The Gods' Gambit

by David Lee Marriner

  “Are you okay?” Irina asked the miserable-looking Lino.

  He held his stomach with both his hands and was breathing fast. “I’m fine. This man hit me!” he exclaimed.

  Vittorio took a deep breath and stood firmly. “This cheap trick will not pass,” he said to Irina. “I’ll call the real police right now.” He then pushed through the church door and slammed it behind him.

  “Don’t bother. I’m already calling them,” Lino shouted and reached into his pocket for his mobile.

  James grabbed his arm. “Hold on. We’re missing something here,” he said.

  Irina had also lifted her arm to halt Lino. “I’m an Interpol officer. I’m investigating the Church of Angels. That’s why we followed you,” she said loudly so Vittorio would hear her.

  There was silence. Eventually Vittorio said, “How can I believe you? The tall guy is a Church of Angels’ man.”

  “You attended the Church’s gatherings as well. Does this mean you’re one of its people?” asked Irina.

  The door latch creaked and Vittorio peered round the door. “Let me see your ID again,” he said. She handed it to him and he scrutinized it under the light of the entrance lamp. “It looks authentic,” he said and returned it. “What do you want from me?”

  “You tell us first what you’re doing in this temple?” Lino broke in.

  Before Vittorio could answer, Irina said, “You belong to the Catholic Church. A priest, probably.”

  “A deacon. From the local eparchy,” said Vittorio humbly.

  Lino was astonished. Yet his doubts had not been dispersed. “Why did you come here so late?” he asked suspiciously.

  Vittorio looked askance at him. “I always come here for purifying prayer after visiting that place,” he answered. “Who are you two? Also Interpol?”

  Irina jumped in again. She introduced James and Lino and added that they were assisting her in the investigation.

  Vittorio was surprised. “Who would have believed it?” He looked at Lino. “I’m sorry I hit you. I thought you were one of those lost souls.”

  “I thought you were…” Lino ceased speaking because he realized he shouldn’t mention the cult. “…a prominent occultist,” he muttered.

  That exhilarated Vittorio. “Every one of us hides some surprise,” he said. “You, for example.” He looked at James. “You have the best left cross that has ever landed on my jaw. I can hardly believe that you’re a man of the pen.”

  “From now on I’ll think twice before engaging with a deacon,” responded James.

  Vittorio blushed, this time in embarrassment. “My behaviour was unacceptable,” he said.

  “I assume you wouldn’t wish to discuss in detail your mission amongst the Church of Angels’ members?” James suggested tactfully. He didn’t want Vittorio to feel under pressure. It was clear that his attendance in those gatherings fell under the Catholic Church’s fight against sects. It was also clear that Vittorio would not make a confession about it.

  “Let’s say that now is not the time to deal with that subject,” said Vittorio. “Perhaps there is something else I could do for you.”

  “The Deprived of Light is a Gift for the Wisdom Keeper,” said James clearly. His eyes were fixed on the deacon’s expression.

  Vittorio’s look was one of incomprehension. “What’s that?” he asked.

  “If it doesn’t ring a bell then it’s of no importance,” said James.

  “Interpol’s current investigation is in connection with a religious murder in the UK. It was highlighted in the international media as well. You might have seen it on TV,” said Irina.

  “No. I barely watch television,” said Vittorio. “It wouldn’t surprise me if somebody from this sect was implicated in murder. There are quite a few unstable people there.”

  “There’s no direct evidence linking members of the Church of Angels to that murder,” explained Irina. “Do you know something regarding connections of the Church with other sects? With some secret societies like the Masons, for example?”

  Vittorio thought for a moment before answering. “I haven’t come across such information. I’m a deacon-preacher. My concerns are for sectarian ideologies. And the methods they use to spread their delusions.”

  Irina took a business card out of her bag and passed it to Vittorio. “If you later remember something we could be interested in,” she explained.

  “Do you have something to write on?” James asked her.

