The Templar Concordat (37 page)

Becker: I think you’re asking me to comment on a treaty that doesn’t exist. I won’t do that.

Dickenson: You don’t believe the treaty exists?

Becker: No.

Dickenson: Why not?

Becker: I don’t have a reason to believe that.

Dickenson: But Mr. Al Dossary says it does exist, and he has it.

Becker: That is not sufficient reason for me to believe it. Suppose I told you I had the original United States Declaration of Independence folded up in my pocket. Would you believe it?

Dickenson: No. But I’d ask to see what you have in your pocket.

Becker: But you wouldn’t believe it on my say-so alone?

Dickenson: No.

Becker: No, you wouldn’t because you would have no reason to believe it. It’s the same with this treaty claim.

*     *     *

The Pope clicked from one recorded news show to another. America, Britain, Italy, Spain, Mexico, they all followed the same pattern.  Historians talked about the Crusades, theologians explained infallibility, histories of the Popes emphasized the scoundrels, and Muslim scholars explained the peaceful essence of Islam.

“It’s like this everywhere, Carlos?” the Pope asked.

“Yeah. I put together about twenty of those in your languages. No need to look at them all, it’s the same stuff over and over. ‘The Pope says exterminate the Muslims because God says so and the Pope’s infallible.’ Blah, blah, blah.”

 “What I don’t get is how much longer they can continue without showing their hand. Nobody has seen the treaty. Everyone’s taking it on faith. Uh, that was a poor choice of words.”

He watched Carlos. “Well, out with it. What’s on your mind?”

“Is it time to call them out? Put up or shut up?”

“That’s what I thought, and that’s just what I was wondering. Al Dossary has been calling all the shots. Maybe it’s our turn at bat.” He whacked his hand down on the desk. “I’m tired of getting my ass kicked. Set up a meeting tomorrow morning. Agretti, head of the Congregation, the head librarian. Round up all the usual suspects.”

Zurich - Wednesday, April 22

The Templar Master held a picture of the original treaty in one hand, and one of Jean’s practice forgeries in the other, looking from one to the other. “You say the coloring of the paper will be the same?” he asked the Archivist.

The Archivist said nothing, just slid a test page from the Bible onto the desk. The Master looked at the brown page. “Burn up that whole Bible getting it right?”

“Just through the Book of Amos.”

The Master took his glasses off and threw them on the desk. “Patrick, you know as well as I that my Latin isn’t up to reading this.”

“Oh, it’s not? What a pity. Let me see if I have your native language in here somewhere.” The Archivist dug in his briefcase. “Here’s a French. Better?” He slid another page across the desk.  “And here’s the English, since most of the civilized world has abandoned French for English.”

The Master read the original and forgery in each language and grinned.  “This is really good. I hate to inflate your ego, but it’s really good.”

“Yes, I’d have to agree. It is good.” The Archivist frowned. “But the critical step is copying it to our single piece of Twelfth Century parchment. It’s already been gilded at the top and the scroll dye applied to the margins. It’s all faded and chipped, and looks like it’s eight hundred years old. It better. It is eight hundred years old. And the ink and dyes have all been hand made up there at the chalet. We put them through all the tests and they all test just like real Twelfth Century stuff.”

“So,” the Master said, “what you’re telling me is it’s all up to Jean Randolph’s skill. One shot at it, right?”

“Right.” The Archivist bobbed his head.  “Always has been. Screw it up once and we can forget about it. No second chances.”

 “How’s she acting?”

The Archivist sat back and nodded slowly. “Doing anything and everything we ask, and contributing things we didn’t think about. She’s onboard here. And what a talent! She doesn’t know who I am, and I’ve only dealt with her on our private network, but Marie has sent me her work.”

The Master gazed at the pages in front of him. One chance. He didn’t like it, but he didn’t have to like it. “After this is all over, can you use her? Do we bring her in?”

