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Authors: Thore D. Hansen

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BOOK: The Celtic Conspiracy
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Adam was filled with passion. He’d spoken without pausing, not even stopping to take a breath.

Jennifer remained calm. “I understand that, Adam. And I admire it. Yes, I’ll take legal action. That’s my job, that’s what I’ve learned. It’s just my way of bringing things into balance.”

Adam laughed softly. “Yes, I know that, and that’s the way it should be. But it’s just not everything. The parchments prove what the Druids were aiming for, and it’s my goal to show the world what that is. That is my way, and for me it’s ultimately more important than the attempt to sentence those who have betrayed our original culture.”

Deborah felt the need to interject. “As fascinating as this conversation is, can I remind you that we have to plan a little, insignificant...
break-in
before tomorrow night?”

Jennifer put up a hand. “It’s better if I don’t hear this. I’m going to bed. When do you take off for Rome?”

“The flight leaves at ten in the morning,” Deborah said. “If everything goes as planned, we should be back in Washington early the following day.”

“We’ll be here on time. That’s a promise,” Adam said. “Do me a favor, though. Call if you hear anything from Thomas.”

“I will. Take care of yourselves, and good luck.”

She took a step toward the door, and Adam leaned toward her and kissed her on the cheek, which seemed to surprise both of them. He then watched Jennifer walk away, sighed deeply, and followed Deborah into the next room where she’d laid out the structural plans of the dome and all the necessary maps for planning their escape.

“Not bad,” he said. “It looks like you’ve thought of everything, but where’s the archive?”

“Well, it’s not directly in the dome, in any case, that much I’m sure of. But you can see on the older plans that there’s another chapel with a basement underneath it. I can’t find it anymore, but I’m sure that there are at least some ruins there and that we have to go underneath that.”

“Do you have any idea what kind of alarm system they have there or how many security guards we’ll have to deal with?”

“No, no idea, and we won’t know that until we get there.” She grinned at him. “I’m bringing my MacGyver suitcase with me.”

Adam placed his hands heavily on the table. “Then I guess we’ll have everything we need.”

* * *

OFFICE OF JUDGE DAVE FOXTER, INTERNATIONAL CRIMINAL COURT, THE HAGUE – MARCH 21, AFTERNOON

MacClary hadn’t slept well. Although he was a good friend of Dave Foxter, a British judge on the International Criminal Court, the political realities made what he was going to discuss with Dave difficult. The US had used all the means at its disposal to block the ICC and had categorically denied the extradition of US war criminals to the tribunal. Neither the Vatican nor the United States government had a membership in the ICC, whose decisions were binding under international law.

“Good morning, Ronald,” Dave said when MacClary entered his office. “My God, what brings you here? I just found out this morning you were coming.”

“I haven’t come in an official capacity, if that’s what you’re wondering. My visit has to do with a case that concerns all of us right now. It doesn’t involve our relationship to the ICC, but rather to the Vatican.”

Foxter gave a start and looked at MacClary quizzically. “What do you have to do with the Vatican?”

“Well, actually, a great deal and for some time now,” MacClary said. “Until now, though, it was always a kind of personal hobby. However, a rather controversial case is emerging in Washington, in which I am not entirely uninvolved.”

“Oh, my lord. Does this have anything to do with your father and his thesis about the Church’s crimes against humanity? Oh, Ronald, have you been afflicted with the family illness in your old age? I can tell you now that there’s nothing we can do, although we might be handling the current abuse cases sometime soon.”

“Yes, that is an interesting matter. I’ve read about your star attorney, a countryman of yours if I’m not mistaken. But it sounded more like a canard to me. Is there really a serious attempt to put the pope on the dock?”

“Ronald, George Caven is one of the most well-known human rights lawyers in the world. If someone like him goes this far out on a limb, then it means something. This could be a watershed moment. Until now, the pope has been protected from any kind of criminal prosecution, just like any other head of state...”

