James needed to talk to Lino. He switched on the broadband video and keyed in Lino’s online address. Lino was awake even though it was nearly midnight.
“You’ve done some good writing, Lino. Can you tell me more about your manuscript? Also the sources—”
Lino interrupted him. “Let’s forget about the book.” His voice was even and indifferent. “I won’t work on it any more. Too many fantasies.” He was looking sideways, as though his mind was occupied with something else.
“What you wrote has potential. I think you have a chance to make a good book out of it. And a very useful one. I believe you’ve dug up something really big, as you said before.”
“Very kind of you. Unfortunately, most of the stuff in it is my imagination. I decided to quit.”
“I’m not flattering you. It’s very probable that what you wrote is true.”
Lino was silent for a moment. “I don’t understand.”
“I can’t go into details. It’s from my work for the security services. I believe the secret organization you write about is real and active.”
“You’re wrong. There are many disturbed people who form or join sects and so on. I wouldn’t waste more of my time on it. Take my advice. Do the same.”
James realized that Lino wasn’t listening to what he was saying to him at all. The way he behaved was unusual. Normally, he was quite passionate about the subject. “Lino, what’s wrong?”
“Everything’s fine,” Lino snapped. “My apologies for wasting your time with useless writing … It’s getting late. We’ll talk some other time.”
James cut the connection. He was clear about two things. Lino had not been frank with him. And he was scared.
* * *
James felt his shoulder being nudged gently and Pema’s voice calling his name. Opening his eyes proved difficult. He felt as though he had only been asleep for a few minutes, but the clock said 5.30 a.m. “What is it, Pema?” he asked in a voice changed by interrupted deep sleep.
“Sorry to wake you so early,” Pema said with embarrassment. “I didn’t want to leave you asleep while I’m out. There are people in the forest. I’m gonna go check on it.”
The sleepiness left James immediately. He got up and started putting his clothes on. “Pema, the time you shielded me from everything has passed. I’ll go to check it. You stay here.”
Pema made a face but didn’t argue. “Be careful. I saw a few silhouettes and torches flashing in the woods above the road,” she said with concern.
There was less than an hour until dawn. It was clear enough to walk in the open without torchlight, but James took a torch because it was still dark in the woods. He peered into the area where Pema had spotted people. This was the lowest part of the terrain. There was a narrow strip of trees and behind was a hedge separating the estate from the road. He couldn’t see anybody there. He crossed the field and continued along the hedge. The hedge was low and he could see the road. He caught a glimpse of a car and a van driving off from a lay-by. Both vehicles picked up speed quickly and disappeared up the nearest side road.
James walked until he reached a gap in the hedge. It led to a public footpath on the other side which followed the borders of the Whiteway Estate, separating it from Woodsman Green Park. His torchlight illuminated fresh footprints in the wet grass. This in itself was not alarming. Tourists or joggers sometimes went through the gap by mistake. Normally, they quickly turned back after realizing that they had entered private property. Probably the same had happened here.
James walked back towards the house. He was missing something. The distant roar of a car engine suddenly made him realize what it was. One of the cars he had seen driving off from the lay-by was a gold Peugeot – the same car he had seen at Elizabeth’s funeral and later on the road. “Coincidence,” he muttered to himself.
Pema was waiting for him at the entrance.
“Everything’s OK. Some early-bird jogger had got onto the estate by mistake,” James explained.
“I’ll make you breakfast,” said Pema.
“Just tea. Then I’ll take some flowers to Elizabeth.”
“You need to eat. You’ve lost weight,” Pema insisted.
“I’m not at all hungry,” he responded.
They went to the kitchen. Pema made tea and they sat at the table.
“I know how you feel,” she said softly. “I felt it myself when my father and my brother were killed. The pain will subside but will never go completely.”
James didn’t answer for a while. He sat and stared with unblinking eyes into his teacup. “She didn’t deserve to die like that,” he said eventually. “I think about our little girl, too …” His voice tailed off.
“Great sorrow, great loss,” Pema said with deep sadness. “They paid a big karmic price. For that they will have a good rebirth.”
“It’s not fair,” James said in a hollow voice.
“We’ll pray for them every day. You shouldn’t allow grief to bring you down. Elizabeth wouldn’t want that.”
“I know. But there are moments when it’s impossible to resist.” On a sudden impulse to share his strange experiences with Pema, James added, “I sometimes see her in visions.”
Pema glanced at him, intrigued. “Sorrow has settled inside you. It unlocks some of your special qualities. You may experience unusual things. No need to have fear or aversion.”
“It’s just that I have to remind myself that it’s not real … I saw her with the baby…” James described the vision.
Pema stayed silent for a while. Her eyelids were lowered and her eyes looked like two narrow slits. James was surprised to see her doing that. It was the way she ‘read’ dreams to find the hidden messages encoded within them. He guessed she was applying the same method to his vision. Her following words confirmed his assumption.