  She took out a small notebook and a pen and gave them to him. James drew the two horned serpents and the Sumerian cuneiform “dingir” arranged in the same position they had been drawn by Costov’s killers.

  Vittorio took the notebook and peered carefully at it. “I have no idea what these are,” he said and passed the notebook back to James. Suddenly, his expression changed and he stepped closer to take another look at the notebook. “I’ve seen something like that – two snakes in an upright position. But that has nothing to do with the Church of Angels.”

  “It would be helpful if you could tell us when and under what circumstances you saw it,” said Irina.

  “The circumstances I remember well. Even though this happened about twenty years ago,” said Vittorio and then fell silent, looking sideways while trying to unravel his old memories. “At that time I was still studying to become a deacon,” he began. “I was in a Benedictine monastery called Saint Ambrose. There I saw a similar drawing – by a sick monk, a former missionary in Latin America.”

  “Did he draw other things?” asked James.

  “He scribbled other strange symbols, on paper, on tables, walls. He also wrote down words or whole passages. If I remember well, most of it was connected to his stay in Latin America.”

  “You mean the subject matter?” asked Lino.

  “Yes. There was a rumour that he had brought back many old pagan texts from that mission. After his return to Italy he was assaulted. His head was injured during the assault. Since then he lost his mind.”

  James’ heart, which had just returned to its regular rhythm, started to beat rapidly again. This time the reason was a strong presentiment. They had stumbled across a clue.

  “We’ll need the location of that monastery,” said Irina.

  Vittorio wrote it down in the notebook. “That’s roughly the address. You’ll find the place easily. Brother Federico – that old monk – may not be alive. He was around sixty years old when I met him. Moreover, if he is still alive and you want to meet him, you’ll need special permission.”

  “I’ll take care of that,” said Lino with certainty, looking at James and Irina.

  “All right,” said Irina. “You should also check if he’s still alive and residing in that monastery. After all, twenty years has passed.”

  “If he is alive, he’s most probably there,” said Vittorio. “The Benedictine monks have a stability vow.”

  “A vow that they will belong to one monastery for life,” James explained on seeing Irina’s questioning look.

  They parted with the deacon and on the way to the car Irina complimented James on his proficiency in Italian. He returned the compliment.

  “I studied it in high school. But my skills are a bit rusty,” she said.

  Irina walked ahead and reached the Volvo first. She turned sharply and pointed reproachfully at Lino. “You!” she said in a stern voice. “If we’re to work together you have to follow the rules.”

  Lino peered at her in astonishment, without a clue of what she was talking about.

  “We asked you to sit tight in the car. Instead, you got out and showed up at the place you shouldn’t be at all. You got lucky this time. Next time you may run into somebody who is not on our side.”

  “I … couldn’t see any of you… I decided to check if the gate was locked… Listen, I know I messed up with my wrong judgment about Vittorio. But the encounter with him produced a good result, didn’t it?” Lino defended himself.

  Irina cut him short. “I’m not ta
lking about that. It’s the principle. We must rely on each other. Do you understand?”

  “Irina’s right,” said James. “We need to act as a team.”

  Lino smiled, stretched out his arms and tilted his head to one side in a gesture of consent and repentance about the way he had behaved.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Bodh Gaya, India

  The Jettavana guesthouse was situated a couple of kilometres from Bodh Gaya, where Buddha Shakyamuny had achieved enlightenment two thousand five hundred years ago. It was a white, two-storey building with neat rooms that were offered to tourists and pilgrims at affordable prices. The owners, an immigrant family from Sri Lanka and their two still unmarried daughters, lived in the left wing on the first floor. In this early afternoon, despite the strong heat, the three women sat on chairs in the garden holding umbrellas. The man sat behind the reception desk reading a newspaper. From time to time, he got up, climbed the stairs to the second floor, looked around and then returned to his place. He looked serious and tense. The women looked the same. Their unusual behaviour was because they were implementing an unusual task. They were guarding an important meeting which was taking place in their house.

