Pandora's Ark (30 page)

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Vatican City
,
Inside the Papal Chamber

Father Auciello slid
the dossier of Imam Qusim Abul, a Muslim leader who was respected and revered
by the Islamic community.

Pope
Pius opened the folder. The picture that stared back at him was an aged man who
could have been anywhere from his early seventies to late eighties, given the
deep-set wrinkles that lined his face, the vestiges of hard living. His beard
was long, tapered and fashioned from minute loops of curly hair.

“Qusim
Abul,” said Auciello. “He’s a respected leader of the Islamic faith who just
happens to be in the alleged possession of the Ark of the Covenant. But he’s
not saying how he came into its possession. But that he’s amenable to sharing
in its glory with all faiths as a promotion of goodwill.”

Bonasero
mulled this over as he stared at the photo. Carefully, he placed the photo down
on the desktop. “He has no explanation at all?”

“None
that he’s willing to offer,” he returned. “He’s obviously deflecting. But he’s
standing firm about the Ark being shared by all at the moment of its opening.”

“Can
he be trusted?”

“Absolutely,”
he said. “He’s a true imam who is frustrated with extremists and abhors
violence or anything regarding a jihad.”

Bonasero
nodded. “True Muslims are pacifists,” he said. “Violence is not even a
consideration with them.”

“He’s
reached out to all political and religious leaders for a Summit to be held at Vatican City,” said Auciello.

“Which
raises suspicions,” returned Bonasero. “But he is a respected imam.”

“He’s
claiming valid points as to why it should be held here.”

“Namely?”

“He’s
wants to maintain a safe haven for Jews and Muslims,” he answered. “His points
are that there are no real sites of neutrality in any of the Arab or Israeli
states since prejudices continue to run high, and guarantees for safety cannot
be assured. Right now the Vatican appears to be the likeliest location where multiple
denominations can gather in relative safety. For this to happen, however, the imam
is requesting that the Ark be placed at a neutral site at the conclusion of the
Summit, so that everybody can share in its wealth without one religion maintaining
dominion over the relic. Right now Switzerland is being bandied about as the
state of neutrality.”

“It
would be a masterful showing of goodwill between the religions,” he said.
“Perhaps this is the beginning of true healing.”

“The
imam bears no ill will.”

The
pontiff thought this over. “Of course we’ll have to open the Ark,” he said. “At
least to make sure that it bears nothing of ill intent—germ, biological,
radioactive, everything needs to be thoroughly examined.”

“We
have scholars, scientists and historians waiting in the wings,” Auciello told
him.

“Then
make it happen,” he said firmly. “I’ll contact Kimball and advise him to set up
an elite security line surrounding the dignitaries. In the meantime, contact
the imam and set up delivery in Rome per my instructions. The Ark will be sent
to the lab and examined in a controlled environment to ensure that it’s
sanitized. It should take about a week. During that time I want the bishops of
the Holy See to extend a hand to all clerics of the Islamic, Hebrew and
Catholic faiths. And to formerly invite all the political principals willing to
attend the Ark’s revealing. Such a promotion between the denominations will only
serve as a message that the religions may not be so different after all.”

After
Father Auciello left the pontiff’s chamber, Bonasero sat alone, musing over the
fact that everything looked fine on the surface but not so in his heart. True,
the imam was a man of devout faith whose conviction was geared toward sanctity
and peace. But on the flip side Bonasero referred to his instincts, sensing
something slightly amiss, an inborn caution.

Though
the display of the Ark was too good to pass up, Bonasero would maintain prudence
by having it thoroughly examined, at least giving him some control over its
introduction. He would then request that the Ark be sealed and placed within a
controlled environment prior to transport, and then sequestered upon its
arrival in Rome where it would be scientifically examined.

Being
in such an advantageous position, Bonasero Vessucci saw the glory of the Summit. But he also saw a side that could become the critical mass of pure darkness in
which the intentional good behind the unveiling held nothing but the absence of
light.

Picking
up the phone, Pope Pius called Kimball Hayden.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Vatican City
, Two Days Later

Upon the clandestine
arrival of the Ark in Rome by way of Jordan, a massive security detail made up
of the Italian
Polizia
Municipale
and Vatican Security—who in essence were Vatican
Knights in security dress—arrived with a hermetically sealed container. The crate
was boarded up so that the
Polizia Municipale
could not see the relic within. They
only knew that the item was to be guarded during its transport to the Micron
Environmental Laboratory in Rome, where it was to undergo the most advanced
technological examination.

