by Tom Haase
“Yea. You wouldn’t believe that he is a Latin professor and had a Scottish accent and…”
Bridget just took a drink of wine and expelled it into Scott’s face.
46
Vatican City
Office of the Secretary of State – 8:35 p.m.
“Uberto?” the cardinal asked into the receiver. “Yes, oh my God, I’m glad it’s you, my friend.”
“Good to hear from you, Diego.”
“God in heaven. How are you? Long time, hey?” the cardinal said with a chuckle. This man always took his mind off his problems. He had just cleaned himself and changed his diaper before making this call. It had indeed been months since he spoke to his oldest friend, his first cousin on his mother’s side. “Too long. How is my niece Regina? I suppose she is a young woman by now?”
“You should see her. She asks about you all the time. Your last visit made a deep impression on my young girl’s mind when a cardinal of Holy Mother Church visited her.” Cardinal Puglisi could hear the intake of a cigarette over the phone and the exhaling of the smoke, but his own health concerned him more.
“Uberto, I need your services again. Can you be here in the morning, say ten?”
“Certainly, I look forward to it.”
At exactly ten the next morning, Uberto Sorrentino, a stocky man with a bulldog face and a bald head, arrived at his office. After the greetings and ordering coffee, Puglisi got down to business.
Uberto had proven himself in past missions for the society being a member of the notorious Roman underworld syndicate. Many times in the past Puglisi employed him on sensitive church undertakings for the Agnus Dei Society. Uberto served as a lay member of their organization. Few laity ever entered into the society, and almost no one outside the cleric members even knew of its existence.
“The senate ordered the removal of the pontiff,” Puglisi said and waited for a reaction. Depending on Uberto’s response, he would decide how to proceed.
Uberto took a second. “I’m yours to command. This is a bold step. May I ask why?”
“Since you are family, I’ll give you a reason that’s to go no farther than this room. The pope is leading the church down a dangerous and ruinous path. He is planning on revising many of the precepts of the church and liberalizing a number of rules that have stood the test of time. We cannot allow that to happen.”
Uberto nodded. “Most have seen that coming. What action and when do you want it?”
“I would prefer whatever you use to be unobtrusive. That way it is easier to control the press and to manipulate the scene.” He looked at the coffee cup but didn’t drink any.
“Whatever you determine is the best method, but make it as quiet as possible. It has been years since the society acted in this fashion and I want quick and decisive results. He intended to announce his changes on the feast of Michaelmas. That must not happen.”
“A lot of expense for such an undertaking.”
“Send me the bill and include your service charge. I’ll take care of it. Another matter, Uberto. I need the French Archbishop of Paris, Durand, removed. He is leaving today for a trip to Germany.” He reached into a drawer and removed a sheet of paper. “Here’s a list of his travel plans for the next week. Make it happen before he returns to Rome. Any questions?”
“No, Eminence.” Uberto got up when the Cardinal rose and genuflected on his left knee, kissing the Cardinal’s ring. “I’ll handle everything.”
After Uberto’s departure, Puglisi sat behind his desk and looked across St. Peter’s Square. Someday soon, the crowds would form to grieve over the death of a pontiff. When he controlled the gospel of Peter, the staff of the first Pope and the Crown of Thorns, his would be the name announced as the next apostolic successor as the supreme pontiff of the Roman Catholic Church.
Uberto would probably arrange some type of poison for the pope. Using such a method would cause the simplest explanation for the old man’s death. The Vatican would not allow an autopsy. Soon after the pope’s funeral, the mechanism of the formal procedure for succession to the chair of St. Peter would begin.
Puglisi’s mind dallied for a moment longer. His family and the Sorrentinos lived side by side in the small village of Piento. He and Uberto were friends from the cradle. When Uberto entered military service, Puglisi took care of Uberto’s mother when she was dying of cancer and while he served in the Army. He loved the woman more than even his own mother who had passed many years before. Uberto’s mother’s funeral stood as the one time in his life he ever remembered crying.
Now Uberto would take care of the two major problems in his life. No one would dare to oppose him in the senate again, especially not as pope.
47
Rome – 11:37 a.m.
Jonathan secured the assistance of the cardinal’s secretary in tracking the two Americans. Thinking back he again regretted not planting the tracking bug on Scott in Spain. The climax of Bridget’s rescue had been swift. From the report Father Castile forwarded, he learned that all of the terrorists in the building perished. One, who was wounded, survived but escaped from the hospital after treatment. He assumed Bridget somehow accomplished that feat. How, he had no idea. He waited for an answer to his question about anyone with the Donavan name using air or rail transportation into or out of Spain. While standing near the secretary, he had noticed a handwritten notation on the calendar showing a visit by Uberto at ten o’clock.
Jonathan knew the underworld gangster’s name from previous encounters. Uberto once eliminated a problem for the Cardinal in South America a few years ago when a bishop had tried to preach a change purporting all priests have the right to marry. Jonathan had handled the overseas arrangements and alerted the society’s contact in that country. Uberto could accomplish these types of deeds and never get his own hands dirty. The cardinal, Jonathan concluded, would be up to something if he met with that gangster.
