God's Lions - The Dark Ruin (48 page)

Leo watched the man’s thin moustache twitch as he clamped his teeth down on his pipe. “You’re very astute, Albert.”

“Then please allow me to go one step further, Cardinal. You’d like to keep your arrival a secret.”

Leo shrugged his shoulders. “Let’s just say that I’d like to keep my visit from drawing any unwanted attention for now.”

“I think it would draw more than a little attention. Apparently I’m talking to a ghost, because the press is reporting that you were killed in that plane crash in New York after you attended a meeting at the UN.”

“Oh ... you’ve heard about that.”

Albert removed his pipe and tapped the ashes out the open window. “My wife and I thought it was a little strange, especially coming on the heels of the death of the pope.” Albert glanced sideways at Leo. “My condolences, Cardinal. Pope Michael was very popular around here.”

“He was a great man.” Leo turned away to look out the side window. “His loss is not only a great tragedy for the Church, but for the entire world.”

Leo looked back inside the truck at the mysterious man who claimed to be a farmer although his eyes told a different story. Somehow his presence had had a calming effect on Leo, and from his manner of speech, it was evident that Albert was well-educated. But there was something else—something Leo couldn’t quite put his finger on. There was something special about this man, and the fact that he had chosen to live a life of relative obscurity with his wife on a small farm at the base of the Pyrenees reminded Leo of another old man from Foix.

“I’ve heard you have a cabin in the mountains nearby,” Albert said, startling Leo with his knowledge of the cardinal’s affairs.
This man knew way too much.

Without waiting for Leo to answer, Albert slowed the truck as they approached a crossroads. “Would you like me to take you there?”

“Who are you?”

“A friend, Cardinal. Don’t worry. No one will know you are there ... at least not from me. You have many friends in this part of the world, and your secret is safe with us.”

“You’re a Cathar, aren’t you?”

Albert winked at Leo as he swung the wheel all the way over and turned the truck around. “Let’s go back to my farm. My wife can make you something to eat while I gather up some supplies for you before we head up there. The snows come early in the mountains this time of year.”

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Still wearing pajamas that covered his thin frame, President Blake Simon was eating breakfast and reading the New York Times by the early morning light that filtered in through the grand palladian window on the east side of the upstairs living quarters. The headlines were bleak. It seemed as if Acerbi’s PR machine had already mounted an attack on the president’s decision to walk out of the meeting at the UN, and they were now appealing directly to the American people to rally to Acerbi’s cause by demanding the president’s resignation.

Sipping his coffee, the president looked around the table at his aides. “What do they expect? Do they really think we’re going to let some corporate big wig from Europe come in here and dictate terms to us? He’s obviously a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I mean, doesn’t anyone find it odd that he’s using threats to offer world peace?”

“He does seem to have the upper hand, Mr. President,” said a tall aide who stood to the side of the table. “Maybe we should just play along until we can find the source of his computer power and eliminate it.”

Simon looked across the table at Doug Peterson. “What kind of computers did the Israelis say Acerbi was using?”

“Quantum computers, Mr. President, and evidently they’re hidden in locations all over the world. We might be able to locate some of them, but there’s always the chance we’ll miss a few. If we make a move to destroy any of them, the others will just take over and shut us down.” Peterson paused as his eyes followed the white crown molding around the top of the yellow walls.

“Spit it out, Doug,” the president said. “I can tell by that look on your face that you’ve got something else to say.”

Peterson lowered his gaze and looked directly at the president. “All of our military satellites went dark this morning, Mr. President, which means Acerbi’s already sending us a message.”

The president slapped his paper down on the table and exhaled sharply. “So now, because we’ve lost a few satellites, we’re supposed to agree to his demands? Do you realize what that means? Let me answer that question for you. It means that I would be surrendering the United States of America to a man who wants to eliminate our democratically elected government. Can you imagine that? We’re talking about a dictator here, and people are rejoicing in the streets. It’s madness!”

