God's Lions - The Dark Ruin (21 page)

Inside the submarine, the red battle lighting bathed the dripping group as they leaned with the tilt of the boat and began peeling off their survival suits.

“That really wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” Eduardo said. He was shaking slightly from the cold, but otherwise he looked as if he had just stepped from the shower and was ready to devour a hot breakfast.

Shaking out his wet hair, John blinked when the overhead lighting changed from red to white. “Actually, since I was raised on a ranch in New Mexico I find the sea pretty terrifying. I don’t know how you guys managed to see anything with all that salt water in your eyes.”

A British sailor grinned and handed him a towel. “Actually, sir, this is what we call a low-risk recovery mission. We’ve launched in hurricanes before. Now that’s terrifying ... at least until we dive. Once we get below the surface we leave the storm behind and it’s smooth sailing from then on.”

“I was wondering why it felt so calm all of a sudden,” Ariella said, wringing out her wet hair.

“That’s because we just dove. We’re two hundred feet below the surface right now, Miss.”

Suddenly a booming voice caused Ariella to turn her head as the crew snapped to attention. Standing in a rounded steel hatchway, she saw a dark-haired man in his mid-forty’s staring back at her. He was wearing a blue sweater and a white hat with the gold braid of a captain emblazoned across the black visor.

“At ease, men. I see our passengers are none the worse for wear. Welcome aboard the HMS
Ambush.
I’m Captain Colin Moss.”

The frown lines in the captain’s face made it look as if the man was incapable of smiling as he studied the new arrivals. “Which one of you is the pope?”

Surprised gasps from the British crewmembers filled the tight space as they turned to see Pope Michael sweep the orange hood from his head, revealing a face familiar to millions around the world. “That would be me, Captain.”

The captain was speechless for a moment as he stared into a pair of piercing blue eyes. “I’m honored to have you onboard, Your Holiness, but I have to say that I’m a little perplexed by all of this.”

“I can understand your confusion, Captain Moss. The first and only time a Catholic pope has ever visited the UK was back in 1982 when our beloved Pope John Paul II spent six days traveling through the beautiful English countryside. I suppose that, technically, this sub is sovereign British territory, so that would make me the second Catholic pope to visit your great country. I must apologize for any inconvenience our arrival has caused you and your crew. We shouldn’t be taking you away from your normal duties for more than a day or two.”

“That’s not what I was referring to, sir,” Moss replied. “Apparently, you’ve been declared a missing person after you disappeared from the Vatican two days ago. The world press is speculating that you’ve been kidnapped ... or worse.”

“I can assure you Captain that, despite the wild speculation by the press, I am here of my own free will, and as you can see I am quite well. How long will it take us to reach Gibraltar?”

“How the bloody hell did you know where we are headed?” Moss snapped, instantly regretting his tone. Removing his cap, the red-faced captain ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Please excuse my wording, Your Holiness. I haven’t slept in thirty-six hours and I’m afraid you caught me a bit off guard. The route of one of Her Majesty’s nuclear submarines is one of our most closely guarded secrets ... for obvious reasons. Lives could be at stake. I should have known you would be aware of our destination.”

Pope Michael smiled as he stepped forward and laid a hand on the startled captain’s shoulder. “That’s quite alright, Captain. I understand the pressures of command, and you’re quite right about lives being at stake. Now, you have your orders, so I suggest you get us the bloody hell to Gibraltar as soon as possible.”

ROME – THE VATICAN

Matching the mood inside the Apostolic Palace, sweeping rain clouds from the east cast a looming shadow over Vatican City as Father Enzo Corelli peered down from a third-story window into the canyon-like expanse of the
San Damaso
courtyard. For the past two days the pope’s private secretary had watched a seemingly endless parade of limos deposit cardinals from all over the world in front of the palace following the news of Pope Michael’s disappearance.

