Sign Of The Cross (53 page)

Amazingly, this verse wasn’t stashed away on a hidden scroll or locked in the Vatican’s basement. It is known by a billion Muslims around the world. Still, neither Payne nor Jones had ever heard about a fake crucifixion until they met up with Boyd and Pelati.

How is that possible?

How could something so important be ignored by the Western world?

Whether it’s accurate or not wasn’t the point. Payne couldn’t understand why this line was never discussed in a public forum. Why no one was curious enough to investigate it. Payne joked it was too bad Oliver Stone didn’t direct
The Passion of the Christ.
Because he would’ve come up with a much different ending to the film – something with a conspiratorial twist.

Oh well, maybe Mel Gibson is planning a sequel?

Changing subjects, they also found several interesting facts about Pontius Pilate. The most surprising was Pilate’s close friendship with Joseph of Arimathea, who played a major role in the crucifixion and Christ’s final resting place. All four Gospels claim that Christ’s body was sealed in a tomb on Joseph’s personal property, even though Roman law forbade crucifixion victims from being buried. During this era, victims would be left on the cross for days where they would eventually be eaten by birds. Furthermore, the Romans were so adamant about this law that they actually posted guards to make sure that the victim’s friends or relatives didn’t touch the corpses.

Yet Pilate was willing to go against this code and gave Jesus’s body to Joseph of Arimathea, even though he had no rightful claim to remove it. Unless, of course, something was going on behind the scenes, and Pilate and Joseph were coconspirators in the deception.

Stranger still is the wording that was used in Mark’s Gospel. In the original Greek version, when Joseph asked Pilate for Christ’s body, he used the word
soma,
a word that refers to ‘a living body,’ not
ptoma,
a word that means ‘a corpse.’ In other words, Joseph asked Pilate for someone who was still alive. This line was eventually changed in Latin and English translations of the Bible because translators used nonspecific words that failed to explain whether Christ was living or dead when he was removed from the cross. However, in the original version, even Mark says that Christ was alive when he was turned over to Joseph.

Payne and Jones came up with dozens of facts like these, tidbits that weren’t talked about in most churches, even though they’d been verified by experts. Payne wasn’t sure why that was – conspiracy? ignorance? something else? – but they intended to keep digging until they were satisfied. In fact, that was one of the reasons that they came back to the Archives.

To get the answers that they were looking for.

As soon as Payne and Jones landed, Petr Ulster greeted them with a hug. The stress that had been evident in Vienna was no longer there, replaced with a twinkle in his eye and a warm smile. All in all, he looked even happier than he did when they’d first met. And that was saying a lot, because Ulster was one of the happiest people Payne had ever come across.

‘Jonathon! D.J.! It’s so wonderfully great to see you! I’m so glad you could return.’

‘Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,’ Jones replied.

Payne nodded in agreement. ‘Looks like you’ve been busy.’

‘Very!’ Ulster said. ‘But it’s been wonderful. I’ve always been tempted to expand the Archives, and this gave me the perfect excuse. If the donations keep pouring in, we’ll be able to double in size.’

Payne whistled, impressed. ‘And what about the artifacts? Did you lose anything in the fire?’

‘Nothing invaluable. There were some personal items, things with sentimental value that we couldn’t salvage. Like my grandfather’s photo collection.’

Payne groaned at the loss. ‘You mean the ones in the hallway? Man, I loved those.’

‘Me, too. But thanks to you, I still have one of the pictures.’

‘Really?’

He nodded. ‘The one with the Lipizzaner stallions. Remember, you took it off the wall to show us the laughing man? Because of that, the picture survived.’

‘Just like an American,’ said a gruff voice from behind. ‘Saving our horses again!’

Payne turned and saw Franz. ‘
Ja! Ja!
It’s true. You soldiers are always showing off.’

Payne smiled and greeted him with a handshake. ‘How have you been, Franz? Still resting up from our little adventure?’

‘Adventure? That was nothing! My recent trip to Amsterdam, now
that
was an adventure.’

The thought of a naked Franz made Payne and Jones slightly nauseous.

‘So, why are you here?’ he asked. ‘Are you here to help? We could use some more hands.’

‘Franz!’ Ulster scolded, laughing. ‘These are our guests. They should be treated as such.’

