A Sacred Storm (9 page)

Christiano was part of the maintenance team in the Vatican. He wasn't involved in the upkeep of any of the major artworks, just the general fixing, screwing and hammering of everyday objects like tables, chairs, roofs and walls. But this didn't stop him being immensely proud of his work. Without the likes of him there would be no Vatican City, merely a crumbling mass of derelict buildings. He was not only serving society, but also God himself. It gave him great satisfaction to know that his contribution to the world was good in the eyes of the Lord.

After a bumpy fifteen-minute ride the bus arrived at St Peter's Square. Christiano leapt off and made his way through the gathering crowds. It was a glorious morning without a cloud in the sky, and he whistled merrily as he strolled without a care towards the maintenance office. He guessed that it would be an ideal day to continue the repairs they were making to the dome of St Peter's Basilica, and hoped that he would be part of the team assigned to the task. The good jobs were handed out on a first-come basis, and the fact that he was nearly always the earliest to arrive wasn't going to hurt his chances.

When he reached the office he did indeed find that he was the first there, but instead of securing the plum roof job he was instructed by his foreman to go and see Cardinal Vittori.

“The cardinal wants to see me?” said Christiano in disbelief.

“Yes,” said the foreman. “Apparently so. I couldn't tell you what about though. He said to send you up to his office as soon as you got in. You know where it is, don't you?”

“Yes, I do, but I'm a little confused.”

The foreman shrugged. “Well, I'm sure it's nothing to worry about. You should be honoured – he's never asked to see me.”

Christiano left the office and started the long trek to the wing in which the cardinal's chambers lay, his mind abuzz with conflicting emotions. It was indeed a great honour to be asked to visit the cardinal, but even though he could think of nothing he had done wrong he was racked with a sense of guilt, and couldn't quite believe himself important enough to be bothered with unless it was for a scolding.

On arrival he was welcomed by the cardinal's assistant whose unreadable face gave no indication as to the purpose of the audience. Christiano's attempts to engage him in conversation proved fruitless as well.

As the door opened the cardinal stood up and smiled. “Ah, Christiano,” he said, raising his arms. “It is so good of you to come at such short notice. Please, take a seat.” He gestured towards one of two chairs in front of his desk. The other was already occupied by a dark-haired gentleman in a suit who Christiano thought looked vaguely familiar.

After dismissing his assistant Vittori offered Christiano a coffee, which was accepted nervously, and then sat back down. “Well then Christiano,” he said warmly. “It is good to see you again. We have met before – do you remember?”

“Of course, Your Eminence, it is not something that a man such as myself would forget,” said Christiano, casting his mind back fifteen years to when the cardinal had visited his school. They had exchanged a few words, but he couldn't for the life of him think how the cardinal remembered.

“I have a very good memory for faces, in case you were wondering,” said Vittori. “And also I believe we ascertained that I had known your grandmother – a tireless devotee to the faith.”

“Yes, Your Eminence. You were missionaries together in Africa.”

“Indeed we were. I was sorry to hear of her passing,” said Vittori. He briefly looked away in reflection, then continued, “Before we get started I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine.” He motioned to the man in the other chair. “This Christiano, is Mr Jonathan Ayres.”

Something in Christiano's brain suddenly clicked and he realized that the man sitting next to him was the British premier. Ayres held out his hand and greeted him in fluent Italian. Not knowing quite how to react, Christiano took his extended palm and gave it a bewildered shake.

“Well then, Christiano,” said Vittori. “I suppose you are wondering why I have called you here.”

Christiano nodded nervously. The cardinal's eyes were drilling right through him.

Vittori took a sip of coffee and continued, “I can see that you are a little on edge my friend, but I want you to answer my questions honestly and openly. Do not be frightened of the truth. Do you understand?”

Again Christiano nodded.

“Good,” said Vittori. “Then I shall begin.” He paused briefly to make sure that the young man was suitably in awe and then started his inquisition. “I am given to understand that you are a devout Catholic, a firm adherent to the faith. Is this correct?”

