The Celtic Conspiracy (38 page)

“Who called you?” Schick asked Josef Angerer, who had headed up the group of Austrian archaeologists at the Magdalensberg that discovered nothing but charred remains in a sooty cave.

“A Mr. Rudolf, Mr. Secretary.”

“What time was it?”

“It was one in the morning, and the sun hadn’t yet risen when we got there,” Angerer replied. Ministry staff had been questioning him for hours, trying to figure out
why he and his people had gotten to the Magdalensberg so late. All signs pointed to the fact that an official had intentionally waited to pass on the necessary information.

“And what did you find there?”

“We could only rescue a couple of artifacts. Shields, swords, some decorative pieces. And one scroll.”

Schick was quickly checking who had been on duty that night.

“Good. Wait here, please.”

The state secretary motioned to two police officers to follow him.

* * *

In his office, Alfred Steiber was feverishly busy erasing information from his computer when suddenly, without notice, the door opened and a furious state secretary came into the room. The police officers stood outside the door.

“Why did you wait four hours before passing on the information to the Archeological Institute?” Schick questioned him threateningly. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“I don’t understand...”

“Steiber, don’t make things worse than they already are! I know you have connections with the Vatican. I need you to tell me who instructed you to sit on this information.”

“Mr. Secretary, I have no idea what instructions you’re referring to. I could see no urgency in the matter. Only
after I got a second call from your office did I understand the seriousness of the situation.”

“I am going to ask you one more time. Who gave you instructions to hold off? I’m warning you, either you tell me immediately who in the Vatican convinced you to do this or I’ll have you arrested on the spot.”

As if on cue, the two police officers entered the room. When he saw them, Steiber again started frantically pressing the delete button on his computer, but one of the police officers intervened, yanking his hands away from the keyboard.

“Let go of me, you bastards, I have—aaah!”

After the police officers had secured the flailing man with handcuffs, Schick sat down in Steiber’s chair. “Now I think we’ll take a closer look at that recycle bin.”

Minutes passed, during which Schick sat there furiously muttering, occasionally letting an “I can’t believe this!” escape his lips. Then he nodded to the officers. “You can take him away.”

Hearing all the commotion, the head of the press department came into the room.

“What’s going on here?”

“Ah, just in time. We have something to do.”

Completely confused, the department head followed the clearly enraged state secretary to his office.

The pope had just had a long conversation with the president of the Italian Republic to find out how the Italian authorities would react if the Vatican’s status under international law were to be revoked. All over the Vatican, you could sense how nervous everyone was. Even Lambert’s sly attempt to block the case in Boston wasn’t improving the mood. Meanwhile, thousands of people had gathered in St. Peter’s Square to voice their sympathy.

John Paul III gave a quick look out the window and sighed. The support of the masses was indeed comforting, but in the last few days he had become painfully aware that the situation was far worse within the holy walls. There were only a few people he could really trust. Lambert had managed over the course of the past several years to portray him to the whole Curia as an unreliable zealot and to enflame fears that this pope would take up the reforms that his predecessors had done away with: the commitment to ecumenism, peace, and conciliation. Many of the alpha dogs who had spent decades
protecting their territory were afraid, plain and simple, of losing their positions of power.

“Holy Father, you sent for me?”

“Yes, Perona, come in. I hope you’ve set everything in motion.”

Perona entered the room slowly. “Yes, Holy Father. I just got off the phone with our spokesperson at the UN. It doesn’t seem that they are close to having a majority yet for Ireland’s proposal.”

“Have you spoken with Cardinal Lambert?”

“Yes, Holy Father. In spite of everything, he is optimistic that this will all be over tomorrow when Victor Salvoni testifies.”

“Still, if I read the situation correctly, are we not in illegal possession of scrolls which, either way, are thought to belong to the world’s cultural heritage?”

“Yes, Holy Father, but, officially, we only subsidized the excavation. In addition, the scrolls aren’t even here.”

The pope nodded slowly. “Good. Let everything be brought to a central location and make sure that Lambert knows we will be turning all the parchment over to an international delegation.”

“But how will we explain that?”

“Quite simply. We exerted influence on the team we hired to make these scientifically important parchments accessible to the general public.” The pope knew, and he assumed Perona did as well, that this wasn’t a huge loss compared to everything else that had been made public.

Perona seemed to be considering this, and the pope wondered what was really going on in his mind. When it became clear that Perona wasn’t going to respond, he continued. “Just one more request, Perona. I would like you to supply me with a list of all the bishops who are younger than sixty years old and who have distinguished themselves especially through their commitment to social responsibility.”

“Holy Father, what—”

“Please, Perona. Even you must realize that we cannot continue as we always have. Even if the situation in New York and Washington ends up resolving to our advantage, without visible and tangible reforms, we will lose more and more.”

“But Holy Father, our office is inundated with letters expressing the people’s deep affection, hope, and admiration for you.”

“Yes, of course, Perona! You’ve completely misunderstood me. This isn’t about my successor, it’s about the next cardinals to be named. We need to have less emphasis on politics and concentrate on giving the faithful recognizable signals that this Church doesn’t only consist of internal strife and scandal. That doesn’t remotely suggest that our world doesn’t still need to be spiritually cleansed by the Christian faith. But we need to have people at the forefront who will bring God back to the center of religious, philosophical-scientific, and political thought. You yourself must see how your work for the Pontifical Academy has brought a renewed public awareness
of the mortal sin of abortion and has created a mood of affirmation.”