The
Micron Laboratory was basically a building that was glass central with concrete
walkways and manicured landscaping. In the lower tiers below ground,
laboratories with state-of-the-art equipment filled a particular chamber where
the platform rose approximately a foot off the floor. The surface of the
platform was entirely constructed of solid glass that served as the lens of an
x-ray machine. Its purpose was to scan the entire object from underneath. There
were also diagnostic imaging machines with robotic arms that moved swiftly from
one spot to another on command, snapping photos as it circled the Ark. Imaging
scanners were used, emitting doses of radiation to clarify certain aspects of
the artifact. Viral scans, infrared technology, and bio checks looking for
biochemical fingerprints were also utilized. Geiger counters measuring
radioactive traces other than the doses proffered by the imaging scanners were
sought for. Swabs of the Ark’s shell were taken, looking for biological or
chemical attachments.

Over
the past few days tests were conducted repeatedly in search of anomalous readings.
But the findings were consistent and nothing out of the ordinary was found.

The
Ark was completely sanitized.

The
only anomaly, at least according to scripture, was that the Ark appeared to
contain the tablets of the Ten Commandments and nothing more. Missing was the
staff of Aaron and the golden bowl of manna.

After
the fifth day of continuous testing with negative results, the Vatican was informed of its findings.

Bonasero
Vessucci had set his reservations aside and invited the Ark to be transported
to the Basilica, where it would be held in display behind cordoned-off partitions
until its unveiling before the congregation of VIP’s in front of the Papal
Altar.

On
the sixth day it was crated and transported to the Basilica, where it was
placed in the
Cathedra Petri
behind partitioned walls. The security was
immense.

Inside
the
Cathedra Petri
, Bonasero stood before the Ark in paralytic awe,
realizing that what he felt was novel. The Ark held something wonderfully
golden in its existence, something tangible and intangible at the same time. It
was the feeling of true serenity, the feeling of seeing the advent of His true
Light. In homage he placed his hands on the Ark and closed his eyes, almost
expecting to see or feel something spectacular.

Kimball
stood behind him, watching, seeing the Ark as nothing but a container encrusted
with gold.

“Isn’t
it wonderful, Kimball? Can you feel it?”

“Feel
what?”

Bonasero
stood back with eyes filled with adoration. “It’s realness,” he said. Kimball
laid a hand on the Ark, but couldn’t sense or feel what it was that Bonasero
was experiencing. “Uh, well, not really,” he said.

Bonasero
smiled. In his heart he knew it to be real. And for his hands to touch the Ark, he considered, was a gift from God.

“Tomorrow,”
said Bonasero, “world dignitaries will arrive. Are we prepared to ensure their
safety for the unveiling on the day after?”

Kimball
nodded. “The
Polizia
Municipale
will be posted at the outskirts of Vatican City,” he
told him. “The Swiss Guard will be positioned at all entrances, and Vatican
Security will float around the city in plain clothes looking for anyone on the
grid who may appear suspicious. The Vatican Knights will remain ready to be
dispatched to problem spots, should they arise.”

Bonasero
nodded.

Everything
appeared to be in place.

#

The very
moment
Kimball and Bonasero Vessucci stood inside the Papal Altar and the
Baldacchino
,
Sayyid and his team entered Rome and took residence in one of the hotels. The
four men shared a two-bedroom suite that overlooked the ruins of Augustus’s
palace.

Sayyid
sat on the balcony, a beautiful day with a clear blue sky, his laptop on the
table before him, tapping away. He pulled up the rune-like encryptions,
deciphered the instructions, and committed them to memory. Without running the
actual program, he used the instructions to run facsimiles and engaged in false
scenarios that enabled the bots to initiate. He did this several times until
the process became habit, his fingers and mind exercising the procedure so that
the real program could be set off through muscle and finger memory within
seconds. It was like a pianist perfecting the craft of learning a musical score
until every chord was perfected.

After
painstaking hours, after the once blue sky began to evolve into sunset blends
of reds and yellows and oranges, he closed the lid.

He
was ready.

And
in less than twenty-four hours he and his team would be in Paradise while the
infidels burned in the pits of Hell.

Allahu
Akbar
!

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Vatican City
,
The Day Before the Unveiling

Sayyid left the
hotel with two of his guards and the laptop, which always seemed affixed to his
hand, and headed to a café less than a quarter of a mile from their stay. They
maintained an upbeat tempo, their voyage to Allah getting closer with every
passing moment, which caught the attention of two
Polizia Municipale,
who were informed to
profile anyone of Mid-East origin within earshot of the Vatican.

