The Gods' Gambit (26 page)

The monk looked at them in surprise. “Brother Federico is
not available for visitors. Are you acquaintances?”

Lino pulled out the top piece of paper from the clipboard he
was carrying. “I’ve got permission from Cardinal Mori to visit him. Here is His
Eminence’s letter,” he said and handed the paper to the monk. “We hope you’ll
facilitate our meeting with Don Federico.”

Before the three of them had set off for the monastery, Lino
had fulfilled his promise to check if the old monk was still alive and living
there and get permission to interview him. He managed to complete this rather
complicated task quickly due to his reputation as a long-term lay Catholic
supporter and the connections of a cousin who was a secretary-clerk in the
Vatican.

The tall monk read the letter. “Of course. At your service.
Brother Pietro will take you to him.” He pointed to the monk with glasses, who
nodded amicably.

“You’re Brother Federico’s first visitors for a long time,”
said brother Pietro.

“Can we assume he’s in good health? We’ll be able to talk to
him, won’t we?” asked James.

“For his age he’s in good physical condition. I don’t know
if you’re aware … he’s not well in his mind.”

“We heard he was injured during some assault on him,” said
Lino.

“It happened decades ago.” Brother Pietro paused briefly.
“His skull was fractured. Since then, he became difficult to communicate with.
He speaks very little and incoherently. It’s hardly possible to hear anything
from him that makes sense.”

“Actually, that misfortune of his, the events and people
involved in it, is what brings us here,” said James.

The monk wrinkled his nose in a sceptical grimace. “I hope
you have success with him,” he said and looked around. “At this hour he
normally sits in the chapel… Follow me, please.”

He led them towards the church. They walked through an open
Gothic cloister. Its solid pillars, massive arches and the large flags that
covered the ground were made of the same light-grey stone that was used for the
construction of the monastic complex. Generations of Benedictines had not changed
anything since the thirteenth century when the building had been completed. If
one could clear one’s mind of daily preoccupations and worries for a few
moments and cast a look at the surrounding centuries-old buildings, one would
feel as if one had been transferred back in time.

James had this magnificent feeling while he walked next to
brother Pietro. Many people probably come here when they reach a crossroads in
life to try to discern which path to take, he thought. I have the same
expectations, the same hope… The cult must be stopped.

Irina’s voice broke the flow of his thoughts. “Don Pietro,
who attacked the poor old monk and why?”

“It was a burglary. He had just returned from a mission in
Ecuador. He went to Rome in relation to some relics and texts which he brought
from the mission. Before the incident, Brother Federico was an anthropologist.
He had an interest in pre-Columbus civilizations. In Rome he was attacked. All
these religious artefacts were stolen. The burglars hit him on the head and left
him for dead. He survived, though. The burglars were never found.”

Another crime unsolved, thought James.

Before reaching the church’s main entrance, brother Pietro
stopped next to a large wooden nail-studded door. He opened it with effort and
led them inside. They walked along a spacious corridor, the walls of which were
decorated with scenes of the life of Saint Benedict and some of the miracles he
performed. At the end of the corridor, there was door, wide open.

“That’s the sacristy,” brother Pietro informed them as they
entered. “From here you can get into the church.” He indicated to another open
door, through which the church altar could be seen.

The sacristy was a large room with old wooden closets and
benches along one of the walls. There were also some glass cases containing
ritual priest garments, and a huge wooden table with chairs placed in the
middle of the room.

“The chapel is underground,” said brother Pietro. He pointed
to a staircase leading downwards, which their eyes had missed at first because
the table was in the way. “Wait for me here. I must first talk to the monk who
takes care of brother Federico.” He quickly descended the staircase and muted
voices could be heard. Soon, brother Pietro’s head popped up above the floor.
He invited them to climb down.

The underground room was well illuminated by many candles
and some hidden electric lights – the only mark in this medieval atmosphere
that hinted it was twenty-first century after all. The chapel had an oval
ceiling and there were several tiers of stone benches in front of a small
altar. Murals on the ceiling and walls depicted gospel scenes: the Holy Spirit
descending over the twelve disciples; the Virgin and the infant; Judas’ kiss;
Doubting Thomas, and others.

