on the back wall. The other four were trying to figure out what he was looking for when they heard a soft click.
They watched as Abbot Giuseppe gently pushed against the wall. It moved, exposing a hidden compartment. Stepping aside, he allowed the others to see what was inside. There it was: a wooden box identical to the one Nelli had purchased in Rome. They couldn’t believe their eyes. It was true after all.
A monk silently appeared out of nowhere and whispered something to the abbot.
“It seems you are not the only visitors to our monastery this day,” he said.
Anthony didn’t like what he was hearing. Checking his GPS, he could see that some of the Guardians had taken positions outside the walls.
“You must not allow anyone else to enter the monastery,” Anthony said. “There’s been an attempt on Nelli’s life and two priests have already been killed.”
Giuseppe was distressed by what he had just been told, but remained calm. “Brother Remi will wait here with you while I attend to our new visitors.”
Before taking leave, the abbot turned to Nelli. “You are the instrument through which God is working. Have faith and believe that God is here with us. Open your heart completely to Our Lord. Only then will He know that His trust in you has been rewarded, revealing to you the secret to unlocking the box. Remember it will be up to mankind to alter the future. You have done your part.”
CHAPTER 91
Anthony followed Abbot Giuseppe toward the exit, speaking to him so no one else would overhear. After they finished talking, Anthony pulled out his cell phone and placed a call.
A look of concern came over his face. When the call ended, he walked quickly towards the others, his hand resting on the barrel of his gun.
Looking at Father Cossa, he said, “Father, I ask that you help my sister in any way you can to get whatever is inside that box and put it in a safe place. I will emphasize to you if a book exists, the sooner we have our hands on it, the better.”
Father Cossa understood. Time was of the essence.
Now Anthony turned to Mary Ellen, “As I remember, when we did target practice out on your Uncle Harry’s farm, you were pretty good. I need you to do something for me.”
Grabbing her hand, he placed the gun in it. “If you need to use it, remember, shoot to kill. I know you can do this.”
Looking into his eyes she saw the man she’d fallen in love with. They were a team again.
“All right, Anthony, but I pray I won’t have to do what you ask. Promise me you won’t be gone long.”
“I won’t,” he said, squeezing her hand to show he knew he could count on her. He took off running towards the door.
Nelli knew time was running out. She and Father Cossa stared at the ancient artifact inside the tabernacle. It felt reminiscent of when they’d found the urn with the scroll inside. Reaching in and cradling the box between both hands, she slowly removed it, placing it on top of the altar.
“Isn’t it remarkable, Father, to think that the scroll and this box have survived after so many centuries and to be in such beautiful condition?”
“Nothing is impossible if you believe in God’s omnipotent power.” They began examining the box, looking for a way to open it.
“I don’t see anything that looks like a place to put a key, do you Father?”
“No. We need to try and think like the young apprentice Giovanni. Now if I was a young lad back then what …. ”
As Nelli listened, she studied the details of the cross on the lid. She remembered that the box she bought in Rome had the same design. Around all four sides was a beautiful hand carved pattern of an acanthus scroll. It reminded her of the rolled up scroll they found. Perhaps this was a clue?
Closing her eyes as she had done with the scroll, she explored the box with her fingers, letting her sense of touch guide her. She felt for anything that might open the lid. Maybe there was a concealed drawer where the key was hidden, like the one for the tabernacle.
Father Cossa watched her examine the box, but was still trying to figure out what a
young boy back then might use instead of a key.
“I wish Anthony would get back,” said Mary Ellen. She had never shot a human being before. Could she do it if she had to? She wasn’t sure.
Nelli could see Mary Ellen was beginning to panic. In a calm voice, she said, “I need you to be strong Mary Ellen. I trust you with my life. We are almost at the end of the journey.” Then she turned her attention back to the box.
“Try applying a light pressure to the lid. Maybe it will pop open,” said Father Cossa.
She gently pushed down, but nothing happened. Then she tried again, applying a little more pressure.
“No luck, Father.”
Nelli wished her own father was here with her now. She lovingly touched the cross that he had given her and tried to think of what to do next. She could hear his words as if he was standing right beside her. “Be pure of heart, Antonella.” Remembering Saint Anthony was also the patron saint of lost articles, she said a prayer.
Gentle and loving Saint Anthony my friend and special protector.
I come to you with a pure heart.
Please listen to my humble petition in spite of my unworthiness and sinfulness.
I implore you to show me the secret to unlock the gift you were given so long ago, and I ask that God will keep us safe from harm.
I pray that I might be worthy to fulfill the responsibility given to me as the Keeper of the Key.
Opening her eyes, Nelli again examined the box.
“Shhhh, did you hear that?” said Mary Ellen.
Father Cossa averted his attention from the box to listen. “I’m sorry. I don’t hear anything, Mary Ellen.”
Suddenly his eye caught a small flickering of light. Instinctively he looked at the altar, thinking the light came from a burning candle. Then he realized his mistake. He knew where it was coming from. He’d seen it once before.
“Nelli,” he said gently, trying to get her attention. She didn’t hear.
“Nelli,” he said again, this time touching her hand.
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