Jonathan looked around the office while waiting for the secretary to get off the phone. The man looked up from his desk. He shook his head.
“There has been no ticket issued in their names for any air or train travel,” the Cardinal’s secretary informed Jonathan while he hung up the phone. “Buses are harder to track since many pay cash to the driver. I’ll let you know if anyone buys a ticket in their names.”
“You have my number if anything shows up.” Jonathan left the office and walked to his apartment. He stopped on the corner of Via Borgo Pio and Via Palline for a light lunch. He ordered a Panini and a beer. While eating, he tried to figure out the Donavan’s course of action. He thought they now knew who was the last known person to control the treasure. He needed to do some research that afternoon on de Leon and his times. There he spent four hours studying everything he could on Ponce de Leon. Then he took a break.
He thought about Scott and Bridget and realized they would continue after what he had come to consider as the secret of the Crown of Thorns, a secret no one in Christendom knew anything about. They would attempt to get to America undetected, since they understood after Bridget’s kidnapping that there were people pursuing them. He needed to discover how they would get there and must be in position to follow them.
As the sunlight faded from his room, Jonathan needed a break. He closed the computer and turned on the television for the evening news. The Italian newscaster stood in front of the Vatican reporting the death of Archbishop Durand.
According to the news a helicopter crashed while transporting Archbishop Durand from the airport in Paris to his native village for a birthday celebration. All on board were dead. The Vatican released news of his death minutes before and a formal statement would follow shortly from the Holy Father regretting the loss of one of his most promising and devoted Archbishops.
Jonathan knew the Durand served on the senate of the Agnus Dei society. He wondered if Uberto could have been responsible for the crash. The cardinal told Jonathan of the Senate’s decision regarding the Pope, but he wondered if there had been a confr
ontation with the Archbishop. Puglisi would act with finality to ensure he encountered no opposition to any of his plans for the society. Perhaps the crash had nothing to do with the Senate’s meeting, but Jonathan maintained his doubts. It stood as too much of a coincidence. Way too much. So many secrets. But secrets were the stock and trade of the society. He needed to make a few personal phone calls before he returned to his investigation into the life of de Leon.
Jonathan focused his determination on finding the place holding the Crown and the gold that Ponce de Leon left behind - the place that remained hidden to the world for over four centuries.
Ponce de Leon also harbored too many secrets.
48
Barcelona, Spain
The next morning, Scott woke Bridget by shaking her shoulder and shouting, “I’ve got an idea.”
She groaned and opened one eye. “What time is it?”
“Time to get up and for us to make a decision.”
“What’s the hurry? I sat in that chair tied up for over a day and then on that bus for hours. This is my first chance to sleep in two days. Leave me alone and wake me in three hours.”
“Come on…”
“No.” Bridget rolled over and pulled the covers over her head. “Three hours.”
Scott decided that in the time she wanted to sleep, he would find out if his new plan would work. He departed the hotel and strolled toward the harbor, a half-mile away.
Once there, he noticed a few cruise ships in berths and copied the names of the ships and their companies. He returned to the hotel, entered in as quiet as possible, and logged onto the Internet to search for the cruise lines owning the ships now in Barcelona.
He and Bridget needed to get out of Europe without using air travel. Their pursuers may not have given up after Granada and the most logical way to leave Europe was by air, but not the only one to the states these days, was by plane. What if he could find a repositioning cruise ship leaving Europe for the States or the Caribbean for the upcoming winter season? He had used a repositioning ship to come to Europe from Miami after graduation. They could board without setting off alarms if anyone tracked the airline travel agencies.
It took a half hour to find what he needed. One of the vessels of the Oceania line moored in Barcelona and the schedule showed it would leave in one day for Miami on a 14 day Atlantic crossing with two stops.
Further investigation on the web site showed vacancies available for the journey on the ship, so it was just a question of paying for passage and thus avoiding any electronic ticketing. Besides, he could pay with cash and not leave a trail. Not a bad plan for a college professor, he decided.
On the other hand, should they stay on the run? Maybe the both of them needed to stop all of this. Maybe the best course remained to go home and tear up the paper on which he copied the letter from Ponce de Leon. Just give it up. Forget the whole thing. They weren’t treasure hunters or Indiana Jones. Stop thinking like that. Deep in his heart, he searched for an answer and in his soul he knew that if they didn’t complete their quest they would never be safe.
He decided to go for a walk. The morning street traffic surged around him and he strolled with the flow. He spotted a little child fall to the sidewalk. The mother stopped and stood still. She didn’t help him up. The child tried to stand and the moment he succeeded, he fell again. The mother observed without assisting the child. The little boy started to cry but then stopped. He looked at his mother and with great determination, pushed himself up. Scott watched in wonder as the child walked ahead of his mother, never once looking to see if she followed.
