by Glenn Meade
It was peaceful in the garden and as Jack sat there he heard footsteps. He turned and saw the tall figure of John Becket approach. He wore leather sandals and a simple white cassock.
Jack waited as he approached. Becket had aged; his skin was more wrinkled and deeply tanned. But it was his eyes—piercing, the palest blue. Jack felt an odd shiver down his back. He rose from the bench.
Becket gripped his hand. “Mr. Cane, or may I call you Jack? It’s been a long time.”
His voice was deep and powerful but with a surprising gentleness for such a big man. Jack was dumbstruck. It was hard to believe he was addressing the pope. “Twenty years.”
“The time has flown. I hear that you’re an archaeologist like your father. I’m sure he would have been proud.”
Despite his friendly manner, when Jack looked more closely Becket appeared under stress, his eyes swollen from lack of sleep.
Jack glanced toward the garden. The watchful guards never took their gaze off him. “To tell the truth, I was expecting to meet in the Vatican.”
Becket gathered the folds of his cassock and sat on the bench. “The setting here is less formal. I hope you don’t mind. I’m afraid it’s also partly the reason for all this security. Please, sit down.”
Jack joined him on the bench.
Becket said, “I’ve often kept you in my prayers. The death of anyone’s parents is a terrible loss. When you’re young and an only child, it’s an immense tragedy. I only wish I could have offered you more solace at the time.”
There was a genuine look of sadness in Becket’s face. He placed a hand gently on Jack’s shoulder and his blue eyes seemed to bore into his soul. “But of some things I am certain, Jack. They are watching over you, and someday you will be reunited. They still love you, but from a different place.”
Becket’s intimacy was disarming and his voice had a powerful conviction. Jack tried to focus on why he was here. Shifting away, he caused Becket’s hand to fall.
For a moment the pope seemed surprised by the gesture, and he said awkwardly, “Cardinal Kelly urged me to meet you. He says you had made a discovery of a scroll. That the text was highly controversial. He said that you wanted to make me personally aware of its contents.”
“That’s right.”
“I admit you’ve stirred my curiosity. And I was struck by the curious twist of fate—your father also made a discovery at Qumran. But why do you think it may be so important to the Vatican?”
Jack met Becket’s gaze. “We’ll get around to that. But first, I want you to tell me the truth.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I think you do,” Jack said bluntly. “I think my parents’ deaths were murder, not an accident. And that you stole my father’s scroll.”
110
ROME
IT WAS VERY still in the garden, the only sound the gurgling fountain. Jack waited for Becket’s reaction. He saw it immediately. A look of discomfort spread over the pope’s face.
Jack said, “You haven’t answered me.”
Becket’s eyes suddenly became wary. “You’ve made a serious allegation, Jack.”
“Is that all you have to say?”
“You sound angry.”
“I’m sitting beside the man who may have killed my parents. How do you think I feel?”
“You truly believe that I killed them?”
“You were the first person at the accident scene. And I’ve never known what you were doing there that day.”
“I was on my way to Jerusalem.”
“I think you’re lying.”
Becket bit back his response.
Jack said, “You remember Sergeant Raul, who questioned you?”
“Of course.”
“He almost convinced himself the brake line in my father’s pickup had been deliberately tampered with. But he couldn’t prove it.”
Becket paled a little and shook his head. “The sergeant never mentioned his suspicion to me, Jack.”
“Then what about the missing scroll? There was no evidence to prove it was destroyed by fire. I think you know more than you’re telling.”
“Jack—”
“What happened to my parents ripped my heart out. I don’t think I’ve ever found peace since that day. But this isn’t just about burying ghosts or even solving a crime. It’s not even about justice. It’s about simple truth. Something you’re supposed to believe in.”
Becket fell silent. Beads of perspiration glistened on his brow. It appeared as if a great weight was pressing down on his shoulders, that he was under enormous stress. He tightly shut his eyes, then opened them again. As he sat there, rigid, his face set in stone, his breathing became more labored. He rubbed a bony hand over his face. There seemed to be an agony in that simple gesture, as if he faced a colossal decision.
He turned his head and fixed Jack with a penetrating stare. “Please understand one thing. I didn’t set out to harm anyone.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The sound of footsteps approached along the path. Abbot Fabrio appeared and bowed. “Holy Father, my apologies. The security detail says that your car will be here in ten minutes to take you to the Vatican. You are due to give your speech and blessing from St. Peter’s Square after your meeting with the cardinals.”
Becket waved a hand in dismissal. “Tell them to delay the car.”
“Until when, Holy Father?”
“Until I say I am ready.”
“But—”
“No arguments, Fabrio. And tell Cardinal Cassini that he is to assemble the Curia in the Sistine Chapel. I will have an important announcement to make.”
“As you wish, Holy Father.” The abbot left.
Jack looked up at Becket as he stood. The pope’s face was suddenly tired and sagged. In the space of ten minutes he had aged ten years. He gestured to the path through the garden. “Will you walk with me, Jack?”
“Why should I?”
“Because I think it’s time you knew the truth about what happened to your parents.”