“Oh,” the Archivist sighed. “I can sure use her. The woman’s a genius. Be a pity to lose her. Give her a new face and the Kruger can use her right away in acquisitions, going around adding to our collection. She doesn’t need a public resume to do that.”

“Can we bring her into the Order? Maybe not right away, but a year? Two?”

The Archivist tugged at an earlobe. “That I’m not sure about. You’d have to talk to Marie Curtis. She’s closest to her. But I’ll tell you one thing, I doubt we could keep her in the dark about the Templars even if she worked in the public sections of the Kruger. She’s just too sharp, and too good a historian. Doesn’t miss a thing. And with this treaty, she’d be on the lookout. And if the plan works, she’ll obviously know what happened.”

The Master nodded. “Well, we take her in as a Kruger employee or as a Templar, or we get rid of her. There’s no alternative now.”

“I know. I know. Pity.”

“Ok.” The Master gathered up the pages on his desk and handed them to the Archivist. “You keep all this. I don’t want anything hanging around here. And you make the call here. When you’re ready, when it’s done to your satisfaction, then let the rest of us know and we’ll start the operation.”

Vatican - Friday, April 24

The Pope scanned the four faces in front of him. “First question. Does anybody know anything, anything at all, about the Treaty of Tuscany?”

Santini, head of the Vatican Library, looked at Agretti. Santini was white-faced and jittery. He couldn’t keep his hands still and kept licking his lips. Damn, he’s going to break, thought Agretti. He isn’t strong enough to protect the Church from this Mexican.

“Yes, Holiness. I have something… something I must…”

“Yes,” interrupted Agretti, “Bishop Santini is too modest himself, but I must commend him for the immediate response he and his people organized.”

Agretti drilled his eyes into Santini and Santini looked down at the table. “Yes, Yes…” Santini managed. “Our… our… our people are all doing whatever they can.” Agretti was holding his breath and gently released it. Had the crisis passed? Would Santini hold?

The Pope looked at Santini. “Any of your people find anything?”

“Nothing, Holiness.” No turning back, thought Santini. Now I’m doomed.

That had to be the Holy Spirit at work, thought Agretti, stepping in and preventing Santini from ruining everything. But he had to do something. If the Pope ever got Santini alone, he was sure to break.

The Pope looked around the table and the others shook their heads.

“Ok. So why don’t we just challenge this Al Dossary to produce the treaty, submit it to expert testing, and see what he has?”

“It’s a risk,” said Cardinal Cortese, head of the Congregation of Faith. “But maybe a risk worth taking.”

“What’s the risk?” the Pope asked.

“Suppose it’s authentic, right out of the Twelfth Century. And it really did come from that parking lot excavation below us?”

Bishop Gustuv, dean of the theology department of the Pontifical College stirred.

“Bishop?” The Pope spread his hands.

“If the technical analysis dates to the Twelfth Century, then the content becomes paramount. Suppose it does call for the elimination of Islam, and suppose the formulation meets the standards for infallibility? That leaves only two options.

 “First, God really wants Muslims eliminated, or second, two Popes infallibly said he did and are wrong. Neither is something I relish.”

“How can you say that?” interrupted Agretti. “It’s impossible for it to be authentic and say God wants Islam eliminated. The doctrine of infallibility prohibits the Pope from teaching an untruth in this matter. It just can’t be.”

“Perhaps, perhaps,” answered the theologian, “but it would be imprudent to ignore the possibility.”

“Possibility? There is no possibility,” said Agretti.

“Then you would have no problem calling Al Dossary’s bluff, Alberto?” asked the Pope. “Put up or shut up?”

Agretti swallowed hard. “None at all, Holiness. It’s impossible. Anything that passed the technical tests, and said that, would have to be a hoax. That would prove it was a hoax.” Agretti glanced at Santini, who was looking hard at his yellow pad of paper. “It could never have come from the Vatican, no matter how good it looked. If it came from here, we would have known about it. Right, Bishop Santini?”

