The Lost Apostles (20 page)

Chapter 26

We knew about the transgression of the She-Judas, and her part in the betrayal of the Savior. But her connection to the murders did not emerge until much later.

—Lori Vale,
Revelations

The morning was pleasant, with a bright orange sun rising over the ancient buildings of Rome. On the terrace of the Vatican Palace, Dixie Lou Jackson sipped a glass of robust, deep red Chianti while waiting for her breakfast to arrive. Casually she tossed bread crumbs to a pigeon, and the creature ventured close enough that she was able to give it a good kick. The bird squealed and flew off.

She laughed at the small deception she had accomplished.

A letter—delivered the day before through her own clandestine channels—lay open beside the Chairwoman’s plate. The contents were most interesting, and exceedingly gratifying. A Mexican peasant woman claimed to be the mother of a thirteenth she-apostle, and said she was bringing the baby to the Vatican right away. The letter had been postmarked in Mexico.

Being suspicious by nature, Dixie Lou’s first thought was that it was a fake, some sort of a trick. There had been other women, and men, saying they were the parents of she-apostles. It further concerned her that the two women signing the letter—Roberta Muñoz and Maria Aguilar—had not revealed where they were at the moment, only that they would contact Dixie Lou when they arrived. The Chairwoman had put out inquiries to places where they might be staying in Rome, but thus far she had not learned anything more.

Now, as she ran her fingers over the words in the letter and studied the handwriting, Dixie Lou hoped the women were being truthful, and were right about the child. The missing Martha of Galilee
had
last been reported in Mexico, but the mother had run off, eluding the armed pursuers sent by the UWW. The mother’s name had been Consuela Santos, but that name was not mentioned in the letter, nor did the two women signing it say who the mother of the purported she-apostle was.

It was all very peculiar, and thus far there had been no further message from them. But as soon as they contacted her again, Dixie Lou would grant them an audience, while taking every precaution against assassination. All of them, including mother and child, would be searched, scanned, turned inside out and put back together again. After all, a bomb could be hidden inside the baby.

A baby bomb.

She rather liked the concept, but didn’t particularly want to depart this world in quite that manner.

The sojourn into black humor, and the pigeon incident, had put her in a good mood. She assumed that her recent speech accusing Lori of lying about who had the real she-apostles had been successful, along with the propaganda campaign that Deborah Marvel had set in motion.

Maybe it was all the work of a greater power.

Dixie Lou smiled to herself, for she saw immediately how to put the child to use, if she was in fact the elusive Martha of Galilee.

* * *

In their hotel room near the Villa Borghese, Raffaela and Arsinio Inez sat with Consuela Santos, who held baby Marta on her lap. A breakfast tray sat nearby, with dirty dishes on it. Raffaela didn’t particularly like the Roman coffee, but drank it anyway, for the stimulation of caffeine. She and her husband wore pajamas, while Consuela had arisen with the dawn and was already dressed for the day.

The elegant old hotel had no televisions, since the owners prided themselves on presenting an authentic nineteenth century atmosphere. A charming structure built around a garden court of flowers, the establishment seemed like a journey into the past. But the Inezes were not there on vacation.

While Raffaela sipped her coffee, Arsinio tended to his personal computer, on which he was playing a recording of Lori Vale’s broadcast, in English with Italian subtitles. Because they spoke English, the Inezes were translating selected sentences for the illiterate young woman, choosing what they wanted to tell her and embellishing the rest as they went along.

“That young women, and the eleven special children with her, are the reason we’ve brought you here,” Raffaela said to Consuela in Spanish, as she pointed at the screen. “Lori Vale can help your baby. She knows all about special children like yours.”

“She’s a good doctor?”

“You might say that,” Raffaela said.

“She is quite young, though, isn’t she?”

“She must be older than she looks.”

“Lori Vale does have a nice face,” Consuela admitted, “and a pleasant voice, even if I don’t understand her words, or the words of the children. But the children do sound like Marta.”

“We aren’t sure exactly where Vale is,” Arsinio said, “only that she and the children are here in Rome. We’re looking for her; we’ve hired people to find her.”