“This wasn’t your baby. Such a vision is most probably a warning,” Pema said in a solemn tone.
“Warning about what?”
“A danger may await your future child.”
“I … won’t have a child.”
“Don’t do this to yourself …” Pema paused. “I know that the time is not right for what I’m about to say. But it must be said. You need a woman next to you … And an heir who can bring part of you into the future …”
James looked at her sharply. Her words seemed so alien to him right now. “You’re right,” he said. “It’s not the time for this. I’m going to take flowers to Elizabeth.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Florence, Italy
The taxi crossed the Arno River over the bridge Ponte alle Grazie and continued north-west, moving away from the historical centre of Florence. Lino looked out of the left-hand window, trying to catch a glimpse of the Basilica di Santa Croce in the distance. The Basilica was the principal church of the Franciscan brotherhood in Florence – and one of his favourite places in the town. He felt a special connection with this beautiful temple that, as claimed, had been founded by Saint Francisco himself.
Lino spotted the temple’s roof and immediately sensed a flow of power running through his veins. He prayed in his mind to Saint Francisco for the success of his endeavour. Since he had lain his hands on the ‘Gnostic Hymn Manifesto’, his attempts to penetrate deeper into the structure of the Church of Angels had been unsuccessful. That had brought him back to an undesirable state of frustration and re-opened some old wounds in his soul. He felt somehow guilty because the years of effort against the intangible enemy had borne so little fruit.
It was not the first time that Lino had found himself in such a depressing situation. Before the Church of Angels, he had sneaked in a similar manner into other sects and spiritualist groups. He had maintained a virtual presence in some satanic and occult Internet sites. He had learned a lot first-hand about the drives, the aims and the practices of those people. He had even developed friendly relationships with some of them. Based on this knowledge, he was convinced that all of them shared some kind of common
propelling point. Yet he had always encountered a wall when attempting to find out who was behind them. The knowledge about that unifying base and its proactive role had led him to a fundamental discovery, which he called ‘Ecumenism of the Evil’. He was convinced that some mighty clandestine organization had taken over many secret societies and sects and had been using and guiding them according to its own goals and interests.
He asked the driver to turn into the next street and to stop. He paid and waited on the pavement with his hands thrust into the side pockets of his short jacket until the taxi disappeared. Then he turned round and walked back, more or less following the route they had just passed. He always acted in a similar manner when travelling to a Church of Angels meeting. He never used his own car. He took a taxi and asked to be brought to a place about fifteen to twenty minutes’ walking distance from the building where the Church’s adherents were to meet and then headed there on foot. He did the same after the meetings finished. He also kept a trimmed beard to disguise his appearance, because he was afraid somebody from the Church of Angels would discover who he really was. His pictures were often published in the pro-Catholic weekly newspaper La Nostra Fede. For a number of years, he had written articles for that newspaper under his real name. If somebody recognized him, all the effort he had made to infiltrate the Church of Angels would have been in vain.
The hall where the Church of Angels conducted its meetings occupied almost the entire first floor of a four-storey building. Metal grids protected its windows. Lino passed under the windows, pushed open the black gate and entered the lobby, where the cloakroom and toilets were.
A man wearing a private security services uniform stood in front of the inner door of the meeting hall, near the cloakroom. He smiled artificially at Lino while he checked in his jacket. Because of the muted sound of voices coming from the hall, Lino estimated that many people had gathered inside. Tonight, a special discussion was scheduled with two prominent maestros of the Church. One was an Italian man, the other a Russian, who was leader of the Church in his country. Lino guessed that such an unusually large gathering was because of their presence.
He entered and looked for an empty seat among the rows of chairs. He chose a place at the end of the third row and sat down. From there he had a good view of the stage, upon which was an elongated coffee table with microphones on it and three chairs.
The woman sitting on Lino’s left – slim, middle-aged with fluffy hair – who had met him a few times already, accosted him enthusiastically. “Hi. This will be a great event. Our guests are highly developed souls. Being in their presence alone is quite beneficial.”
“Yes, of course. Very exciting,” Lino responded. “I haven’t seen them till now.”
“Both are founders of the Church. Paolo is from North Italy. He visits us from time to time. The name of the Russian is Lavrentie. He was here last year.”
The volume of the buzzing voices in the meeting hall quickly diminished and went into complete silence. On the stage, the two respected adepts appeared, accompanied by Lino’s mentor, Silvio. They sat in the chairs behind the table.
Master Silvio introduced the two guests for those who had not seen them before. “The idea today is that we’ll have a free discussion. Everybody can jump in at any time with questions, comments or opinions. I would like Maestro Lavrentie to begin.” He turned to the Russian. “If you don’t mind …”
“It’s a real pleasure to be amongst you again. In line with what Señor Silvio just said, I would prefer to answer some questions. Ask whatever is on your mind,” Lavrentie invited.
A man in the front row asked the first question. “The union between a human and an angel is the core of your teaching. I’d like to ask if a man has an individual guardian angel, or is any angel capable of forming unions with many men in order to help and guide them?”