A stooping figure in a monastic robe sat on the first tier
of benches. A tall middle-aged monk stood nearby.

Their guide introduced him. “Brother Lorenzo.” The monk
walked towards them and said, “It’s better if only one of you talks with
brother Federico. Too many unknown faces could be overwhelming for him. The
rest of you can wait upstairs.”

Irina nodded to James. Lino gave him the clipboard and then
followed Irina and brother Pietro back upstairs.

James approached the old monk. “Don Federico, my name is
James Whiteway. I’d like to talk to you.”

The old monk’s face, furrowed with wrinkles, held no
expression whatsoever. His eyelids were half shut. Behind them, a small part of
his irises could be seen. They were empty and without focus. James waited a bit
and asked if they could talk about his mission in Ecuador, and the religious
texts and artefacts he had brought from there. Brother Federico did not
respond, so James took the pieces of paper off the clipboard and placed them on
the bench so the old monk could see them. On them were drawings of the symbols
used by the cult. James slowly turned the sheets, showing each one to the old
monk. There was no reaction. Disappointment seized James.

“Some days he doesn’t utter a word,” said brother Lorenzo,
responding to the despairing look James gave him.

James was thinking about what he could do to catch the
attention of brother Federico. He came up with an idea. He took out his pen and
drew a swastika on the back of one of the sheets of paper. He then put it close
to his chest and said, “The Deprived of Light is a Gift for the Wisdom Keeper.”

The old monk blinked quickly and opened his eyes. His voice
was barely audible. “Pray for salvation.”

“Pray for the salvation of my soul?” asked James.

“Salvation of the light … from the abyss… Guard yourself
from the Ancient Serpent who deceives the whole of existence…” uttered brother
Federico in snatches. He leaned forward, grabbed and feebly tried to pull the
picture of the swastika towards him.

James placed it on the bench next to him.

The old monk lowered his arm, his fingers moving in the air.
It looked like he was tapping invisible piano keys. “They are here … among us…”
he shouted.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, sir.” Brother Lorenzo’s voice
sounded excited. “Please, give him something to write on. The movement of his
hand … it means he wants to write something down. He hasn’t expressed such a
desire for years.”

James stuck a piece of paper onto the clipboard and passed
it, together with his pen, to brother Federico. He took it and turned the sheet
over. On it were two signs that had been drawn around the corpse of Stefan
Costov. James had sketched these together on a separate sheet because they were
the only symbols whose interpretation was still in question. One was the
V-shaped symbol that resembled two inclined human stick figures looking in
opposite directions. In his report to Peter Oliver, James had interpreted it as
symbolizing the many divisions in the contemporary world. The second sign
resembled a man making an offering, or bowing, to two serpents. It symbolized
the world order, which the cult was trying to impose.

Brother Federico very slowly began putting little crosses on
the drawings at points where the joints of human figures would be. After a
short while, he stopped as if he had lost interest in what he was doing. The
pen slipped from between his fingers. The clipboard would have dropped to the
floor if James had not caught it.

The old monk rested his shoulders against the bench. His
lips formed the word, “Pray!”

James waited for a minute, but brother Federico had switched
himself off from the world once more.

“It’s a miracle that you managed to make him so active,”
brother Lorenzo told James when he stood up.

“We were told he practised impulsive writing. Could we take
a look at some of his drawings? If some were preserved,” asked James.

“I saw him doing this many years ago, before I started to
look after him,” responded brother Lorenzo. “I don’t know why anybody would
preserve such drawings.” He thought for a moment before adding, “All brother
Federico’s property is kept in a small chest in his room. If some of his
writings were preserved, they would be there.”

“They’re here … among us… Murder!” shouted the old monk
suddenly. He was pointing at the drawings of the swastika that James held in
front of him.

“We’d like to see these drawings and writings. If they still
exist,” said James.

“Only the Father Abbot can give permission for that to
happen,” said brother Lorenzo. “Brother Pietro could make the request on your
behalf.”

