God's Lions - House of Acerbi (23 page)

“Good morning, Leo,” Nava said. “Sleep well?”

“Not really.”

“Neither did we.”

Leo poured a cup of coffee as he looked out at all the seemingly empty boats rising up and down in the gentle swell of the harbor. Peering inside the main salon, he saw several of the yacht’s crewmembers gathered around a TV. News of the hit-and-run epidemics, as they were now being called, was being broadcast on every television network in the world. Even the sports channels had switched to running bulletins about the evolving plague since all large sporting events had been cancelled.

People in every nation on earth were waiting to see when and where the pathogen would strike next. It was like trying to look for a tsunami headed toward the shoreline, but like the virus, the submerged mountain of water was invisible as it ran just beneath the surface at the speed of a jet aircraft.

The sound of a boat racing across the water caused Leo to look up. Heading toward them, he saw one of the Carmela’s speedboats slicing through the calm blue water of the harbor just before the driver pulled back on the throttles and let the boat glide up next to the yacht’s boarding stairs.

Walking to the railing, he could hear the throaty idle of the boat’s powerful engine as the driver watched the rise and fall of the water to time his final approach to the yacht’s teak wood boarding platform suspended at the bottom of the stairs just above the waterline. After all three of his passengers had safely made the jump, they stared up at the gleaming white superstructure before climbing the swaying stairway to the main deck.

Javier Mendoza flashed a toothy grin when he stepped on the main deck and spotted Leo. “Ah, Cardinal. I knew it would be you who would call us. From the sound of your voice on the phone, I could tell you needed some good Spanish wine.”

As the two men shook hands, Leo noticed a crewmember struggling up the stairs with what appeared to be a case of rare Palo Cortado Sherry. Behind him, a strikingly beautiful woman stepped onto the main deck, followed by an older, heavyset man wearing a loose-fitting, Hawaiian-print shirt.

“I see you’ve brought some new faces with you, Javier.”

“Yes. My new colleagues are more suited to the job at hand. Also, since we don’t know where the pathogen will strike next, we took a vote and decided only volunteers should join your little expedition. I believe you will be very impressed when you see their resumes.”

Leo looked at the heavyset man in the colorful shirt. With long but thinning white hair and a short-cropped moustache, the out-of-breath man resembled the famous newsman, Walter Cronkite.

Standing next to him was a stunning woman that fit the cliché description of a raven-haired beauty. She had the kind of looks that made men stop whatever they were doing so that they could stare shamelessly at her when she passed. They stared even when they were with other women, because the women who were with them also stared.

“Please, allow me to introduce two very talented scientists who have very generously volunteered their time to be here. This is Dr. Evita Vargas. She specializes in epidemiology and statistics.”

“Pleased to meet you, Dr. Vargas,” Leo said, trying consciously to keep his eyes focused above her shoulders.

“Likewise, Cardinal.” Her lips were perfect and her eyes positively sparkled when she looked at him. “I look forward to working with you, Your Eminence.”

“And I you. Please, call me Leo.”

“And this is my good friend, Dr. Raul Diaz,” Mendoza continued. “Dr. Diaz is a world-class molecular biologist and heads the genetics research program at the University of Madrid.”

“I read a magazine article about you last year, Cardinal,” Diaz said. “They called you
God’s Commando
.”

Leo smiled. “I only indulge in spiritual combat, Doctor.”

“We’ve heard the situation in Pakistan has eased somewhat,” Mendoza said, clearing his throat. “It seems the pathogen is dying out more quickly than it did in New York or Italy..”

“We’ve heard ... very puzzling.” Leo noticed the new arrivals’ eyes had taken on a look of awe as they looked around the gigantic yacht. “Why don’t you let me show you to your rooms? We’ll be putting to sea soon.”

Diaz looked surprised. “Putting to sea? I thought we’d be working from the boat here in the harbor.”

“We thought it would be a good idea to put some distance between us and any population centers for the time being. After you’ve all settled in, we’ll introduce you to the rest of the team.”

The Spanish scientists all exchanged glances before shouldering their backpacks and following Leo and Ariella down below decks to their rooms. When they had stowed their gear, Leo introduced them to Lev, who immediately began showing them around the yacht.