The Inezes were not certain what Lori Vale’s relationship to the UWW was, and it was one of the things they wanted to find out, to make certain that Dixie Lou Jackson did get anywhere near Marta. While they had originally believed in the Chairwoman, when they reexamined the facts carefully they found that she had no credibility at all, and they had come to the opinion that she was insane.

But prior to that woman’s involvement, they had seen great merit in United Women of the World. The Inezes had long been feminists, contributing money to various groups promoting the advancement of women. For years there had been rumors of an umbrella organization for women’s rights, but shortly after the Mexican couple learned its name—United Women of the World—the group went into an even higher security mode, making it difficult for Raffaela to join. It required extensive background checks and interviews that she didn’t have the time for then, though she’d hoped to go through the process when she could.

The couple had wanted to participate in United Women of the World in the most meaningful way possible, drawing them out of the ruts their lives had fallen into. They had the money and the time to do whatever they pleased, and they’d felt they were overdue for a change. Even Arsinio, though not of the gender that would ever allow him to join the UWW formally, had wanted to do what he could for the cause.

Now that had all changed, because of the disturbing situation in Vatican City. The
Holy Women’s Bible
seemed to have great merit, elevating the historical and religious stature of women. But somehow, a good cause had been hijacked by a madwoman.

The Inezes still wanted to be involved in the cause of women’s rights, and to do that they had become convinced that they needed to go through young Lori Vale and the eleven unusual children with her. The Mexican couple also felt as if they were on an important religious mission, filling them with the Holy Spirit. They felt compelled to take baby Marta to her she-apostle sisters.

Beside them, Consuela cradled her precious baby, and hummed a mountain
indio
lullaby that her own mother had sung for her when she was small.

* * *

Dixie Lou Jackson enjoyed moving her council meetings around the Vatican. There were numerous large and fabulous rooms in the holy city, and an incredible number of them were filled with treasure. It had to be the most stunning concentration of wealth in the entire world, and now all of it was under her control. This morning she was holding a session in one of the Vatican museums, at an Italian Renaissance map table with the chairs of past popes removed from their display positions and pulled up to the high table. The Sword of She-God lay in front of her on the polished surface.

Through a window she could see military equipment arrayed at the perimeter of Vatican City, as NATO attempted to intimidate her with tanks, armored personnel carriers, artillery pieces, and thousands of troops. She smiled to herself. They didn’t dare attack because of all the explosives she had placed, and besides, she had faith that UWW sympathizers within NATO ranks—male and female officers, and even enlisted personnel—were gaining influence.

Her fingers touched the explosives detonator in a pocket of her elegant robe. It was a comforting feeling, reassuring her that she could not be defied, or she would blow up the Sistine Chapel, St. Peter’s Basilica, the Pope, and everything else. The electronic device was a little insurance policy that she carried around with her. She touched the safety cap over the detonation button, but did not slide it off.

“Just a moment,” she said to the councilwomen, who were beginning to take seats. Rising from her chair at the head of the table, she went to a massive teak-and-glass display case containing the holy papal scepters, a case she attempted to open. It was locked.

“Curator!” she shouted. “Come and open this for me!”

Presently an elderly, silver-haired man hobbled toward them across the marble floor. Alberto Carducci was one of the Vatican officials in charge of the various collections. In addition, since he had a special knowledge of passageways to get in and out of the Vatican, she used him as a courier. He carried a large brass ring of jangling keys.

“This one, madam?” he asked nervously, designating the display case beside her.

“Are you dense, man? Of course, this one.”

He began trying keys in the lock, but couldn’t seem to locate the right one.

“Hurry up, hurry up,” she demanded. “Can’t you see we’re in the middle of an important meeting?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He fumbled with the keys, dropped them with an embarrassing clatter, picked them up.

“Move faster, you idiot!”

But the poor Italian was too upset. Perspiration covered his face. His hands shook so badly that he nearly dropped the keys again.

“Here, give me those,” Dixie Lou snapped. She grabbed them from him and swung their bulk against the glass, smashing the case open. Alarms went off. She stepped back to avoid falling glass, and kicked it out of her way.

Through the broken glass Dixie Lou retrieved a golden scepter with a jeweled cross on top—of rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds. “Have these jewels removed,” she said to the cowering man.

