Lux Domini: Thriller: A Catherine Bell Story

by Alex Thomas

  "You have finished your studies?" asked the old librarian calmly. He had sat on a chair next to the door the entire time.

  "Not quite, Father," explained Ben. "But it’s enough for today."

  Dominico nodded and closed the door. He then led both visitors back down the dark path to his desk where he took back the flashlights and bid them farewell.

  Catherine and Ben hurried along the high hand-carved wooden shelves next to the tower in which every possible original manuscript and document lay, dark secrets of centuries gone by. The archive’s long dark corridors seemed to be endless.

  "Out with it, Catherine," said Ben finally. He pulled out the red book and placed it under her nose. "What did you see in the tower?"

  "The history, the meaning of this book. That’s why we have to get to His Holiness as soon as possible."

  Ben grabbed her by the robe and held her back. He held the book up to her nose again. "Does that mean you believe what is written here?"

  "Don’t you?"

  He seemed visibly remorseful. "I don’t know what I should believe anymore, but I have to say it’s all going too fast for me. Shouldn’t we first take some time to talk about it?"

  "Here?" Catherine shot back, pointing to the surrounding archive with a quick wave of her hand. "Gabriel said we have to get out here. Pronto!"

  "Gabriel?"

  "Ben, it’s not just human powers at work here, but superhuman powers as well. I know it is all a pretty big shock, but at the moment we have no time for long explanations. Let’s go. Please!"

  Ben sighed, hesitating. "Alright. But I will want a rock solid explanation. I simply don’t believe it."

  "You’ll get one. Promise!"

  Ben hurried through the semi-darkness of the archive with Catherine close on his tail. She had no idea how far the Apostolic Palace was where the papal private chambers were. She had long since forfeited any sense of direction in the mysterious, most secretive labyrinth in the world.

  Just as Catherine turned the corner of a somewhat longer aisle behind Ben, he suddenly stopped without warning. She nearly ran into him. She wanted to ask him if he had lost his mind when her eyes grew wide. She saw both Swiss guards in their traditional uniforms, crossing their halberds so that they couldn’t go through. A larger interior room was behind the watchmen, a reading room. They were still within the interior of the archives.

  One of the two guards lowered his halberd and demanded that they enter the room. Catherine and Ben entered the dark room that was sparsely lit by a single island of light. The island was located directly above a standing podium over which a figure appeared to be engrossed in one of the old documents.

  Catherine held her breath.

  Cardinal Ciban raised his head, turning a cold eye to them both. "I see you have already completed your studies."

  64

  Monsignor Massini answered the telephone in his private chambers and froze. There was no caller ID on the display, but he recognised his blackmailer’s voice straight away. Oh how he regretted the day he followed Aurelio to his flat in the hopes for a little affection. The blackmailer was still in possession of the DVD.

  "We have a new assignment for you, Father," said the voice in a tone that was hard to distinguish, but that certainly didn’t tolerate one thing: back talk. "What do you know about the new nun in the papal household?"

  Massini could feel the blood literally shoot straight to his face. "Why would a simple nun be of interest to you?" he dared to ask.

  "Let that be my worry. I ask again, what do you know about the new nun?"

  "Nothing much really." Massini struggled for composure and wished that Pope Leo had never let him in on it. He then ran through the disguised identity that Ciban had created together with Catherine. "Sister Bernadette has been in Rome for just a few weeks. She is from the US and works as a kitchen aide in the papal household. That’s all."

  "Odd," said the blackmailer. "We checked the facts. They appear to be correct and yet the quivering in your voice tells me there’s foul play at work here."

  Massini was in shock. What should he say next? He took a deep breath without really feeling as if any air reached his lungs. "What do you want me to do? Spy on a kitchen aide?"

  "You took the words right out of my mouth, Father. I expect an answer by tomorrow at noon. Keeping your secret just between us has its price after all." The blackmailer hung up.

