The Guardian

by ROBBIE CHEUVRONT

  Wickham took the pitcher of water and two paper cups from the bedside table and poured. He figured he could use one as well. He reached his hand behind the old man’s neck and helped him into a sitting position, then handed him the cup of water.

  “Thank you,” the raspy voice replied.

  “My pleasure.”

  “I’m so tired, Louis.”

  “I know. You need to rest.”

  “This flu … I’ve always been in good health. Perhaps it is something else that is wrong.”

  “While I’m certainly no doctor, I think everything will be fine. Just do what they tell you, and you’ll be up and about in no time.”

  Pope Paul covered his mouth and began to cough. His breaths were coming in short gasps. “What was it you needed? Church business, did you say?”

  Wickham nodded his head and leaned over to the side to grab his briefcase. He reached inside and pulled out a stack of papers. “I just need your signature on some end-of-month statements and a couple of requisition forms. It should only take a couple of seconds.”

  Pope Paul VII began coughing again and nodded his head. He motioned with his hand for Wickham to hand him the papers. “Could you hand me my glasses over there?” He pointed to an end table.

  Wickham turned around in his chair and saw the glasses sitting on top of the wooden table. He looked to see where the pope was focusing his attention. The barely lucid man seemed to be staring into outer space. He stood up and walked behind his chair, swiftly palmed the reading glasses, and stuck them in his pocket. Then, moving a few magazines and loose papers aside, he said, “I’m afraid I don’t see your glasses. Maybe one of the nurses put them away so that they don’t get broken. Why don’t I just put your hand on the line that you need to sign, and you can write. Surely you don’t need them for just that. Do you?” He tried to sound as polite and caring as he could.

  “I suppose not.”

  Wickham tried not to laugh. If this were any easier, he might get bored.

  He put the ink pen in the pope’s hand and grabbed the old man’s frail wrist to move it to the bottom of the first page. “There you go. Now just sign right here.”

  With a shaky hand, the pope scratched out his signature. Wickham removed the top sheet and repeated the process. The first four documents actually were requisition forms for one thing or another. The fifth and final one was the letter. And Pope Paul, by his own admission of not being able to read anything without his glasses, didn’t even bat an eye when Wickham stuck it in front of him. He just waited for the cardinal to move his hand until it was in the proper position. Then he signed his name.

  CHAPTER 31

  Somewhere over Western Europe

  The engines of the G-5 roared as the private plane passed over northern France at forty-five thousand feet. Hale had informed everyone they should be touching down in London in just under an hour.

  Anna and Jason sat beside each other in the big leather chairs that took up most of the forward cabin. Anna couldn’t think of any reason to delay the conversation she knew Jason was itching to have with her. “So, what do you think of all of this?”

  “Honestly”—he shrugged his shoulders and lifted his hands, palms up—”I really don’t know what to think. I really don’t know that much about what’s going on. I figured you’d tell me when you were ready.”

  “Well, now’s as good a time as any, I suppose. Let me ask you something.” “Yeah?”

  “Ever seen an angel?”

  “An angel? Sure. I’ve seen pictures, paintings … Ooh! There was that really cool one in that movie … ah, what was it called?” He snapped his fingers trying to remember.

  Anna reached for his hand and stopped his fingers from clicking. “No, Jason. I mean a real angel. In person. In the flesh—or whatever they are.”

  He looked at her quizzically. “You’re serious?”

  “As a heart attack.”

  “Then, no. Well, maybe. Once when I was a kid, but I’m not sure. May’ve been just a weird … I don’t know.”

  “Well, I have,” she said. Then more to herself, “A couple times, actually.”

  “Okay,” he finally said. “So what’s going on?”

  Anna took a deep breath and began recounting the story. Fifteen minutes later she had arrived at the present.

  Jason didn’t speak for a moment. When he did, it was in a restrained tone. “That’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “So you believe me?”

  “Crazy as that probably makes me, yes. When Hale said it had been given to your family by God Himself, I didn’t think he actually meant by God Himself. Do you know what this means?”

