The Sacred Bones (14 page)

"Which relics might you be referring to?" The pope pressed his face close to the bars mockingly. "The head of John the Baptist? Christ's cross? Or perhaps the Ark of the Covenant?"

DeMolay gritted his teeth. The extreme secrecy of the Order had many speculating as to how they had acquired their tremendous wealth and was the reason why it had been so easy for the pope and the king to demonize them and fabricate their vicious falsities. But hearing some of them coming out of Clement's womanly mouth was torturous. "I want you to listen to me very closely. Because the entire future of your great Church could be in jeopardy."

The pope looked at him quizzically, moving back slightly from the cage. He sized up the prisoner-- a man who, despite recent tribulations, he had never considered a liar. "I am listening."

With a knot tightening in his stomach, DeMolay couldn't believe what he was about to do. But having waited for six long years, he had come to the dismal conclusion that the surviving Templars would not endure another year if something drastic did not happen. With remorse, he had resigned himself to divulging the Order's most coveted secret-- the very thing the monastic brotherhood had sworn a secret oath to protect. "There is an ancient book that has remained under the protection of the Order for over two centuries. It is called the
Ephemeris Conlusio
."

"The
Journal of Secrets
?" The pope's tone was impatient. "What secrets?"

For the next fifteen minutes, the Templar Grand Master recounted a remarkable story of a discovery so profound that if it were true, history itself hung in the balance. And the details were far too precise to be anything but real. The pope listened intently because for centuries, the Catholic hierarchy had circulated rumors of just such a threat.

When the Grand Master had finished, he sat perfectly still, waiting for the pontiff to respond.

After almost a minute of brooding, Clement finally spoke, his tone less confident now, almost afraid. "And you left this book in Jerusalem?"

"We had no choice. The city had already been seized." The truth was, they had never intended to remove the relics. The Templars had merely secured them. That was God's will.

"That is quite a story," Clement admitted. "Why now do you tell it to me?"

"So you can reverse the injustice that has befallen the Order. We need to raise a new army to reclaim what has been lost. If not, I think you realize the consequences." DeMolay could see by Clement's expression that he did.

"Even if I were to exonerate the Templars," he thought out loud, "I would have to convince Philip to do the same." Doubtful, he shook his head. "After all that has happened, I do not think that he will concede."

"You must try," DeMolay urged. He knew that he had succeeded in finding Clement's one vulnerability. The pope was seriously considering his recommendation. "Give me your word that you will try."

Clement had expected today to be the day when he would finally break DeMolay and thus put an end to this whole charade. Suddenly, he realized he needed the old man more than ever. "As you wish," he surrendered. "You have my word."

"Before you leave here, I want it in writing. I need reassurance."

"I cannot do such a thing."

"Without my support, you will never recover the book...and what it is meant to find," DeMolay insisted. "I am your only hope."

The pontiff considered the idea for a long moment. "So be it." He instructed one of the guards to fetch his scribe. "And if Philip does not agree to this?"

"Then it is of no matter what fate holds for me or my men...for you, King Philip, and all of Christendom will be doomed."

V
ATICAN
C
ITY

In the Apostolic Palace, Father Patrick Donovan sat at a heavy oak desk in an expansive library that could only be entered by passing through a biometric retinal scanner, a complex series of key-encrypted entryways and a contingent of Swiss Guards.

The
Archivum Secretum Apostolicum Vaticanum
-- the Vatican Secret Archive.

Over the years the Vatican had enhanced the security system here, recognizing that there were no treasures in Vatican City more valuable than its secrets.

Newly installed hulking fireproof metal cabinets lined the walls, reaching toward the main room's lofty frescoed ceiling, housing over 35,000 vellums and manuscripts within airtight glass compartments. From rejected scriptural works blending philosophy, pagan mythology, and the Christ story, to Renaissance heretics like Galileo, the Vatican Archive was a depository for centuries of heretical works banned by past pontiffs, as well as Vatican City's land deeds, depository certificates, and legal documents.