  The day before, a young Buddhist monk from the nearby Mahaboddhy temple had paid a visit to their house. He had asked if they could provide a room where three senior monks could meet. The request was made on behalf of a most respected Sri Lankan priest – Nyanaponika Thera – who the family had known for years. The young monk had asked for discretion and if they could find a room where full confidentiality could be guaranteed. Such a request was an honour for the family, so they had agreed.

  The three monks were sitting at an empty table in a room on the second floor which was separated from the visitors’ rooms. They wore robes typical of the three main Buddhist schools.

  “Let’s put aside the discussion about the Shield council’s past decisions. Otherwise it will be difficult to find a solution to the current problems,” said lama Tenzin.

  “That’s true,” agreed Nyanaponika Thera. “We’ve talked for more than an hour and still nothing.”

  “I’m not against it,” said the Chan master Chao Lee. “Although I don’t want us to repeat old mistakes. About two hundred years ago our representative in the Council was the only voice against the change to the old strategy…”

  Nyanaponika Thera interrupted him with a pinch of irony. “That’s why you disagree with me now when I advocate a return to the old ways.”

  “We cannot change course every two hundred years. That’s not our way. That decision was taken to be followed and to stay,” said Chao Lee sharply.

  “Brother,” began Nyanaponika Thera softly, “I belong to the school of the ‘old’ – Theravada. We’re famous for stubbornly keeping the tradition—”

  The three monks looked at each other and laughed warmly.

  “We do not talk about changing our methods,” continued Nyanaponika Thera.

  “I say we should keep up with the times,” said lama Tenzin.

  “We had followed the original way for two thousand, three hundred years. The last Council chose a new approach precisely because the world had changed back then. We have followed this decision for only two hundred years. That’s nothing,” said Chao Lee.

  “One could say that the pace of modern civilization is rapid. The world changes today ten times faster than in the past. Shouldn’t we make changes in our strategy quicker nowadays?” said Nyanaponika Thera.

  “What you say is only for the sake of argument,” interjected lama Tenzin. “The overall strategy of the Shield is not our top problem. How to protect the Heir – that’s the question.”

  “We assume that some of our enemies have discovered his cover. That way we may not see some other possibilities,” said Chao Lee.

  “He may have become entangled in some mess. Because he lacks our traditional upbringing and education. Therefore, they are his problems now,” said lama Tenzin with a tinge of sadness.

  Chao Lee looked straight into his eyes. “This, for example.”

  Lama Tenzin lifted his hand. “Two objections. First, his personal Protectors categorically deny such a thing. Nobody knows him better than them, so I believe it. The second is the omen I saw. It’s described in our Book of Signs. Someone wants to plunge the world into darkness. They have found a shortcut to do that.”

  Heavy silence fell over the three men.

  Nyanaponika Thera broke the silence. “The truth is that visionary monks have been warning of an incoming threat for years. I thought they meant the general threat coming from the materialistic world we now live in.”

  “I have seen similar warnings in my dreams,” said Chao Lee.

  “Thank you for sharing all this. I believe that now the doubts have been removed,” said lama Tenzin.

  “In that case we’re facing something really nasty,” said Nyanaponika Thera tellingly.

  “Yes. We have to find out who the traitor is,” said Chao Lee and he stared at his interlocutors in succession.

  “I’m not inclined to accept that one of our people has broken his vow,” said lama Tenzin.

  “It’s not easy for me to accept it either. But what is the alternative?” asked Chao Lee.

  “I do not have one,” Lama Tenzin acknowledged. “I believe in the purity of the Shield. No treachery has been recorded in the Shield’s chronicles.”

  Master Chao Lee stroked his shaved head and said, “As I see it, there is one way for us to come out of this situation. Each one of us has to be honest about his people. The Venerable Tenzin said already that the Vajrayana people are clean. What say you, Venerable Nyanaponika?”

