Twisted Linen (9 page)

Why would he do that?
Simon ponders
for a split second before rolling away from the edge, covering his
face with his hands. She can't be gone!

Simon jumps to his feet and runs toward the
helicopter’s assumed last location. His heart pounds as he arrives
at the clearing, but it’s vacant and Grace is gone. Simon
frantically spins in a circle, blankly staring at everything
twirling around him. His face exhibits a grave heartache coming
from deep in his soul.

He finally bursts out a bellowing,
“Nooooo!”

The call echoes in the night air and then a
piercing pain emanates from his forehead like a migraine crawling
around his skull. His stomach is immediately nauseous, overcome
with morbid anguish. The torment overwhelms him, and he buckles to
his knees before sprawling face down in the dirt. Simon lies
motionless, thinking how he failed Grace, thinking what they might
do to her, thinking of the worst possibilities. His body goes limp;
there is no intention of getting up.

Some time later, the black Hummer pulls
alongside a motionless Simon, still sprawled in the dirt. The
dark-suit jumps out of the SUV as Genovi rolls his window part way
down.

“Get in the car,” Genovi commands from behind
the window.

Simon is unresponsive, bleeding, and
demoralized.

“Get in the car,” Genovi repeats. “Now!”

Simon slowly lifts his face from the ground
and glances over at Genovi. There’s nothing to say; Simon’s face
collapses back into the dirt.

The agent comes around to stand beside Simon,
not sure what to do. Genovi gives him a nod and the agent puts a
knee in Simon’s lower back. He then pulls his arms back and
cinch-ties his wrists.

“We can’t lose Baculo,” Genovi barks. “Let’s
go.”

The agent angrily wrestles Simon to his feet
and into the Hummer. They race back to the train station to find
the other agent waving his hand at them, indicating for them to
stop.

The agent jumps into the Hummer and confesses
with a sense of dejection, “He’s gone. I lost him.”

Simon mumbles from the back seat, “They have
Grace.”

Genovi
erupts in an unusual manner.
“You don’t think I understand
that!”

The pressure mounts as Genovi rubs his
forehead, trying to gather his senses. Then, with clarity, he
instructs the driver: “Take us to the safe house. We'll have to
play this out now.”

The Hummer speeds off, fading into the dark
night.

* * *

23

Cave of Souls

An old priest in a hooded white robe adorned
with a prayer shawl, descends the stairs leading into a cave. The
cave is located just below the surface of the Dome of the Rock
shrine in Jerusalem. The ancient cave formation is small and round
in shape, partly natural and partly man-made. Its entrance descends
ten feet, down a narrow set of stairs carved in the bedrock. Oil
lamps flicker along its walls, providing a dim glow of light. The
cave is no more than an ancient hollow in the limestone carved out
by water over time, but for the “enlightened” cult, it is magical
and supernatural. The ancient location is known to the Golden Dawn
as the
Cave of Souls.

There is a low table about knee height,
covered by a white linen sheet. The table, six feet in length, is
just big enough to lay an adult, and the priest feels compelled to
adjusts the linen sheet, making sure it is just right. The priest
has been planning and preparing for this day for over forty years.
His name is Jean Sebastian Olivier, and he is the Chief Priest
ruling the Golden Dawn.

“May I come down, Great Prophet?” asks a
young boyish sage at the cave’s entrance.

“Yes, please come,” answers Priest
Olivier.

The sage also wears a white robe made of
finely twisted linen. In two days, a holy feast called Rosh
HaShanah takes place and it’s tradition that all entering the cave
must wear white, indicating purity and a new beginning. Rosh
HaShanah is a holy day that marks one of seven holy appointments
between God and His people, and it’s commonly referred to as the
Feast of Trumpets because a Shofar horn is blown during the
ceremony.

“My Sage, in honor of this coming day of
creation, have you been following your morning prayers of
repentance?”

“Yes, each morning for the past week,” the
sage confidently responds.

“It was 6000 years ago that God created man.
The sixth day now comes to an end and a new day begins.”

Priest Olivier turns to make eye contact with
the sage before he finishes. “Everyone's name will be sealed in a
book, the righteous to the Book of Life, the wicked to the Book of
Death.”

“May it be so, Great Prophet.”