“Thank you, Holy Father.”

“Don’t worry, Perona.” The pope smiled in a fatherly way. “I have one more thing: when Cardinal Lambert returns, tell him that you are no longer his informer.”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you really think I don’t know how Lambert has been carrying out his own agenda behind the scenes?”

“But Holy Father, I would never dream of doing that!”

“Do you think I don’t know how many popes—both within and outside of these walls—have died a very unnatural death? I do not intend to be the next one.”

“Understood, Holy Father.”

* * *

The white van parked near East Capitol Street. From here there was a good view of the side entrance of the Supreme Court. Here, far from the main entrance, was the one used by the witnesses and justices of the court. The telescopic sight had jammed a bit, but now the weapon was ready, and from a distance of at least three hundred yards there would be enough time to slip away from the scene.

* * *

That morning Shane had been in the hotel café with Jennifer and Ronald discussing what lay ahead. Only now was Ronald letting them in on the significance of his secret source. It would put the Vatican lawyers in an untenable position, but MacClary would have to resign if it became necessary to use this source. He had prepared all the documents for that day’s hearing and had put them in an envelope for Jennifer to unveil if there were no other alternative. Now everything depended on whether the justices believed Thomas’s testimony and the photographic evidence from Orvieto.

“Where’s Deborah?” Shane asked as they entered the courtroom.

“She’s coming with Ryan,” Jennifer said, looking nervously at her watch. “It’s starting.”

Shane felt weighted down and feverishly uneasy at the same time. An ice-cold fear was making his heart beat rapidly. He could hardly stand the tension. In front of the main entrance of the Supreme Court, the authorities had drawn a buffer zone. The first bishops were coming in. Outside the barrier, ten thousand demonstrators surrounded the courthouse, with some engaging in occasional street fights with the police.

The mood in the hall was tense. Jennifer had told Shane that the other side would have the floor first. They were presumably quite confident at the moment.

* * *

The justices had taken their time and were finally coming to their places.

“I give the floor to the attorney for the Vatican,” MacClary said while he looked into Salvoni’s nervous eyes.

The Vatican attorney began. “Mr. Chief Justice, if it pleases the court, we repeat our request that this hearing be concluded immediately. I have here an authorization for the aforementioned excavation. Although it was contracted by the Pontifical Academy, it was carried out by a private security firm headed by the previous head of the Vatican police who is here today, Victor Salvoni.”

“What does ‘previous’ mean in this context?” Justice Andrews asked.

“Victor Salvoni left the service of the Vatican more than one year ago and now works for a private security firm in Rome. This firm was charged with guarding the excavation in Austria.”

“This sounds like an attempt by the Vatican to protect itself with the use of fallacious claims,” Justice Andrews said. “The old methods are not as effective as they once were. The Vatican can no longer escape its responsibility by simply stating that cardinals, bishops, or employees do or do not count as one of their citizens. The recent considerations of the United Nations have not escaped notice by this court, esteemed colleague.”

Justice Faster stepped in. “In addition, how do you explain the unanimous confirmation by all the experts that the photographs here in front of us from
the Orvieto archive are not, after all, fakes, contrary to your claims?”

“The head of the expedition used the rooms temporarily for the initial sorting of the documents,” the lawyer answered. “I would point out that the dome in Orvieto does not belong to the Vatican. It is, however, understandable that the contractor placed the rooms at the disposal of...”

MacClary placed both hands on the desk, leaned over, and looked sharply at the man. He simply could not understand the audacity with which the Vatican was trying to shirk its responsibility, nor the coolness with which this lawyer was collaborating in the game.

Regardless, the Vatican representative continued speaking undeterred. “Apparently it is simply a case of two competing groups crossing paths. I stress again that no member of the Vatican was involved in this. Victor Salvoni is taking full responsibility for the unfortunate incident.”

“Are you maintaining that all the events and the escalation at the site were not known to the Vatican before they received this charge?” Justice Copter asked. “And why are we only seeing this excavation authorization now?”

The lawyer held up his hands. “Indeed, all of these events were unknown to the Vatican. The head of the Pontifical Academy, who had commissioned the excavation, was unable to provide a timely clarification due to a hospital stay. In addition, the members of the expedition
are unanimous in their statements that they did not interfere with anyone, but rather that they themselves were attacked by three unknown men.”

MacClary nearly laughed out loud. “Can you prove that the, as you say,
previous
head of the Vatican police is no longer a member of the Vatican police?”

“Of course, Mr. Chief Justice. His termination papers from last year are in front of you. In addition, we have received confirmation today that the rest of the artifacts are already outside of the Vatican in the Castel Sant’Angelo, where they are being examined by government archaeologists. Any discussion of secrecy or concealment is, therefore, completely inappropriate.”

MacClary leafed uneasily through his documents, taken by this ingenious move.

Ingenious, at least, to the public eye.

* * *

Despite the countless demonstrators, Ryan and Deborah had clear access to the driveway to the side entrance. They could see the demonstrators from a distance and their continued tussles with the police.

Ryan held the box with the parchment of Rodanicas tightly in his hands. They’d had this parchment examined the previous evening, and it had been certified as
authentic. Together with the family trees of the Irish families, this completed the lineage from the fourth century to the present day. He felt as if he had been redeemed. The motorcade arrived at the side entrance. A dozen FBI agents climbed out to secure the area. The door of the armored car opened and Deborah got out. Ryan put the strap of the box over his shoulder and exited. He looked around briefly before he went up the steps, surrounded by agents.