Contrary to popular belief, the Vatican still actively sought new additions to its vast holdings. Heresy was considered very much alive and well in the twenty-first century; the attacks against Christendom ever more sophisticated-- the secular chasm growing ever wider. And the fact remained that many pre-biblical scriptures, rife with controversial writings that undermined the integrity of the gospels, still managed to evade the Vatican's grasp.

Throughout Catholic history, a select few have been entrusted with maintaining this daunting archive. Donovan still marveled at how he had become its most trusted custodian.

It was a long road that had brought him from Belfast to Rome.

Straight out of the seminary, Donovan had joined Dublin's Christchurch Cathedral as a resident priest. But his passion for history and books had soon earned him recognition as a biblical historian. Two years later, he had begun a highly successful Biblical History program at University College, Dublin. His legendary lectures and papers on early Christian scriptures had eventually caught the attention of Ireland's preeminent Cardinal Daniel Michael Shaunessey. Shaunessey was quick to have Donovan accompany him on a visit to Vatican City where he introduced him to the cardinal who oversaw the Vatican Library. Collaborative projects followed, and less than four months later, a compelling offer was extended to Donovan for a position inside Vatican City, managing its archives. Though it was difficult leaving his aging parents in Ireland-- his only remaining family-- he had graciously accepted.

That was twelve years ago. And never did he expect that one day he would be intimately involved in the single largest scandal in Church history-- and all because of a book.

Poring over the yellowed, parchment pages of the Archive's latest acquisition, Donovan was scanning the leather-bound ancient codex entitled the
Ephemeris Conlusio
-- the
Journal of Secrets
. In recognition of the blood spilled acquiring the relic now being studied in the Vatican Museum, he needed reassurance that the ossuary had met all the criteria described in the text. Pausing to study a meticulous drawing of the ossuary, Donovan exhaled with relief when his eyes came across a precise match of the unique symbol that had been carved onto the box's side.

It was almost impossible for the librarian to imagine how he had come to this juncture-- a shocking series of events that had been set into motion by a single phone call he received one rainy afternoon just two weeks earlier...

Oblivious to the unseasonable rain drumming against his office window, Donovan was deeply absorbed in an eighteenth-century study on the nature of heresy when the phone rang. Levering himself out of the chair, he had answered on the fourth ring.

"Is this Father Patrick Donovan, the curator of the Vatican's Secret Archive?"

The voice was laced with an accent Donovan couldn't quite place. "Who is this?"

"Who I am is of no concern to you."

"Really." It wasn't the first time a reporter or frustrated academic had called under the guise of a potential seller to access some of the earth's most coveted books.

"I possess something that you want."

"I don't have time for opaqueness," Donovan responded. "Be specific." He was about to dismiss the caller as a crank, when three words escaped from the receiver: 'The
Ephemeris Conlusio
.'

"What did you just say?"

"I think you heard me. I have the
Ephemeris Conlusio.
"

"That book is a legend," Donovan's voice cracked. "Pure myth." How could anyone outside the walls of the Archive or Jacques DeMolay's prison cell in Chateaux Chinon have discovered its existence? He began pacing nervously as he awaited a response.

"Your legend is now being held in my hand."

Donovan fought a wave of panic. It was only two years ago that a similar caller had offered up the Judas Papers-- ancient Coptic writings that recast the infamous disciple as secretly acting on Jesus's behest to faciliate his crucifixion. But the Vatican had considered the document's provenance to be highly suspect, forgoing the opportunity-- a grave miscalculation since shortly thereafter, the writings were published worldwide by National Geographic. Donovan was sure the Vatican wouldn't want to repeat that mistake. "If you really do possess the
Ephemeris Conlusio
, tell me in what language is it written?"

"Greek, of course. Care to be more specific?"

He detected a rhythmic tapping at the other end. "Who is the author?"

