James Acton 03 - Broken Dove (14 page)

Laura, without looking, gave Acton a quick elbow. “And you said your Latin was a little rough.”

Acton didn’t respond. His heart was pounding as Laura’s finger moved the mouse pointer to the second directory. A quick double-tap and they were inside. This contained what appeared to be almost a dozen files. She opened the first translation file. Acton closed his eyes for a moment.

“It’s an inventory,” whispered Laura.

He opened his eyes and read the first entry, it almost meaningless. “Open the scanned image.”

Laura complied, and Acton pointed. “Look, much of the upper half of this page is missing, no wonder the text is gibberish. Whoever translated this had almost nothing to work with.”

“What if what we’re looking for is in a destroyed piece?”

“Then we’re SOL. For now, let’s just see what we find.”

They read through page after page, much of the oldest pages in poor shape with entire portions missing. As they read through the list, each would comment, point, gasp, or otherwise express surprise at various entries. Most proved dull, most simply texts that were considered heretical, others references to objects seized with demonic powers assumed. But it was the descriptions that shook them both. Why each was seized, why each was considered heretical. The descriptions in some cases were terrifying, and Acton prayed that they were interpretations of things today’s science could easily explain. But some, he could find no reasonable explanation for. His mouth was dry, and every muscle in his body was taught, on edge, as if at any moment something might jump from the shadows of the darkening room.

Laura opened the next page and gasped. “Look!” She pointed to the first entry. “Gospel of Mary.”

They both looked at each other in triumph.

“It exists!”

Papal Offices

Apostolic Palace, The Vatican

Laura yawned, and Acton mirrored her. They gave each other a knowing smile, Acton’s empathy statement from early on in their relationship flashing through his mind.
If I stop yawning when you yawn, then you’ll know I don’t love you anymore.
The few times he had loved in his life, and they were rare, he had always known when it was over. He wasn’t petty enough to break up with a woman because of a missed yawn, but if he noticed himself not yawning when she did, he began to analyze their relationship, and would always come to the conclusion that he had fallen out of love with the person, and worse, had fallen out of caring.

But sometimes it was them. If he noticed them not yawning when he did, he would discover they had fallen out of love with him. He paused for a moment.
Which has happened more?
If he thought about it, the latter probably. He was a hard man to love. It was a lot to ask of a woman to put up with his gallivanting around the globe for weeks and more often months at a time. And where his dig sites usually were, it wasn’t like regular communications were easy. Sometimes he’d go days, even weeks, without talking to his latest partner. And more often than not, he’d find an icy reception on the other end of the line.

The few who had put up with it, long enough to form a bond and fall in love, usually demanded he change eventually.
How can we make plans if you’re never here?
Indeed, how. Which was why he had given up on long term relationships, especially in his thirties. Women in their thirties deserved to be in a relationship with a man who there was a future with. They wanted to set down roots, have a family, have a normal life with a husband who was there when they needed him. And he could never be that.

But Laura. She was in her mid-thirties, and he had fallen hard for her, and she for him. He was early forties, in the best shape of his life, or at least he told himself that, and here he was, with a woman in an age bracket he had said he would never date again. And madly in love. It had been well over a year, and their relationship continued to grow stronger, and he felt this could be the one.
Marriage?
He had never thought it would be for him. Then again, he never thought he’d meet himself with breasts. They were so much alike they understood each other. Understood the job. The sacrifices. And thrived on them.

He reached over and kissed her. Not a passionate kiss, just a long, lingering, gentle kiss. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear.

“I know,” she whispered back, squeezing the nape of his neck gently.

They sat there quietly for a moment, neither smiling, simply comforting each other as they contemplated the horrors they had just read. Acton broke the embrace with a forced smile, pointing at the screen. “Last directory.”

Laura held his gaze for another moment, then nodded. She opened the directory, and they were surprised to find only a single file. She opened the image, and a map popped up on the screen, showing a set of chambers, and an X in one of them. At the bottom of the page was a diagram of the room, with a piece of furniture the focus, with doors wide open. A note, in Latin, was written beside it.

“Enter wardrobe, close door, push up second hook from the left,” said Acton.