“Any union is the only one possible for both sides at that time. The angels have a different potential. A man can be united with one angel and at the same time be under the influence of another. That is a natural thing.”
“What determines what kind of angel one could unite with?” asked another in the audience.
“The unions are not predetermined. They depend on both sides, on the characteristics of the human and the angel.”
“In the angel’s dimension, the will of the Creator is clearly perceived,” Paolo added. “That’s why for a heavenly inhibitor it is easier to ‘recognize’ his human pair. On earth we have dimmed our link with the Creator and we need the Church and its teaching in order to unite with an angel.”
“Why has this teaching become popular just now?” This question came from the back of the hall.
“That is a complicated subject. In short, we could say that now is the right time for that to happen. We’ve been under old religions for thousands of years. They conform to an older type of humanity. Contemporary man is much faster thinking, and he has a much more dynamic lifestyle. Correspondingly, he needs ‘fast’ religion. Religion with a direct approach to the Creator. The Church of Angels has appeared in response to that need. The angels are creatures who live at the foot of the Creator’s throne. Union with such creatures is the most direct approach for us,” responded Lavrentie.
“I would add it’s the easiest way as well,” said Paolo with pathos. “What is a man under the old religions? A creature with a sinful nature, doomed to suffer – in this world and, with very few exceptions, in the one beyond. It is quite difficult for a man to elevate himself to a divine standard according to the old religions. That is not a problem for our Church. We offer a good life here and now and salvation in the afterlife. All this becomes possible once we are united with angels. Then they become like a carrier-rocket, ready to take us into the heavenly realms.”
Many in the audience applauded and cheered rapturously.
“Until now, the development of religious people was concentrated in two fields: following religious and ethical rules and mystical self-improvement. Both areas require the application of enormous effort without any guarantee of success. Statistics show that in the present there are no results at all. Don’t you notice that all the great saints and mystics are in the past?” Paolo made a dramatic expression while waiting for the laughter amongst the followers of the Church of Angels to subside.
“We refer to God with many names, but that doesn’t mean there are many gods. Would you say something regarding the common source of all spiritual traditions?” somebody suggested.
“Today’s multiple divisions between nations and the people are the antithesis of the so-called ‘Golden Age’ of mankind,” said Lavrentie. “In that time, religion and spirituality, groups and individuals existed harmoniously as a whole. Harmony was a way of living. A total theocracy embodied the world. Religion, society and individuality were inseparable parts of life. Today, religion is part of society and it’s a matter of individual choice. That is an anti-natural state. We need to recover that harmony, of course in a way corresponding to contemporary living styles. The other way leads to self-destruction.”
“Contemporary man needs a simple and practical method of achieving spirituality. That is what our Church offers,” said a man with curly black hair and glasses who looked like a secondary school teacher. “It’s extraordinary to think that one can be united with such a highly knowledgeable creature that can give us the right answers all the time.”
“And, when you die, your ally can prevent you from plunging into hell,” added a woman sitting next to him.
“For me it’s a difficult concept. How much time is necessary for a man to unite himself with an angel? Doesn’t this mean that a person loses his own will?” another man interjected.
“The first part of the question: it’s is due mostly to the sincerity of the human ally,” said Lavrentie. “A man with strong and dedicated intentions is capable of making a complete change in an instant. Otherwise, only joining the Church of Angels and practising our everyday prayer will result in unity. That ma
n will begin to feel how by listening to a kind of inner voice through which he will be offered the right choice. I’m sure many of you have already experienced this.”
Many cheering voices of confirmation echoed in the meeting hall.
“That is the voice of your angel and the beginning of the union. As for losing your own will, there is nothing like that. Of course we do not speak about possession by spirits here. Actually, the best way to prevent or cure a spirit possession is true union with an angel.”
“I apologize if most of the people present know the answer to my question,” said a woman from somewhere at the rear of the hall. “Would you tell me how the Church of Angels was created?”
Many in the audience smiled, as did the three men on the stage.
“In the beginning was the Internet. I believe more and more stories will begin like that. We began as an Internet group interested in angels and their connections with humans. We first formed a virtual Church, so to speak. We exchanged information. Gradually, our philosophy and practices grew clearer. Then we began to meet, and one day the physical Church was a fact. Today we have branches in nine countries.” He pointed to the Russian. “Maestro Lavrentie is one of the very first explorers of the human-angel symbiosis.”
“When in a state of union, a man begins to realize his enterprises more successfully,” said Lavrentie. “That is applicable to our everyday life, our social interactions, our businesses. The union makes people achieve what they want. That is one of the greatest advantages of our school. It brings success here and now.”
The subject stirred excitement and a variety of comments. Questions followed about the possibilities of an angel being used to improve welfare and fulfil desires.
After some hesitation, Lino decided to ask a question as well. “What is the attitude of the Church of Angels to Christianity?”
The Gods' Gambit Page 13