The Omega Scroll (31 page)

‘In a way the death of Yasser Arafat was a circuit breaker,’ Giovanni observed. ‘Ordinary Palestinians are sick of the violence, as are the Israelis. Someone like Ahmed Sartawi would be a genuine hope for peace, as would Yossi.’ Giovanni thought back to the fishing trip. ‘I sent Ahmed my best wishes for the Palestinian elections and I’ve been praying for him.’

‘Will you see him while you’re here?’

‘I’d like to, but some of his more fanatical opponents might use it against him. Mar’Oth was an example of what can be done between Muslims and Christians but even there the change was gradual and people have to be given time to adjust. Are you sure David didn’t want to join us for dinner?’

‘Positive. He knows we needed some time alone to catch up.’ Allegra placed her hand on top of Giovanni’s. ‘I owe you an explanation, after all we’ve been through together. I feel that I’ve let you down as a friend.’

‘Well, you shouldn’t,’ Giovanni responded. ‘Especially after what happened.’

‘I hope you don’t feel guilty about that. It was a wonderful moment.’

‘I feel guilty that I wanted a lot more moments like that,’ Giovanni said with a lopsided grin. ‘I know you denied it, but I felt guilty when you left the Church so suddenly. Was that the reason?’

‘No, it wasn’t,’ Allegra said, the memory flooding back.

Giovanni’s smile disappeared as Allegra recounted the events of her dreadful night in Milano.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Giovanni said softly when Allegra had finished. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I was in shock, Giovanni. I thought I’d let you down. It took a long while to put it all in perspective.’

‘Petroni must be punished for this. We’ve been hiding this sort of thing in the Church for far too long.’

‘I wish he could be, but it would be my word against the most powerful cardinal in the whole of the Catholic Church. The Vatican’s spin would be horrific.’

‘Yes, but more and more people are now coming out. Look at what has happened in Boston. The Church has been protecting paedophiles and other sexual deviants for years. Ultimately the rank of cardinal is not going to absolve anyone from responsibility. Would you be able to take the heat?’

‘If I thought we could bring him to justice, of course,’ Allegra answered defiantly.

‘Then we should give some thought to how that can be done. In the meantime, I may be able to get him on another front.’

It was the first time in all the years she had known him that Allegra had ever heard Giovanni plan to ‘get’ anyone.

‘Petroni and the Vatican Bank have been up to their old murky dealings,’ Giovanni said. ‘Do you remember I told you that just before he was murdered, Pope John Paul sacked his Cardinal Secretary of State?’

‘And was about to sack Petroni and investigate the Vatican Bank,’ Allegra said. ‘I remember it well.’

‘At the time, the Head of the Freemasons Propaganda Two was one Giorgio Felici, a Sicilian thug operating as a Milanese banker. He’s now the Head of P2’s successor, P3, but he’s also been expanding his banking business. We used to have a very profitable small bank in the Veneto, the Banco del Sacerdozio.’

‘The Priests’ Bank?’

‘It was set up after the Second World War by a group of wealthy Catholic Venetian bankers to provide low interest loans to struggling workers in the vineyards and it also provided loans for centres for the handicapped and destitute in the Veneto. Banco del Sacerdozio was one of the best run and most profitable banks in Italy and it was protected from takeover by the Vatican owning 51 per cent of the shares. Last month the shares were sold to Giorgio Felici and he has foreclosed on all the loans.’

Anger flashed in Giovanni’s eyes as he remembered the meeting he had attended the month before in a little vineyard, one of dozens nestling in the southern foothills of the craggy, snow-capped peaks of the Dolomites. A meeting that revealed the desperation and hopelessness that the locals were feeling, faced with the prospect that their livelihood and support of their families would be callously ripped away from them by a faceless conglomerate.

‘Had I known, I could have gone to the Pope and had the sale postponed,’ Giovanni said.

‘Can’t you still go to him now?’ Allegra asked.

Giovanni shook his head. ‘Several years ago Petroni was instrumental in Giorgio Felici being appointed as the Pope’s financial adviser so I need proof. I’ve started my own internal investigation and when I have enough evidence I will go to the Pope and insist on a full-scale investigation of the Vatican Bank.’

