Old Earth (37 page)

McCauley also noticed a man standing next to a tree. He appeared to be looking up toward the priest’s window.

“There,” McCauley quietly observed. He tapped the window. “Look.”

Moments later, the man stepped into the shadows, but not out of sight.

McCauley grabbed Eccleston’s arm and inched him away from the window.

Alpert responded to what appeared to be a calculated maneuver. “What’s going on?”

“Dr. McCauley believes someone’s watching us,” Eccleston explained.

“There is,” McCauley affirmed.

Katrina tensed.

“Is there another way out, Father?” McCauley sharply demanded. “Other than the front door?”

“Well, there’s the basement, but it leads to an alley that opens right up to the street next to the building. Only the rats use it. You’re better off leaving quite casually. I’ll go with you and stroll back to the restaurant. You return to your hotel. All very public.”

“And tomorrow?”

“Like I said. An interesting day. We’ll meet up at the Vatican’s Secret Archives. But if you’re right about surveillance, we’ll be careful.”

• • •

The man thought he was in the shadows, successfully blending in, invisible to the threesome leaving the building. He held up a newspaper, pretending to read it. But that was impossible considering the low light. Even worse than his technique was the way he moved the paper in the direction his subjects were walking.

Not that Quinn McCauley was steeped in counter-intelligence skills. But given the whirlwind ride they’d been on the past week, he was becoming adept at such things.

After saying a very public goodnight to the priest at the restaurant, Quinn turned to Katrina, and suddenly and without warning, pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately.

Not even realizing it, she closed her eyes and gave in. When he released, which wasn’t by any stretch of the imagination instantly, she managed, “What was that for?”

“Two reasons,” McCauley whispered. “Because I wanted to and…”

“Yes?”

“I needed a better look at the man across the street who’s obviously intent on watching us.”

“You used me!” she said a little too loud for their own good.

“Shhh,” he said. “Hey, I had one eye closed…some of the time.”

“Well, what did you spy with that little open eye?”

“This is not his strong suit. He stared right at me.”

“Okay, my turn and make it look good.” She returned to his lips without waiting for permission any more than McCauley had.

At first, Katrina actually forgot to open her eyes. When she did, she slowly pivoted and saw the man looking like he was trying to read a map. He held it just below his chin but he obviously wasn’t focused on the paper. Katrina sized him up. He was about six feet tall, thin, and balding. Maybe a little light gray on the sides.

A minute later, Quinn and Katrina strolled arm and arm, sharing notes, and talking about ways of losing their tail. They easily succeeded by hailing the only cab on the street.

Seventy-three

JUNE 22, 1633
ROME, ITALY

I, Galileo, son of the late Vincenzo Galilei, Florentine, aged seventy years, arraigned personally before this tribunal, and kneeling before you, Most Eminent and Reverend Lord Cardinals, Inquisitors-General against heretical depravity throughout the entire Christian commonwealth, having before my eyes and touching with my hands, the Holy Gospels, swear that I have always believed, do believe, and by God's help will in the future believe, all that is held, preached, and taught by the Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church.

Galileo’s admission and confession became record. Maculano then set to expunge everything else he could find that related to what he deemed to be even more heretical than Galileo’s publications. Obliterating the past gave rise to a vast organization that continued his legacy.
Secretum.

Seventy-four

THE VATICAN
PRESENT DAY

The Swiss Guards waved the priest and his companions through St. Anne’s Gate, the business entrance to Vatican City.

They swiftly walked past the throngs of tourists, around a fountain and a high wall, into a courtyard behind the papal residence, and through metal doors with portrayals of Egyptian papyrus, medieval scrolls, and monks’ manuscripts.

Alpert caught her breath at the sight of the plaque which read
VATICAVM TABVLARVM,
Vatican Records Office.

“It gives reason for pause,” Fr. Eccleston said.

“This is it?”

“Yes, Dr. Alpert. Welcome to
Archivum Sectretum Apostolicum Vaticanum
—the Vatican Secret Archives.”

“I’m shaking,” she admitted.