“I beg your pardon?” Clearly he was stunned by the command.

“You heard me.” Glancing sidelong, she noticed disapproval on the faces of some councilwomen, particularly Deborah Marvel. This disappointed her.

“But this is a holy relic, from the Second Crusade,” Carducci said.

The alarm continued to sound.

She slapped him hard across the face, leaving a red mark on his cheek. “I’m not going to quibble with you. These jewels are to be removed and worked into the hilt of my sword—replacing the cheaper ones already there.” She pointed to the weapon on the table. “I want the finest craftsperson in all of Rome for this project. Do you understand?”

He nodded.

“Furthermore, the work is to be completed here, under my supervision. I will show where the stones are to be worked into the hilt.” She gave him a hard shove, and he almost fell over. “Now go shut the alarm off.”

In a fluster of terror and sweat, he retrieved the keys and scurried off to do her bidding.

“Some of you have expressed concerns to me,” Dixie Lou said, as she laid the holy scepter on the table, next to the legendary sword. “You want to know how my plans fit into the goals of United Women of the World.”

She looked from face to face, then calmly added, “Have I summarized your concerns adequately?”

“Yes,” several women murmured. Others nodded, carefully. She saw fear in the eyes of some, perplexed curiosity in the eyes of others, and hard, almost disapproving stares from two—Kaiulani Maheha and Bobbi Torrence, who sat next to one another. Kaiulani, a large Hawaiian woman, had always been an ally of Dixie Lou in the past, the reason she had been included in the evacuation list from Monte Konos. But Bobbi Torrence, shorter and heavyset, had only swung over to Dixie Lou’s side under duress, because of the kidnapping and sedition charges against her niece. These councilwomen would bear close scrutiny.

“I think you’re afraid I’ve slipped a bit off course,” the Chairwoman said.

“Oh no,” the councilwomen said, almost in unison.

“We realize you are following a carefully considered plan,” Kaiulani said. “It’s just that we don’t understand what it is.”

“Yes,” Bobbi agreed. “Is it true you may have located the actual twelfth she-apostle?”

The black woman’s eyelids narrowed dangerously. “Time will tell. The mother hasn’t brought her in yet.”

“But what good will she do us if she proves to be authentic?” Bobbi asked, “since Lori has the other—” Her words trailed away as she seemed to think better of questioning her superior.

“I don’t have to answer that,” Dixie Lou said. In her own mind, she didn’t know what she would do with Martha of Galilee if the two of them ever came face to face. She only knew that she wanted to know what the little brat had to say. She
had
to know.

“Do you plan to use her for more leverage?” Kaiulani asked, her voice tremulous.

“Perhaps,” Dixie Lou said, nodding. “Let me assure all of you. I have not slipped off course, and at the proper time I will explain everything to you.”

“Yes, Chairwoman,” several women said.

Privately, Dixie Lou felt the weight of these concerns, and many more. She stood up, and carrying the papal scepter and the sword, she marched from the room.

* * *

Late in the afternoon . . .

Deborah Marvel stirred her gin and tonic, took a thoughtful sip. It was strong, but she preferred it that way. Some of the other councilwomen in the room were beginning to show the loosening effects of alcohol from their after-dinner drinks,: letting down inhibitions, talking more. In Deborah’s private apartment an open bar had been set up, and all of the remaining councilwomen were present: ten, including her.

“As you know,” she began, raising her voice, “Dixie Lou doesn’t know about our little side-session, but there’s nothing wrong with it under the UWW Charter.”

“Can we discuss her—mmm—behavior?” Bobbi Torrence inquired. She gulped her drink, glanced around like a nervous bird watching for a predator. “That incident this morning with the holy scepter was really bizarre. Ordering jewels removed from a sacred relic?”

“That’s one of the topics,” Deborah said, thus far concealing her own opposition to what the Chairwoman had done. “Checks and balances, remember?” This was a complaint she had expected to hear, the reason she’d called the side-session. Some of the councilwomen had been acting edgy in recent days, and she needed to deal with the situation, needed to cut the tension before it erupted. Dixie Lou would want to keep the tensions under control.