  Massini’s knees buckled. He barely made it to his bed. No matter how he looked at it, there was no way out. His gaze rested on the cross hanging on the wall across from him. For a moment he thought to pray out of sheer desperation. But he dared not.

  65

  Catherine was still staring in disbelief at the prefect of the Congregation of the Doctrine of Faith. The archive’s atmosphere alone transported the dark weight of past centuries, but the young woman had the distinct feeling that Cardinal Ciban’s presence added a new dimension to it. The man standing at the podium was not the Ciban she had gotten to know in the past few days. This man reminded her in one fell swoop of the tortuous inquisitorial meetings she had suffered over the last few weeks without a possibility for escape.

  There was no turning back now either.

  The prefect sent the two Swiss guards away. He then pulled out a tiny, pen-like contraption from his cassock, unfolded it into a type of multiple armed antennae and placed it on the podium. Although Catherine had never seen something like it before, she had an idea what it was for. Not a single word or syllable that Ciban, Ben or Catherine uttered would leave this room electronically.

  "You have something that doesn’t belong to you," explained the cardinal, turning to Ben and holding out his hand.

  Ben made no effort to hand over the book. Instead he explained: "We are on our way to His Holiness, Eminence."

  "The book," demanded Ciban with a warning tone. "I don’t want it to land in the wrong hands."

  "It won’t, Eminence," Catherine butted in. She ignored the horrible pressure in her stomach and managed to keep her voice steady. "As soon as we have spoken with His Holiness, it will be returned to its rightful place." As Ciban’s gaze met hers, she felt as if a stake had been driven through her heart. The cardinal’s eyes shimmered like polished quartz. She tried not to lose composure beneath his piercing gaze.

  "You don’t understand, Sister. This book will not leave this archive under any circumstances. Not even for His Holiness." He once again held out his hand. His body language suggested he wouldn’t tolerate any back talk.

  As if under a spell, Ben handed him over the book.

  Ciban placed it carefully on the podium, opened it and flipped through it page for page. "As far as I can see, Pius reduced this copy to the bare minimum. He always did have a knack for the essential. It must run in his lawyerly family."

  Based on his tone of voice, it was obvious the cardinal didn’t really like the deceased Pope with the expressionless eyes and a face like an eagle. Catherine and Ben knew Pius had kept quiet during the Holocaust when he was head of the Catholic Church. It had stigmatised his papacy.

  "Now that you have the book, we’ll be going now," explained Catherine, gave Ben a sign and turned on her heel.

  "Regretfully," said the prefect.

  It wasn’t just his words, but something indescribable in his voice that made Catherine turn around again.

  "I presume," continued Ciban, "that you both have studied vast parts of this book. Why else would you be so agitated and on your way to His Holiness." He looked up from the book and awaited a response.

  Before Catherine could say anything, Ben jumped in: "What’s behind LUKE? We know there is a connection between LUKE, the murder victims and this damn book."

  "So you did discover Darius’ Bible," Ciban said coldly. "You made your conclusions and remained silent."

  Ben shook his head. "On the contrary. I hadn’t a clue until I found Sister Silvia’s Bible. Only then did I realise there was a connection amongst the murder victims. What is LUK
E, Eminence?"

  The prefect remained unapproachable. "Any other questions?" His piercing eyes turned back to Catherine.

  She observed how calm Ciban was. The kind of calm underneath which a great deal of danger lurked. "What are you planning to do?" she asked simply. "What is going to happen to us?"

  "That depends on your answers. You had no right to invade this archive and read Pius’ copy. How did you even find out about it?"

  "Sometimes you have to risk something to get to the truth, Eminence," Catherine shot back at him. "Especially when it has to do with protecting the Holy Father. We aren’t here for personal reasons. We have a job to do."

  Ciban raised a brow. A mixture of scepticism and hope flickered in his narrow angular face, but it didn’t reach his inscrutable eyes. "Alright then. Convince me, Sister. Convince me that I can continue to trust you and Monsignor Hawlett."

