Pandora's Ark

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

When the plane finally landed in Rome, Kimball felt something he hadn’t felt in a very long time: elation, purpose and true belonging.

When he arrived at the Vatican he was shelled with old memories. The wonderful imagery when he was a Vatican Knight when things were at their worst but he was at his best, making a difference in the lives of others rather than taking them away.

He had finally come home.

When he entered the dormitory housing of the Vatican Knights he felt a very real belonging, an indescribable gravitation. Above the door to his quarters was the acid-etched stencil of the Knights’ coat of arms, the symbol of faith, loyalty, honor, courage and strength. Reaching up, he brushed his fingers over the engraving.

Opening the door he found the room the way he left it six months before. To the left was his bed and nightstand. To the right the small votive rack, kneeling rail and podium which held a Bible, its cover dust laden. His first action was to go to the Bible where he drew a breath and blew the dust away in a plume. He did not open the book. Instead, he put the aluminum case beside the nightstand and headed for the mirror.

In the past six months he had aged little. In fact, the only process he noted was that his crow’s feet had deepened, the lines stretching closer toward the temples. Other than that there was nothing to show that he had become hardened over the past six months with constant drink and the feeling of self-loathing and failure.

Although he wanted to smile, he did not.

After donning his uniform as a Vatican Knight, he returned to the mirror and contorted the beret to specs, the embroidered symbol of the team, the powder blue shield and silver Pattée, stood front and center. His clerical collar was pristine, his shirt and pants pressed.

Kimball was now in his element.

After cleaning his quarters a knock came at the door, a few sharp raps.

It was Leviticus. And the two men embraced.

“The pontiff wishes to speak with you,” Leviticus finally told him.

“Our first mission?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. But it’s not what you think, Kimball.”

“How so?”

“Bonasero’s life may be in jeopardy.”

Kimball sat before the papal desk with Leviticus sitting beside him. Bonasero Vessucci could not have been happier, his expression a genuine model that this gathering was an overwhelmingly joyous affair.

“You have no idea how good it is to see you again,” he said. “To see the both of you together.”

Kimball nodded. “And you, Your Holiness.”

“Kimball,” he spoke to him in a rare but subtle tone nearing admonishment, almost childlike in its inflection. “To you I’m Bonasero. We have been through too much together to bandy about titles, yes?”

Kimball smiled. “Then it’s Bonasero.”

“Good.” The pontiff sat back in his chair. “But the issues I propose to you both will be hard to accept, I’m afraid. Leviticus already knows, but I believe that an attempt on my life will be committed very shortly.”

“By whom?”

Bonasero sighed. “I believe by the good Cardinal Angullo.”

“Angullo?” Kimball sounded incredulous. He knew the man and envisioned him as someone incapable of lifting a hand against somebody, let alone as someone capable of driving a stake through another man’s heart. Again, he said: “Angullo?”

“He is not the same man, Kimball. He’s been a man driven by his own ambitions rather than seeking the true nature of God. He’s lost his way and I truly believe that he murdered Pope Gregory.”

An awkward moment fell between them as Kimball digested this, hearing for the first time that Pope Gregory’s death was no accident as the press had indicated. Murdered? “You think Cardinal Angullo killed Gregory?”

“I’ve no proof, but yes.”

“And why would you think that?”

“Cardinal Angullo knew that I was part of the Preferiti and engineered my removal as Vatican secretary of state, as soon as Pope Gregory entered office. Promises were made to ensure Gregory’s station as the pope with certain favors granted to Angullo should his camp join Gregory’s to ascertain the votes necessary. Once I was removed, then he set himself up in a position to succeed the throne upon Gregory’s passing.”

“And because of that you think he murdered the pope?”

“I say that because I know it’s true in my heart, Kimball. Cardinal Angullo has conspired to the papal throne for some time, often making deals for favors to promote his own best interests, which is not the way of God or the Church.”

“Yeah, but, Bonasero…” He let his words falter. For one supreme clergyman to take the life of another, it was incomprehensible.

“Despite what you may think, Kimball, murder has always been an unfortunate undermining within the Church. Satan has his reaches everywhere by turning good souls into dispassionate ones by corrupting them with power.”

Kimball was still having a hard time buying it.

So when the pope saw this, he continued on. “Cardinal Angullo has already been told that he is being reassigned, which means that his power within the Church is crumbling as we speak. With the limited time he has left, I believe he will make a well, thought-out attempt on my life.”

Kimball looked at Leviticus and saw that he was a believer. And though he had no reason to disbelieve the man whom he had grown to love as a father, he still found it difficult to swallow. “Angullo couldn’t fight off a fly,” he finally said.

“The man has guile and ambition, the two tools necessary for an assault.” The pope leaned forward in his chair, placing his arms and tenting his fingers on the desktop before him. “Kimball, maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think so. I set the gears in motion. If Angullo is going to strike, then it will be soon. I need the two of you to keep this from happening.”

“Of course,” he said. “When is he being transferred?”

“I’ve put word out that he is to leave within the next three days.”

“So you think he may act by when? Tomorrow?”

The pontiff hesitated before answering. “If he is a man of true desperation,” he began, “then I believe that he may act as early as tonight.”

Kimball sat there gnawing on his lower lip, wondering how he was supposed to raise a hand against a leading clergyman. Nothing like coming back to the Vatican and walking into a dilemma, he thought.

He continued to nibble on his lower lip.