GENESIS (GODS CHAIN) (78 page)

‘Typical of you
,
Chris, always been one for the cloak and dagger stuff.’
I
nstead
of
unwrapping
an
umbrella
,
his eyes lit up in great surprise and delight at the other present
, which
by far this made up for the mystery gift
.
‘Check this out!
’ he yelled.
‘
It’s a real sword, Cool Chris
!
’

His mother
’
s gift too was nothing short of breathtaking, a beautiful and priceless jewel from the distant far end of the world!

A
lthough Scott did not want to go to bed
that night
,
he was
forced by his mother
to retire and reluctantly did
.
Christopher
sat
comfortably by the fire with
their
mother
for many long hours;
hand in hand they sat on the sofa and soon fell asleep.
Her son was completely exhausted.
What a trip it had been to get here
...
.

Christopher was twenty-three years old with short black hair.
A tall young man and very athletic, fitter than fit,
he
had always been very religious
,
just like his father. He was well
-
educated
,
displaying a keen aptitude towards Biology in his early years.
His eyes were
piercing
-
green
with
a fine
,
black
-
speckled quality about their appearance.
He had always displayed attention to detail.
His mother look
ed
at hi
s sweetness
and
had
to remind
herself that
her son
hunt
ed
all sorts of horrible looking insects and
brought
them back for dissection
,
to her horror!
At a very young age
,
he had left university with a doctorate in cell biology and biochemistry. What a proud day it had been with all the family at his graduation!
Christopher was now a distinguished bio-technologist and
was
offered a research fellowship with his current employers, Oncol Scientific Corporation
,
specialising in the biosynthesis of new cancer inhibiting enzymes and precursors.

Proud of what he wanted to do
,
al
though the young man did not like the organisation he worked for
, h
is dedicated work
took
him into the heart of
the
South American rainforest.
Not before he made a quick trip to Italy to see the Vatican City
, however
!

Two days later the village roads were cleared again of snow and Mrs Hrycuik had a long bus journey to make, to the city of Glasgow
.
I
t was the annual “Christmas Sales!”
day
.
S
he never missed the
sales
and
so
,
kissing her boys goodbye, she headed off bargain hunting for the day with her friends.
Partway through the trip, however, s
now started to fall again, heavier than ever
before
,
and soon they were turning
the forecast
to blizzard conditions!
Mrs Hrycuik
didn’t
return
home
as scheduled that afternoon
.

Her sons were extremely afraid for their mother’s welfare and safety.
The village was impassable once more
, and
there was nothing any of them could do
.
Everything possible was already being done to find all the missing people!

‘Listen Skoosh, we are all in a bit of a pickle
,
’
a
concerned Christopher began
.
‘I don’t really expect you to understand any of what I am about to say
, but....
’
He paused
,
studying his younger brother
’
s anxious face
.
‘I have a confession to make
,
’ he began.

CHAPTER XI

OPERATION AEQUINOXIUM

John Paul’s eyes appeared patient, his ears listen
ed
closely and his holy stature seemed
, as
always
,
thoughtful.
The late Pope’s figure
silently gazed downwards as if in prayer
a
s he stood
inside his own magnanimous
,
gold
-
framed mirror with its fine
symbolic
detail
s
.
His reflection was fixed thirty f
ee
t high and onto the wall, erected on top of a polished marble mantelpiece with
a
solid silver crucifix anchored at either end.

Across the
way
h
is real portrait
hung
, sanctified and secure and most elevated above th
e
great entranceway.
A large silver cross was embedded into the wall above the
p
ontiff
’
s dominant portrait.
Magnified by
the
wizardry of skilled craftsmen
,
Pope John
now stood large as life
on the walls of his old office
.
His presence lived on forever after his untimely death, his soul appearing always on the distant mirror.

The
c
ardinal sat reading
a secret dossier
with studious deliberation.
A sacred silver cross
shone
above Pope
John Paul’s
theological prominence as if his spirit was still influencing the
dark
walls
,
even after
his
death.

‘
Grazie
,
I understand.’
Sitting inside the great St Peter’s Basilica within the Secretariat Office, Cardinal Giovanni Dalla Gassa placed the receiver back onto his large marble table.
It had been the
c
haplain.

The
c
ardinal was deeply disturbed by the shootings in the Palazzo del Governmantorato.
It was an unfortunate turn of events
that
had
almost uncovered the secret.
...
Inevitably there would be an inquest
,
but behind golden Vatican seals
...
nothing would emerge.
There would be no loose ends.
He knew this.
Nothing would detract from his Godly quest.
The f
unding he had secured over the years was easily in excess of a
b
illion dollars;
he could aff
ord to take care of this matter
.

Seeking for the “First Degree” had been his first real test
,
and its conclusion
was now indeed very close and within his grasp!
It was
the first fruit of
a lifetime
’
s searching and covert pursuit.
The Illuminati remained
an
ever
-
useful and vigilant
part of
his intricate plans
, but he did not work for their sake
.
Sooner or later, the man Michaelangelo would turn up and seek help from the girl. The Illuminati insisted that Michaelangelo’s rescindition was mandatory and, against the cardinal’s better judgment, he had no other option.

He r
ead the interim report with immense interest
.
“Operation Aequinoxium” had reached the green continent in order to secure the
r
eliquiae
,
as planned.
The last communication was that a force had arrived and was by now in position
,
poised and ready to move. For security reasons there would be complete silence from that classified location until the
r
eliquiae was secured.

There were others,
of course,
other godly powers still to be found
.
H
e had seen one, much closer to him, in his dreams.
Si
,
in my dreams
—
G
od is in my dreams,
it is true
...
the time of his
r
eliquiae ha
s
not yet arrived!
It will be soon
.
...
Meanwhile
,
the mission would continue inside South America. He finished reading th
e
highly classified and top secret report which had been sealed with Papal Sphragistics and crossed
with the
golden bull.

The Secretary of State sighed a little
, feeling the urge for
sleep
overcome him
.
His great mission, his private holy grail
,
was taking its toll on his health.
He found it difficult to sleep, he was afraid to sleep
—
he did not want to sleep because of the dreams
...
. He
hop
ed
against hope that sleep would only
last
a few moments.

His dreams of late were becoming more distressful
than ever
.
At first they had been infrequent, bright and wonderful
.
God
’s
angels had spoken to him!
Now
,
the
dreams
had become numerous, black, brooding and deeply disturbing, eating away at his mortal soul.
The man’s face began to twist and twi
t
ch as tiny beads of sweat began to appear, exuding out from his pores and then rippling down his temples like the rivulets and tributaries
that
flow
ed
through the great Amazon jungles.

Cardinal Giovanni Dalla Gassa’s head rested uncomfortably on the hard table,
his
arms wearily outstretched as he began drifting into darkness.
The patient Pope looked down sympathetically from the mirror above
...
.

This is not the end. 

It is only the
end of the
beginning. 

For this is... GENESIS!