  Catherine was about to say something else, but thought better of it. She reached into the pocket of her nun’s habit, pulled out the letter and handed it to Ciban. "If this won’t help, Eminence, I don’t know what will."

  The prefect returned with deliberate steps back to the podium, unfolded the letter and scanned its lines. Other than the podium and its immediate surroundings, the room remained in an eerie shadow. As he read, both Catherine and Ben watched him undergo an incredible metamorphosis. His hard facial features softened. The cold in his eyes gradually retreated. After Ciban had finished reading, there was a moment of tomb-like silence. He finally refolded the letter, took the book and returned both to Catherine.

  "Then…then are we allowed to go to His Holiness now?" she asked completely baffled. She could hardly believe Benelli’s letter had ended the nightmare so quickly. She had secretly envisioned both she and Ben rotting away in some secret dungeon in Castel Sant’Angelo.

  Ciban gave her a look and nodded. She suddenly got that he knew a lot more about the secret than she had realised up to now.

  "Betrayal and murder in connection with this book have done great damage to the church in history," he explained. "I would never allow something like that to happen during my time in office." He paused for a moment without letting Catherine out of his sight. "Why this game of hide and seek, Sister? Why didn’t you just ask me?"

  "Would you have let me enter the Tower of the Winds? Would you have let me in on the secret? I beg your pardon, Eminence, but I didn’t want to take the risk."

  The prefect stared at her in silence for a moment. Then he nodded. "You are right. Please forgive me. Should we find ourselves in this position again, please remind me of this day. The same goes for you, Ben." He signalled for both of them to follow him. "Come with me. I know a little shortcut."

  "A shortcut?" asked Ben in disbelief. "There is no such thing here."

  The hint of a smile danced on Ciban’s lips as he turned off the antennae device and pocketed it. "There is always some shortcut in the Vatican."

  After the cardinal had assured himself that no one was around, he led Catherine and Ben through a narrow aisle to one of the wall shelves. He pulled out an old, heavy tome and touched a sensor on the wall that one only saw if one knew where it was. The shelf silently swung back and an opening the size of a door opened up.

  "A...lift?" Catherine blurted. She stepped forward, examining the transport cabin that could hold up to three people.

  "And an unusual one at that," explained Ciban. He signalled Catherine and Ben to step into the lift. The door closed and the cabin started to move, first downward, then sideways. There was no recognisable display, just a red emergency switch. Just as Catherine was about to have an anxiety attack due to the claustrophobic size of the lift, both men appeared to have no trouble at all with it.

  "Pope Innocence had this lift system built," explained the tall cardinal. "There is a connection between Castel Sant’Angelo, the papal audience hall and a secret path to the grottos of St. Peter. There are others, of course, as you have seen such as the one to the secret archives. You may recall that the old buildings desperately need an overhaul of their ventilation and other systems. Innocence exploited this need and the associated confusion."

  Catherine tried to remain calm. "You can say that again. How much longer do we need?" In that very moment, the cabin made a slight jolt to the right, then left and finally moved upward once again. She had the feeling she was sloshing about in a fish bowl that was clearly too small. They had most likely left the archives already and were now beneath the Apostolic Palace.

  Ciban gave her a look of concern. "Hang in there, Sister. We’re almost there."

  The transport capsule finally stopped. The door opened and to Catherine’s surprise they found themselves in the familiar corridor belonging to the papal private chambers.

  "The letter please," asked the prefect. Catherine retrieved the document and handed it to him. "Wait here a moment, please. I will be right back." He hastily disappeared behind the door to Pope Leo’s private living room.

  Ciban had barely left when Catherine asked quietly: "What do you think he would have done to us if we had really been nothing other than two rotten thieves?"

  Ben, who was still staring at the door to the lift as if in a trance, turned to her. "Let’s hope we never find out."

  66

  Time seemed to stand still. Catherine paced back and forth like a caged tiger in front of the door to the Pope’s private living room. "What’s taking them so long?"

