The Book of Q (59 page)

“So Ruini found the scroll, and you killed him.”

“Von Neurath’s people did that. We knew they would. It’s why I was sent. To bring you in.” Another long breath. “I suppose, for a time, he thought I might be able to handle it on my own. But then I didn’t have
the training for the scrolls that you did. Plus, there was always the outside chance von Neurath might be able to link me with Blaney. Your connection was far more remote. We knew it would take them at least a week to discover it. By then, you’d be back. Or dead.” He turned back to the window. “At least now I never have to hear about baseball again.”

“The sacrifices we make,” said Pearse.

“Yes.”

Unable to look at the smirk any longer, he stood. “So Blaney went through all of this just to keep von Neurath in line?”

“He did it to make sure that the power of Mani’s Word would remain pure.”

“Purity at its finest.”

Cesare waited. “I’m surprised. I’d have thought after reading the ‘Hodoporia,’ you’d be less hostile. You really think we’re some group of fanatics, don’t you? I find that very … odd.”

“Why should I think that?” he said, turning to Cesare, his tone now matching the monk’s apparent indifference. “The church bombings, the Vatican, the bank, the hysteria over Islamic fundamentalism. Am I missing anything? Oh, and of course the one true and holy church for the initiated. Do we all get to be Manichaeans now, guided by those of you with the gnosis? No, that doesn’t sound like fanaticism at all, does it, Dante?”

“Ten million Manichaeans is more than enough.”

“Impressive.”

“We’ve no interest in converting the masses.”

“Just leading them around by their noses.”

Something seemed to change in Cesare. He turned to Pearse, a decided contempt in his eyes. “Unlike the Catholic church, Father?” He didn’t wait for a response. “What if I told you we’ve got child-welfare initiatives, drug-abuse programs, planned-parenting centers, all set up by the hundreds, both here in Europe and in the States? Would you think differently? We’re simply removing the darkness to free the light. In the abstract, I suppose it does sound like fanaticism. But not when it has a practical face to it. We’ve pumped millions of dollars into those areas and others so as to establish the base we need to put our cells to proper use. The Catholic church isn’t capable of making that kind of difference now. You’re an outdated and impotent monolith. You won’t even go near half those areas because of ancient doctrine. Well, we’re going into them and doing something about it. Fifteen hundred years ago, we
wanted to destroy you because of the corruption of certain theological truths. Now, we simply want to put you out of your misery, turn the church into something that has real power, and that can make the world whole again.”

“Those are two very different objectives.”

“Not if you understand what we’re trying to do.”

“You mean like creating raw panic? I guess there’s nothing more practical than that. I’m not sure that’s what the ‘Hodoporia’ has in mind.”

“I agree. And it’s not what we have in mind, either.”

“Not from what I’ve seen.”

Cesare seemed ready to press on. Instead, he stopped. The lazy smile reappeared. His gaze drifted out the window. “That will all be corrected.”

“Oh.” Pearse nodded. “I get it. Blaney’s the good Manichaean with all the programs. It’s von Neurath who’s been the rogue all along.” When Cesare didn’t answer, Pearse continued. “You really expect me to believe that Blaney had no idea what von Neurath was doing? Do
you
actually believe that? Unless I’ve missed something, you need to eliminate every other church out there before your true and holy one can make its appearance. Which means von Neurath is every bit the committed Manichaean Blaney is, and every bit as crucial. Maybe more so. Blaney needs this violence and hysteria just as much as von Neurath does.”

Cesare looked again at Pearse. “He needs the ‘Hodoporia’ for the reason you’ve just pointed out. Are you that dense that you think there haven’t been Manichaean Popes before now? Benedict the Ninth, Celestine the Fifth—but they were as devoted to the ‘Hodoporia’ as we are. And not just to its destructive force as von Neurath is. They refused to do anything—in fact, they knew they
couldn’t
do anything—because the promise of the ‘Hodoporia’ isn’t just about destruction. It’s about rebirth. You more than anyone know that it explains what the unity is meant to look like beyond the corrupted church. Without the ‘Hodoporia’ and its full promise, those Popes had no choice but to keep their power in check while they served a corrupted church. A man like von Neurath doesn’t understand that.”