From his perch inside the Papal Apartments, Corelli frowned when he saw the imposing figure of Cardinal Nevio Tucci exit a dark blue Mercedes and hurry toward the palace, his red robes brushing the smooth cobblestones. It was well known in Vatican circles that Father Corelli and Cardinal Tucci had a history, and it hadn’t always been a pleasant one. In Corelli’s mind, Tucci was nothing more than an officious-acting bureaucrat who had risen within the Curia to a position of considerable power, thus necessitating frequent meetings with the pope. But since it was Corelli who controlled the pope’s schedule, and thus access to the Holy Father himself, the two had locked horns on more than one occasion when Corelli had informed the cardinal that his request for an audience with the pope was denied because the matter at hand was too trivial to interrupt the pope’s impossibly busy schedule.

Once inside the palace, Tucci was hustled through the marble corridors of power to an elevator that would take him to a secret underground conference room two floors below. Modeled after the situation room located beneath the White House in Washington D.C., the recently constructed Vatican conference center was much larger than its American counterpart, for it was designed to hold several hundred Church leaders in times of crisis—and this was a crisis unlike any before in Church history.

Stepping from the elevator, the cardinal was stopped at the door by two security men dressed in dark blue suits. “Good afternoon, Cardinal. May we please see your identification papers?”

“What! Do you know who I am? I supervised the construction of this facility ... and now I must show identification to enter?”

“We’re very sorry, Your Eminence, but we have our orders. You above all others should appreciate the steps we are taking to assure the safety of everyone who enters.”

The cardinal’s mouth twisted into a snarl. “And maybe you should have been taking security a little more seriously when the Holy Father went missing.”

The security men’s eyes remained fixed on the cardinal’s contorted face as they continued to block his path. “Your papers, sir.”

Reaching inside his robes, the cardinal withdrew an official Vatican picture ID and held it out at arm’s length.

“Thank you, Your Eminence. This way please.” The two unsmiling men escorted the cardinal to a full body scanner before finally releasing him to pass through two steel doors into a room that resembled a theater. Pausing in the doorway, Tucci’s ears were assaulted by the din of over a hundred cardinals talking all at once as he looked out over a sea of red.

As news from around the world flashed up on the large screen at the far end of the room, the cardinal walked down a sloping aisle past a scene of controlled chaos before stepping behind a podium below the screen. “May I have your attention, please?”

The room instantly stilled as the cardinal’s eyes roamed the rows of seats that rose toward the back wall. “Before we get started, we will offer our silent prayers for the safety of the Holy Father.”

After a brief interlude of silent prayer, the cardinal withdrew a white handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow as he cleared his throat. “Good morning, Cardinals. Because time is of the essence, I will get right to the point. As all of you know by now, the Holy Father has disappeared. The Swiss Guard and the Italian authorities have launched a massive search, but as of this moment we still have no idea what could have precipitated this event. Vatican City has been searched from top to bottom, as has most of Rome, yet no trace of the Holy Father has been found ... not even a note. It is also my sad duty to report that Cardinal Leopold Amodeo is also missing ... another deeply disturbing development in an already distressing situation. His good friend, Bishop Anthony Morelli, has just returned from Israel and will be joining us here shortly.”

A subdued murmur arose around the room as the cardinal struggled to continue. “Under the circumstances, our duty now is to provide leadership for the Church, and it is to that end that we must consider electing someone to take the Holy Father’s place until he returns.”

A chorus of angry voices greeted the cardinal’s ears, but he had anticipated this. Reaching under his robes, he produced an envelope with an official papal seal that had been broken. “I hold in my hands a letter addressed to the College of Cardinals. It was found in the pope’s safe this morning by his personal secretary, and it contains instructions from the Holy Father himself. In his own words, the pope has left us a guide to follow should he ever be incapacitated or disappear without proof of his death. According to what I have read, it is his wish that we all meet to elect a temporary leader until he is able to resume his sacred duties.”

Cardinal Ian McCulley raised his hand. A hulking ex-cop from New York City, McCulley had traded in his badge to become a Jesuit priest, eventually becoming one of the most trusted cardinals within the pope’s tight circle of friends. “Are we talking about the day-to-day running of Church business,” McCulley asked, “or are we talking about electing someone to step in and become the actual spiritual leader of our faith?”