‘The Pope may resist that,’ Allegra observed. ‘Especially if he’s being advised by Felici.’

‘Felici has strong connections to the Mafia and the Church should sever any dealings with him,’ Giovanni said, a hint of steel in his voice. ‘In the past the Church has owned companies that have manufactured bombs, bullets and tanks, as well as contraceptives. The only criteria for owning shares has been profitability and I suspect we’re at it again. If the Pope will not do what is necessary to clean out this cesspool in his own backyard I will call for a public inquiry.’

For Giovanni it would be a last resort, but Allegra knew he wouldn’t hesitate.

‘The Lord sometimes moves in strange ways,’ Giovanni said grimly. ‘And who knows, if an inquiry were to result in Petroni being removed we might even be able to quietly prise the copy of the Omega Scroll out of its hiding place in the Secret Archives. After what he did to you he deserves to be imprisoned. Bastard.’

It was the first time Allegra had ever heard Giovanni swear. ‘Well, you wouldn’t want to know what I had to say to God,’ she said.

‘I think he’s heard it all before,’ Giovanni said, his smile recovering some of its warmth. ‘It cost you your faith?’

Allegra nodded. ‘Although just lately I can’t help but think there is something quite powerful around me. It’s just not Catholic.’

Giovanni smiled. ‘You haven’t lost your faith, it comes in many different forms.’

Allegra looked at Giovanni quizzically. ‘That’s a very strange thing for a cardinal to say,’ she said, smiling. Suddenly it was like old times at La Pizzeria Milano and they began to relax into each other’s company.

‘Not really. I’ve changed a lot since we were in Milano. My time here in Jerusalem and the Middle East gave me time to think and has taught me a lot. I met people like Ahmed who made me realise that they hold their faiths just as dearly as Catholics hold theirs. I think our doctrine of the Catholic faith being the “only true path” has done a lot of damage. By the time I left here I came to the conclusion that there is more than one path to the Omega and Eternity, and the Bible is but one of the guides.’

The Spirit smiled
.

‘I did a lot of thinking too after Professor Rosselli was shot,’ Allegra said. ‘He was a great loss, not only to Ca’ Granda. What did you think of his theory on the origin of DNA?’

‘On the scientific evidence it’s more than possible, it’s probable, but like many of the world’s truly great thinkers, Crick and Rosselli were way ahead of their time. Most people get so caught up in their own problems that it is difficult for them to imagine other parts of our own planet, let alone that there might be higher civilisations somewhere in the billions of other galaxies.’

‘Capable of delivering one or more vehicles to other planets in the cosmos in the hope of starting life,’ Allegra responded. ‘I agree with you, when people are pushed out of their comfort zone they feel threatened and their immediate reaction is to denounce it all as nonsense.’ Allegra leaned forward and lowered her voice. ‘When you realised you could never prove that there was a copy of the Omega Scroll in the Vatican, you said to me “the truth will always out”. When Professor Rosselli was murdered, the pursuit of that truth became a quest for me, and now there has been a small frustrating step forward. I know you will keep this to yourself, but David and I have found another Dead Sea Scroll.’

Giovanni listened as Allegra quietly brought him up to date on their discovery.

‘That’s wonderful news,’ Giovanni whispered. ‘Even though it is an inventory, the confirmation that more than one copy of the Omega Scroll exists is a wonderful find within itself.’

‘The problem is, Giovanni, even if we do find another copy of the Omega Scroll, the Vatican will fight tooth and nail to get hold of it. And if they do, they’ll bury it. At the very least there will be a furious campaign to dump it as a fraud, and a lot of people will believe them.’

‘They will, so let me make you and David an offer. If you find it I will be more than happy to be with you at the announcement, wherever that might be, and I will personally ensure it gets an open debate in the Church. Later, when the Vatican least expects it, if the copy in the Secret Archives can be found, the Vatican will be forced to debate the truth.’