111
LELA STUDIED HER wristwatch as she sat outside the café. She sipped her espresso. The sidewalk table gave her a view of the monastery entrance at the far end of the street. Every now and then she could see the guards discreetly patrol behind the gate.
She put down her espresso and sighed. She felt confused. Her relationship with Jack went back such a long time. She still had feelings for him, and that troubled her. What right had she to think it might be rekindled? Besides, Jack still seemed more than a little smitten by Yasmin Green. And why shouldn’t he? She was beautiful and young. But who is she?
“The rain’s gone, the sun’s out. Nice day for a coffee.”
She turned, startled, and saw Ari standing behind her, his injured hand bandaged. He held a newspaper in his other hand. He pulled up a chair and indicated to the waiter that he wanted an espresso, the same as Lela. The waiter went to fill the order. Ari smiled. “Don’t think of running, Lela. You wouldn’t get far.”
Across the street, she saw the Mossad taxi driver, Mario, leaning against his cab. Farther along, Cohen smoked a cigarette as he lounged next to a wall.
Lela felt the barrel of Ari’s pistol prod her in the side as he leaned in closer with the newspaper. “Where’s your pistol? Give it to me.”
“Ari, please …”
“You’ve been playing hide-and-seek with me. Lela. I don’t like that.”
“Ari, there’s been good reason—”
“Make a fuss and I swear, I’ll have you bundled into our car in no time, screaming or not. Now, where’s your pistol?”
“In my pocket.”
“Any other weapons I should know about?”
“Another pistol, in my right pocket.”
Ari reached into Lela’s pockets, removed her own pistol and Pasha’s weapon, and tucked them inside his jacket. “It looks like you were expecting trouble.”
“I wasn’t expecting you. How did
you know where to find me, Ari?”
“Lots of state security organizations keep loose contact with each other. A case of ‘you scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours.’ Mossad and the Vatican are no exception, that’s all I’ll say.”
The waiter came with Ari’s espresso and left. Lela said, “Tell me how Mossad and the Vatican are connected in all of this.”
Ari used his bandaged hand to add a sugar cube to his cup and stirred. “You can ask Weiss when you see him.”
“That’s where you’re taking me?”
“Yes. Then onward to Israel. Along with your friend Cane.” Ari gave a tight smile and sipped his espresso. He pulled his pistol back from Lela’s side but kept it clutched in his good hand, tucked under his newspaper and out of view. “Just as soon as he appears from his private papal audience, we’re going to finally bring this to a conclusion.”
112
“FOR TWENTY YEARS I’ve lived with a lie. I’ve kept a dark secret I chose not to speak about. Do you know why?”
Jack was frozen, not knowing what he was about to hear. “No …”
“Because I knew my secret would tarnish the church. My own destiny didn’t matter, but the church mattered deeply to me. So I kept my silence.”
“Did you kill my parents?”
The pope’s mouth tightened as he said grimly, “I played my part in a conspiracy of lies, Jack.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jack felt anger rise up in him like bile. He wanted to lash out, to strike Becket, but the man suddenly let out an anguished sigh and buried his face in his hands.
For a long time he remained like that. Then he looked at Jack again. “It means that I lied. That I was a party to a crime by remaining silent. But in the end, every one of our sins demands a price.”
“Who killed my parents? Who stole my father’s scroll? It was stolen, wasn’t it?”
Becket nodded. “Yes, it was stolen.”
“Why?”
“Because certain people believed its theft was for the good of the church.”
“How can you say that? How can you condone theft and murder?”
“I’m not, Jack. I’m merely stating fact.”
“Who killed my parents?”
The pope stared out at the fountain, then back again. “When your father discovered his scroll, he was baffled because part of the wording he read didn’t make sense. So he permitted Father Kubel to see it, who realized immediately that it was a coded text. Such scrolls contained a certain marker.”
“I know about the marker. Go on.”
The pope said, “Kubel was aware of what the marker meant. As the Vatican’s coordinator on the dig, his superiors had already made him aware that any coded scrolls could prove to be controversial. And that several had turned up at Dead Sea sites over the years and had been kept secret, with Israel’s consent.”
“Why?”
“For what seemed like perfectly good reasons. Neither the Vatican nor Israel wanted any controversy to rock the foundations of their religions.”
“Some of the scrolls contained controversial material?”
“Yes. Revelations, mysterious predictions, references to Jesus’ beliefs and the early church. Some of it with the potential to muddy the waters of religious dogma.”
“Tell me what Kubel did.”
The pope said, “Your father was incredibly excited by his find. He told Kubel that on his way to Jerusalem he intended to visit an old friend of his, a journalist with the Post, to show him the scroll. In Kubel’s mind, alarm bells went off as soon as he heard that statement.”
“Why?”
“He feared that by involving the newspapers there was a danger that the scroll’s content would be revealed.”
“What did Kubel do?”
The pope sighed. “He decided he had to gain possession of the scroll, no matter what the cost. It was all utter madness, of course, and went beyond all reason. But Kubel was always a hothead. There was no stopping him.”