Tucci shifted uneasily behind the podium and cleared his throat once again. “Uh ... I’m afraid that part is unclear, Cardinal.”

Angry shouts once again filled the room before Tucci called for order. “Please, gentlemen ... please. We must remain calm. Any dissention within our ranks will only serve to make an already painful task even more difficult. Please try to keep in mind that I am only the messenger. Personally I believe we’re being a little premature here, but the Church has clear rules that must be followed in the absence of a functioning leader. We all know that no one can truly fill the Holy Father’s shoes, but should he ever be unable to perform his duties, the day-to-day administration of the Church falls to the Secretary of State. Since Cardinal Leo is also missing, then it would be the camerlengo who would step in and run the affairs of the Church until the pope returns.”

Cardinal McCulley continued watching the reactions of those around him as eyes that had once patrolled crime-ridden ghetto streets caught every glance and every change in body language, no matter how slight. “It is my understanding that the camerlengo is responsible only for the running of the government of the Church during
sede vacante
 ...
the vacant seat
 ... the period after the pope dies and before a new one is elected by the College of Cardinals. We have no evidence that the pope is dead.”

“That is true, Cardinal McCulley,” Tucci replied, “however, nothing like this has ever happened before in the history of the Church. What we’re facing here is an
interregnum
 ... a period of discontinuity. The closest the Church has come to a situation like this was when Pope Pius XI was on his deathbed and Eugenio Pacelli, who held the position of Secretary of State as well as that of camerlengo, stepped in to keep things running. Now, with Cardinal Leo also missing, we must rely on our camerlengo, Father Leonardo Vespa, to step in and fulfill his duties as the overseer of the curia until the Holy Father returns.”

McCulley continued standing. “But Father Vespa is only a priest, and this is not a period of
sede vacante
 ... at least not yet. What about Cardinal Delacroix ... the Dean of the College of Cardinals? He has been designated the
primus inter pares
 ...
the first among equals
. Why not let him run things until the Holy Father returns?”

“Another Jesuit, Cardinal McCulley?” A thin cardinal with a thick, raspy voice stood and waved a crooked finger in the air. “We are not all Jesuits here!”

“Are we not all of one faith here, Cardinal?” McCulley asked. “Do we not speak with one voice? We must still the hostility that has become all too evident over the past several months. If anyone here is offended by our Holy Father’s decision to allow only Jesuits into his inner circle, then I suggest you ask yourselves why? Look around you. Who would you have run the Church now? As we sit here arguing among ourselves, a dark star hovers overhead ... a sign to the world that a period of spiritual warfare is imminent, and our Holy Father may be the first casualty in that war. Now is not the time to fight among ourselves, but to join together in his absence. A war doesn’t stop when a general falls on the field of battle. We must pick up his flag and continue the fight while we pray he returns.”

A tall, black cardinal representing an African diocese stood in the front row. “Maybe the Holy Father is testing us!”

“We are all tested on a daily basis,” McCulley shot back, “but I can assure you that the pope would never pull a stunt like this just to test our ability to react in a crisis. The disappearance of a pope is a world-shattering event, one that could potentially trigger panic among the faithful. The decision of who shall run the Church in the absence of our Holy Father will have far-reaching effects, and we must speak with a unified voice. We are all brothers here together... brothers with many voices in the service of our God, and it is our duty as cardinals to find the right path. We are about to make Church history, and the choices we make in the next few hours could well decide whether we will win or lose our fight with the evil that is headed our way. No decision made by man will ever be one hundred percent correct, but I caution you that someday the light of the future will undoubtedly reach back in time and shine down upon this gathering to reveal the wisdom of our decisions.”

An elderly cardinal stood, wavering on his cane. “Since Cardinal McCulley oversees the Vatican intelligence section, I for one would like to ask him how it is that the Holy Father managed to disappear from Vatican City without anyone seeing him leave.”