Allegra felt a little stunned. It was the very thing she and David had talked about and she had been wondering how she might raise such a delicate issue. Giovanni had come straight out with it. If anything, she had underestimated the intellect of this man, and just fleetingly, Allegra gave David cause to be jealous.

‘Won’t the Petronis of this world prevent you doing that?’ she asked.

‘Not if I just do it. It is time for the Church to allow intellectual freedom, otherwise the real message of Christ will be lost for ever.’

As Giovanni and Allegra left the restaurant and headed for the Old City and a nightcap at Patrick O’Hara’s, they were followed a little while later by the well-dressed Arab.

A short distance away Tom Schweiker was about to do a cross for the mid-afternoon bulletin in New York. The Vatican was showing no signs of giving ground on either the Dead Sea Scrolls’ dating or access to those who might be able to prove the truth.

‘Ten seconds, Geraldine … and live …’

‘And we’re joined now by Tom Schweiker in Jerusalem. Pressure seems to be mounting on allowing more light on the Dead Sea Scrolls, Tom.’

‘On two fronts, Geraldine. First, the dating of the scrolls and secondly, access. Earlier this week I put those questions to one of the internationally recognised academics in the field, Monsignor Derek Lonergan.’

For such a pompous blowhard, Derek Lonergan had seemed oddly reluctant to give an interview, but Tom had persisted, subtly appealing to Lonergan’s ego and suggesting that it would be a great loss if only one side of the story was heard. Lonergan’s ego was an easy target.

‘Monsignor Lonergan, for many years now you’ve been resolutely defending the Vatican’s dating of these scrolls as being two hundred years before the time of Christ, but the basis for that consensus is now coming into question. Do you still stand by those dates?’

‘Not a shadow of a doubt, my man. These scrolls are most certainly from the second century before Christ. Not a shadow of doubt at all.’

‘One of the planks that you have used for dating is based on the coins that were found in the area of Qumran?’

‘Certainly.’ Lonergan raised his chin and sniffed patronisingly at the camera as if it was a question to which any fool would know the answer. For an instant, the angle of the bright camera lights exposed the purple welt of a scar hidden under Lonergan’s unkempt beard.

‘Yet the first Director of L’École Biblique claimed to have found a coin with the insignia of the tenth Roman Legion on it but when it was examined by impartial experts not only was it found to be not from the tenth or any other legion, but from Ashkelon dating at 72
AD
?’

Derek Lonergan’s face started to match the colour of his scar. He was visibly furious at both the question and having to answer it.

‘That was an unfortunate oversight and obviously a coin that had been dropped in the ruins much later by a passer-by,’ he responded angrily.

‘Really? Nevertheless something the Director of L’École Biblique took over five years to correct?’ Tom maintained a polite, calm, almost nonchalant approach which got the result he wanted. Lonergan was bordering on exploding.

‘One final question, Monsignor. Is it true that it has taken nearly six months to finalise the secondment of two scholars to the museum?’

‘The Israeli and Italian academics you refer to are being shown every courtesy,’ he replied, his obvious anger making his response even more unconvincing.

‘Monsignor Lonergan, thank you for joining us on
International Correspondent
.’

Tom unhooked his microphone and walked back to the car park of the Rockefeller. He wondered how much pressure it would take to make Lonergan crack and, in turn, force whoever was instructing him to relent on the issue of access to the scrolls. Tom was also troubled by the sense that he had met Lonergan before, a sense that was getting stronger from the moment he spotted the scar on Lonergan’s cheek. The journalist in him came to the fore and he was determined to find the missing pieces.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Roma

L
orenzo Petroni read the surveillance report on Dr Bassetti and Cardinal Donelli’s dinner in the Jerusalem restaurant with a growing sense of desperation. Timing was everything and it was running out. Soon he would gather the Curial Cardinals for a brief on the Pope’s failing health and the possibility of resignation. Faced with the possibility of a Pope, and as a result, the Holy Church in a coma, Petroni felt sure the Cardinals could be manipulated into agreement, but all of that would come to nothing unless his own candidacy remained absolutely untarnished.