Built in Holland in 2002, the boat was immaculate. Painted white, the brilliant superstructure contrasted sharply with a dark blue hull highlighted with two gold stripes that ran the entire two-hundred-thirty-foot length of the yacht just below the main deck.

Lev began the tour in the wood-paneled hallway just below the main deck. Antique brass lamps gave off a soft yellow glow and provided a fitting ambiance for Lev’s collection of classic oil paintings of sailing ships at sea. This region of the yacht was reserved for guests and contained twelve staterooms, all superbly decorated with their own private baths.

To the rear of the guest’s quarters, a large, garage-like space held some of Lev’s favorite water toys. A wall full of scuba diving gear provided a backdrop to the two speedboats and several jet skis stowed in front of a large hydraulic door that could be lowered down to the surface of the water at the stern of the yacht.

Climbing up a set of narrow stairs at the end of the passageway, they found themselves standing on the main deck. This was the area that served as the focal point for most of the socializing that occurred onboard the yacht. The first half of the deck just outside the grand salon included a seating area and bar that was covered with a blue-and-white-striped canvas awning, while the back area of the deck along the stern railing was left open to the sky so that guests could sit under the sun or the stars and sip their drinks as they watched the yacht’s wake recede into the blue-on-blue horizon.

Moving through thick glass doors into the formal grand salon, they encountered an elegant space filled with antiques and museum quality artwork. They marveled at the blue marble floor that caught the reflection of a white grand piano as they continued forward into a large dining room next to a fully equipped gourmet kitchen large enough for a team of chefs to prepare a dinner for at least fifty guests.

Beyond the dining room was a small foyer that held the yacht’s main stairwell beneath a round stained glass skylight. Three flights of stairs followed a circular wall of carved mahogany panels crafted by some of the finest wood workers in the ship building industry. Climbing the stairs to the second deck, they stepped out into the more informal atmosphere of the mid-deck salon. This was the acknowledged party room on the boat and resembled a hotel bar.

Furnished with several cozy, red leather booths facing a cherry-wood bar topped in black granite, two flat-screen TVs above the bar were linked to one of the yacht’s many satellite dishes so guests could watch sporting events from all over the world. The aft portion of the salon held a spacious seating area surrounded by large horizontal windows that ran the entire length of the space, giving it a bright and airy feel. Again, thick, oversized glass doors opened outside onto a covered deck furnished with several tables and built-in bench seating that followed the curvature of the railing.

Reentering the salon, they continued up the stairwell to the bridge, where the captain gave them a brief demonstration of his state-of-the-art navigational equipment before Lev led them out to the top deck and showed them the yacht’s small blue chopper with the name
Little Carmela
stenciled in gold below the pilot’s window.

“Amazing,” Mendoza whispered to Leo. “This boat has it all. Your friend Lev must be a very wealthy man.”

“He is, but I’ve never seen a man put his money to better use. There are a lot of people who own their own homes and have college educations due to his generosity.”

They watched as Lev headed back toward the bridge. “Come on, Javier. I think the professor has one more thing he wants to show all of you ... something most outsiders never see.”

After following Lev down a narrow hallway behind the bridge, they were ushered into the yacht’s command center.

Standing inside the darkened room, all three scientists stared open-mouthed at their high-tech surroundings.

“If I didn’t know better, I would think I was standing in the combat information center on a warship,” Mendoza said. “I was in the Spanish Navy when I was younger.”

“Well then,” Lev said, “you should feel right at home in here, Doctor. I hope you haven’t lost your sea legs.”

“No, but I’m afraid Dr. Diaz has never been onboard a boat of any kind before.” Looking behind him, Mendoza noticed that Dr. Diaz was no longer with them. Evita Vargas smiled and pointed to one of the consoles. Sitting in front of one of the computer monitors, Diaz was totally absorbed by a glowing green image of the pathogen that was displayed on the screen before him.

“You’ll have to excuse Dr. Diaz,” Mendoza said. “I’m afraid he’s not much on social graces.”