“I understand, and since he’s holder of the Holy See and head of the Vatican state, one can’t expect that anything will change. In the final analysis, though, everything depends on recognition under international law, and that’s what I’m concerned with, Dave. It’s a moral and ethical decision of the world community whether we continue to stand idly by or finally draw conclusions from current and historical crimes.” MacClary’s voice had risen unintentionally.

“Yes, Ronald, the status of Rome...it’s a positively grotesque relic from the distant past. Believe me, it’s a thorn in my side that a country encompassing St. Peter’s, five hundred priests, and little else has such power and influence, and that it’s never held responsible for anything.”

“Wait a minute, Dave. Caven sees a crime against humanity in the indulgence and facilitation of child abuse, according to the currently applicable international law. And more and more people throughout the world are starting to share this opinion!”

“That may be, Ronald, but the problem is that no one, not the United Nations, not any individual country,
no one
, is ready to act on this realization. Even in the US, it doesn’t go any further than lawsuits that are dismissed or withdrawn due to lack of evidence. Where are you headed with this?”

“To another case. It concerns attempted murder, theft of international cultural assets, and the right to historical truth.”

Dave’s expression dimmed. “My God, Ronald, those are serious accusations, and you know how they’ve always handled that in Rome. They foist the whole thing off on a single person and say that he no longer has any affiliation with them. Maybe they hand him over, or the Italian police find him under some bridge somewhere.”

“Let’s assume that we have enough proof, motive, and witnesses. Would there be a way, theoretically, that the case could be tried by you here?”

Dave shook his head slowly. “I’m afraid the whole thing would be over before it began. You’ve already seen how the lawsuits dealing with even these repugnant cases of child abuse are shot down. The immunity of the pope and other officials no longer applies if they’re charged by this court, but the Security Council would have to refer
the case to us. What does your president think about this?”

“Oh, she’s overjoyed. She had already written off the possibility of reelection and she’s behind me one hundred percent,” Ronald said, only half joking. “No, in all seriousness, she knows all about the situation.”

“If she’s really on board, then she could tip the scales in the Security Council. But we’re not getting anywhere like this. If we want to keep talking, you have to tell me what this entails.”

Ronald looked out of the window for a long couple of seconds, thinking about his next move. Foxter had always been someone he could depend on to keep things quiet. It would be foolish not to take him into his confidence.

“Friends of mine have found scrolls from the fourth century that prove how the church betrayed its own ideals and betrayed millions of people with unmitigated criminality and power hunger. From the very beginning, they violently destroyed almost the entire early culture of Europe and—”

“You don’t have to go on, Ronald. I know what you’re talking about. I thought that’s what this was about, and as you know, I know my way around this topic as well.” Foxter gestured to his bookcase, where Ronald recognized works from the most important contemporary critics of the Church.

“Then you agree with me. It’s time that we confront the Christians throughout the world with this and show the religion its historical place.”

“I completely agree, Ronald, but be careful that you don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater. It’s of vital importance that you not attack the many, many authentic Christians who are just living their faith and who have nothing to do with the crimes of the Church.”

“I realize that, Dave. I know we’ll be walking a tightrope with this, but the historical truth seen in light of current events could also be very healing for Christians. If they were to finally turn away from the Vatican, the original ideas of Christianity could be freed from the filth and guilt of centuries. I should also add that my Celtic friends are far more concerned with forgiveness than revenge. I know my role in this, and I’ll soon retreat into the background. The future belongs to those who can think into the future. And there are a few of those in my circle. Perhaps you’ll get to know them. They want, quite simply, a different world. If you can call that simple.”

Foxter pulled a file out of the huge pile on his desk.

“You can still do that?”

“Do what?”

“You’re the only person I’ve ever known who could find the exact file he needed, no matter how many files were lying in front of him,” MacClary said with an admiring smile.