“It must be the entrance to where all of this is hidden!”

“Must be.” He pointed at the image. “Email this to our phones.”

A few taps of the keys and the image was emailed. Both of their phones beeped moments later.

“Do you think we should copy this CD?” asked Laura.

Acton shook his head. “No. We were entrusted to keep its secrets, and after seeing that list, I can see why. There’s things in there that still have the hair on the back of my neck at attention.”

Laura squeezed his hand. “I’m glad it’s not just me.” She lowered her voice. “James, I’m scared. What we just read, what we just saw. We weren’t meant to see.”

Acton nodded. “Not like that. These are things that should be discovered over centuries, one at a time. What we’ve just learned, all in a few hours, is too much for anyone.”

“Can you imagine what the Popes must go through? There is so much in there that is evil, and so much that questions the doctrines they were just appointed to enforce. It must be overwhelming.”

“Changed men.”

Laura nodded. “Now I see why.”

Acton pointed at the laptop. “Let’s put everything back where we found it.”

Laura ejected the CD and put it back in its case as Acton returned the stone tablet and wood insert overtop the scrolls. Laura placed the CD on top, and Acton closed the lid, the click of the lock ending their journey through the past—for now. Acton knew they would be experiencing the real thing, most likely before this night was through.

Papal Offices Antechamber

Apostolic Palace, The Vatican

Acton and Laura emerged from the Papal Offices shaken. Acton had his tool kit wrapped, held tightly in one hand; Laura had the laptop shouldered in its case. Neither said a word. Father Morris rose as they cleared the doors, his face drawn, looking as tired as Acton felt. Except for the eyes. The eyes, slightly wide, looked scared.

“Are you done?”

Acton nodded.

“And the chest…”

Acton knew what he was asking. He didn’t want to see inside. “Is as it was.”

Father Morris smiled slightly, conveying his thanks. He picked up his phone and was about to dial when he stopped. “You must not reveal anything of what you saw.”

Acton came to a halt at the outer doors, meeting Father Morris’ stare. “No more than what is absolutely necessary. Trust me.”

The priest held Acton’s gaze for several moments, then, as if deciding they could be trusted, turned his attention to the phone. As Acton and Laura left the room, the priest could be heard requesting four guardsmen be sent.

They made their way through the twisting corridors, trying to retrace their steps from memory, supplemented with the occasional request for directions from a passing resident, and soon found themselves at the Security Office. Entering, Giasson and Reading both turned and waved for them to come through. The woman manning the inner entrance was about to ask them their business when she saw Acton’s finger point to Giasson’s glassed office. She nodded and pressed the button under her desk to open the half door keeping the riff raff out.

Acton held the door to Giasson’s office open for Laura, then closed it behind them. They sat down in their former chairs, not saying anything. Giasson seemed to be avoiding eye contact, as if nervous at what they might say, but Reading was having none of that. He looked at Giasson, then Laura, then Acton.

“Well?”

Acton looked at Laura who nodded with a slight pursing of the lips. He sucked in a lungful of air and slowly exhaled.
What do I tell them?
He knew the secrets they had read over the past several hours were never meant to be seen. He looked at Giasson. He was staring at Acton, his eyes wide, cheeks flushed, as if terrified at what he was about to hear. Reading seemed eager, as if ready to consume a Murdoch tabloid containing the latest sex scandal.
Tell them only what they need to know.

He shifted in his chair.

“Well, we made a commitment to only reveal what was necessary.” He looked from man to man. “Are we still agreed upon that.”

“Definitely,” said Giasson, a little quicker and louder than he may have intended. He leaned back in his chair and mopped the perspiration off his scalp with a handkerchief. “Nothing more,” he added, this time quieter.

“But nothing less,” said Reading. He turned to Acton, clearly exasperated. “Come on, man, what did you find?”

Acton leaned forward, as did the room. “First, the Gospel of Mary is real.”

Giasson gasped and made a sign of the cross. He looked out at the bull pit and jumped from his seat. Acton’s eyes darted to follow and he saw the entire room of security personnel turn back to their desks as Giasson closed the blinds. Returning to his desk, he frowned slightly. “I think everybody knows you saw the chest.”

