Pandora's Ark

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Inside the papal chamber, Jesuit priests Gino Auciello and John Essex from the Servizio Informazioni del Vaticano sat before Bonasero Vessucci, the newly appointed Pope Pius XIV.

Both men sat with their knees crossed in leisure while the pontiff sat more stiffly, more agitated, his hands tented as he rested the points of his fingertips against the bottom of his chin, as if in thought.

“This is good,” said Essex, his London accent quite apparent. “Your position here is deserving and long overdue.”

“Thank you, John. I feel where I need to be,” he said. “But I do have concerns.”

“And they would be, Your Holiness?”

“I have reason to believe that Pope Gregory may have been murdered.”

The Jesuits stared at him incredulously.

“The last time I visited you in the SIV chamber, the day you were watching the Temple Mount on the monitors, do you remember?”

“Of course,” answered Father Auciello.

“I had my suspicions even then.”

“But you said nothing.”

Bonasero nodded. “At that time it was just a notion,” he said. “But now…”

Father Essex’s face maintained the look of incredulity. “But why? And who?”

Bonasero Vessucci hesitated a brief moment as if choosing his words carefully. And then: “Cardinal Angullo,” he finally said.

“Angullo.” The simple word came from Auciello’s lips as a whisper, almost too light for anyone to hear. He leaned forward in his chair. “Your Holiness, do you understand the magnitude of what you’re saying?”

“Clearly,” he stated. “The rule of the pope not coming under the guidelines of an autopsy is due to the very reality that popes have been murdered in the past, and that said proof would divulge the unbelievable corruption that exists within the shadows of the Basilica. Centuries ago there were outward signs that poisons were used, but never spoken of.”

“You think Cardinal Angullo poisoned Pope Gregory?”

“I think Cardinal Angullo is a very ambitious man with a very aggressive agenda,” he said. “I believe the man’s life has become a monstrous corruption whose soul has been lost, his sense of morality shattered. I believe that he has allowed his ambitions to take him away from the true nature of God.”

“And you have proof of this?”

Another hesitation: “No.”

“With all due respect, Your Holiness,” said Essex, “may I ask what is prompting this suspicion?”

“Intuition. Observation. This man conspired to usurp my position as secretary of state to position himself for the papal throne upon the expiration of Pope Gregory. Six months later Gregory is gone, setting him up as lead Preferiti.”

“Again, Your Holiness,” said Auciello, “other than intuition, what is there?”

“Gregory was a strong man. When another man’s ambition turns to impatience, then he makes his own path to Glory.”

“But surely Pope Gregory would have defended himself. He was a powerful man.”

“Not if he was sick or knew his murderer, placing him in a position of vulnerability or complacency.”

“I don’t know,” said Farther Essex. “Cardinal Angullo may be a man of moral questioning, but murder?”

“On the night of Pope Gregory’s death, did you check the monitors of someone, anyone, moving through the hallways in the early morning hours around the time of the pope’s death?”

Auciello nodded. “We did, Your Holiness, thoroughly. But there was nothing with the exception of Vatican Security stationed down at the entrance of the hallway. And they maintained their position throughout their shift.”

Bonasero sighed, his eyes searching for thought as if it was imprinted in open space. “The old tunnels,” he finally said. “Are there cameras situated in those passageways?”

“No.”

“So someone with the knowledge of Vatican schematics, someone who knows where the security cameras are positioned, could possibly pass unseen?”

The Jesuits nodded. However, it was Essex who spoke.

“The passageways are all but known to a few — mostly by Vatican Security and the SIV.”

“And also to those within the Vatican hierarchy such as the secretary of state,” he added. “Those tunnels are historic and excavations are providing us with a history as new discoveries are made. But they’re there and Cardinal Angullo is clearly a cunning man.”

“Again, Your Holiness, and with all due respect, everything is speculation on your part.”

Bonasero had to agree. No images on the cameras, nothing to alert the guards standing post that someone had unlawfully breached the corridors leading to the pope’s chambers, nothing to indicate that Cardinal Angullo was even there. It was as Father Essex had said: pure speculation.

“Regardless,” he said, “I may be in a place of position to fear for my life.”

“If you wish, we can double the efforts of security.”

“I have something better,” he said. “I will give the cardinal the chance to prove me wrong. He will either act on his compulsion, or surrender to it and do nothing. But most men who have lost their way often give to their temptations.”

“And what is it you propose?”

“Before I left for Boston I asked you to do me a favor. Do you remember what it was?”

Essex nodded. “You asked us to maintain the whereabouts of the Vatican Knights.”

The pope nodded. “And where is Leviticus?”

“In Rome,” said Auciello. “He’s a civilian working with an Italian security agency specializing in measures dealing with identity theft for companies abroad.”

“And Isaiah?”

“He’s in Mexico working with the mission you adopted him from.”

Bonasero nodded. Then: “What about Kimball?”

There was a hesitation on the parts of the Jesuits.

“Kimball?” he repeated.

“He’s living in Las Vegas,” said Essex. “He’s working in a casino under the alias of J.J. Doetsch.”

“As?”

“A janitor,” said Auciello. “The man’s a janitor.”

Bonasero did not judge Kimball for what he was, which was a man seeking a simple life after living an incredible life of hardship. Perhaps it was the best thing for him, he considered.

“And there’s something else,” said Father Auciello.

“And that would be?”

“He’s involved with cage fighting,” he said.

“What?”

“There are fighting venues in Las Vegas where men fight against men for money. Kimball has been involved in three fights… He nearly killed the last man.”

Bonasero closed his eyes, feeling the encroachment of a certain sadness creep over him. Some people cannot run from their fate, he considered. No matter how hard they try.

And then: “You are SIV and what we say here is confidential, yes?”

“Of course.”

“I want you to contact Leviticus and Isaiah,” he said. “I want them to find Kimball and bring him back.”

“And if Kimball decides not to return?”

“Then he does so with the decision of his own choosing? But I want to afford Kimball every opportunity to make his decision based on free will. Make sure he knows that my need for him is paramount. Tell him of my concerns.”

“Of course, Your Holiness.”

“But the ultimate decision is his obviously.”

After a congenial valediction, the Jesuits left the chamber. Bonasero then went to the balcony and traced a hand over the smooth railing where Gregory took his fall. There was no doubt that everything he considered was based on intuition. But it was intuition that guided him all these years, intuition of how to handle each person differently based on his convictions regarding God and religion, and the intuition to promote the Vatican Knights as a unit to save the lives of those who could not save themselves.

The air was sweet like honeydew, the breeze soft and caressing, the day clear and the sky blue, but as magnificent as everything appeared to be, he couldn’t help the feeling that dark clouds were brewing and that a terrible storm was on the horizon.

It was his intuition that told him this — a voice he had come to trust and recognize, a voice that never failed him.

Under the canvas of an immaculately blue sky, he sighed.