  “None of the old school has disgraced himself.”

  “With no hesitation I stand behind every single one of my brothers and sisters,” said Chao Lee.

  “If someone here doubts anyone at all, say it now,” lama Tenzin invited.

  Silence followed.

  “The legitimate question from now on is who is behind the attack?” said Chao Lee.

  “As I mentioned, I don’t know. His personal Protectors are unaware, too. The whole story is murky,” said lama Tenzin.

  “If one doesn’t know who the enemy is, it’s difficult to defend oneself,” said Nyanaponika Thera.

  “That’s true,” said lama Tenzin.

  “There are many radical religious groups today. Isn’t it possible one such group has disentangled the secret?” suggested Chao Lee.

  “The enemies know who the Heir is. That’s what matters,” said Nyanaponika Thera.

  “They know what he means for the world. And they most probably know how to take him out,” added Chao Lee.

  Nyanaponika Thera clenched his jaw. “The Shield’s strength has melted away over the centuries. We have grown weak. We make wrong decisions. Nothing depends on us. It was not that way in the past.” Regret dominated his voice.

  “Even if you are right, self-pity will not help,” said lama Tenzin.

  Nyanaponika Thera looked at him but did not answer straightaway. He had allowed something impermissible for a monk of his rank to happen. He had allowed anger to take over his mind. He needed a few moments to purify his heart and clear his mind. When he eventually spoke, his voice was completely calm. “We do not need an enemy to lose the light we vowed to preserve. After three years he will not be able to have a child. Then the bloodline will end.”

  Suddenly, lama Tenzin laughed. The other men looked at him in surprise.

  “What’s so funny, Rinpoche?” asked Nyanaponika Thera.

  “The Heirs have walked on this earth for two thousand, five hundred years. Each one of them was a different man, with a different fate, different character. Yet there is one thing all of them share—” Lama Tenzin paused dramatically.

  “And what would that be?” asked Nyanaponika Thera.

  “None of them has had problems with women.”

  The three men exchanged glances and then burst into laughter.

&n
bsp; Lama Tenzin waited for the cheerful moment to end before saying solemnly, “According to the Shield’s Code, we take our big decisions in Bodh Gaya. As a guardian of the Heir, I ask the Council to revoke his last decision.” He stood up and joined his palms in front of his chest. The others followed his example.

  “I speak for Vajrayana. It’s time he learns the truth,” said lama Tenzin.

  “I speak for Theravada. It’s time he learns the truth,” said Nyanaponika Thera.

  They both faced Chao Lee. He half closed his eyes and was motionless for a few beats. Then he said in a hard voice, “I speak for Mahayana. It’s time.”

  “Let it be, then,” said lama Tenzin. “Warn our people. They must be vigilant.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Saint Ambrose Monastery, Italy

  The greyish stone walls and the bell tower of Saint Ambrose monastery came into view once they had climbed the elevation below the one on top of which the monastic complex was built. Lino was driving the Volvo because of his knowledge of the local roads. After a short and steep descent, the road climbed up towards the monastery and passed its Gothic main entrance. Most of the buildings in the complex were of the same early Gothic style.

  Lino turned into the short drive to the monastery and stopped close to the gate, above which was carved the main Benedictine order’s motto: Ora et labora – pray and work – the two pillars of monastic life. Typical of medieval architecture, the monastery and its contiguous church were joined and incorporated within a fortified square designed to shelter the monks from their enemies and unwanted visitors. Outside the monastery walls next to the parking area there were several smaller buildings that had been built during the nineteenth century. They now functioned as hostels. There was a multitude of people in and around the hostels, the shops and the only café in the area, despite the fact that it was a normal working day.

  James, Irina and Lino passed through the open gate beneath the arch and followed the arrows to reception, which was the front room of the right monastic wing. At its door two monks stood talking. One of them was medium-sized, slim and wore glasses. The other was tall and lean like Lino.