Shane Trent shifted uneasily in his seat. “Did you read the report from our meeting in Gibraltar, Mr. President?”

The president’s face became a mask of disbelief. “You mean the meeting where Acerbi’s father told you his son is the Antichrist? Am I really hearing this?”

Trent looked nervously around the table. “I’m only presenting the facts, Mr. President. I was probably more skeptical than most when Acerbi’s father and Pope Michael came to us with that story. But now I’m not so sure. I mean, this guy basically turns the world on and off with the flick of a switch, and people seem hypnotized by his ideas. They think he’s some kind of savior. Then there are the deaths to consider. Eduardo Acerbi and the pope are both now dead, and our sources in Rome are telling us the pope’s death looks suspicious. Then Cardinal Amodeo, the next in line to follow the pope, dies suddenly in a plane crash that hasn’t been explained yet. If this guy’s not the Antichrist, he’s doing a pretty damn good job of imitating him.”

The president shoved back from the table and stood. “I think you all know that I am a religious man, but I find all of this talk about the Antichrist to be just that ... talk. Let’s keep our eye on the ball and remember that we’re dealing with a megalomaniacal crazy man who wants to rule the world. This isn’t the first time in history that a delusional madman has appeared on the world stage expecting everyone to bow down to him, and it won’t be the last. It’s your job to try and figure out how we can defeat this threat, and the sooner the better.”

“That’s exactly what we’re trying to do, Mr. President,” Peterson intoned. “We’ve gone to a wartime footing at the CIA and NSA, but we’re pretty sure he knows what we’re doing. Our communications networks are all interconnected by computers, which were extremely secure until these quantum computers showed up. All of our top computer scientists believed this kind of technology was at least twenty years away, but somehow the Acerbi Corporation got the jump on us. He now has a trump card, and we’re pretty sure his people know what we’re doing, which means we can’t send any traffic that contains sensitive information. We’ve been flying couriers back and forth across the Atlantic with written messages in diplomatic pouches like we used to do in the Cold War days, which means he’s forced us into using a modern version of the old Pony Express. Not only that, but the targeting systems on all our modern weapons systems rely on the global positioning network provided by our military satellites, which, as you heard, just went dark this morning.”

The president turned his back and looked out through the large curved window. “What do you suggest?”

Peterson leaned back in his chair. “I agree with the assessment that we should play along for the time being until we can figure out a way to defeat this madman. Our contacts at MI6 and in Israel both agree with this strategy, because basically we have no other options on the table right now. If we fail to capitulate in the face of his demands we’ll be tossed back to the Stone Age. Better to have our infrastructures functioning while we work out a way to defeat him.”

The president seemed to wobble on his feet before he sat back down. “Can we stall him?”

“That would be up to you, Mr. President. Any direct dealing with Acerbi would fall under the umbrella of diplomatic negotiation. You could probably stall him for awhile on the details of the transition. I believe he plans on leaving all the current world leaders who cooperate with him in place as figureheads, so at least you would still be the president.”

Without a word, the president stood and looked around the table before he walked to his bedroom and closed the door behind him.

ROME – THE VATICAN

In the sealed-off Apostolic Palace, the darkened hallways echoed with the ghosts of the past, while outside, standing shoulder-to-shoulder between the travertine lines that radiated outward from the obelisk in the center of Saint Peter’s Square, thousands stared up at the closed shutters of the Papal Apartments.

Peering out from behind one of Bernini’s columns, Francois Leander watched the growing crowd. He had always been proud of his profession. Never for a moment had he doubted that he could protect the pope. Maybe that had been the problem, he thought. Maybe his pride had gotten in the way and prevented him from doing his job. Whatever the reason, a pope had died on his watch, and the hardened commander of the Swiss Guard blamed himself.

“The crowd’s getting bigger,” a familiar voice called out behind him. Francois turned to see Bishop Anthony Morelli standing behind him. “Still thinking about leaving, Commander?”