“Absolutely, Your Eminence. I have been devoted all my life. My grandmother showed me the way of the Lord when I was young.”

“Good, that is what I thought,” said Vittori. He drummed his fingers on the desk for effect. “The thing is Christiano, I have been doing my annual check of the staff files,” he lied, “and I have noticed something very disturbing on your record. It appears you have been ‘dabbling' in the occult. Is this true?”

Christiano felt his chest tighten. “N-no, Your Eminence,” he stammered. “I would never be involved in such a thing.”

Vittori held up his hand. “It is alright Christiano, there is no need to become excited, I would just like you to answer my questions. Now, where was I? Oh yes, the occult. This particular practice that you have allegedly become involved in is called Reiki. Does this mean anything to you?”

Christiano stared open-mouthed. How did the cardinal know about his Reiki? It wasn't as if he'd broadcast it around his workmates. And why was he calling it the occult?

“Well…” Vittori pressed.

“Well, yes, Your Eminence, I do indeed have an interest in Reiki. But I had no idea it was so sinister. It is for making people better. That is good, yes?”

“The occult does not have to be sinister Christiano, it can be any supernatural practice. So you admit to being involved with it?”

“Yes, Your Eminence, I cannot lie to you. It would be the same as lying to God himself.” He bowed his head in reverence and hoped that the cardinal would forgive him his transgression. Although he really didn't know what he had done wrong.

“So, tell me about this ‘Reiki' Christiano. What does it involve?”

Christiano looked up to see the cardinal's expression, but it was impassive. “It is almost like the laying on of hands, Your Eminence. You transfer good energies through your body to the person you are treating, and it helps rid them of their ills.”

“That is a very bold claim,” said Vittori, raising an eyebrow. “Does it actually work?”

“Yes, Your Eminence, I believe it does.”

“You believe it does? Does it, or doesn't it?”

“It does.”

“Can you give me an example of how it has worked?”

Christiano could feel both Vittori and Ayres staring now. He wanted to leap up and run out of the room, or better still for the ground to swallow him whole. Instead, he calmed his nerves and said, “Well, Your Eminence, one of my mother's friends recently came to me complaining of chronic stomach cramps. She had been to the doctor lots of times and he had conducted many tests, but nothing could be found. I performed Reiki on her and the next day the pain was gone. There have been many instances where friends and family have come to me and I have eased their pain.”

“Really?” said Vittori. “And how does this happen?”

“Like I said, Your Eminence, it is positive energies. I draw them from the universe and channel them into the patient.”

“So you were born with this talent?”

“No, no, Your Eminence,” said Christiano, shaking his head. “I was taught how to do it by a Reiki Master. Anyone can do it if they learn how to. Everyone can tap in to the universal life force.”

“Universal life force you say…interesting,” mused Vittori. “But it does not sound very Catholic. Only Christ had the ability to heal with his hands. Are you telling me that you are like him?”

“Not at all, Your Eminence. My healings are but mere trifles compared to the miracles of the Lord.”

“Maybe. But let me ask you this Christiano – how do you balance your faith with this Reiki business. Can one believe in a ‘universal life force' and one true God at the same time. These tenets do not seem compatible to me. God is all powerful – it is he that heals through the word of the Church. What you seem to be suggesting is something more akin to Buddhism, and that I am afraid is no good within the Vatican. We believe in God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.”

Christiano's eyes welled up in frustration. “Yes, yes, Your Eminence, and so do I…So do I…”

“Now, now, Christiano,” Vittori said kindly. “Do not work yourself into a state. All I wish to know is how you manage to harmonize these apparently different ideals in your head. So please, take a few moments and then tell me your thoughts on the matter. And remember, be honest with me.”