Franz waved dismissively. ‘Don’t start with me, Petr. Even the woman is working!’

‘What woman?’ Jones asked.

‘
Your
woman,’ Franz said. ‘
Ja, ja!
She got here yesterday with Dr Boyd.’

‘My woman? You mean Maria? She’s here?’

Payne loved the look on Jones’s face. A mixture of bliss, confusion, and total shock.

‘Oops!’ Payne said. ‘Did I forget to mention that? Sorry. It must’ve slipped my mind.’

‘Wait a second! You
knew
about this?’

‘Duh! That’s the only way I could’ve planned it.’

‘But I thought she was in Italy, taking care of her brother and her family’s estate.’

‘Not anymore,’ Payne said. ‘By the way, when did Maria become
your
woman? Does she know about that?’

‘No, but…’

‘But what? Women aren’t possessions, you know. You can’t just run around claiming them.’

‘I realize that, but…’

‘Maybe you’d have a little more luck with the ladies if you treated them with the respect that they deserved. Besides, before you run off and plant your flag in Maria or
whatever
you’re going to do to claim her, we have some business to take care of.’

‘Business?’ He looked at Payne, confused, until he realized what Payne was talking about. ‘Oh, that’s right! Our business. I almost forgot about our
business.
’

Ulster and Franz stared at Payne and Jones like they were crazy. Which, of course, they were. They didn’t call them MANIACs for nothing.

Payne said to Ulster, ‘When D.J. and I were in Italy, we came across an item that we thought would look great in the Archives. It’s one of those things that we think everybody should get a chance to study, not just a few old priests at the Vatican.’

Jones added, ‘If you don’t want it, we’ll completely understand. I mean, it is kind of cumbersome. But since you’re building a new wing and all, we figured you’d have the room.’

‘What is it?’ Ulster asked.

‘We can show you if you’d like. We brought it with us.’

‘You did?’

Payne nodded as he opened the back of the chopper. Ulster and Franz peered inside and saw the stone sarcophagus, hermetically sealed in high-grade plastic. ‘We didn’t want to expose it to the elements, so Dr Boyd showed us how to protect it. Hopefully you can figure out a more permanent solution for its upkeep.’

Struggling to see through the plastic, Ulster frowned. ‘I’m sure I could if I knew what I was looking at… Please tell me there isn’t a body in there.’

Jones laughed. ‘I was worried about the same thing when we opened it. But as luck should have it, it was filled with something more, um, shocking.’

‘Shocking?’ Ulster asked.

Instead of answering, Payne pulled several pictures from his shirt pocket and handed them to Ulster. They were taken from a variety of angles and showed the sarcophagus both opened and closed. The final few photos focused on the object that was inside, an artifact that had survived the last two thousand years intact. Evidence that had been saved by Pilate to tell his side of the story. At least part of it. The other part would be explained on a separate document.

Ulster gasped when he saw the item. ‘Are those beams from a cross?’

They nodded. The stipes had been sawed in half, but the patibulum was still intact. And best of all, they had scientists in Pittsburgh test a sliver of wood, and it was first-century African oak.

Just like it should’ve been.

‘You mean,’ Ulster stuttered, ‘this is
his
cross?’

Payne shrugged. ‘That’s what we’re hoping you can prove. That is, if you have the time.’

‘Yes,’ he gasped. ‘I have the time.’

‘But that’s not all.’ Payne reached into the chopper and pulled out a small storage case. ‘There was one more item inside the sarcophagus, something we haven’t opened yet. We figured it would be best if we left that to you, Boyd, and Maria.’

With shaking hands, Ulster opened the case and saw a bronze cylinder, similar to the one that had been found in the Catacombs. Yet instead of Tiberius’s seal, the cylinder was stamped with Pontius Pilate’s official symbol, an emblem that hadn’t been used since the days of Christ.

‘I have no idea what’s inside. But if we’re lucky, it might just tell us what happened.’

And as luck would have it, it actually did.

As far as Payne could tell, only six of them (Dante, Maria, Boyd, Ulster, Jones, and himself) knew everything. And by
everything
Payne meant the truth about the Catacombs and the identity of the laughing man. Several others – everyone from Franz to Nick Dial to Randy Raskin, not to mention everyone at the Pentagon who monitored Raskin’s calls – knew bits and pieces of the tale. Still, Payne realized it would be difficult for any of them to put the whole story together, simply because none of them had enough information to go on or the proof that they possessed.