“Really? Or maybe those Popes realized the greater paradox. That in order to achieve the triumph here on earth—your one pure church—they had to unleash a darkness that would have tainted any consequent light, no matter how pure. Blaney’s just convinced himself that the ‘Hodoporia’ can rise above that. How convenient.”

Cesare had lost the smile. “You really didn’t understand it at all, did you?”

“I guess not.”

Silence. Cesare again turned to the window. “Well, then, you’ve missed your opportunity now that Blaney has it.”

“Oh, he doesn’t have it.”

Pearse thought he saw the slightest crack in Cesare’s expression. Just as quickly, the monk regained his composure.

“Then he will soon enough.” He slowly turned to Pearse. “How’s the boy? I meant to ask. He has such a good mind for the prayers.”

The two men stared at each other. Cesare then returned his gaze to the window. “Such a lovely little soprano.”

Pearse stood there, his eyes fixed on Cesare. Once again, he felt a rush of violence. With every ounce of restraint he had, he slowly turned and headed for the door.

“Good-bye, Ian.”

Half a minute later, Pearse watched Angeli rise from her chair as he walked back into the library. “Well?” she said.

Pearse said nothing as he moved toward them.

Angeli sensed something. “What is it, Ian?”

“Did he tell you anything?” asked Peretti, once again seated behind the desk.

Pearse drew up to them. He continued to hold Peretti’s gaze. Finally, he spoke. “I can’t give you the scroll.”

The cardinal leaned forward. “You have to believe me that we’re not involved—”

“That’s not the reason,” said Pearse.

“Then it’s the scroll itself, isn’t it?” said Angeli. Pearse started to shake his head, but she was already taking off. “I knew it. What’s in there, Ian?” The glint was back. “Why all the fuss?”

He started to explain; again she pressed.

“What have they been hiding all these years?”

Pearse saw the anticipation in her eyes. He knew she wouldn’t let it go. Very quietly, he finally said, “Q.”

“Q!” Her knees nearly buckled. “You mean to say it’s … Of course.”

Ten minutes later, she was pacing the middle of the room, a cigarette in one hand, waving wildly as she spoke. “That’s remarkable. Unbelievable. The Resurrection bits alone …” She stopped and looked at the two of
them. “No wonder the Manichaeans wanted to get their hands on it. Out with the old church, in with the new. It’s perfect. This whole Islam business finally makes sense.”

Angeli’s enthusiasm was having a very different effect on Peretti. The lines on his face seemed to deepen as he spoke. “Something like that would be dangerous in anyone’s hands. I can understand your hesitation.”

“No, you can’t,” said Pearse, now seated in the lip of the desk. Again, with no emotion in his voice, he said, “I’m giving it to Blaney.”

“What?” Angeli blurted out. “Giving it to … If those passages are in there—”

“I know,” said Pearse. “I don’t have a choice.”

“I’m afraid it’s not your choice to make,” said Peretti.

“I think it is.” Pearse waited before continuing. “My son’s life depends on it.”

The room fell silent.

After several uncomfortable moments Angeli said, “I … had no idea.”

“Neither did I,” said Pearse, again no emotion.

“How did—”

“In Bosnia, during the war. Before I took the cloth.”

After a long silence, Peretti finally spoke. “So you never knew about the boy?”

Pearse shook his head.

“But why would Blaney have him?”

“Because he’s known about him from the beginning. He made sure that he was raised as a Manichaean. And then made equally certain that I never found out. Probably with this very moment in mind.” Pearse waited, then said, “He has the mother, as well.” He saw the look in Peretti’s eyes. “No. She’s not one of them. She was as much in the dark as I was.”

“You’re certain of that?” he asked. Pearse continued to stare at him. Peretti nodded. “I’m not sure that changes anything.”

“I think it does,” said Pearse. “I have the scroll.”

“You can’t be serious,” said Peretti.

Pearse stared back at him.

“Actually … I think he can,” said Angeli. It was clear her wheels were spinning. “You say the scroll is unambiguous about the Resurrection business?” Pearse nodded. “But you also say it’s equally clear on individual
responsibility, autonomy, and women?” Again, he nodded. She looked at Peretti. “That could be very helpful to the church right now, Eminence.”

“Where are you going with this, Professor?”

“I think that’s pretty clear, isn’t it?”