“And, anyone's name not found in the Book of
Life will be thrown into the Lake of Fire,” Priest Olivier adds for
emphasis.

A grave silence follows, eventually broken by
the sage.

“Chief Priest, I have prepared all the items
you requested. Is there anything else you need?”

“Yes. There will be three of us attending the
feast, so prepare a ceremonial robe for our guest.”

“As you command,” the sage responds, holding
a long head bow.

The sage quickly exits the cave, leaving
Priest Olivier in solitude. He slowly glides over to a table where
various ceremonial items lay. One is a Shofar, a trumpet ornately
carved from a ram’s horn. The Shofar sits dormant now, awaiting the
appointed time, the time when it will come to life with the sound
of four great blasts.

Next to the Shofar sits a bowl of apple
slices, adjoined by a dipping-dish of honey. Priest Olivier holds
his prayer shawl close to his body with one hand as he takes an
apple slice and dips it into the honey with his other hand. The
honey hangs long off the apple, and with one motion the priest
turns and twists the apple to capture the falling honey, and pops
it into his mouth.

As he chews the apple, his fingers search for
a place to wipe themselves. He can find nothing to wash away the
sticky mess of disgrace. In a bit of aggravation Priest Olivier
wipes his fingers on his prayer shawl.

Chief Priest Olivier is an impostor in all
ways; he is a wolf in sheep’s clothing who doesn’t have any respect
for the Jewish faith and tradition. He believes the Jews failed to
recognize Jesus’ divinity the first time He came to Earth;
therefore, he believes the Jews forfeited their elite status as
God’s chosen people. It is now the occult, the Golden Dawn, who are
permitted to inherit the Kingdom to come. And Priest Olivier’s
expertise in the Jewish traditions, and the arcane knowledge that
surround it, provides the perfect cover for executing on the cult’s
grand plan.

* * *

24

The Safe House

The Hummer’s tires crackle as they slowly
roll over the gravel drive leading up to the safe house. It’s a
quaint ranch-style cottage in a very remote location. The two
agents in dark suits exit the Hummer with great urgency.

Genovi is a few steps behind, ordering them
in a berating tone. “Get him inside.”

Simon, still brooding with his hands bound
behind his back, is dragged through the front door of the cottage
and seated beside the kitchen table.

“I won't sit here knowing they have Grace,”
Simon solemnly reiterates.

Genovi enters the cottage and strides
directly over to Simon, and then cuts off his wrist ties. The two
dark-suits abruptly look at each other, as if they are
communicating, “Be prepared if he erupts.”

“Where’d you find these guys?” Simon barks as
he glares back and forth between the two agents.

“They can be trusted,” Genovi says in a dull
tone.

“Now give me that piece of paper,” Genovi
adds with conviction.

Simon doesn’t initially acknowledge Genovi’s
request. He continues to rub his wrists, glaring at the two agents
all the while.

“What?” Simon finally snips dismissively.

“The money transfer code. Give it to me!”

Simon huffs, then stands and fumbles through
his pockets, searching for the slip of paper Baculo gave him.

“He said to not lose it,” Genovi states with
wide eyes under arching eyebrows.

“Why?” Genovi asks a moment later.

Simon finds the slip and cavalierly flips it
toward Genovi. The paper flutters to the floor and Genovi bends
down to pick it. At that moment, he notices what is written on the
back of the paper slip:

CALL WHEN YOU HAVE

THE SHROUD - TWO DAYS

“What do you make of that?” Genovi asks, as
he holds the slip up to Simon’s face.

“No idea. Maybe it's a tormenting
reminder.”

“Is that a telephone number?” Genovi asks as
he shows Simon the transfer code on the front of the slip.

Simon gives it a close look and hesitantly
responds, “It might be. The international code for Israel is 972,
but the 56…No, there are too many digits.”

After a second thought, Simon continues,
“Unless…unless it's a cell phone number. The 56 could designate a
cell phone, and that leaves seven digits remaining.”

Genovi hastily dials the number, and after a
few short rings, Baculo answers.

“Cardinal
Genovi, I presume,” Baculo says.

Genovi is flabbergasted and unable to
respond.

“Who is it?” Simon probes in expectation
after hearing Baculo’s squawk over the phone.

Genovi is motionless and unresponsive so
Simon snatches the phone out of Genovi’s hand. He yells into the
phone.