Pictures
were taken and questions were asked at the hotel’s front desk. 

One
officer learned that there were four registrants in total, all arriving the day
before and paying for the suite in full with Euros, a red flag. The clerk was then
directed by the investigating officer to keep
things under wraps without giving an explanation
. He
simply did what he was told with no questions asked.

Inside
the café, where Sayyid and his team had been followed by two plain-clothed members
of the
Polizia
Municipale
, photos were taken under covert conditions, and then
forwarded electronically to Operations, where they were scanned with facial
recognition software.

Of
the three men under surveillance two were on the Watch List, the third remained
unknown, and the fourth had yet to be seen.

And
then the joviality stopped, Sayyid’s team getting to their feet and quickly
exiting the café. The two
Polizia
Municipale
followed, reaching the sidewalk in time to see the men
round the bend of an alleyway.

They
followed.

As
they rounded the corner the men were gone, which was impossible since the
stretch of the alley was at least seventy meters in length. They should have
been less than halfway down the corridor, the Arabs within sight.

But
they weren’t.

The
two
Polizia Municipale
picked up their pace into a slow jog to catch up.

Less
than halfway down an Arab slid out from behind a Dumpster and slashed his blade
across the throat of the first officer, the
Polizia Municipale
going to his knees with
his hands clutching his throat, blood pulsating through the gaps of his
fingers, his ever-widening eyes staring disbelievingly into open space, obviously
surprised at his own mortality as his life rushed out of him.

The
second officer fumbled for his weapon. But one of Sayyid’s teammates came up
from behind, crooked a forearm around the man’s throat, pulled the officer close,
and stabbed him repeatedly, thrust after thrust, the knife mincing the man’s
innards.

As
both officers lay dead Sayyid stood over them, his jaw working.

They
had seen the officers inside the café. And Sayyid saw one take a photo with a
hidden assemblage, dooming their fate.  

Al-Ghazi
would not be pleased since they had been ordered to lay low, he knew that. And
now they had been compromised.

 “We
must return to the hotel and get Shareed,” said Sayyid. “It appears that Arabs
are being profiled.”

They
raced back to the hotel.

#

The two
Polizia
Municipale
were
off the communications grid without explanation until a backup team found their
bodies in an alleyway, the lead
Polizia Municipale
describing their current
state as ‘butchery.’ 

This
galvanized additional forces to invade the hotel and kick in the door, the
elite team of specialty officers holding their weapons forward as they breached
the suite, yelling introductions as to who they were and further instructed for
whoever was in the suite to ‘hit the floor.’

Shareed’s
response was to return fire with his firearm, which invited a volley of gunshots
that chopped and destroyed the wall leading to the bedroom of the suite where
Shareed was taking refuge.

When
Shared exhausted his clip he closed his eyes, prayed to Allah, ran to the
balcony, and launched himself over the side, his arms pin wheeling until he hit
the pavement below.

From
a distance Sayyid and his team watched Shareed’s descent. Heard the body hit.
They were now a team of three.

Plans
would have to be altered.

With
the laptop firmly within Sayyid’s grasp, the entire team disappeared within the
gathering masses.

#

Pope Pius had
learned through the SIV that a terrorist faction had checked into a Rome hotel on the previous day. During a
Polizia Municipale
sweep two officers were
killed, but not until they were able to help identify members of the cell.

Why
the cell was in Rome was still up for speculation. But Bonasero knew better.
The timing was too coincidental, he thought. There was no doubt that the unveiling
somehow played a role in their plans.

Leaning
forward, Father Auciello slid a series of photos across the papal desk toward
Bonasero. Kimball sat next to the Jesuit, taking everything in.

“These
were taken by the officers at a café in Rome,” he said. “Facial recognition
software quickly deciphered as to who these men were.”

Bonasero
examined the photos. And then he looked at additional pictures of the men taken
from the Watch-List Base.

“The
main character is Sayyid Bashir,” said the Jesuit, “a former militant with ties
to extremely violent regimes in the Middle East. The others have minimal
history, but are linked to al-Qaeda and presumed to have been involved with
factions in Afghanistan and Iraq during Iraq’s transitional period to a
democratic state.”

“So
the question begs to be asked: Why are they here?”

“There
was nothing in their suite providing any clues or indications. The suite was sterile,”
he said. “However, in this photo,” Auciello flipped through the glossies on the
pope’s desk and placed his finger on one in particular. It was a photo of
Sayyid and his laptop. “You can see that Sayyid is in possession of a laptop. He
took the laptop with him but didn’t use it. And that leads us to believe that
whatever mission they’re on is on that computer.”

