Papal decree

39

‘Spill it, Sam,’ Barry ordered. He was not in the mood for bullshit. ‘I don’t want to hear We don’t know.’

The meeting was in the same room where they held briefings on ongoing operations or those being planned. Aris sat on Barry’s right, Sam on the left, Staughton, Davis, and Travis followed. No one sat at the opposite end.

‘The Italian and the taxi driver?’ Barry wanted to know.

‘They’re being interrogated as we speak,’ Aris informed him.

‘Let’s begin, then,’ the director ordered.

Sam got up and pulled her skirt down. She seemed nervous, tense, a little feverish, judging from her red cheeks.

‘Everything began about fifty years ago with an agreement between Pope John the Twenty-third and Ben Isaac.’

‘Ben Isaac.’ Barry thought it over. He tried to flesh out the name with more information, give him a face. ‘The Israeli banker?’

‘The same,’ Sam confirmed. ‘In 1947 he was one of the discoverers of the famous apocryphal gospels.’

‘The what?’ Aris asked.

Sam shrugged her shoulders in irritation. ‘The Dead Sea Scrolls from Qumran.’

Aris raised his thumb to show he understood.

‘It seems there were some very important documents in these discoveries,’ Sam continued. Her nervousness disappeared as she got used to the male eyes focused on her. ‘Some of them were never made public, since they were covered by an agreement between the Israeli and the Vatican. That agreement was called the Status Quo.’

‘Interesting,’ Barry said. ‘Okay, let’s throw some light on the reason Rafael was in Paris.’

‘And in London,’ Sam added.

Barry looked at her, puzzled.

‘Ben Isaac has lived in London for more than fifty years,’ Sam explained confidently. ‘But there’s more… much more.’

‘Put Ben Isaac under surveillance as soon as possible.’

‘Already done,’ Sam replied.

‘Don’t keep us waiting, then, Sam,’ Barry said with a smile. ‘Go on, please.’

Sam continued. Ben Isaac and the agreement with John XXIII, John Paul II, the Three Gentlemen, the Five Gentlemen, Magda, Myriam, Ben Isaac Jr… Jesus Christ.

All the participants were silent. No one knew what to say. They considered the information silently.

‘Wow,’ Barry finally said. ‘That’s a lot.’

‘Why did those four people die?’ Aris threw in.

There was so much to know. Doubts, questions, misunderstandings, all the reasons for anger, wars and tortures. Jesus Christ? It wasn’t every day that a case like this came up. Nothing like this had ever appeared in the history of the CIA, a short history compared to that of the church.

‘There weren’t four. There were six,’ said a voice that had just entered the room.

‘Thompson. Welcome,’ Barry greeted him. ‘Have a seat.’

Thompson pulled out the chair across from Barry and sat down.

‘Six dead? What are you telling me?’ Barry asked.

Thompson threw a bunch of papers on the table. Transcripts, texts, and photos covered the surface.

‘Ernesto Aragones, Spanish priest, assassinated with a shot to the back of the head on Sunday in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem.’

The others began to look at the papers.

‘This morning they killed a priest inside the Vatican.’

‘A what?’ Barry was scandalized. ‘What the hell is going on? Who was he?’

‘The curator of the Relics Room. Don’t ask me what it means.’

‘What’s the connection between all these people?’ Aris asked again.

‘Yaman Zafer, Sigfried Hammal, Aragones, and the priest today, Ursino, were part of what was called the Five Gentlemen,’ Thompson replied.

‘And the others?’

‘The others were Jesuits. According to what I was able to squeeze out of the Italian. The acolyte killed the priest to silence him, then committed suicide.’

Barry shook his head. ‘Who are we fighting with, folks?’

‘They don’t know themselves, from what I could find out,’ Thompson suggested.

‘Okay,’ Barry said thoughtfully. ‘Now we have something to work with. This Ben Isaac. Could he be Rafael’s target?’

‘He could be,’ Aris commented.

‘We need to find out what that agreement covers, and what Jesus has to do with all this.’ Barry thought rapidly, trying to sketch out a preliminary strategy.

‘I can try to pry out a little more, but I don’t think the Italian knew much to begin with,’ Thompson suggested, always practical.

‘Sam, did you book a flight to Rome?’

‘Of course. It leaves at five in the afternoon from Gatwick and arrives in time for supper.’

Barry was pleased. As director of the Agency for the European theater, he had a fleet of vehicles at his disposal. A Learjet 85, two Bell helicopters, several cars. He usually chose to fly commercial when his schedule permitted. His rule was not to waste taxpayer dollars, long before any president recommended the cost cutting.

‘Something is bothering me,’ Barry added.

Everyone looked at him, waiting for him to finish.

‘You mentioned Five Gentlemen, right?’ he asked Sam.

‘Yes.’

‘Four have died. There’s a pattern. Someone is out to kill these Gentlemen.’

He let the implication sink in.

‘There’s one left,’ Aris said. ‘Could it be Ben Isaac?’

‘We’ll have to set up a security perimeter in that case,’ Barry ordered.

‘No, Ben Isaac is very well protected. He doesn’t need our protection. They have a good security system, some former and current Mossad agents,’ Sam explained. ‘He’s not the fifth Gentleman.’

‘Who is, then? And why do they call them “Gentlemen”?’ Barry asked.

‘Because they had a gentlemen’s agreement of silence among them,’ Thompson explained.

‘The question is this,’ Barry advised, getting up. ‘They’ve assassinated four of the five, so someone is in danger. Find out who the fifth Gentleman is.’

‘Uh… we know,’ Sam said timidly.

‘Then spit it out, Sam. That person’s life is in danger.’

‘The fifth Gentleman is Joseph Ratzinger… the pope himself.’