“No, you hit the floor hard,” said Father Anton. “You went out briefly.”
“Oh,” she said, getting to her feet and shaking off the cobwebs. “I guess thank goodness for armored glass.”
“That and the good Lord must have other plans for you.” The cleric smiled.
Before she had time to absorb what had just happened, the door to the pope’s inner chamber opened.
Cloe turned toward the sound and stood shocked a second time.
CHAPTER
20
Cloe’s jaw dropped. Father Anton turned and rushed to Pope Francis. The pope smiled slightly and extended his ring hand. He was unaware that someone had taken a shot at her. Was it a shot at her? Or just a random shot? The priest bowed and kissed the Ring of the Fisherman. The ring, worn by popes for hundreds of years, was a symbol of their authority ordained by Christ himself, through his anointing of St. Peter as the “rock” on which the church would be built.
The pope glanced around the room and spied the damaged window. Understanding crept over his face.
“Is everyone all right?” he asked.
Straightening, Father Anton said, “Yes, Holiness. No one was hurt, and I have brought Dr. Lejeune.”
The pope waved an apologetic hand and said, “This has become too frequent. We try to stay away from the windows, especially at night.”
“I’m fine, Holiness. I’ve had much closer scrapes than that,” said Cloe, a smile edging toward her lips.
As the pope turned to her, she was shocked at his appearance. She had thought he looked tired the last time they met a few years ago, at the meeting that had launched the quest for the cave of jars. Now he had aged terribly. There were great dark circles under his eyes, and he had lost weight. He walked stiffly toward her, smiling a bright smile that illuminated his features, the signs of stress instantly disappearing. Cloe was amazed. There is much to this man, she thought.
“Hello, Dr. Lejeune … Cloe if I may,” said the pontiff.
“Certainly, Holiness,” replied Cloe.
As the pope moved away from the doorway, another figure appeared. The young man had close-cropped hair, high and tight, as the military would say. He was taller, and Cloe was unsure how she had failed to see him initially. She looked upon her son, whose six-foot-one frame seemed to have filled out a bit.
“J.E.!” she cried and ran to hug him.
J.E. wrapped his mother in his arms and said, “Hi, Mom. Hey, you’ve got glass all over you.”
“J.E., I’m so happy to see you,” she said, brushing tears from her eyes. “Don’t worry, I was standing near the window when it was hit by a stray shot. I’m fine. Father Anton told me you had been detailed to work with the pope’s security forces.”
“Cloe, we must talk,” said Father Anton, interrupting.
“Yes, of course,” replied Cloe, still smiling at her son.
“My child,” said the pope. “Please sit.”
They all maneuvered to a table away from the windows and sat; a nun entered and served coffee and cookies.
“Delicious,” said Cloe after a bite of cookie.
“It’s an eight-hundred-year-old recipe,” said the pontiff, a smile crinkling his eyes. “You are unlikely to find a better cookie.”
Cloe laughed and wondered at the civilization that could produce that statement, much less the cookie.
“How are you getting along after our last contact?” asked the pope.
“Well enough,” responded Cloe. “I have moments where the loss of Father Sergio still overwhelms me. Even so, we kept the jars from the Karik and his evil forces. Indeed, he and his boss, Michael, the Kolektor’s son, and their inner circle are all dead. The rest of the organization is scattered and without any apparent leader. They’re done. And I have all the jars from the cave, thanks to the sisters of the Sicarii. It’s a treasure trove of ancient documents and information that will far exceed the Dead Sea Scrolls.”
“Thank God for his many favors in this final good result, and may he have mercy on the soul of our brother Sergio—Serge, as I believe he was known to you,” said the pope.
“We could not have won without Serge,” said J.E. “He provided key intel in Lyon at the hidden hall of the martyrs and later in Tunisia. We were badly outnumbered at Masada after the Karik ambushed and murdered the Sicarii. Even gravely wounded, Sergio fought on until he was murdered.”
“What courage!” exclaimed Cloe. “We all loved him.”
A reverent silence enveloped the group. Cloe saw the pope appeared to be praying. She bowed her head and prayed too for her friend Serge.
“Cloe,” said the pontiff after a few moments. “You must be aware of what is happening worldwide concerning the governmental disruptions and violence.”
“Holy Father, this is exactly why I asked for Father Anton to fetch me to come here to see you,” responded Cloe. “As I sat working on the journal translation and watching the news alerts pop up, it hit me. I believe there is a direct connection between the current trouble and the two-thousand-year-old journal.”
“What have you learned?” asked the pope with surprising urgency. “You told Monsignor Roques you thought you had discovered new material about a dialogue between Christ and possibly St. John that might touch on the apocalypse.”
“Yes, it seems this part of the journal may have anticipated the book of the Bible we know as Revelation or the Apocalypse of John,” said Cloe. “The part I have deciphered describes numerous cataclysmic occurrences that seem to be signs of some kind. These include attacks on religious figures and on religion itself, along with large-scale illness, fighting, and lawlessness. As I read these things from the translation, I was hearing the same things from the news.”
“This is critical information,” proclaimed the pope. “There is no other contemporary writing from those times that even touches on this subject.”