Petroni paced his office. He knew that his life’s ambition could be damaged by any number of factors, and until now he had been confident they were all under control. At least the woman had not found the actual Omega Scroll but she would need to be kept under continued surveillance. As far as the allegations of rape were concerned Petroni was confident they could be quashed with a straight denial. Perhaps the allegations could be turned to his advantage, invoking sympathy for a cowardly and totally baseless attack on an upright member of the Church. If necessary, money could create witnesses, he mused, and he began to develop a theme, one of Bassetti leaving her Order for a life of loose living and sex, wanting to attack those who maintained a chaste existence.

Donelli was another matter. Petroni knew that if Donelli was successful in starting an investigation into the Vatican Bank it would finish him. It was high risk, he mused, but so were the stakes for the Keys to Peter and Petroni’s adrenaline surged as he made up his mind. The ‘Italian Solution’ would need to be applied to Donelli. Suddenly, the buzzing of his intercom interrupted his thoughts.

‘Petroni.’

‘Daniel Kirkpatrick from CCN is on line two, Eminence.’

‘Lorenzo.
Come stai
?’

‘
Bene, grazie, e tu?
’ Petroni replied smoothly, automatically switching to diplomatic mode.

‘Well thank you, Lorenzo.’

‘What have you got?’

‘It’s Schweiker again. He’s making inquiries into the background of Monsignor Lonergan, your representative in Jerusalem.’

Petroni’s eyes narrowed. ‘What sort of inquiries?’

‘My sources are good here, Lorenzo. He seems to think Lonergan went by another name in a parish in Idaho?’

‘I would find that very hard to believe, Daniel, but let me look into it and I’ll get back to you.’

‘I’d be much obliged, Lorenzo. This sort of speculation can be very harmful to the Church.’

Petroni’s mood darkened as another factor from his past threatened to destabilise his lifelong grab for the Keys to Peter, even before a Conclave and election could be manipulated. First, Donelli’s investigation into the Vatican Bank, now this. It was as if the winds of the cosmos were massing to destroy his control and his mind raced as he sought a means of restoring it. Petroni unlocked the top drawer of his desk and took out the .38 Beretta Cheetah pistol that he kept in a leather box. He aimed it at the far wall of his spacious office. Like Donelli’s proposed investigation into the Vatican Bank, any investigation into Lonergan that exposed Petroni’s own involvement might also derail his candidature for the Papacy and that could not be allowed to happen. It might not be necessary to kill the journalist just yet, but if he got too close, like Donelli, he would have to go. Given what was at stake, Petroni resolved to talk with Felici in the morning. He smiled inwardly at his choice of meeting place. Felici could come to the Vatican, but not to his office.

The Church must be returned to pre-Vatican II days where her authority was not questioned. Neither Donelli nor Schweiker could be allowed to succeed; whatever it took. In the end there was only one solution that was guaranteed.

Petroni entered the Basilica San Pietro from below, through the labyrinth of underground passages that accessed the grottoes beneath the most famous church in all of Christendom, unobserved by the crowd of tourists. Emerging behind the row of confessionals he moved to the one at the end that had been reserved for his use and he slipped through the door at the rear. Drawing the curtain and the ‘
Occupato
’ sign he settled down to wait.

Outside the tourists thronged backwards and forwards across the Piazza San Pietro and through the massive bronze doors of the Basilica that Filarete had decorated with biblical reliefs in 1439. Outside Giorgio Felici looked at his watch, grateful for the anonymity the tourists provided. For some strange reason he was uncharacteristically nervous. Felici had understood the need for a meeting outside of Petroni’s office and had admired the ruthless Cardinal’s audacity. Even if the meeting was somehow discovered, which was extremely unlikely, it could be put down to a request for confession. Perhaps that was the cause of his nervousness. Felici hadn’t been anywhere near a church since he was a boy, much less visited St Peter’s. Giorgio joined the queue to go through the magnetometers and a possible physical search. No guns today.

The sign above the small dark panelled confessional was in position as Giorgio knew it would be. He glanced around casually. No one was taking the slightest interest and he slipped onto the kneeler.