  “Well, I’m not stupid. Yes, I know it’s an important scroll.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” he said, catching her hand in his own. “Ever heard of Moses’ staff? Or maybe the holy spear? The holy grail? The ark of the covenant? Any of that stuff?”

  She shrugged. “Sure. Your point?” She felt she should be irritated with him, but all she could feel was that it was a very nice thing to have someone hold her hand.

  “My point is this. All of those things I mentioned were given to men by God.”

  “Okay …”

  “Okay. Ever heard of going to see an exhibition at a museum for any of those things?”

  “Well, no. I guess I haven’t.”

  “That’s because no one has ever found them! As far as anyone knows, they’ll never be found. You have the only known artifact in existence that God gave to a human being. That’s why you’re being shot at! That’s why someone’s trying to kill you!”

  “So I guess it’s worth a lot of money, huh?”

  “A lot of money—it’s priceless!”

  “I never thought of it that way. I guess it is. But that’s not why someone’s trying to kill me.” “What? What do you mean?”

  “Well, I don’t think that’s the only reason someone’s trying to kill me. I don’t think it’s about money. I haven’t told you everything.” “What do you mean? There’s more?” “Kind of.”

  “Okay. Let’s hear it.” “There’s a riddle on the scroll.” Jason chuckled. “A riddle?”

  “Yes.”

  “Anna, do you speak Greek?” “No. Why?”

  “So then, how do you know there’s a riddle on the scroll? It would’ve been written in Greek, or at least Hebrew.”

  “Ever think my Grandpa could’ve had it translated, Sherlock?”

  “Sorry. So this riddle … what does it say?”

  “Well, that’s just it,” Anna said. “It’s really weird. I don’t even know if you’d call it a riddle. It’s just three individual statements. I don’t know what to make of them. Neither did Vin.”

  Jason folded his arms and said, “Humph. Do you want to show it to me? Or am I not allowed to look at it?”

  Anna made a very serious face. “Oh no. Didn’t anyone tell you?

  I’m the only one who can look at it. The rules say that if anyone else looks at it other than me, they’ll turn into a pile of ashes!”

  Jason was confused. “Didn’t you just say that Father Vin looked at it with you?” Before he could even finish, Anna had a grin on her face from ear to ear. He smirked, raised his hand, and said, “Gullible, party of one!”

  “Yes, you can look at it,” she said. “All I know is that it has to do with religious, biblical stuff. Obviously! I mean look where it came from. And that’s precisely the problem. I didn’t go to church much when I was a kid, or since I’ve been an adult, for that matter. So I’m pretty much in the dark about the whole thing.”

  “Wow. I’m sorry.”

  She slid her hand free. Pitying Jason wasn’t nearly as nice as excited Jason. She didn’t need pity just because she’d rarely set foot in church. “Why are you sorry?”

  He looked at her freed hand with an expression of regret. “You’ve lived your whole life without knowing what it’s like to know the God of the universe. It’s something I
deeply cherish, and I’m sorry you haven’t had that chance.”

  What did a girl say to that—”Thanks”? “I’m okay. Just need to figure out this riddle.”

  “Well then, it’s a good thing I came along when I did.”

  “Why’s that? You’re a schoolteacher. How’s that going to help?’

  “I’m a Baptist missionary who happens to teach little French kids English,” he corrected her. “And I happen to know a little bit about the Bible.”

  Anna bit her lip and said, “I’m sorry, Jason. I didn’t mean to sound condescending. To be honest with you, I guess I don’t really know that much about you, do I? I mean, the only thing I really know is that some angel told me you were supposed to be here. He said you’re taking Father Vin’s place.”

  “Two things. First, I didn’t know him, but I’m pretty sure I’ll never be able to take Father Vin’s place. Second, no, I don’t guess you do know anything about me. Ever since we’ve met, we haven’t really talked about me. So ask away. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

  “Okay. Who are you? Where are you from? How’d you get to France? Where’d you get that little scar above your right eye …?”