“And
do we know the location of Sayyid and his team?”

“They’re
nowhere to be found.”

Bonasero
stared at the photos. “Do you believe that the imam is involved in this?”

Auciello
nodded. “No, Bonasero, not at all. And that’s why we can’t afford to make the
wrong speculations at this time.”

“Two
policemen lay a dead and a man deemed to be a terrorist also lies dead—throwing
himself off a balcony to protect a secret. There is no other rational
explanation.”

Auciello
had to agree. And so did Kimball.

“The
Polizia Municipale
have done their job,” said Bonasero. “Now we must follow through and do ours
since political and religious dignitaries have arrived for tomorrow’s
unveiling, and we must protect them at all costs. But tell me this Father
Auciello, how do we know that there isn’t another cell involved in this
matter?”

“We
don’t. But the
Polizia
Municipale
and Italian Intelligence are all over this. So far:
nothing.”

The
pope pushed the photos toward Kimball. “The Ark is sanitized, that much we
know,” he said. “The unveiling will go on as scheduled, since there is no
absolute indication as to the intent of this cell. Since they have been
compromised, then their mission may have been aborted, if they had a mission
devised at all. Nevertheless . . .” His words trailed as he pointed to the
pictures. And then to Kimball, who grabbed the glossies. “Commit those faces to
memory, just in case,” he said. “Make sure every Vatican Knight, every Swiss
Guard, and everyone within Vatican Security learns every line on those faces.
Should they attempt to cross into Vatican City, then they are to be arrested
and held accordingly. Since the unveiling is to be held in the Basilica to a
selected few, I want insurances provided that these men will not be within the
vicinity of the Church or the dignitaries. Nevertheless, I want all corridors
thoroughly inspected for explosive devices or anything anomalous. Search the
old tunnels. I want every possible access into Vatican City gone over with a
fine-toothed comb. Employ whatever means necessary to protect this city up
until the last possible moment.”

Kimball
was looking at the photos, already committing the faces to memory.

“This
event will go on as scheduled,” added Bonasero, but his tone seemed to be
wilting. “And the doors leading into the Basilica will be locked. We will be
protected.”

But
a thought occurred to him:
Do you truly believe that, Bonasero
?

The
pope labored to his feet and went to the balcony that overlooked the City.
People were there about by the thousands. 

And
then that thought flashed through his mind once again, adamant for a response:
Do
you truly believe that
?

Bonasero,
however, could not bring himself to answer.

#

Sayyid prayed
with
the laptop beside him. The death of Shareed mattered little. He still
had his team intact. But that didn’t detract from the situation that his
mission had been made more difficult. Obviously the Italian authorities had
been directed to provide security and intel prior to their arrival, which was
to be expected. What wasn’t expected was to be placed in a position of
compromise, for which they now found themselves in.

“Nothing
has changed,” he said out loud and to no one in particular.

Sayyid
stood over the rim of a bathtub, the laptop on the toilet seat beside him as he
shaved in preparation for Paradise. His team would follow by shaving, and then
cleanse themselves with rose water, a form of purification.

Their
beards would be gone, their faces different. And by wearing
Polizia Municipale
uniforms recently purchased through the underground, they had allowed
themselves the advantage of hiding in plain sight to those looking for
insurgents in plain dress, rather than those wearing official attire.

What
was more advantageous was that he wouldn’t have to enter Vatican City, as long
as he was able to situate himself somewhere along the fringe of the city’s
border and keep the Basilica within sight. Frequencies, after all, traveled
through space. But the laptop’s range was limited.

After
Shareed’s dying plunge, Sayyid and his team did some recon, finding the rooftop
of a hotel across from the Vatican Museum a suitable observation post to initiate
the nano program. Although the hotel was located within 400 meters of the
Basilica, it was still beyond the city’s border and beyond Vatican jurisdiction.
But with such a clear view of the heart of the Catholic Church, there was no
doubt in Sayyid’s mind that snipers would be posted there. But his team was
adept at killing. And with little or no contest they would take them out quickly,
quietly, and with flawless execution.

Yes,
he thought, Shareed’s death posed no threat to the mission at all. His death proving
insignificant in the scheme of things since there was, after all, a solution to
everything.

Tomorrow
he would enter Paradise along with his teammates. And Vatican City all but destroyed.

Beneath
the soft glow of a single light bulb, Sayyid continued to bathe and purify himself
with the laptop by his side.