James thanked him and said goodbye. Now he knew that there
was a real possibility they could establish a link between the cult and the
discoveries brother Federico had made in Latin America. Unfortunately, the old
monk’s entangled mind was the greatest keeper of the secret. The last hope
could lie amongst his possessions.

The Abbot did grant permission for brother Federico’s chest
to be searched, but only on the condition that none of its contents would be
taken outside the monastery. Neither were they allowed to photograph or make
photocopies of any of the documents.

Brother Pietro left them alone in the room with a few chairs
and a table with some bottles of mineral water and a stock of plastic cups on
it.

In the chest, on the top, was a wooden crucifix on a rope
designed to be worn around the neck. Under this, creased papers filled the
chest. The drawings on most of them overlapped one another and were almost
indistinguishable. There were also some older yellowing papers covered with
short texts, indecipherable lines and words written randomly, and an old
personal diary from the time before the attack.

Irina took a quick look at the chest’s contents before
ordering a taxi to take her to Rome, where she intended to acquaint herself
with the police archives on the assault on brother Federico. Meanwhile James
and Lino remained in the room and began scrutinizing brother Federico’s
drawings and writings.

“You say the old monk marked these points with crosses …
after that he stopped paying attention to you?” asked Lino, pointing at the
marks in question in succession with his index finger on the drawings of the
two stick-figure symbols.

“Yes,” James confirmed, taking his eyes away from brother
Federico’s diary for a moment.

Lino continued to stare at the drawings. He turned the sheet
of paper several times and looked at it from different perspectives.  “So,
it’s possible that he intended to mark all the points where the lines of the
drawings join.” He illustrated what he meant by again pointing on the drawing.

“Completely possible,” said James. “Why, does it matter?”

“I’ve got a hunch about what these markings could signify …
stars. Yes, these are stars.”

James reached over the table and grabbed the sheet. He looked
at it and then turned it as Lino had done. “Indeed!” he exclaimed and pointed
at one of the symbols. “That symbol … it depicts the constellation Aquarius.
When linked by lines, the stars of that constellation resemble a drawing of a
man making an offering.”

“The one resembling two inclined human figures standing foot
to foot are actually the linked stars of the constellation Pisces,” Lino added.

James enthusiastically slapped Lino’s shoulder. “Well done,
Lino.”

“The question is how does this affect your interpretation of
the symbols from the scene of the Bulgarian’s murder?”

“It sheds more light on them. These two symbols have given
me a headache since the beginning. As they were drawn on both sides of the
corpse, I considered each to be in a group with the closest symbols. In fact,
they’re directly related to each other.”

“Aquarius and Pisces are neighbouring constellations.
Astrologists say they’re the constellations that now influence the destiny of
our world.”

“It appears that in the pictography at Costov’s murder
scene, these two symbols indicate time. The present. From an astrological point
of view, we’re in the time when the earth slips out of Pisces’ influence and
falls under Aquarius’ influence. The cult obviously consider this transitional
period as favourable for pursuing their goals. That’s why they’re perpetrating
these ritual killings now.”

Contentment brightened Lino’s face. “We still haven’t looked
at all of Don Federico’s writings and yet already we’re advancing. If Irina
digs something up as well we’ll see the strings of their net more clearly.”

“If information relating the cult with the attack on Don
Federico is stored in the police archives, she’ll find it,” said James with
conviction.

“Okay. Let’s concentrate on the work,” said Lino.

Brother Federico’s drawings reflected his entangled visions
after the incident. He must have leafed through them many times because they
were creased and bore many fingerprints. Every centimetre was filled with a
mixture of Christian symbols, biblical quotations, elements of pre-Columbus
Indian iconography, unrelated words, and senseless scribbles. On the other
hand, the diary included entries from before the incident. Judging by the
content, this must have been Brother Federico’s anthropological field diary from
his mission in Latin America. He obviously possessed great interest in the
myths and legends of the Indian tribes he had been in contact with, as the
diary was filled mostly with that type of text. It was clear that many of the
entries had been written in the field because of the poor handwriting. Some
parts were written legibly and methodically, with contiguous notes, dates and
bibliographical references. On some pages, Brother Federico had included
samples of Indian pictography as well as separate drawings with explanatory
notes.