  “Goodness, woman!” He laughed and held up his hands in surrender. “Do I need to write this down, or can we take them one at a time?”

  “Sorry.” She chuckled. “You may answer at your own leisure. I yield the floor to the distinguished gentleman from …” “Atlanta, Georgia.”

  “Yes!” She gave him a mock salute. “Atlanta, Georgia.”

  “Thank you, madame.” He nodded, insinuating a bow. “Well, you know my name, Jason Lang, and that I’m from Atlanta. I’m twenty-four years old. I like long walks on the beach. My favorite color is red. I’m a Capricorn—”

  “Okay,” she interrupted, “I’m taking back the floor.”

  “You can’t do that!” Jason protested.

  “Yes I can,” Anna argued. “It’s my plane!”

  “Well, if it’s going to be like that,” he said, “then I’m taking my toys and going home!”

  Anna smiled. She decided she liked this Baptist missionary who taught English to little French kids. “You make me laugh, Jason Lang. I like that.”

  “Glad I could be of service, Miss Anna,” he said in his best John Wayne voice.

  Anna took his hand again. It really was so much better that way. “Today has been a very difficult day for me,” she said. “I’ve been shot at, chased all over a city I’d never been to before today, and worst of all, I lost Father Vin. Five hours ago I thought I was going to just break down and lose it. I have no idea what’s going on here. I don’t know why I’m even involved in this. I just know I have to be. Does that sound stupid, or what?”

  Jason squeezed her hand. “It doesn’t sound stupid. As a matter of fact, it’s the bravest thing I’ve ever heard of. I can’t imagine going through what you’ve been through in the last three days. And I know you miss him, but Father Vin is in a much better place. I know that sounds like a stupid cliché, but it’s true.”

  “The angel told me the same thing, so you’re off the hook. If an angel says it, it can’t be a cliché, right?”

  “You’re gonna have to tell me more about this angel thing.”

  “Stick around,” she said. “He seems to be showing himself to quite a few people, I’ve heard. You’ll probably see him, too. Now, all kidding aside, I do want to hear your story. You have the floor again.”

  Jason nodded his head in acceptance and continued. “Like I said, I’m from Atlanta. Marietta, actually. Just north of Atlanta. My mother is a Sunday school teacher at the church I grew up in. My father owns an insurance company. We were the typical middle-American family. I have two older brothers, Jeremy and Joshua, who considered me their human guinea pig. And thus the scar. They talked me into jumping out of a tree when I was six to try out this pair of wings they made. Swore up and down that the wings would work. Needless to say—remember, gullible party of one here—they didn’t. I fell twelve feet onto our concrete sidewalk. This little beauty here”—he pointed to the scar—”is just one of many. Like I said, I was the guinea pig.”

  Anna winced. “Ouch! Did they get in trouble?”

  Jason laughed. “Not as much as I did for believing them. Anyway, I gave you the brief version of how I became a missionary. There’s a lot of training, book studying, and hands-on work that went along with it. And that’s pretty much my life story. Any more questions?”

  Anna thought for a second then asked, “Who was your last girlfriend? And why didn’t it work out?”

  “Julie Buckley. And because I wasn’t concerned with driving a Jaguar or living in Buckhead—that’s a very wealthy suburb of Atlanta.”

  “Okay then,” Anna said. “I guess that about covers it!” Jason looked at her quizzically. “So what about you? Who is Anna Riley?”

  Anna spent the next fifteen minutes telling Jason about her childhood and growing up in Nashville. She told him about her parents and her grandparents, what she knew of them. She told him about the schools she went to, who her friends were, what she did for fun, and of course, her last boyfriend, who was basically an idiot. She finished by recapping the last few days, which she’d already told him about. Just as she was finishing, Hale’s voice came over the intercom to announce that they were about to land in London.

  Anna and Jason made sure their seat belts were secure and radioed to the cockpit that they were ready for landing. Hale replied, telling them it should be a smooth descent. They would be on the ground in just a few minutes.