The caller told him and Donovan was amazed.

"Catholicism's prime enemy, am I not correct?" The caller paused. "Surely you can be more sophisticated than this?"

Outside the window, the sky darkened and the rain intensified.

On the spot, Donovan decided that only if the caller could reveal the book's most profound contents would he consider the claim credible. "Legend has it the
Ephemeris Conlusio
contains a map. Do you know what it's meant to locate?" His heart was racing.

"Please don't patronize me."

Donovan's lower lip quivered as the caller elaborated, providing a precise description of the legendary relics.

"Do you want to sell the book?" Donovan's mouth was dry. "Is that the purpose of your call?"

"It's not that simple."

Now Donovan feared the worst, painfully aware that this stranger could potentially wound the Church very deeply, perhaps even fatally. Before proceeding, it was essential to determine the caller's motive. "Are you trying to blackmail the Vatican?"

The man cackled. "It's not about money," he hissed. "Consider the possibility that I might be looking to help you and your employers."

"Neither your attitude nor your motive seems philanthropic. What is it you are after?"

The man had answered cryptically. "Once you've seen what I have to offer, you will know what I'm after. And what you have to do...and will want to do.
That
will be my payment."

"The Vatican would need to determine the book's authenticity before any terms could be discussed."

"Then I shall arrange for delivery," the caller had replied.

"I'd need to see a sample before that could happen. A page from the book."

The line was silent.

"Fax me a page now," Donovan insisted.

"Give me your number." The caller was hesitant. "I will stay on this line."

Donovan twice repeated his office's private fax number.

A long minute passed before the fax machine rang, picking up on the second ring and feeding paper from its tray. The printed message was spit out seconds later. Donovan held it close to the light. When he had finished silently reading the remarkably authentic Greek text, the words left him momentarily breathless. Shaking, he returned the phone to his ear. "Where did you find this?"

"That is not important."

"Why have you come to me in particular?"

"You are probably the only man at the Vatican who can understand the profound implications of this book. You know that history has tried to deny its existence. I have chosen you to be my voice to the Holy See."

There was another long pause.

"Do you want the book or not?"

There was a pause.

"Of course," he finally said.

Donovan had made arrangements to meet the anonymous caller's messenger two days later in the Caffe Greco on Via Condotti, near the Spanish Steps. Two armed plainclothes Swiss Guards sat at a nearby table. The messenger appeared at the agreed time and introduced himself by first name only, presenting a business card for any later questions. Donovan had sat with the man only briefly. No indication was given as to the identity of who had dispatched him.

A leather satchel had been discreetly passed over to him.

Though no explanations were provided, Donovan intuited that the man knew nothing of the satchel's contents. There had been no drama requiring the guards' intervention-- just a quick, impersonal transaction, and both men had left on their separate ways.

Opening the satchel in the sanctuary of his office, Donovan had found a handwritten note on plain paper and a newspaper clipping. The note had read: "
Use the map to find the relics. Act quickly to find them before the Jews do. Should you require assistance, call me
." A phone number was listed below the message. Salvatore Conte had later told him that it had been a one-time use cell phone and that each of his subsequent communications with the insider was routed to a new phone number or anonymous one-time use website-- all untraceable. Apparently, using these secure channels, the insider had coordinated with Conte to procure explosives and certain tools needed to extract the ossuary.

The Jews
? Confused, the priest read the clipping from the
Jerusalem Post
and realized exactly what had prompted this meeting. Digging deeper inside the satchel, his hands had come upon the smooth leather covers of the
Ephemeris Conlusio
.

J
ERUSALEM

Outside Temple Mount's northern gate, Barton avoided the chaos of the Western Wall Prayer Plaza, angling along the narrow cobblestone streets that webbed gently down Mount Moriah.

He had actually managed to persuade Razak to let him take the scroll back to his office to see if he could translate its text. Apparently, the Muslim was anxious to find some answers.