“If you’re expecting a scene out of
Angels & Demons
, I assure you you’ve come to the wrong place. Dan Brown created pure fiction. Wonderful, but not what you’re about to see. He played off the word
secretum
to create the sense of an archive steeped in conspiracies. It makes for great reading and fun movie-making, but the truth of it is that
secretum
doesn’t denote the contemporary definition of confidentiality. It’s merely Vatican-speak for private. The Vatican Secret Archives are the Pope’s private archives, though quite public with the proper approval. You just have to apply and know what you’re looking for.”

“No bulletproof glass and secure titanium-lined rooms?” McCauley asked. “No jets taking off and helicopters bearing down?”

“Not even white gloved conspirators, although there are rooms where technicians do their painstaking restoration work. More
secretarial
than secret. It makes for a great tale, but truly, no.”

“All that intrigue.”

“That’s part and parcel why the Vatican put some of the greatest documents on display in 2012 in celebration of the four hundredth anniversary of the opening,” Eccleston explained. “They hoped to demystify the conspiratorial concerns and shed true historical light on the archives’ holdings.

“Kind of disappointing when you think about it,” Katrina responded.

“Oh, you won’t be disappointed, Dr. Alpert.”

At that moment, they were met by a friendly middle-aged archivist who wore a black suit, a crisp white shirt, and a yellow tie. The only thing that said
Vatican
about the handsome man was a pin on his jacket lapel with the gold on red Vatican City shield.

“Good morning, Beppe.”

“So good to have you back, Father. How have you been?”

“Fine. But I’m conferenced out and happy to be away from the crowds and back home.”

“And this is an extension of your home, so how may I assist you today?”

“Well, first, may I present two esteemed colleagues, Dr. Quinn McCauley from Yale and Dr. Katrina Alpert from Cambridge University. I’d like to show them the Tower and then dig into the archives a bit. How’s it look for unannounced guests?”

Beppe flashed a warm smile. “For you, anything.” He extended his hand, first to Alpert then to McCauley. "A pleasure meeting you. I’m Beppe Poppito, senior archivist. Call me Beppe.”

Quinn and Katrina introduced themselves, staying just as familiar.

“There are some procedures to go over with you, made easier considering you’re with one of my favorite scholars, the reverend doctor.”

“They’re already impressed, Beppe. No need.”

So far the access was as far from Dan Brown’s plots as imaginable.

“I’ll be happy to register you. I’ll need identification.”

“Even though they’re with me?”

“Yes, Father. And everything needs to go into your electronic locker, except pads and paper. Cameras, cellphones, books, recording devices, scanners, your backpack, Dr. McCauley, and your purse Dr. Alpert. For security purposes. I’m sure you understand.”

“Absolutely,” McCauley said, though he didn’t want to release Emilianov’s book and his cell.

“When you enter a reading room we’ll electronically register you at the daily distribution desk. You’ll choose a place to sit, though I know the good Father’s favorite spots.”

“And that’s where we’ll be,” Eccleston confirmed.

“Splendid. So let’s log in. When you’re ready to leave, it’s basically the same procedure in reverse. The reading rooms close at 17:15, 5:15
P.M.
,” Beppe concluded.

“We should be out well before.”

“No problem,” the archivist responded. “Take your time. Now what would you like to examine today?”

“We’ll be narrowing the scope as we go. Principally we’ll focus on Galileo’s writings from 1601 but I may have some other thoughts. There is another area of research.”

Beppe finished writing a notation on his pad about Galileo and was ready for the second request.

“We’d also like to learn about a Russian priest who lived in the late 1800s. His name was Father Mykhailo Emilianov.”

“I take it, from the Russian Orthodox Church?”

“Yes,” Fr. Eccleston replied.

“Can’t promise much given the Vatican’s history with Russian Orthodoxy.” Beppe now addressed Quinn and Katrina in a whisper. “Something of a thousand year family squabble. Not a lot of Christmas cards flying back and forth.”

They laughed at the archivist’s droll narrative of church politics.

“Any more specifics?”

“He lived somewhere in Siberia. The Altai Mountain region. And he wrote a memoir.”