‘Forgive me Father for I have sinned,’ he said softly, echoing the agreed passwords, ending with, ‘and many of mine have been the sins of Mammon.’ Petroni, Giorgio thought darkly, had a peculiar sense of humour.

‘We have two new problems, either of which can destroy control here,’ Petroni began, cutting straight to the chase. ‘There is a journalist, Tom Schweiker …’

Giorgio listened intently as Petroni outlined the contract on CCN’s Middle East correspondent, and as he listened his nervousness disappeared. Sensing a desperation in Petroni, his old cunning returned and he wondered why a journalist would pose such a threat to the Vatican.

‘It is perhaps fortunate,’ Giorgio Felici responded evenly, when Petroni had finished, ‘that in this era of mobile phones, surveillance is easy. Should we need to take the final step, murders are quite commonplace in Jerusalem, although the journalist is a very prominent international figure and this will not be easy.’

‘
Sì
. The second assignment is even more difficult,’ Petroni warned.

‘The second assignment is indeed far more difficult,’ Giorgio agreed when Petroni had finished issuing the second contract. In the circles of assassination and intrigue in which the members of P3 moved, Giorgio Felici had learned not to be surprised by the various threats that had to be eliminated, but it was the first time he had ever been asked to assassinate a cardinal.

‘On occasions we have had to deal with leading bankers and industrialists who have misbehaved, but we try to avoid it. Assassinating powerful people can make life very uncomfortable and assassinating a cardinal would be no exception. The heat would be intense.’

In the silence that followed Felici wrongly concluded that Petroni’s concern was a simple case of him making certain of the Keys to Peter. Elimination of rivals was something the little Sicilian was well practised in, as the members of the Bontate and Buscetta families had found to their cost in Palermo. Felici now perceived a vulnerability in Petroni on the other side of the confessional, and his green eyes glinted in the half light. With a touch of condescension he said, ‘Should you lose the conclave, you will still be very useful to us as a cardinal.’

Petroni smiled thinly. Giorgio Felici was a piece of work, a particularly nasty one at that, but Petroni was ready for him.

‘Be that as it may, Giorgio, it is not only a matter of what happens in the conclave – your own survival is at stake here.’

‘For you to lose an election, even to someone like Cardinal Donelli, might be awkward but I doubt it will affect me.’

‘But the Vatican Bank does affect you and the reason for this contract is that Cardinal Donelli has commenced an investigation into your acquisition of the Banco del Sacerdozio. If he is elected Pope that investigation will certainly probe into the depths of the Vatican Bank itself.’

Giorgio Felici felt as if he’d been hit by a combination left and right from Mike Tyson at his peak. He shifted uncomfortably on his knees, detesting the subservience of the confessional.

‘That must never be allowed to happen,’ he hissed.

‘The takeover of the Priests’ Bank in the Veneto may have made you a lot of money, my friend, but your cancellation of the low interest loans is coming home to roost.’ Cardinal Petroni would normally not have given a second thought to the Patriarch of Venice’s constituents, but now it had become necessary to grind the little Sicilian’s face in his own greed. Petroni knew that the contract on Giovanni Donelli might be difficult to enforce unless Felici was in a corner, and Petroni wanted that corner to be as tight as he could make it.

‘Cardinal Donelli must be the victim of an unfortunate accident,’ Petroni said calmly, as if he was making the decision to put a dog out of its misery.

‘The journalist is difficult enough but assassinate a cardinal? Are you out of your mind?’ Giorgio was angry now, and wary, like a rat that had been cornered, looking for a way out. ‘Have you any idea how much that will cost? You’re looking at a price tag in the millions.’

‘Cost is not an issue, my friend,’ Petroni replied. ‘The Vatican Bank will pay, but if it ever gets to the stage where independent authorities open up the bank’s books, you will be looking at spending the rest of your life in a cell.’

Giorgio Felici was silent for the count of quite a few heartbeats. ‘Let me get back to you,’ he said finally. ‘This is going to be extremely difficult.’