The Source

by Michael Cordy

  Torino's eyes narrowed. 'What do you know or care about Rome's doctrine, Sister? You betrayed the Holy Mother Church.'

  'I betrayed no one,' she replied, with venom. 'If I've learnt anything over my long life it's that the Church should serve faith, not be its rigid master. I don't need this miraculous garden to fit with doctrine to know it's a place of God. Everything here contradicts the biblical Garden of Eden and the scriptures. Not only is it thousands of miles away from the Holy Land but it's also nowhere near the geographical origins of any major religion. The creatures and plants here prove that miraculous life can be created and evolve in parallel with humanity, independent of mankind and God's Church.

  'And yet there are miracles in this godless place. How can that be? Are there perhaps alternative ways to interpret God's word, which go against the pope's infallible doctrine? Father Orlando thought so. And I do, too. I don't fear the strange creatures here, or the questions they raise about creation and evolution. Nothing here challenges my faith, only my understanding of it. This place might even be the Garden of Eden for all I know.' She laughed bitterly. 'But you, Father General, are a slave to your infallible doctrine. You put it before everything. You'd rather change the truth to fit what you believe than change what you believe to fit the truth.'

  For a moment Torino said nothing. He had only contempt for the nun. She spoke of vows, but she had broken hers to the Church. 'You're right,' he said eventually. 'The Church does need to treat a discovery like this carefully. There are those who could misinterpret the garden and its creatures.' He gestured to the nymphs in the shadows. 'They might see them as contradicting the scriptures and the pope's recent decrees denying evolution. And, yes, I can't allow anything here to play into the hands of those who would destroy the Holy Mother Church, which embodies the hopes and dreams of millions of believers worldwide. I make no apologies for protecting their faith. But the truth is, I don't care about this miraculous so-called Garden of God or its exotic creatures.' He pointed up the tunnel. 'Not nearly as much as what's up there.'

  He turned to Kelly and smiled at his surprise. 'And I suspect you don't either, Dr Kelly. As an atheist and a scientist, how do you explain this miraculous garden? Is it the cradle of evolution, the origin of life on Earth, a scientific Eden? Or are the garden and its creatures merely a sideshow to the main attraction?'

  Kelly said nothing.

  'Come on, Dr Kelly. We both know that the garden and its creatures are an irrelevant aberration, a distraction.' He raised the shard of crystal. 'Even this is a peripheral by-product of the real power behind this place.' He gestured to the glowing tunnel and tapped the notebook. 'Father Orlando wrote about it in the section of the Voynich your wife couldn't translate. He called it el origen.' He opened his manila folder and showed Kelly the relevant passage. 'His testimony in the Inquisition Archives records it by its Latin name: radix. Both mean "the source". Neither document explains what it is, instead describing it in philosophical and spiritual terms. In his notebook he mentions El Árbol de la Vida y de la Muerte, the Tree of Life and Death, which in the Inquisition testimony the Latin scribes record as vita quod mors arbor. Was this a reference to the Tree of Knowledge in Genesis? Was it meant to be taken literally or figuratively? What do you think the source is, Dr Kelly? What do you think we'll find up that tunnel? The source of all miracles?'

  'Just one,' said Kelly. 'The planet's greatest miracle: life. And it's got nothing to do with God or religion.'

  Torino smiled. 'We'll have to agree to disagree on who or what's behind it. The point is, we both want to discover what it is.' He turned to Sister Chantal. 'Sister, is whatever butchered the conquistadors in the Voynich still in the tunnel?'

  'I've never been up there. No one has and lived. Except Father Orlando.'

  'That's not strictly true. Is it, Dr Kelly? Marco saw you coming out of the tunnel when I arrived with the soldiers.'

  Sister Chantal glared at Kelly. 'You went up it?'

  Torino smiled. 'Dr Kelly told Marco he wouldn't believe what he'd seen up there. What did you see, Dr Kelly? Tell me, and after you sign a confidentiality agreement, I'll let you all leave here with the blessing of the Church.' He held out the crystal. 'I'll even let you take this with you. You can save your family, Dr Kelly. Isn't that what you came here for?'

  'Whatever you saw, tell him nothing,' said Sister Chantal. 'He won't let you go, whatever legal forms he makes you sign. He can't risk anyone else knowing about this place. It raises too many questions.'

  'Ignore her, Dr Kelly. I've already told you I don't care about the garden or its creatures. Just radix, the source. We both want to uncover this mystery. Tell me what you know and save your family.'

  Kelly sighed. 'I turned back when I heard your soldiers shooting so I didn't reach the end. I got close, though, and there's definitely something of great power up there.' To Torino's surprise, he suddenly dropped to his knees, only his open palms breaking his fall on the rocky floor. He raised his bound hands, clasped as if in prayer. 'I beg you, Father General. Let me save my wife. She's a believer. I've nothing against your religion. I don't care how you interpret this garden. I don't even care about the source any more. I only care about saving my wife.'