Peretti shook his head. “No. You can’t have one without the other.”

“Why not?” she said.

“You can’t simply write out the things you don’t like.”

“Why?” It was Pearse who now asked.

“‘Why?’” Peretti seemed surprised that it was Pearse who had asked. “Because, Father, we’re talking about the Holy Word of Christ. You can’t overlook that.”

“The Gospel writers did,” said Pearse. “They had Q and chose to take what they wanted from it.” He waited. “Maybe that’s what the church needs now in order to survive in the next millennium. Another dose of selective editing.”

Peretti stared at him for a moment. “From what the professor tells me, Father, you’re the last person I would have expected to hear that from.”

“Things change.” Pearse waited. “Look, my own reasons for you to do this aside, without those forty lines of Resurrection text, you’d have a very powerful document, something to take us beyond the brick wall we’ve all been running into since Vatican Two. Modernize the church without losing touch with the Christ we’ve always known. Q might just be the answer.”

“It’s the Word of
Christ
.” Peretti let the phrase settle. “I can’t permit that. And neither can you. You know that.”

Angeli jumped in. “I’ve worked with hundreds of scrolls, Eminence. None I’ve seen has ever come close to the one he’s describing. We’re lucky if we find a few strands of parchment here and there. The fact that this one hasn’t disintegrated makes it seem almost … unreal. You might have to lose a few bits just to make sure it looks authentic.” She stopped him before he could respond. “All right, I’m being a little facetious, but you do understand the point. It might be the one time when you can have your liturgical cake and eat it, too.”

Peretti slowly began to shake his head. “It would raise too many problems with the canon, even from the little you’ve said. The Eucharist is the liturgy. A document like that would have to confirm its pivotal role.”

“Not if those were the sections that were missing,” she answered. “I have a rather nice reputation when it comes to filling in gaps in scrolls
like this. As long as the incisions are made with a bit of finesse, I don’t think it would be all that difficult to leave the right sorts of holes, ones that would clearly imply the existence of whatever liturgy you felt was essential.”

Peretti thought for a moment; again he shook his head. “What you’re asking—”

“What other options do you have?” said Pearse. “Keep it hidden? Who would be overlooking the Word of Christ, then?”

From Peretti’s expression, Pearse had hit a nerve.

“You’re both missing the point,” said Angeli. “Without the Resurrection passages, Q would be the very thing to pull the rug out from under the Manichaeans.” She had retrieved her cigarette and was taking two quick puffs before crushing it out in the ashtray. “Q is their grail, correct? It’s at the core of everything they believe in. I assume Blaney and this monk believe in it that strongly, too?”

Pearse thought for a moment, then nodded.

“Well, here you have a chance to tarnish the grail and place it in their hands. Show them that it’s no threat to the church, that it would actually strengthen her. A thousand years searching for it, and their one great hope turns out to be an empty promise. Whose foundations would be shaken then?”

“Somehow, I don’t think Erich von Neurath needs a grail to sate his ambition,” said Peretti.

“Fine,” said Pearse, an ultimatum in his tone. “Then it goes to Blaney, as is.”

Again, Peretti waited before answering. “You know I can’t let you do that.”

Pearse looked directly into his eyes. “Then you have a problem. Because if I don’t pick it up by tonight, it goes to Blaney anyway. Instructions in the package. It seemed the logical choice at the time.”

Peretti continued to stare at Pearse. “You really think Blaney would make that exchange and then let you go?”

“Yes.” No hesitation. “He owes me that much. And he knows it.”

Peretti was about to answer, when the phone rang. He picked up.

“Yes.” For several seconds, he listened intently, unable to mask a moment of surprise. “We’re sure on this?” Several nods. “Do we know who she is? … All right, fine … good.” Still listening, he looked across at Pearse as he spoke into the phone. “No, I think we can do better than
that. Wait for my call.” He hung up. Finally, he said, “Von Neurath is dead.” Slowly, he shifted his gaze to Angeli. “How long would you need to … revise the scroll?”

She thought for a moment, then said, “I don’t know. Two, three hours. It depends on the—”

“Then do it.” He looked at Pearse. “When you’re done, you’ll call Blaney. By then, I’ll know where I want you to make the exchange. Acceptable, Father?”

Pearse simply nodded.