  Ben, who had sat himself down on a small bench in the corridor to relax, said: "We haven’t been here for more than five minutes, Catherine. Why don’t you just sit down next to me and wait and see in peace."

  The young nun paused, looking at her companion. Wait and see in peace? She finally sighed and sat herself down by his side.

  "How do you think Ciban knew we were in the tower?"

  "Dominico?" answered Ben simply.

  "You think the old librarian told him?"

  "It’s conceivable. Right?"

  "What about your proxy as an archive employee?"

  Ben shrugged his shoulders. After the latest incident, it seemed nothing could make him lose his composure. Not even Judas’ legacy.

  "Paper doesn’t blush, you know."

  "But your proxy has been authorised by the Holy Father."

  He looked at her. The dark circles under his eyes showed how tired he was. "It doesn’t mean a thing to His Eminence. After all he was the one to get me the proxy. You know what they say: Trust is good. Control is better."

  Catherine thought for a moment about what Ben had said, especially when it came to her utterly confusing feelings about Ciban. She swept her gaze down the corridor, past the doors and paintings to the closed lift door. She then asked the question that meant the world to her: "Do you trust him, Ben?"

  The archivist gave her a tired smile. "I am afraid he is an idealist."

  "You didn’t answer my question."

  Ben shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "What about you? Do you trust him?"

  Catherine leaned back, considering the question for two or three seconds. Goodness, she wasn’t at all certain. In the past few days she had become clear that Leo trusted Ciban unconditionally. But for her there were only two states of mind whilst in the presence of the prefect: she was either dog-tired or she had these damned and completely inexplicable butterflies in her stomach.

  Just as she wanted to give her response, the door opened and Ciban entered the corridor. Catherine looked at his pale face and into his penetrating alert eyes. The events over the past few days seemed to have taken little out of the prefect – or was he able to fake it? Did he possibly take stimulants? His clear eyes told her he did not. "You may go to him now," said the cardinal, beckoning to Catherine.

  Just as Ben wanted to get up to follow her, Ciban held him back. "A private conversation between him and her."

  Ben nodded and wanted to sit back down on the bench when the cardinal added: "You and I need to have a different conversation, Ben. Please follow me." />
  67

  The Pope was standing at the high window when Catherine entered the simple living room furnished with antiques. Hidden behind the curtain, Leo looked out onto St. Peter’s Square and the restless city beyond it. He was still holding Benelli’s letter in his hand. He seemed to be lost in thought, miles away from Rome and the room he was in.

  "Holiness," said Catherine, letting him know she had entered the living room.

  The Pope turned toward her, came up to her and forwent any formalities as he had in the past few days. "Cardinal Benelli loved Rome. He would walk the streets and take action on behalf of the homeless. I never really understand why he moved into that Villa a few years ago. Please, take a seat, Catherine."

  "Thank you." She sat herself down on the high, comfortable chair, pulled out Pius’ book and placed it on the table. "Father Darius moved from Chicago to Rome, then from Rome to this remote monastery in Germany. Perhaps there is a parallel between them, Holiness."

  "Perhaps." The Pope stopped in front of a large baroque globe and spun it carefully. "At any rate, you quite impressed Darius and Benelli with your gift, Catherine. Otherwise there would be no letter."

  "Quite honestly, I don’t understand any of it. All I know is there is a truth behind the truth. But I simply don’t know if I truly understand it."

  Leo smiled, allowing the globe to finish a turn on its axis. "That would make two of us. Ever since the last conclave I have lived with this truth and it is still a mystery to me. Most likely you know more than I do at this point."

  "I quite doubt that, Holiness. You are Peter’s rightful successor. You are the rock."

  Pope Leo’s smile grew wider as he watched the globe with its baroque symbols rotate. "Oh no, Catherine. I am just a figurehead. The next sacrificial lamb." His voice revealed no resentment or hurt pride, but rather an unalterable fact. "You, on the other hand, are following Darius’ and Benelli’s footsteps, even if it’s admittedly not of your own volition. Your years at the Institute prepared you well for it."