The child decided what it had to do and then did it without question. Like the child, this was the time for him to make his decision. Up to now, his life followed an easy, settled path. He’d survived the death of his lover, concentrated on his studies, and graduated at the top of his class, thereby securing his teaching job. Not bad for a twenty-six-year old. None of this, however, qualified him to be a treasure hunter, did it?
The thought of quitting and going home sounded safe and logical based on his background, but something kept him from making such a decision. Something had transformed on his inside in the last few days. There must be more to life than the mundane predictability of life on a university campus.
Sure, it’s comfortable and the pay sufficient for his needs, but working and publishing for all the years to get tenure at the university now seemed so foreign. Tenure would be years away and he would be condemned to a life in academia. The idea had been his goal, his dream, but now it frightened and bored him. What had changed? He watched the little toddler and his mother.
Then he knew.
He walked back toward the hotel, increasing his stride when he got closer to the building. He rushed into their room and shook Bridget awake. “Get up. We’re leaving. I know what we’re going to do.”
“Slow down,” Bridget said. She blinked her eyes attempting to wake up and slowly rolled over. When she looked up at him, she added, “I think I’m part of this decision. Now take your time. Remember we discuss decisions. Tell me why.”
“When I was walking on the street a few minutes ago, I saw a toddler fall down. His mother kept watching him trying to get up. The kid attempted to get up and when he did he fell the second time. She said, ‘I didn’t promise you it would be easy’ to the kid. When she delivered her sage advice a light came on in my head.”
Bridget sat up and waited for him to continue. She furrowed her brows and didn’t smile.
“We lead lives where everything appears like a rose garden. We never had to fight, to struggle for what we enjoy. Neither of us. Sure we had to work hard to get our degrees but we didn’t need to work to get into a position to get those things. Do you see?”
She took her time before he saw her nod her head. But her eyes were mocking him. “What the hell got into you? You’re preaching to me. Quit it!”
He wasn’t going to let her stop him. “What we’re doing now is a different reality from anything we’ve ever encountered before. Before we were free, but the choices were foregone and too easy to make. Now, in our present circumstance, I realized we’re free to make a real choice.”
He walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down. He turned to face her. “The reality we have here, today, is to accept the challenge we face to find the manuscripts, the Crown of Thorns, the staff of Peter and the treasure of Ponce de Leon. We’re free to accept that challenge or not. We now have that opportunity, that freedom of choice. We were never offered any type of choice in our sheltered childhood. We sort of lived in the rose garden, don’t you think?”
She nodded. “My God, you’re growing up!”
He noticed the mocking eyes were gone and she sounded convinced of her words.
“So now we’re free to go on an historic quest or to go back to our own careers. I believed in the rose garden, and I now see it as . . . boring. This, this is life. We need to grab it.”
She hugged him. “How did you get so smart in such a short time?” She gave him a sisterly kiss on the cheek. “You’re right. It took you some time to reach this conclusion. I’ve been waiting for you. That’s why I act as I do. I’m searching for my freedom. The rose garden isn’t real. Only the challenges we accept and follow are the real things, like when I joined the army, when I went off to Ethiopia on my own. That makes my colleagues shake their heads and wonder if I’m sane. So what’s your conclusion?”
“We get out of here and go find our destinies.”
49
Barcelona, Spain
“I’ve never seen a church like the Sagrada Familia,” Bridget said as they left the construction area of the unfinished monstrous church. “They estimate it’ll take another fifty to a hundred years to complete it.”
“It’ll be something when it’s finished,” Scott said. They walked toward the harbor in silence.
“You have everything with you for the trip?” he asked.
“Sure do. I’ll hand it to y
ou, this is a smart move. We’ll get out of here and hopefully into the States without anyone knowing until we’re there.”
Scott suggested they take the Metro to the Drassanes exit. When they emerged onto the street, they gazed at the towering bronze statue of Christopher Columbus ensconced on a limestone pillar in the traffic circle. They crossed Avenue Colon and walked out on the Moli de Barcelona to the cruise ship dock.
“It’s a big ship. Let’s get to our cabins. I got them side by side.”
“Great. I like sharing, but enough is enough. For this trip I need my own space.” She put her hands together and then spread them apart.
“For what? What are you going to do on a cruise liner?” Scott asked, shaking his head.
“I’ve always wondered and now I’ll find an answer. There has to be some adventure on board.” She smiled at him.
“You mean some trouble you can get into.”
“I hope so.” Bridget smiled.
“Hey, you did well on getting these,” Bridget exclaimed on arrival at their cabins. The accommodations were small and contained a queen size bed and a private toilet. The most impressive thing was a small balcony with two chairs.
“Now we can relax. No one is shooting at us, no one is kidnapping anyone, and no one is following us,” Scott said.
“The man at the gangway said lunch is served and I’m hungry. We have three hours before we sail. I think I can eat a horse after the last few days of starvation. Come on.”
50
Two Days Later
Vatican City
“I’m sorry, Father McGregor, but no one has booked tickets out of any airport in Europe under the names you gave me,” the cardinal’s secretary informed him.