“It’s like riding a bike.” He handed the file to MacClary. “Here, I worked on this not too long ago. It’s now common sense in New York, but it hasn’t yet been acknowledged. The Vatican has long since gambled away its international legal status, to say nothing of the moral
conscience of the world. I will support you where I can, Ronald. The time is simply right for it. If you can call
that
simple.”

MacClary let out a sigh. He was gradually realizing that it wouldn’t be possible to hold the Vatican as a whole responsible unless his last trump card really delivered what it had promised. “Then a call to the president would be extraordinarily helpful. Right now, she doesn’t know if she should send me to the moon or into retirement.” He stood up. “Dave, many thanks. When this whole thing is over, we should have a nice long game of chess. I think I’ll have a lot more time for that soon.”

“I wish you all the luck in the world, Ronald.”

“Thanks, Dave. I can use every good wish I get.”

MacClary quietly shut the door, took a deep breath, and went back down the corridor to the elevator. He stopped to look at one of the pictures lining the hall. It was a photograph of the Nuremberg trials. Back then, the world had taken a huge step forward in the area of human rights. MacClary buttoned up his coat and muttered, “It’s time for the next step. For everyone.”

* * *

EIGHTH STREET, WASHINGTON, DC – MARCH 21, AFTERNOON

Shane and Deborah had flown to Italy in the morning. If Ryan had only contacted them before they left, they could have gotten him the papers he needed and transported
him to Washington safely. Jennifer could barely contain her anger. How was she supposed to convince the deputy attorney if she didn’t have the plaintiffs with her?

She was late. Louise Jackson was probably already waiting in the Belga Café on Eighth Street, where they often met. They had originally gotten to know each other at a law firm in Belgium where they were both doing a practicum. The Belga had an authentic atmosphere, and the amazing Belgian hot chocolate brought them back to earlier days, helping to foster their friendship in its own peculiar way. Louise Jackson was a young, slender, and somewhat feisty woman with South African ancestry. She had made a brilliant career for herself in Boston, where she had been the district attorney at the district court for the last two years.

Jennifer went into the café and smoothed down her hair before spotting Jackson in the back reading a book.

“Louise?”

“Jennifer, it’s lovely to see you again. I was worried when I heard your news. Sit down.”

“You look radiant! How are you?”

“Thanks for asking. I’m still madly in love—and pregnant to boot. How do you think I am?”

Jennifer suddenly felt a pang in her stomach.

“What was that look?” Louise said. “Did I say something wrong? Oh wait, let me guess, you’re—”

“You know, I think you just made me realize something,” Jennifer said, smiling sheepishly.

“What’s his name?”

“Who?”

“I want to know what his name is!”

“Adam, Adam Shane. He’s...but...I’m still not sure, and...”

“Oh God, Jennifer, how long are you going to keep on trying to control everything?”

Jennifer couldn’t suppress a loud laugh, followed by a quick sob, which she quickly stifled. “I’ll deal with it, Louise, don’t worry. I don’t have a choice anymore, anyhow. He even has a little to do with the reason I wanted to see you, indirectly at least. Let me get to the point. I’ve prepared a claim against the Vatican that’s pretty explosive.”

“No, really?”

“Yes, really. I was afraid you’d react like this. I—”

“No, that’s not what I mean. The coincidence is...yesterday I had to make an indictment. A student from a Catholic boarding school in Boston, along with three other victims, came to us and claimed that a bishop currently living in the Vatican had covered up his abuse of these three and—”


Another
abuse case? I just get sick thinking about these children. My case is a bit different, though. It’s about the historical investigation into the European pagans and the question about which deeds the Church participated in and apparently continues to participate in to cover up the historical truth of their founding.”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you think it would be possible for us to go to my place?” Jennifer said with a quick glance around. She didn’t want to talk about this in public, especially since the first wave of information had already made it into the White House. Somehow, though, she had to get Louise on her side.

BOOK: The Celtic Conspiracy
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