The Celtic Conspiracy (19 page)

“Good, just keep waiting there,” Salvoni said into the phone. “He has to come out sometime. When he does, follow him. You’ll be getting more backup. But don’t
grab him unless he’s carrying something suspicious. Do you understand?”

When Salvoni hung up, Lambert confronted him. “Why didn’t you report back to me?”

“Excuse me, Cardinal, but your last remarks left me with the impression that you felt Padre Morati and I were wasting our time chasing after an old and irrelevant legend. I have conducted myself accordingly.”

“Very well. The good Lord will know what the truth of the matter is. You, on the other hand, still seem to be seeking satisfaction. Weren’t you the one who asked for more trust between us? Unless I am sorely mistaken, you are still sworn to God and the Holy See, not to your own wounded vanity.”

Salvoni seemed to consider this briefly, then abruptly changed the subject. “Why didn’t we get any reinforcements last night? If we had, we would have had no problems completing the expedition.”

“Well, unfortunately, recent events have made even our Austrian friends less eager to get mixed up in a sticky situation for us. I managed to arrange plenty of time for you by postponing the arrival of the archaeological team from Vienna. At least I could take care of that much.”

“How? I don’t understand.”

“Your judge just made the find official,” Lambert said resentfully. “I only found out about it through a contact in the foreign ministry. That was how I was able to arrange for the necessary delay.”

Salvoni looked away and then glanced back up at Lambert. “Well, perhaps you should see what we’ve brought back, Cardinal.”

Salvoni guided him toward the artifacts. Even a cursory glance at the scrolls left a lasting impression. Lambert walked around between the restorers and the boxes until his eyes locked onto one particular parchment. He could only make out a few lines, but the words
Genesis
and
Pharaoh
made him immediately uneasy. As he continued, he found a young worker translating a treatise against the Christians written by a Druid who had lived at the court of Theodosius I. It depicted with startling clarity the practices for which the pagans of Europe had been first denounced and then persecuted, tortured, and killed for having. There was a report in different handwriting about the religious tolerance of the Christians until Constantine seized power. Then suddenly even the original Christians were being persecuted. The report ended with the escape of many Christians into the deserts of the Middle East, or even as far as India.

Lambert sat down and tried to process what he was seeing. He could never have imagined that a find like this would be possible, but he was sure now that what lay before him was as significant as the Qumran scrolls. It didn’t matter what else they found. If these writings were made public, they would fan the flames of the atheists, the critics of the Church, and those scientists who were disseminating all sorts of theories about a creation without
God. This criminal nonsense was already fueling speculation among the faithful and the unfaithful throughout the world. Even in the pontifical academy there was an increasing number of people discussing this sacrilege—and with complete impunity.

On another scroll there were drawings of stags, bulls, boars, and hares, the graven images of the Celts. The Druids identified themselves with these animals. They were their familiar spirits, deeply anchored in the Celtic consciousness. Lambert knew from his own research that the ancient religions didn’t identify these images with gods; they only used them as representative symbols. The cults related to this so-called idol worship had been used for ages as proof of the animalistic and godless nature of the pagan religions. It didn’t matter if Ambrosius or Gregory of Nyssa were called to be the chief witnesses: the extermination of the pagans was from the outset a holy duty of the Church.

The sheer volume of these artifacts was alarming, even more so because a great number—it was impossible to say how great—was in the hands of a powerful critic of the Church. Lambert would have to report all this to the Holy Father. This matter couldn’t be swept under the carpet, and as soon as the public got wind of it, it would come back to haunt the Church. This wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all.

“Salvoni, I have to beg your forgiveness, and probably even more so that of Padre Morati, but we’re concerned here with documents from a time when the young
Church of Jesus Christ had to ward off an unbelievable number of lies and heresies. We cannot allow these things to get into the wrong hands again. What does MacClary actually have?”

“I can’t tell you for sure, but before we got there, one of my men saw several boxes being transported away. And then there is this Thomas Ryan, who attacked me in the cave. He got away, but empty-handed, and we have his papers.”

“Good. Give them to me. I’ll use every channel to make sure we get ahold of him, and you should keep your people there as well. Perhaps we can make MacClary see reason. We’ll try to frame him for this. In the meantime, try to figure out what he’s planning and what he has.”

“Cardinal, I’m afraid that will be difficult,” Salvoni stammered. “We had to pull our people out of Dublin. I just can’t be sure that we haven’t been compromised.”

“I don’t understand. You weren’t recognized in Austria, were you?”

“No, but you yourself said that MacClary officially reported the find. It’s possible that he might figure out who got the drop on whom. Then there’s this Irishman, as I said, whom we surprised...”

“Salvoni! Do you know what that means?”

“Yes, of course. That’s what I’ve been talking about the whole time! We need a one-hundred-percent airtight denial. Your job, Cardinal. There is absolutely no proof that we were there, and suspicions have never harmed us. In any case, I can think of dozens of secret services who would have an interest in someone of MacClary’s stature.”

Lambert was astounded by Salvoni’s callousness and composure, but it also helped boost his own confidence in the situation.

“Good, then it’s about time we make certain arrangements in Washington. We need to show the judge his limits. You go ahead as we’ve discussed, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Salvoni fell back into a chair, his relief apparent. “Yes, Cardinal. The Lord be with you, and thank you for your confidence.”

“We’ll see, Salvoni.”

Jennifer and Shane had taken a taxi from the US embassy to MacClary’s house. Shane found himself, to his surprise, leaning against Jennifer’s shoulder when she gently woke him and paid for the taxi.