  'Save her, then. Tell me all you know and you'll be out of here today. You could be back in the States within the week, if not sooner.' He held the crystal tantalizingly close to Kelly's bound hands. 'What did you see? Before I go up there with the soldiers I need to know if there was any sign of what killed the conquistadors. Did you see or learn anything that could help us?'

  Kelly hesitated for only a second, staring at the crystal. 'I'll tell you,' he said. 'I'll tell you everything.'

  63

  'I can't believe you helped him, Ross,' hissed Sister Chantal, as Bazin led them back to the others. 'I warned you against going up the tunnel. I warned you against telling the Superior General what you'd seen. And you ignored me. How could you be so stupid?'

  Ross said nothing.

  Sister Chantal couldn't remember feeling such dejection. Over the long years she had experienced many black moments but she had always reminded herself of her vow to Father Orlando and told herself to be patient. When she had learnt of Lauren's critical condition, she had believed that the garden could cure her. But this time the enemy wasn't time, impatience or disappointment: it was the same implacable foe that had destroyed Father Orlando. To make it worse, her ally had proved himself weak and spineless. 'I can't believe you begged him on your knees. He was never going to let you save Lauren because he can't let you leave. Don't you understand that?'

  When they reached the tarpaulin, Hackett and Zeb were lying at one end of the enclosure, gagged. Bazin pushed Ross and Sister Chantal to the other end, laid them on the ground and tied their ankles.

  Sister Chantal waited for Bazin to leave. 'I warned you against going up the tunnel, Ross, because it is dangerous. Father Orlando told me so. He saw things.'

  'I know,' whispered Ross.

  'Then why did you tell Torino—'

  'That it was safe? That I got close enough to touch whatever's up there and saw nothing dangerous? Because I don't trust the Superior General any more than you do.'

  'You lied?'

  'Of course. The only way we're going to get out of here with what we came for is on our own. And anything that distracts them up that tunnel can only help us.'

  A slow smile creased her lips. 'Perhaps you're not as stupid as I feared.'

  Ross looked back at Bazin who was standing by the stack of weapons, talking to two of the soldiers. After some discussion they selected a shotgun, two Heckler & Koch submachine-guns and a flame-thrower, then walked back to the forbidden caves.

  They're going up the tunnel, thought Ross.

  As he watched them, he noticed the yellow parcels he had seen the soldiers unpacking earlier. Most were now distributed in strategic piles around the garden. He wondered what they were, and why they were there. He glanced at Zeb and Hackett lying at th
e other end of the enclosure. They were staring at him. He wanted to tell them what had happened but feared raising his voice and being overheard by the remaining guard. 'I still don't understand why Torino's so dismissive of the garden and so focused on the source,' he whispered to Sister Chantal. 'I thought the whole point from a religious angle was that this was the Garden of God.'

  'He wants the miracles because the Church can exploit them. But the garden and its creatures raise too many doubts and questions about Genesis and evolution. Religion isn't like science. Science may thrive on doubt but religion demands unquestioning faith.'

  'Whatever their faith, wouldn't most believers want to make up their own minds about the truth, however controversial?' said Ross. 'Like you told Torino, if you really believe in something nothing's going to challenge your faith, only your understanding of it. Science is constantly adapting its understanding of the natural world, based on new evidence.'

  She shook her head. 'Torino and those who wield power in Rome would rather ignore evidence than modify their beliefs. Never forget, the pope is infallible, God's envoy on Earth. He can't be wrong.'

  Bazin and the other men were almost at the caves. The smaller soldier was carrying the flame-thrower over his shoulder, the pack of fuel strapped to his back. Ross glanced at the stack of weapons and the second flame-thrower. At that moment something Zeb had said last night, about the pharmaceutical industry, entered his head, and a connection between that and the yellow parcels fired in his brain.

  Shit.

  He was now pretty sure what they were and why Torino had brought them here. 'We've got to get free,' he said.

  'I know that.' Sister Chantal raised her bound wrists. 'But how?'

  He opened his hands. In his right palm was a thin shard of crystal rock he had picked up off the cave floor while kneeling before Torino. 'It's small but sharp. I can't reach my plastic tie, but I could cut yours.'

  She smiled as a shadow loomed over them. Bazin had returned with one of the soldiers. 'Gag them,' he said. Ross closed his hands but didn't struggle as Bazin placed an oily rag over his mouth and knotted it at the back of his head.

  Bazin stepped away and pointed at them in turn, muttering under his breath, first at Hackett, then Zeb and Sister Chantal. Ross wondered why he was counting them. Then Bazin's finger skipped Ross, went back to Hackett and counted the other three again. Something hard and cold formed in Ross's stomach. Bazin wasn't counting them. He was selecting one.