Christiano looked first at the cardinal and then at Ayres, and noted that their faces had softened somewhat. He took a few deep breaths and attempted to drive the fear from his mind. “I believe, Your Eminence,” he began nervously, “that it is okay to practice Reiki whilst maintaining a strong belief in God and Jesus. Jesus wanted us to be kind to each other and Reiki is all about being kind to other people by healing them. Jesus also said that every human being could be like him, and by healing we become as he was. As for God, I believe that it is his power that I harness when I heal people. The universal life force is just another name for the great being. Every religion has a different name for him, and every religion interprets him differently, but he looks after everyone. I do, though, believe that the Catholic way is the correct way to honour him. And by being as much like Jesus as I can I believe I am doing that.”

The room fell silent as the cardinal mulled over his statement. Christiano could feel the walls closing in rapidly, drying his throat and sending beads of sweat trickling down his cheek. He said a little prayer in his head, pleading with the Lord to deliver him from the predicament he had got himself into. Promising that he would do anything as long as he could keep his job.

He was about to hyperventilate when at last Vittori spoke. “Well, Christiano, you make a very good case I must admit, albeit a very basic one. The doctrines of the Catholic Church go far deeper than your limited knowledge, but as a layman I do not expect you to understand complex theological matters. The important thing is that you believe yourself that the two ideals can go hand in hand.”

Christiano nodded. “Yes, Your Eminence, I do. But I would gladly stop the Reiki if it displeased you in any way. You understand God's wishes so much more than I do. Being a good Catholic is more important to me than anything else in the world.”

Vittori gave a broad smile. “That is very good to hear Christiano, you are indeed one of the faithful. But I do not wish you to give up your healing, I would like you to use it to help the Church. Would you like to do that?”

The realization that he was not in trouble sent a rush of ecstatic release through Christiano's body. His chest, arms, and head loosened instantly sending him into a slump on the chair. The relief was so great that he almost started to cry. “Yes, Your Eminence,” he blurted, pulling himself straight again. “I would very much like to help, in any way I can.”

Vittori looked across to Ayres who smiled and nodded his assent. “Well then, Christiano, I suppose I had better tell you what this is all about.” He paused and held up a cautionary finger. “But before I say anything you must promise me that you will keep everything I tell you a secret. You must swear to me the greatest oath you could possibly make.”

“I promise,” said Christiano urgently. “I swear upon my mother's life and my own, may the Lord strike me down.” He crossed his chest with his index finger.

“Good,” said Vittori. “So be it. Now, let us start with a question. You say that you wish to become more like Jesus – how would you feel about becoming exactly like him?”

Stella's appetite for a fight still smouldered, but over the last two days she had managed to curb her anger and put on a generally civil façade for the sheik's benefit. He was patently suspicious about her sudden change of heart, and still had his guard up, yet he was evidently enjoying the thawing of relations and had rewarded her compliance with a number of small, but useful, concessions.

The most welcome of these compromises was being allowed out of her room for half an hour a day. Although watched at all times by two armed guards, she could wander around the palace and enjoy the wondrous garden in the centre. There were, however, specific areas in which she was not permitted to venture, and she was also forbidden from making conversation or eye contact with anybody other than the sheik or her guards.

These restrictions had not stopped her gaining valuable information though. She had already made a map in her head of the general layout of the place, and had pinpointed areas relatively weak in security. What she needed now was access to more of the building, to complete her mental picture and formulate a viable escape plan.

She was lying on her bed thinking of ways to accomplish this when there was a knock on the door. After a ten-second pause the sheik entered the room. He smiled his sickening smile, and after containing a shiver she smiled back.

“Good morning,” he said cheerfully. “I trust that you slept well, my dear.”

“Yes, thank you,” she said, rising to her feet.

“And your breakfast was satisfactory?”

“Yes, everything's fine. The food is excellent.”

“Good, good,” he said, clapping his hands. “I am so glad that you are enjoying yourself at last. It would be a pity to waste all the fine things on offer to you just because of misplaced pride. I will look after you here, you will never have to worry about anything again, as long as you live.”