“I’m sorry, but we hardly had a chance to close our eyes for a minute on the plane,” Shane said in excuse, still carrying with him Jennifer’s pleasant scent.

“It’s fine, Adam,” she said, laughing, as she opened the door to the house. “You already know where the guest room is.”

Ms. Copendale hurried up to them, bursting with curiosity. “Oh, someone looks like he’s in desperate need of fresh clothes and a bath.”

“Thank you, Ms. Copendale, but breakfast and forty winks sound even better right now.”

“Of course,” she said, patting his arm. “Where can I serve you breakfast?”

Jennifer chuckled. “Ruth, we’d love to come into your warm kitchen. You must know that I don’t need things as grandiose as the
gentleman of the house
. And you, Adam?”

“What? Uh, yes, of course, gladly,” Shane said, nodding eagerly.

Ms. Copendale eyed him with evident curiosity. “So? Have the children found what they were looking for on the playground?”

She’d obviously meant this as a joke, but neither Jennifer nor Shane could manage a laugh. This reaction caused Ms. Copendale’s expression to darken. “Where are Ronald, Deborah, and Thomas?”

Since Jennifer didn’t seem to know what she should say, Shane took the initiative. “Deborah and Ronald are in the embassy examining the artifacts at a secure location, and Thomas is still in Austria, because he was absolutely set on watching over the rest.” He didn’t have the heart to sugarcoat it. “Well...and then he was slightly injured when someone attacked him, but he’s fine now, I think.”

Ms. Copendale looked down at the floor. “I saw this coming all along, but no one listens to me.”

“What did you see coming all along?” Jennifer asked.

“Well, it doesn’t matter anymore, anyhow.” Ms. Copendale took a deep breath before going on. “Ronald’s father died shortly after the war, but not as a result of his wounds, as most people think. A doctor found a poison pill in his mouth after his death.”

Jennifer buried her face in her hands. Shane shook his head in wonder.

“You mean he was murdered?” Slowly Shane was beginning to realize how explosive this find actually was. And what about the parchment scroll that Thomas had taken with him? He had kept quiet about its true significance—and perhaps about more than that.

“In the short time that Lisa lived after that,” Ms. Copendale continued, “she was afraid that the same thing could happen to Ronald. That’s why she destroyed any evidence that could lead him in that direction, without burdening him with the truth about the death of his father. But then this Thomas Ryan turns up with his obsession to claim the legacy of the Druids, and since then...”

“Well, and then I come and find the clue straight off. It’s so strange, but perhaps it was just the right time for it,” Shane said, trying to reassure her.

“Very well. When all’s said and done you’ll have to bear the responsibility for it yourselves. But never forget how many people will be affected by this. One and a half billion Christian souls live on this earth, and most of them are just good people who need hope. Never forget that every one of these people will be affected by your actions.”

With that, she walked away.

“I’ll also not forget how many people have already been affected by this,” Shane called after her, a bit miffed at her implied accusation.

“Adam, let her be. You have no idea what she’s going through. She comes from a time when the power of the Catholic Church had a completely different authority.”

“That’s not very much compared to nearly two thousand years of terror and banishment, don’t you agree?”

“I think you don’t completely understand what this is all about, Adam.”

“Oh, yes, I do. I can even describe it to you in exact detail.” Shane was feeling that pain again, the same that he had felt on the night of his vision. He could see the executed men and the desperate masses. Even trying to talk about it brought tears to his eyes. He steadied his voice with a great effort. “I have seen, and even more, I feel what has happened over the centuries. And it’s exactly for this reason that I want to encourage you to keep on this path. It’s not just about setting limits for the Church. We have a historic opportunity—perhaps even a duty—to present this historic truth and its immeasurable aftermath. I can no longer stand by knowing that nearly every spiritual legacy of this world has been exterminated. Do you understand? Ten years ago, even the last of the Aborigines said that they were going and leaving the world, leaving it to a changed people, and...”

He broke down in tears, unable to go on.

* * *

Jennifer knew the story. In Australia, members of the last free-living tribe of this oldest culture in the world, the “true people” as they called themselves, had told their story to an American woman. Since their spiritual places and customs had been desecrated and since they were
being deprived of the land where they lived, they saw no more reason to live. So they had made a decision to stop reproducing, to leave the earth.

Jennifer had the feeling that time was standing still. She could inhale Adam’s sympathy and compassion like the air that she breathed.

She lay her arm around his shoulders. Now
she
was in tears. She was thinking about her work for the Blackfoot Indians. The shattered dignity of this proud people had deeply moved her as well as she watched their last representatives fighting in court for the miserable crumbs of their culture. A court of the country that had destroyed them. Adam’s emotional outburst reminded her of a dream that she’d often had as a child. An old Native American in traditional dress squatted on a cliff in the Rocky Mountains, looking down, in tears, into the valley of his homeland and his gods. She had never understood why she had dreamed that, but she had always felt something like a deep weariness with the world, an agonizing memory, which had completely confused her as a child.

“It’s time we all started taking responsibility for this,” she said softly. “I’ll talk with Ronald.”

She gave Adam a tender kiss on the cheek, surprising herself with the gesture and unsure how Adam would take it.

“We’ll still need a lot of courage, Adam. At some point in court you learn a bitter lesson: if the guilt seems too great and there are too many victims, the criminals have a tendency to portray themselves as victims and
look for the most absurd explanations for their acts. Or they develop an unbelievable story to distance themselves from the burden of their responsibility.” With that, she began to walk away.