“It may be completely unique,” said the low voice of a tall figure who had entered the room unobtrusively.
“Cloe, permit me,” said the pope. “This is the Most Reverend Father Dimitri Anatolia. Father Dimitri is the chief historian—we call him the curator—of the Vatican library. He has spent his life studying rare books and scrolls collected by the Vatican over the last two millennia.”
Cloe scrutinized the new entrant carefully. He was tall and gaunt, maybe six two or six three. He was clean-shaven but still showed the shadow of a heavy beard. At first, she thought he could have been a young version of Christopher Lee, the actor, but upon further scrutiny, she saw he was considerably older.
“Good day, Dr. Lejeune,” said the man with the deep voice. “I look forward to sitting down with you. I’m very anxious to hear firsthand of the journal. It may confirm everything.”
“What do you mean that it may confirm everything, Father?” she asked.
“Dr. Lejeune, I have been in charge of the ancient books and writings section of the Vatican library for nearly fifty years, since I was a young priest,” responded the cleric. “I’m literate in ancient Greek, Aramaic, and Phoenician. I’m here because of events that occurred a thousand years ago and which have been a source of lifetime study for me.”
“A thousand years ago?” mused Cloe. “That would be smack in the center of the Middle Ages or what some refer to as the Dark Ages.”
“Yes, Cloe,” said the pope. “Father Dimitri is our expert on such things.”
“What things?” she asked. “How are events that occurred a thousand years ago relevant when we’re talking about a journal written two thousand years ago?”
“We think they have much to do with what’s happening today,” replied Father Dimitri.
“Why?” asked Cloe, shivering even though the room temperature was warm.
After a moment of silence, the pope turned directly to her and said, “Because we think it’s happening ag
ain.”
“What does that mean? What’s happening again? How can anything that may have happened a thousand years ago be relevant to what’s going on now?”
“My child,” the pope smiled, “we have much to say. How much do you know about the Dark Ages?”
“Not so much,” responded Cloe. “Most of my work actually predates that era, so I haven’t had much opportunity to study materials from that time. My basic impression is one of chaos.”
“Mom, chaos is exactly right,” said J.E. “I read a bit about this in my studies and have been in on some of these discussions, and you’re right on.”
Father Dimitri moved toward the table in long strides.
“Dr. Lejeune, there is much more to the Dark Ages than mere chaos,” said the cleric, seating himself. “Evil itself awakened and arose.”
“Oh come now, Father Dimitri,” said Cloe, smiling. “I have learned to believe in evil, but it seems so dramatic to hear you say that, as if the devil suddenly woke up after a thousand-year nap.”
The religious in the room looked stricken. Had she said something that had offended them? After a bit, the pope looked at Father Dimitri and then turned to her.
“Cloe, what you have just said is so shocking because it may be exactly what is happening. We think evil in a very real way is on the rise. As far as we can tell, this is the same thing that occurred in about the year 1000 and resulted in the Dark Ages. What we know about that period may help us defeat the forces of evil here.”
“Are you seriously telling me that you believe that some evil force has arisen after centuries of repose to now threaten us?”
“Cloe, do you believe in the devil?” asked Father Dimitri.
She thought about the question. Did she? She certainly believed in good and evil. She had seen evil in the Kolektor and the Karik. Perhaps the worst evil of all had been in Michael, the Kolektor’s son. Her face colored slightly, remembering the way he had fooled her.
“Do you mean Satan?” she asked, trying to focus on what she really believed.
“Yes, Satan, Lucifer, or, by any other name, the personification of evil,” replied the priest.
“I’m not sure I’ve ever thought of the subject as such,” she responded. “I remember that Lucifer was a prince of the angels who led a revolt against God. Eventually, as the story goes, he was defeated by Michael and the good angels. It seems pride was his downfall. He was cast out of heaven, apparently to the earth.”
“Do you know that the story you have just related is not found, as such, in the Bible?” queried Father Dimitri. “Some say there are allusions to it in the book of Revelation or in other obscure references, such as in Isaiah.”
“That’s really interesting,” said J.E. “The creation of the devil, Satan, evil—as important as that seems to be—is not told in the Bible. How can that be?”
“I did not quite say that, young man,” said the curator. “I said the story of the supposed battle in heaven and the fall of the angels led by Lucifer is not related in the Bible. There are many references to Satan and to evil. For example, consider the temptation of our Lord in the desert. Satan is prominently featured.”
“Yes,” said the pope. “The problem is that since the Bible does not tell us of the origin of the devil, whether through the story of the fall or otherwise, we know little about him.”
“With respect, Holy Father, don’t we know all we need to know? He’s the bad guy, the enemy of good,” said J.E.
“J.E., think about it like this. On the battlefield or planning for a fight, how much does knowledge of the enemy mean?” asked Father Dimitri.
“When you put it like that, it could mean everything. If you know the foe’s history and tendencies, it can mean the difference between winning and losing,” replied the young military officer.
