The Second Messiah

The Serb and one of his men vanished and reappeared moments later, dragging Yasmin between them. The Serb shoved her into a chair and tied down her wrists with a couple of lengths of rope. Her head lolled to one side and she barely seemed conscious.

Hassan snapped his fingers, the men left, then he crossed to Yasmin. Her hair spilled over the edge of the chair and there was dried blood on her lips.

Hassan said, “She has already confessed that you hid the scroll in a safe place, so don’t lie to me, Cane.”

Hassan slapped Yasmin’s face. She came awake with a moan, her eyes trying to focus. Groggy, she took in the room, then stared at Jack.

Hassan gripped her face. “Good, you’re awake. Nod if you understand me.”

Yasmin nodded, wide-eyed with fear.

Hassan’s arm snapped up and the Walther’s barrel touched the nape of her neck. He turned to stare at Cane. “Now, tell me where the parchment is. Tell me everything, or so help me I’ll put a bullet in her.”

119

John Becket stepped into the cool air of the Sistine. It was scented faintly with incense. As always, he marveled at the riot of Michelangelo’s colors, at the beautiful splendor and anguish of the scenes. Then he slowly crossed the marbled floor, aware of the rhythmic slap of his sandals. He knelt, made the sign of the cross, and prostrated himself in front of the altar.

He needed to be alone in the silence of the chapel. To reflect and to pray for guidance. For he knew that in a small way this would be his Gethsemane. That the drama on Michelangelo’s walls would soon be reflected in his own soul. And that apart from exposing the Vatican’s darkest secrets, he was about to make another dramatic revelation that would shock his cardinals.

The words spilled hoarsely from his lips. O Lord, I ask for courage in this my hour of need, as I struggle to find the right words to convey the disclosure that I must reveal to the world.

Lying on his stomach, pressing his face against the cold marble floor, Becket felt the drenching sweat begin immediately. He closed his eyes and began to pray.

120

In Umberto Cassini’s office, Cardinal Liam Kelly dabbed sweat from his face. His hands shook as he picked up a crystal glass and swallowed his brandy in one gulp.

He heard a soft click and turned, startled, the bookshelf swinging open on its hinges as a grim-faced Cassini entered through the secret passageway. He carried a thick red file stuffed with papers and bound with waxed string.

“Umberto, you frightened me. Do you have to use the back passageways?”

Cassini slapped the thick file on his desk. “It saves time and allows me to avoid unwanted visitors. So, John Becket definitely won’t change his mind?”

Kelly poured himself another brandy. “He called me and told me the answer’s no, and it’s final. His tone sounded unusually cold.”

Cassini slumped into his chair. “Go on.”

“Then Ryan phoned. He said that the pope wants to see us both after his speech to the cardinals. From the tenor of Ryan’s voice, I’d say we’re in trouble.”

Cassini’s mouth twisted in a faint, odd grin. “Do you really believe that, Liam?”

Sweat began to glisten on Kelly’s upper lip. “Of course I do. The game’s up. It’s not even a case of our transfer to some mission house in darkest Africa. Once these revelations come out and the fact that we helped cover up Kubel’s actions all those years ago, we’ll both be forced to leave the church in absolute disgrace.”

“As will the pope.”

“He doesn’t seem to care. Only the truth matters to him.”

The little Sicilian pushed himself up from his chair. “Let’s be honest, Liam. We’ve simply hoped in vain that we could change the pope’s mind. Now that small shred of hope is gone, but no one’s ruined yet.”

“What are you talking about, Umberto?”

Cassini picked up the thick red file from his desk and waved it in his hand.

“These are the documents you took from the Secret Archives.”

“At your request, Umberto,” Kelly countered.

“Yes, but for the protection of the church.” Cassini grasped his letter opener by the deer-antler handle and slit the binding string. Then he gathered up the papers and spread them in the fireplace. He opened a desk drawer, found a cigarette lighter, and touched the flame to the papers, turning them over with the letter opener’s blade to catch the rising flames.

“What are you doing?” Kelly demanded.

“What any sensible bureaucrat would do under the circumstances—destroying the evidence.” Cassini watched as the flames licked at the paper.

Kelly looked aghast. “But you said we’d remove them temporarily until this trouble had died down. Destroying them will only make matters worse. Are you mad, Umberto?”