“Well then, let’s see what comes up.”

• • •

Following check-in, Father Eccleston led them up hundreds of steps.

“We’re going to the Vatican’s first observatory The Tower of the Wind, built in 1578. It’s about sixty-one meters high, roughly two hundred feet. Only St. Peter’s Basilica stands taller. And if you’re really ready for a shock…”

“We are,” McCauley said on Katrina’s behalf.

“It was constructed for Pope Gregory VIII so his astronomers could track the movements of the sun and stars and plot the weather. Of course, the findings were twisted to validate the Ptolemy view of the heavens revolving around the earth.

When they reached Meridian Hall, quite out of breath, Quinn and Katrina were captivated by the beautiful frescoes that graced the thirty-foot high walls.

“What is the scene?”

“An apt question, Dr. Alpert.
The Shipwreck of St. Paul in Malta
, considered an act of divine meteorological intervention.”

The vivid blues and greens of the swirling ocean were in contrast to the grey of the sinking ship. Katrina was drawn to the holy spirit hovering over the craft.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Eccleston commented. “The work of Nicolo Cirignani, as is the fresco on the south wall,
Jesus Calms a Storm and Heals the Gerasene Demonic
and on the corner of the south and west walls,
The Angel Seals the Forehead of the Saved.
”

The ceiling reinforced the purpose of the Tower. It was painted with stars. Eccleston continued his explanation noting a small opening at the top, which at noon every spring equinox shoots a ray of light directly to the center of the marble floor.

“A vaulted place from which to study the stars, even if the conclusions were false,” he admitted. “Today, the Vatican has two observatories, one at the Pope’s summer home at Castel Gandolfo outside of Rome and a second housed at the University of Arizona in Tucson. I’ve worked at both. The tradition, now different, does underscore that the Vatican remains one of the oldest astronomical research institutions in the world, though too late for poor Giordano Bruno who I told you about. He embraced the strictly heretical position that the sun was another star and that the universe contained infinite possibilities of other worlds, perhaps even some that could be inhabited. Acceptable from a poet waxing philosophical about infinite points of light; unorthodox and heretical for the Dominican friar, mathematician and astronomer that he was. Bruno was convicted of heresy and burned to a crisp in 1600. But because of his death, the Inquisition determined it might be too politically risky to put Galileo to death. They wanted to demonstrate they had the power to do so, but they’d advanced in the thirty-three years since Bruno’s trial.”

Katrina asked if it was leniency or political expediency.

“A bit of both. Pope Urban VIII was an early ally of Galileo’s. According to some papal records, he personally agreed with the scientist, but had to uphold scripture and the beliefs held throughout the world, not just by Christians. That could explain why Galileo was permitted to write for so long.”

“An amazing history,” McCauley said. But he was getting eager to bring the research full circle to their own quest.

“Yes, and hopefully we’ll find more today, but only if we request the right documents. You see, no browsing is allowed. Shall we get to work?”

• • •

THE VATICAN
THIRTY MINUTES LATER

Outside, it was sweltering hot and humid. Inside, it was actually chilly. Katrina shivered.

Fr. Eccleston put two bound books of Galileo’s correspondences on the table; the result of his initial request. Then he removed his black blazer and covered Katrina’s shoulders. “They keep it cool here. Even more so down in the subterranean vaults. They say it’s cold enough there to discourage the devil from doing any research.”

“Thanks. Must be the real reason they want women to wear long dresses,” Katrina added lightly. “Are there any full length black blankets around in my size?”

“I’ll see what I can scout up,” Eccleston said. “In the meantime, start looking for anything that’s dated 1601 or shortly thereafter. Keep your eyes open for words like
thermometro, caverna,
and
lo sconosciuto
or
l’ignoto.
It’s Italian, not Latin. Unlike Copernicus who wrote in Latin, primarily to be read by scholars, Galileo used Italian, the language of the people.”

McCauley understood the first two words, not the rest. “
Lo sconosciuto
and what?”

The Welsh priest stopped at the door of the reading room. “
Lo sconosciuto
and
l’ignoto
. The unknown.”