“According to the Bible, Satan was a presence from the very beginning,” said the curator. “If you read the first book of the Bible, Genesis, the ‘adversary’ or the devil takes the form of a serpent to tempt Adam and Eve. The adversary is with us throughout the Old Testament into the New Testament; witness St. John’s Gospel writings about Satan entering into Judas to betray Christ.”
The nuns entered the room and refilled their coffee cups. Cloe added sugar and a good dose of cream.
“Just as Satan was with us from the beginning, he is with us today,” said the pope. “We believe he is behind the worldwide rash of violence and destruction.”
“But, Holiness, there are secular explanations for what’s happening,” said Cloe, wondering if she was going too far. “The world’s youth are disaffected by unemployment and other grievances. They have simply lashed out in their immaturity. The rise of Satan seems very farfetched as a cause of all this.”
“It has eternally been so; the denial of evil has always been its best refuge.” Father Dimitri sighed.
Cloe felt as if she had been slapped. The rebuke was soft but very effective. Now she doubted herself. Here she was sitting with the pope, for goodness sake, and he was saying that evil was asserting itself. Who was she to argue?
Centering herself, she asked, “Holiness, why do you believe this is so and what do the Dark Ages have to do with all this?”
“Have you read the book of Revelation?” asked the pontiff.
“Certainly,” she replied. “It has been helpful in my current work.”
“Then you know what happened to the devil after the initial conflict with God and his son, Jesus?” asked the pope.
“Yes. He was chained up and cast into the abyss for a thousand years. In effect, mankind was free of his overt evil for those thousand years.”
“You are correct,” said Father Dimitri. “And how long ago was that?”
“Well, that battle seems to have been tied to the reign of certain Roman emperors in the first century, so it would have been about two thousand years ago,” she replied.
“Mom, if Satan had been chained up for a thousand years, that would have put him free in about the year AD 1000, give or take, smack in the middle of the Dark Ages,” J.E. added.
“Oh my God! If he had been defeated again at that time, and we do know the world emerged from the Dark Ages, the second thousand-year cycle would free him just about now. You believe the Bible has foretold the emergence of Satan now?” Cloe was incredulous.
After some silence, the pope looked directly at Cloe and said, “Yes, we believe he is among us again.”
CHAPTER
21
It was early morning as the Saab sped across the twin causeways spanning the enormous lake. Zack looked out at the ink-black water on the west side of the long bridge and alternately to the east at the majestic moonrise.
“My goodness, have you ever seen anything like this?” he asked wistfully.
“It’s gorgeous,” said Mel. “But on Guam, we get some pretty good full moons and sunsets, for that matter.”
Through the windshield, they could see the rising lights of the Crescent City in the distance. The most obvious was the Superdome, with its huge lighted and multicolored rim. But the skyscrapers with the multiple Mississippi River bridges in the background were also amazing.
“Why do they call it the Crescent City?” asked Mel.
“Because it lies between the lake and the river in such way it looks like a sliver of the moon, a crescent,” said Doris. “It’s very romantic.”
“Okay, we’re here now. What do we do?” queried Zack.
“I think we need to go to my parents’ house,” said Doris. “They’ll be glad to see me, and you’ll be welcome. What else could we do?”
“I guess we could get a hotel room,” Zack said.
“I can’t see why we’d do that when we can stay at my house for free,” said Doris.
“But what will we tell them?” asked Mel. “Won’t they be curious?”
“Yeah, they’ll wonder why I’m not in school. I say we flat out tell them the truth,” replied Doris.
“You mean we tell them we’re here because a giant gave us a shiny business card, and we have been inexplicitly drawn to New Orleans for God only knows what purpose?” asked Zack.
“My parents are good Catholics, and they know these are weird times. Maybe they can help,” said Doris.
“Catholics? What does that have to do with anything? Why did you say that, Doris?” asked Mel, a little sharply.
“I don’t really know,” said Doris. “It just sorta came out. I mean this is all religious, isn’t it?”
Zack’s family was Catholic, and he guessed he had been baptized Catholic at some point, but he hadn’t been in a church in years. If this had something to do with religion, why would anybody pick him? Mel said they had been chosen—but by whom and for what? He was not sure it was religious.
“Mel … are you religious?” he asked.
“There was a time when I was, but not now,” she replied.
By the tone of her voice, there was a story there, but she was not ready to tell it.
“Do you think this has to do with religion?” asked Zack. “You said we were chosen. Did you mean in that sense?”
“No. I’m not sure what I meant. I was thinking we had a job to do. I felt we had been chosen to do something,” she replied. “But like chosen by God? How could that be?”
“How could that be?” echoed Doris.
Chosen by God? Zack could not get his mind around that at all. There had to be some other explanation.
“Look, this has nothing to do with God or with religion,” he said at last. “Mel and I had a funny experience, and it frightened us both to the extent we’ve acted a little irrationally. We think we’re both drawn to New Orleans, but we’re really just running away from something that scared us. We’ve been feeding off each other. We’re going to wake up in a day or so and laugh at all this.”
“Whoa! You sure had me fooled,” said Doris. “Thanks for clearing that up. I wonder if the guy in the burning pickup in the tree stand back in Mississippi would see the humor in the situation.”
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