  “So what now?” Anna asked, turning her attention back to Jason.

  “Well, I guess we should probably get settled in at the safe house. Don’t you think?”

  “Hey,” she said, “you’re the bodyguard. You tell me.”

  “Okay then,” he answered, “we’ll get settled in at the safe house and then take a look at that scroll. There’s something else I forgot to tell you about my childhood.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

  “I’ve always been pretty good with riddles.”

  CHAPTER 32

  St. Peter’s Basilica, the Vatican

  The giant sitting in the next to the last pew in the sanctuary wore a huge trench coat and a large-brimmed hat pulled down over his eyes to hide his body and face. He was massive by anyone’s standards. Several people, all tourists, were milling around inside the basilica. A couple of them even tried to move closer to him to get a better look, but to no avail. Each time someone would enter his row, he would shift his weight. Just the slightest movement of the giant seemed to unnerve everyone. They would turn back around and move to a different pew. That is, all except one man wearing a custom-tailored three-piece, charcoal, pinstriped suit. He walked through the main entrance and moved directly toward the giant. At the end of the row, he paused, turned, and faced the altar as if he intended to genuflect.

  “Ha!” he said, then sat down at the opposite end of the pew from the giant. He never turned to acknowledge him but instead sat picking at his long fingernails and whistling an obnoxiously loud tune.

  A few people showed their displeasure with him by turning and frowning at him, giving him a “Shh!” or “Humph!” He squinted his beady little eyes and hissed at each one of them.

  The two sat together in the same pew, neither one saying anything for about five minutes. By then the room had mostly cleared out, and there were no people within earshot of the two. Finally, the giant spoke first.

  “I hear you’re going by ‘Prince’ these days. Presumptuous, don’t you think?”

  “My, what a large word, Michael.” Prince sneered. “Pre-sump-tu-ous. Did you finally enroll in a vocabulary enrichment course? Usually, all you can manage is ‘Fear not.’ I’m impressed.”

  “What are you doing here?” Michael asked coldly.

  “I could ask you the same question,” the other replied. “Shouldn’t you be out waging some silly battle or something?�
�

  The giant angel mumbled, more to himself, “Father, just say the word …”

  “I’m sorry. What was that?” Prince raised his eyebrows and craned his neck toward the giant.

  Now Michael pushed back the brim of his hat, showing his emerald green eyes. They were burning with fire. “I said”—he pointed a finger at him—”when He gives me the go-ahead, you’d better hope you can move faster than me!” His voice was now booming, echoing throughout the enormous chapel.

  Prince chuckled and brushed a piece of lint off his lapel. “Michael, you and I both know that even if His theory on this whole shebang”—he waved his hand in a circle above his head—”is correct, you are going to be the last one He sends after me. We all know what the fairy tale says. His high and mighty Son gets all the glory. Remember?”

  “Thanks be to God!” Michael raised his hands in praise.

  “So what are you doing here anyway?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, Lucifer, but I have a new assignment.”

  “Really?” He drew the word out in a long breath. “And what would that be?” “It’s classified.”

  “Well, we can all just about guess that it has to do with me and that scroll. Let me save you the trouble. Go back and tell your Daddy that I will have it. And when I do, I win. I may not know what exactly is on that scroll, but I have a good idea what it’s for. And as long as I have it … Well then, I guess you’re just going to be waiting around a lot. Huh?”

  “Lucifer, I swear if I could—”

  “Uh, uh, uh! Don’t swear! He doesn’t like that.” He made an “Oops!” look with his face. “That’s what got me into trouble. Remember? Ha, ha, ha!”

  In the time it takes a lightning bolt to streak across the sky, Michael shot across the pew and had Lucifer by the throat. “You listen to me, you sick piece of garbage!” he said through clenched teeth. “Your days are numbered. You will never have that scroll. I have pledged to the Father that you shall never lay your hands on it. Do you understand me?”