  His finger settled on Hackett, who glanced questioningly at Ross. 'Bring him, Weber,' he said to the soldier. As they cut Hackett's ankle ties and pulled him to his feet, Bazin turned to Ross. 'Just in case anything unpleasant's waiting for us up the tunnel the good doctor will lead the way. Father General wanted you to lead us, Ross, but since you saved my life I excluded you from the count. Consider my debt settled.' He smiled. 'Don't worry about him,' he said, over his shoulder. 'As you said, there should be no danger.'

  Ross strained against his gag. It was one thing to let his heavily armed enemies walk into a trap. It was something else to allow an unarmed friend to do the same. But Bazin was oblivious of his stifled pleas as he led Hackett to the forbidden caves. When Ross craned his neck to keep them in view, he saw Zeb silently willing him to tell her their friend would be safe. That there was no danger.

  Moments later, an eerie sound issued from the forbidden caves. Ross knew it was the nymphs singing, warning Torino and his men away from the tunnel. Then the sound changed. The nymphs were no longer singing. They were screaming.

  64

  Moments earlier

  In the antechamber Feldwebel Fleischer handed Torino a steel helmet and helped him strap on a Kevlar vest. The Jesuit was so excited his hands trembled on the helmet buckle. He pointed to Hackett, who was gagged and had his wrists tied. All of the men were wearing sunglasses to protect their eyes against the dazzlingly bright light up the tunnel. 'He goes at the front, yes?'

  'Yes,' said Bazin, 'then Weber with the flame-thrower. You and I follow, with Feldwebel Fleischer taking up the rear.'

  Fleischer shook his head. 'These are my men and the Superior General is under my protection. I'll stay by his side. You take up the rear.'

  Bazin eyeballed him, then shrugged. 'As you wish.'

  Fleischer handed a two-way radio to the other soldier. 'Gerber, wait down here. If we need you I'll call.'

  Torino frowned. 'Have you briefed him on what to do if we don't return? If I don't return?'

  The soldier checked the radio. 'Everything's prepared, Father General. I know what to do.'

  'Where's Petersen? Watching the prisoners?'

  'Yes.'

  'Good. Let's go.'

  As they approached the tunnel, the singing started – a disquieting, sinister chant that emanated from the dark recesses of the cave. Then the nymphs emerged from the shadows and blocked the entrance. Torino counted ten. The soldiers stopped, unnerved by the startling creatures.

  'Push them back,' said Torino. 'Get them out of the way.'

  Bazin shouted and waved his shotgun at a nymph with blood-red flowers entwined in its hair-like fronds. It ignored him and continued to chant. Bazin stepped back and turned to Weber. 'Use the flame-thrower.'

  Weber raised the nozzle, flicked the igniter and pressed the trigger. Fiery liquid jetted towards the nymphs. They screamed and fled back into the shadows. Their cries echoed through the caves and Torino smiled at how quickly they had retreated. Controlling the garden and its creatures wouldn't be difficult. He would soon fashion this place so that it brought only glory to Rome – and what glory it would be! He tapped Weber's shoulder.

  Weber prodded Hackett with the hot nozzle of the flamethrower. 'Go.'

  They walked slowly up the path and with each step the light grew more dazzling, the glare intensified by the gilded crystal that encrusted the tunnel. Torino could only guess at what lay ahead but was convinced that it had nothing to do with Kelly's dry theories on creation and evolution. Father Orlando's radix, his Tree of Life and Death, would offer no proof of any scientific hypothesis, only proof of God's presence on earth, a physical manifestation of His divine majesty and power. Like Moses witnessing the burning bush, Torino was convinced that he, too, would soon glimpse the face of God.

  Suddenly Weber stopped.

  Peering past him, to the path ahead, Torino saw a waterfall. Beside it, the path widened into a small chamber, then rough steps led to the top of the waterfall where the path widened again, forming another chamber before continuing onwards.

  'Why have we stopped?'

  'He won't move,' said Weber, gesturing to Hackett.

  'Make him,' said Torino. Hackett turned, sweat pouring down his face, eyes darting meaningfully to the top of the waterfall. 'Let him speak.'

  Weber pulled off the gag.

  'I saw something moving,' Hackett panted.

  Torino narrowed his eyes. 'Where?'

  'In those holes up there.'

  Torino peered up to the chamber on the next level. He could see the holes and a network of tunnels but nothing else. 'Can anyone else see anything?'

  'No.'

  Torino heard a click as Weber undid the safety on the flamethrower. The others raised their weapons. 'Go on.'

  Hackett shook his head. 'No.'

  Weber released a jet of flame. 'Go.'

  Hackett jumped and shuffled forward, blinking against the sweat that poured down his face.

  Hackett stared at the black holes, every muscle in his body alert and trembling. He was sure he'd seen something moving within those dark spaces, something from his nightmares. A stab of anger penetrated his numbing fear. It would be so unfair to die in this remote place just as he had found his lost city. It incensed him that he might never enjoy the glory of his discovery or benefit from its gold.