“But I didn’t think anybody knew about the chest.”

“They do now, it would seem.” He sat back down and leaned forward, elbows on the desk, chin resting on top of his interlaced fingers. He closed his eyes. “How do you know the Gospel of Mary is real?”

“Well, the chest contains an inventory.”

“A what?” Reading was almost beside himself. “An inventory? I thought this was supposed to be some message from God, or something important like that?” He took a deep breath and looked at Giasson’s horrified expression. Reading calmed himself by slowly exhaling. “So, what was in this inventory?” he asked, his voice almost that of a school teacher asking what was in a note just passed secretly.

“It was a list of items collected over the past thousand plus years that might harm the Church,” explained Laura. “Writings, artifacts…” Her voice faded, her eyes clouding over. Acton felt it too. As he thought of the list, of what was on it, he shivered. “Things man weren’t meant to know,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Acton pulled his chair closer to hers and placed his arm over her shoulders, drawing her in. He felt her chest heaving as tears silently rolled down her face.

Reading leaned forward and gently squeezed her leg. “What was in there that was so bad?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

Acton shook his head. “The problem wasn’t necessarily what was in there, although there was some mighty disturbing stuff. It was the sheer volume. If you encountered these items, if you were made aware of these things, one a year perhaps, then fine—your psyche has time to adapt. But we were just exposed to almost two thousand years’ worth in just a few hours.” He found his own voice cracking. “It’s too much. Just too much to think about.” He raised his eyes and met Reading’s. “You don’t want to know what we just read. Not if you believe in God.”

Reading leaned back in his chair. “Are you saying it would make me question my beliefs?”

Acton nodded his head. “Yes, but not in the way you’re thinking.”

Reading scrunched his eyes, deep lines creasing his forehead. “What do you mean?”

A tear rolled down Acton’s cheek, unnoticed. “You’ll believe, you’ll believe in God. But you’ll also believe in something else.”

“What?”

Laura’s head lifted off Acton’s shoulder as she turned to Reading.

“Evil.”

Corpo della Gendarmeria Office

Palazzo del Governatorato, Vatican City

The hair on the back of Acton’s neck stood up.
Evil.
And that
was
it. He had been trying to figure out the common thread through most of what they had read. It was obvious the items were things the Church felt threatened their doctrine. But it was more. And with Laura’s one word, he knew what the purpose of this hidden archive was. It wasn’t to protect the Church from blasphemy. It was to protect the Church, to protect mankind, from evil. As he had read the list of items, and their descriptions, it was obvious these items were considered a danger. But it wasn’t until Laura had said that one word that he realized why he had been on edge for the past several hours.

He believed.

He had always known there were evil people in the world. Hitler, Stalin, Khan, bin Laden. History was riddled with them. But the hundreds if not thousands of items he had just been exposed to were not people, but physical objects. Reading what they were believed to have done, or believed capable of, had shaken him to the core, and now that he realized why, that he now, truly, believed in evil, shook him further.

“Evil?” asked Reading, his tone doubtful, but still quiet out of respect for Laura.

Acton nodded. “Evil.” He stroked Laura’s hair. “I don’t know how to explain it, Hugh, but for the first time in my life, I believe in true evil. Perhaps in time it’ll fade, but right now, I’ve never been so uneasy in my life. It’s as if a force, a presence, I had never known was there, is all around us.”

Laura gasped for air and continued her sobbing. Giasson rose, grabbing a box of tissues and rounded his desk. He held the box out for her. “Professor?” She looked up then reached out, pulling several tissues from the box and setting herself straight in the chair. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes. Giasson put the box on a side table between Laura and Reading, then picked up the small garbage can near the door and held it out for Laura to put her used tissues in. He placed the can under the small table, returned to his desk and picked up a book. He made the sign of the cross and turned to face Laura. “Mademoiselle, when I need comfort, I always find it in this.” He held out the leather tome with both hands, an offering from a spiritual man, to the non, the only thing a man in his position could offer, something he felt she needed, and judging from the trembling of his hands, and his tear filled eyes, something
he
definitely needed.