“Is this you, you bastard? … Answer me!”

“You're wasting time, Mr. LaCroix. Bring me
the Shroud or you'll never see her again.”

“I'll bring a shroud of pain over you. You
hear me…do you hear me!”

“Are you done, Simon?” Baculo chides in a
calm manner.

Simon can hardly contain his rage. He is now
a man who fears nothing and he blurts out, “You are dead…I'm coming
to
gut
you!”

Baculo breaths deeply into the phone, taking
pause before responding.

“Mr. LaCroix. Don't take this so personal,”
he taunts.

“It couldn't be more personal,” Simon
counters before the line goes dead.

Simon glares at the phone with a furrowed
brow before tossing it to the floor. Simon’s glare erupts into
furor, and it’s targeted toward Genovi. Simon lunges to grab Genovi
by the throat, backing him against the wall.

“You let this happen. I trusted you!”

Genovi, too frail to do anything but hold
onto Simon's wrist, pleads, “She is my daughter…she is my
daughter.”

Genovi gasps for air, his face turning
scarlet red, then a brilliant purple. Simon is close to choking him
unconscious.

Just before Genovi passes out, the dark-suit
jabs his taser gun into Simon’s back and releases the electrical
charge. Simon spastically buckles at the knees, then falls limp on
the floor.

Genovi inhales frantically while stumbling
over to the door frame for support.

“You better get a hold of yourself,
Simon.”…gasp…“Or we'll lose Grace forever.”

Genovi staggers out the front door into the
night. He shuffles along the driveway and then drops to his knees
in desperation.

Almost weeping, he looks up into heaven and
asks, “Why? Why, my Lord? Why have you done this to me again?”

He closes his eyes and drops his head, then
reluctantly holds his hands out, palms up.

“Is it that time? Have you abandoned this
sin-wracked world?”

He pauses to ponder something, seeking
clarity; it’s time to listen and discern. “Fill me, Lord. Help me
resist my uncertainty.”

There is a sense that something convicts
Genovi, convicts him spiritually. He quickly accepts it.

“Your will…may your will be done,” Genovi
mutters as his hands slowly fall to his knees.

A moment later the cottage door bangs open
and one of the dark-suits rushes out to Genovi.

“Sir, are you ok?” the agent asks.

“Yes,” Genovi begrudgingly responds.

The agent helps him to his feet, and they
walk back into the cottage where Simon is slumped in the chair, his
elbows on his knees, his fingers pulling at the sides of his head.
He's at a loss with everything, especially himself. How could it
come to choking the only father he had ever known? He’s never felt
this desperate and weak.

Genovi comes to stand before him and
declares, “This is worse than you can imagine.”

“I know. Grace…Oh God, please…”

Genovi interjects at the mention of God's
holy name.

“Simon! It will blow your mind when GOD
finally pulls back the curtain and enables you to see into the
spiritual world, the world of angels and demons, the world of
heaven and hell.”

Simon is taken aback, gaping in response, not
expecting such harsh criticism. Genovi recognizes that it was a
rash response and decides to make his point by sharing his
revelation from moments ago.

“We're going to deliver the Shroud to them,”
he definitively states.

Simon emphatically disagrees. “Forget the
Shroud! Let me organize my team at the Vatican, set up a formal
dragnet. We'll find these guys.”

Genovi counters, “That’s not an option!
You’re the only one I’ve told because I can’t trust anyone in the
Church now.”

“I know my agents. You can trust them,” Simon
pleads.

“No…we can’t!” Genovi states, implying that
Simon is unaware of certain things.

Genovi understands that the Golden Dawn has a
long history of influencing Vatican policy. An early incarnation of
the cult infiltrated the Vatican in the late thirteenth century.
Their influence convinced Pope Clement V that the Knights Templar
was a heretical Order and a grave threat to the Kingdom of God. The
Pope issued an edict officially dissolving the Templar and branded
them traitors and heretics. It was no coincidence that the cult
purposely manipulated the Vatican and turned it against the Knights
Templar. The cult misled the Vatican because the Templar held the
Shroud of Turin and vowed to protect it from all forms of evil,
even until death. So the cult worked to undermine the Knights
Templar in an attempt to flush out the Shroud of Turin.