“Is this the pathogen?” Diaz asked, his question thrown to the air and aimed at no one in particular.

“Yes, it is,” Lev said, glancing around the room. The fact that they possessed an image of the pathogen had not yet been discussed with the new Spanish members of the team. Normally, this would have been considered a serious breach of security, but in this case time was of the essence and soon it would become necessary for the Bible Code Team to share everything they had learned about the virus with their new Spanish friends.

“We just received that image this morning. Have you ever seen anything like it before, Dr. Diaz?” Lev asked.

Diaz looked shaken. “Uh ... no ... no I haven’t.”

Lev shrugged as he watched Evita pull a pair of thick, black-framed glasses from her purse and take a seat next to the heavyset Spanish scientist. Looking back over her shoulder, she smiled at Lev. “Nice yacht.”

“I’m glad you like her.”

Watching her, Lev thought how much she reminded him of his late wife—beautiful, yet down to earth and all business when it came to getting things done.
If only Carmela could be standing here with him now
. A knot formed in his stomach. Some days were better than others, but even after all this time, she was constantly in his thoughts.

A slight shudder beneath his feet signaled the start-up of the twin turbines in the engine room below. Ten minutes later, the big yacht began easing out of the harbor.

A pod of dolphins took turns surfing the crest of a wave created by the Carmela’s bow as it sliced through the sparkling blue water of the Mediterranean Sea. In an effort to avoid coming into contact with the virus, the team had decided that the yacht should remain at sea, sailing just off the French coast.

It was noontime, and lunch was being served outside on the main deck. All the major players had gathered at a long table lined with pitchers full of iced tea nestled between baskets full of freshly baked bread and heaping platters piled high with grilled fish and vegetables.

“For the benefit of our new team members, I think this would be a good time to go over everything,” Leo said.

The others nodded their approval.

“What have we learned so far about the Acerbi Corporation?”

“Well, we were able to do a computer analysis on the napkins found at the crash site,” Lev said. “As we suspected, the Acerbi Corporation’s logo is an exact match with the painting on the chapel wall. To me, this is the most puzzling connection to date. The images we found at the chapel last year portrayed actual events that came to pass ... but this ... it’s an enigma. There’s the biohazard sign, which by itself is significant, but nothing to connect it to a specific event. We believe it’s a general warning. I did some checking, and the Acerbi Corporation is a multi-national conglomerate begun after World War II by a man named Eduardo Acerbi. His son, Rene, now runs the company and is one of the richest men in the world. Agriculture is only one of many divisions within the company. They also have oil, pharmaceutical, chemical, and green technology divisions.”

“The aircraft that crashed in Spain belonged to the corporation,” Alon added. “It was registered in France. I called Morelli this morning, and he said that Cardinal Orsini often accepted rides on corporate jets, but he seemed to favor the Acerbi Corporation for some reason.”

“Their agricultural division houses one of the largest genetics research labs in the world,” Lev continued. “Have you ever heard of them, Dr. Diaz?”

All heads at the table swiveled toward the molecular biologist. “Yes. Anyone in the field of genetics has heard of the Acerbi labs. They have labs outside Washington D.C., as well as in France and Switzerland. They also donate huge sums of money to various political entities on both sides of the Atlantic. Because of all the controversy that seems to surround any form of genetic engineering, they employ a dozen lobbyists to patrol the halls of Capitol Hill in Washington. It’s been estimated that most of the wheat in the world is now grown from genetically altered seed that’s been developed in their labs.”

“Are they capable of altering anything other than plants?” Leo asked.

“Of course.” Diaz set his cup of coffee on the table and leaned forward. “Genetic engineering is a wide-open field. Basically, any human modification of an organism’s genetic material that does not occur in nature is genetic engineering. The technique involves the manipulation of recombinant DNA instead of the traditional way in which animals and plants reproduce. The first organisms to be genetically engineered were bacteria in 1972.”

“What about viruses?” Mendoza asked, casting a sideways glance at Leo.

“Yes, viruses have also been altered. Just recently a virus was genetically modified to produce a more environmentally friendly lithium-ion battery by a division of the Acerbi Corporation in Switzerland.”