“Go on.”
“He deliberately tried to loosen the pickup’s brake fluid line. To cause a slow leak, hoping the brakes would fail on the way to Jerusalem and that your father would crash. Kubel intended to follow the pickup. In his urgency to get his hands on the scroll he truly didn’t care if you all died. That was how reckless he was, a true religious fanatic.”
“So when Kubel arrived at the accident scene he’d already been following us. But you turned up also.”
The pope met Jack’s stare. “I saw Kubel follow your pickup. He had a deranged look on his face, a look I knew spelled trouble. So I drove after him and later heard the explosion and came across him at the accident scene. I saw the army truck had exploded. Whether it was a genuine accident or not, I’m afraid we will never know.”
“How did you learn about Kubel’s part in all of this?”
“Weeks later he asked me to be his confessor. Only when I listened to his admission of guilt did I learn the real story. But as a priest, I was duty-bound by my vows not to divulge Kubel’s confession, even to the police.”
“Even if it involved murder?”
“It was unclear that Kubel had committed murder. He didn’t know it himself. Theft, yes. But murder, it was uncertain. The police determined that the crash had been caused by the army truck.”
“Except Kubel intended to kill us all if he had to.”
“I believed that. So I sought clarity from my superiors. I was told that Kubel had committed no provable crime in the eyes of the law. His action had evil intent, certainly. But the results of his action were unclear.”
“That all sounds very convenient.”
“You’re right, of course.”
“What did your heart tell you?”
The pope sighed deeply. “Kubel had handed over the scroll to the Vatican and his superiors wanted to cover up his actions. All of which was wrong. I made a written statement condemning their stance. My statement was suppressed.”
“Why didn’t you follow your heart and tell that to the police? Why help cover up Kubel’s wrongdoing?”
The pope put the tips of his fingers to his lips as if in silent prayer. “I have wrestled with that question for the last twenty years, Jack. The answer I came to was that I should remain a priest. Only in that way could I one day try to change any wrongdoing from within the church.”
“That sounds like a very convenient answer.”
“No, Jack, it’s not. I did not ask to be made pope. I never sought the papacy. But I believe that I was chosen for a reason.”
“What reason is that?”
“To bring about a sea change. And that is what is about to happen. Very soon, the Vatican’s archives will be thrown open to the public, along with details of all its private dealings. There will be no more lies. No more secrets or duplicity. The course of the church’s future is about to be forever changed.”
Jack heard the sincerity in Becket’s voice and stared back at him. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. One other thing. Father Kubel died this morning after a long illness. His sister was a witness to his deathbed confession of his crime. I can arrange for you to meet and speak with her, if you wish.”
Jack considered. “Tell me this. Is the scroll’s revelation true? Was there really a second messiah?”
“Yes, it’s true. There are several other scrolls that mention this false messiah and cast doubt upon some of the real Jesus’ actions.”
Jack frowned. “How will you answer that? How will you stop the doubt from creating havoc?”
Becket didn’t flinch. “I don’t honestly know, Jack. I have been praying for an answer. But so far, one hasn’t come.”
“Has it altered your belief?”
Becket’s voice was firm with conviction. “No, it hasn’t. Every day I have witnessed God’s love and goodness. I have felt His presence. How could I not believe?”
“You’re a remarkable man, John Becket. I wish I had your faith.
”
The powerful gaze of Becket’s blue eyes almost bored into Jack’s soul. “You do have my faith. We all have it in us. In some it’s simply buried deeper than others. But we all hear the echo of God’s voice. We are all remarkable creatures, Jack, touched by our Creator’s love and greatness. And because of that we can do incredible things.”
“Answer me honestly. Did the Vatican have anything to do with Professor Green’s death and the theft?”
“You have my honest word, I know nothing about that.”
“But if it was involved in any way, you’d have the authority to find out, right?”
“The Vatican has a reputation for secrecy and intrigue. If I have my way, that will cease. But in any large organization there are always groups who seek to have their way with power and cunning. I will try my utmost to find out for you, Jack.”
Becket gripped Jack’s hands in his. “I will pray that your soul finds peace. And that if you discover who stole the scroll, who killed the professor, you’ll try to find it in your heart to forgive them.”
“Why should I?”
“Because to forgive is the first step toward redeeming the sin.”
“I’m afraid that’s one pledge I can’t give a promise to.”
113
LELA SAT IN the back of the stationary cab, Ari next to her. He clutched a pair of palm-sized binoculars and studied the monastery at the end of the street. “Did Cane say how long he’d be meeting the pope?”
Lela replied, “No. Ari, take my word. Cane didn’t kill Green. He’s innocent in all of this.”
“That’s for Weiss to decide.” Ari reached into his pocket for his pistol. “I have orders to take Cane back to Israel. Nothing’s going to change that. A word of advice: whatever happens next is going to happen hard and fast, so let me give you a friendly word of warning, Lela.”
“Meaning?”
“Keep your nose out of it and leave me and my men to do our job. Try to help Cane in any way and one of us is liable to put a bullet in you.”