No, as far as Payne could tell, only six of them knew the secret that Cardinal Rose thought he’d silenced forever when he killed Benito Pelati. Thankfully, Rose was a poor detective, otherwise Payne knew he would’ve heard from Rose’s bosses by now – in one way or another.

Speaking of which, Payne wasn’t really sure what the Vatican knew (and didn’t know) about their adventure. And he had no intention of asking them. Ever.

Why? There’s an old adage that says there’s no such thing as a stupid question. Well, that might be true, but Payne knew there
was
such a thing as a dangerous question.

Especially if the wrong person wanted to know the answer.

Or wanted to keep it a secret.

The scroll was in remarkable shape considering it was penned by Pontius Pilate on his deathbed. Buried in the hills of Vindobona, the parchment stayed undisturbed for nearly 2,000 years, protected by a bronze cylinder, a stone sarcophagus, and a family with a secret past.

Generation upon generation of Pelati men went to the grave thinking that their forefather, Pontius Pilate, was a hero. That he was the true founder of the Christian faith. That Tiberius had called upon his noble servant and asked him to fake the death of Christ for the betterment of all things Roman. That Tiberius was so impressed with his heroics that he honored his achievements in stone, immortalizing Pilate’s image and amazing deeds in the Catacombs of Orvieto. Yet none of the Pelatis – not Benito, Roberto, Dante, or any of their ancestors except Pontius himself – knew the full story of the crucifixion until Maria broke the seal on the cylinder.

As she translated Pilate’s final words, she gasped at what she learned, because she held a document that proved what she had always believed: God works in mysterious ways.

Pontius Pilate to my sons and heirs.

I sit on the threshold of death, ready to be judged for the things I have done and those I had hoped to do, yet that does not mean I have not already seen the glory of God, for I have witnessed it firsthand, and its magnificence has changed me into the man I am today.

I knew of the Nazarene long before I looked upon him, word of his flock and his miracles spread across the desert like a plague, one that threatened the peace and prosperity of the land placed in my charge. In time I knew word would reach across the sea, as it always does, and I would be asked to place my boot upon the Nazarene before his followers had grown into a mob that Rome would struggle to crush. Yet the opposite occurred, for when I heard from my liege, he spoke to me in hushed tones, asking me to stoke the flames of the fire until we could use the heat for our betterment. I knew not of what he meant but allowed the fire to burn until it heated the walls of Jerusalem, at which time I received the guidance I had been lacking and the steps I had to follow, for they had been sent by Tiberius himself. I was to place the Nazarene on a pedestal, high above the false Messiahs that had preceded him, and give the Jews the proof they needed that this was their true God, that this was indeed him.

It was decided that this could be done only through death, or the appearance of such, for this is a miracle that cannot be faked and one that would assuage even those who did not believe. In time the Nazarene was brought before his peers and for a mere pittance I was able to ensure the outcome, completing the ruse by washing my hands of the events as though I had no part in the verdict. This angered my Claudia, for she felt that I should exert the power of my rule to protect the holy man whom she had seen in her dreams, yet this could not be done, for fear of angering the Roman throne, the one who whispered to me and encouraged my deceit.

To guarantee the illusion of rebirth, the Nazarene was forced to endure brutality on a public stage, for at the end of the day there could be no doubt that this man had been through hell yet survived solely by his station in heaven. I kept apprised from afar since my place was not near the cross, for a man of my status would care not of a common criminal, one of many that was silenced every day under my rule. Instead, members of my elite guard were put on his watch and asked to complete the task that had been laid out before me, and for this they were promised property in a distant land, though they would never enjoy their bounty, for their silence could only be guaranteed with the tip of my blade. The Christ was given a drug that would result in the illusion of death while inducing no more than a heavy sleep that he could arise from at a distant time, yet the dose was too great or his condition too weak, and word came to me that the Nazarene, the man we had chosen as the Chosen One, was no more. I went at once, inspecting the Nazarene for myself, hoping upon hope that his sleep was but deep and his state was but temporary, yet this was not to be, for as I had been told, this man had indeed left the land of the living.