“Yes, yes, uh, I’m sure we would have a record of it somewhere.”

Cortese peered over his glasses at Agretti. “And if it is a hoax, as you say, Alberto, and if it passes all the tests anyway, meaning it is a very good hoax, what then?”

“At that point, we are assured the Holy Spirit will guide us.”

“Well, I hope so,” said the Pope, “but in my experience the Holy Spirit is a pretty hands-off manager. Ok. Let’s call Al Dossary’s bluff. Alberto, have your guy say we want to see the treaty. Hit it hard. Blood and guts. We deny it exists. Nobody knows anything about it. Put up or shut up. No more defense. Say Al Dossary is a fraud. No point going half-way.”

The theologian raised a hand. “A question, Holiness. With respect. A purely hypothetical question.”

The Pope nodded. This Gustuv was smart.

“Suppose you had the treaty, and you were convinced it was real, that it actually was the product of those two Popes and three kings. And further suppose it was in a formula that met the standard of infallibility. In that hypothetical, Holiness, what would you do?”

“You don’t ask easy questions, do you?” The Pope steepled his fingers and looked around the room. “If I were convinced, as you say, to tell you the truth, I would be inclined to dismiss the doctrine of infallibility as a well-intentioned mistake. In other words, we should rescind the teaching and abandon the notion of infallibility. Throw the whole thing out the window.”

“You would say Pope Pius and the Council were wrong in 1870 to define the doctrine?”

“Yes.”

“How could the Pope be wrong on a matter of faith and morals?”

The Pope shrugged. ”I guess he’s not infallible. I sure don’t feel infallible. Let me clue you gentlemen into a secret.” He leaned both elbows on the table.  “I don’t feel any different than I did last month back in Mexico City. No wiser, no stronger, no great insights, no sudden flashes of wisdom. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zero. I feel like the same old Pedro Sanchez, the kid from Juarez. I’m beginning to get the idea a lot of this pomp and ceremony around here is designed to make the Pope think he really is different. A big Kabuki dance.  Sorry to disappoint.”

I was right, thought Agretti. He has no faith. And now, what do I do about Santini? He has faith, but it’s not strong enough for what has to be done.

Vatican - Friday, April 24

When the Pope dismissed the meeting, Agretti lingered near the table until Santini gathered his things and slouched out of the office. The man was carrying the weight of the world on his bent back. Well, maybe just the weight of that treaty, thought Agretti.

Agretti caught up to him outside the Pope’s door and said, “Maybe we can have a word, Bishop?”

Bishop Santini sighed and nodded his head. “Yes, yes. I think that might be a good idea.”

Neither man spoke as they walked through the long, tiled Hall of Bramante connecting the papal quarters with the Vatican Library and Museum.

“It’s not easy, is it, my friend?” asked Agretti.

Friend? My friend? Now he is suddenly my friend. “No, not at all,” answered Santini. “I have deep misgivings about this whole thing, and have prayed a great deal about it. I just can’t see how deceiving the Pope like we are… like I am, is the proper thing to do.  Surely the Holy Spirit would guide the Pope through this as he has in the past.”

Agretti slowed their progress to a gentle stroll. “Let me ask you this, Bishop. If the Pope believed the treaty was real, that it had actually been created by two Popes in the Twelfth Century, what do you think he would do? Not just any Pope, but this Pope?”

Santini gave a bitter snort and looked sideways at Agretti. “You heard him in there. He’ll do exactly what he said he would do. He would repudiate the whole idea of Papal Infallibility. He’d reverse the 1870 First Vatican Council.”

“And what do you think of that?” asked Agretti. This was the key question that separated the defenders of the Church from those who would let it drift into secular decay.

“You and I both know the arguments for and against Papal Infallibility. It’s all been debated over and over for many years. But I suppose the Church did quite well for 1,870 years without a formal doctrine, and I believe the Holy Spirit would guide it even if it dropped the doctrine.”