“I don’t know, Bishop. Maybe it’s time I step down and let someone younger take the helm. Leo was next in line, but since he and the Holy Father departed this Earth on the same day, I don’t think I could stomach protecting Acone. If I ever find out he had anything to do with Pope Michael’s death he’ll need protection
from
me.”

“No matter what our suspicions, we still don’t know the cause of death, Francois, and Church law prevents us from having an autopsy performed. You can’t blame yourself. You did everything in your power to prevent him from returning to the Vatican. We’re all just soldiers who take orders, and we have to follow those orders. You were just following the Holy Father’s wishes.”

“Yes, and now Pope Michael and Cardinal Leo are both dead.”

“Are you telling me you blame yourself for the plane crash too?”

“I should have sent some of my men with him. They would have stood guard over the plane while it was on the ground and made sure no one got close enough to do anything that would cause it to crash.”

“For now the investigators seem to think it was an accident, but I agree. It’s just too much of a coincidence. Did I tell you the airport police found Leo’s smart phone in the departure lounge?”

Francois stared blankly out into the square. “No, I hadn’t heard that. I’ve been busy making sure Vatican City is secure for Pope Michael’s funeral.” Francois choked. “At least I can protect him in death.”

Morelli stood back and watched the grieving figure of a man who had always been at the top of his game. He was the best of the best, but the pope’s death had devastated him, and the fact that Leo had been killed in a plane crash on the same day had unnerved him to the point of paralysis.

“You say they found his cell phone?” Francois asked, his head twisting up in a quizzical expression.

Morelli turned to see the sharp policeman’s gaze had returned to Francois’ eyes. “Yes, they’re sending it to us via express mail.”

“It’s not like the cardinal to leave his cell phone lying around. He was always very careful about that because he had several classified phone numbers programmed into it. I remember him always double-checking his pocket to make sure his phone was on him before he left a room.”

Morelli stood by silently, wondering if Francois was beginning to grab at straws in his grief. At least he was thinking like a policeman again. “What are you thinking, my friend?”

“Just a hunch, Bishop. I’m going over to the command center. Care to tag along?”

Morelli jumped at the chance to help Francois exercise his mind in a different direction. “After you.”

Taking long strides across the San Damaso courtyard, the two men walked beneath the curved arches of a darkened medieval passageway and exited on the other side in front of Swiss Guard barracks. Entering the building, they took a staircase off to their right and descended into the heart of the Vatican’s underground communications center where, behind a glass partition, a wall of flat screens displayed images taken from every security camera inside Vatican City. With cameras installed in every courtyard, hallway, library, and chapel, there wasn’t a single area inside the Holy City that couldn’t be observed from the underground command center. Over a hundred cameras alone were positioned inside the basilica itself, while others were positioned on the walls and pointed toward the streets surrounding the small city-state to spot potential threats before they even crossed the border.

Francois crossed the room and picked up a phone, and after a few rings he heard a female voice on the other end. “JFK Airport Police. How may I help you?”

“Hello, this is Commander Francois Leander of the Swiss Guard at the Vatican. I understand that your men found a cell phone belonging to Cardinal Leopold Amodeo.”

“Hold on a minute, Commander. Let me check that for you.”

“Could you put me through to your commander?”

“Sure thing, sir. Just a moment. I’ll connect you with our chief.”

After a brief pause, a man with a heavy New York accent answered the phone. “Hello, Commander Leander. I understand you’re looking for the cardinal’s cell phone. We just mailed it to you this morning.”

“Actually, sir, I wanted to check on something else. Is there any way you could send me the digital recordings from the security cameras covering the departure lounge where the phone was found?”

“From the day of the crash?”

“Yes, sir. That’s the time frame we’d like to take a look at.”

“Look, Commander, what you’re asking is totally against the rules, but I’m a Catholic, and the cardinal was kind of a hero to us around here if you know what I mean. You’ll have your images in the next few minutes.”

“Thanks, Chief. I owe you one. The next time you’re in Rome look me up. I’ll make sure you get the grand tour of the Vatican.”