Veil - 02 - The Hammer of God

by Reginald Cook

  “Certainly you’re aware that the scriptures speak against such abominations as harming children,” responded Cardinal Rousseau. “The Church can’t be seen as condoning such behavior.” Amused, Cardinal Polletto bit his tongue, not wanting to chime in too early. Since initiating and carefully nurturing the public exposure of one of the Church’s age old skeletons, priests and young boys, he’d found that the mire of debate and confrontation deepened if he just kept quiet and nudged it along at the opportune time.

  “The Bible also speaks of forgiveness,” added Bishop Timothy Rogers of Philadelphia. “If second chances apply to parishioners, then why not to those who serve them?”

  “Not to mention that canon law doesn’t allow for the random expulsion of priests,” droned Cardinal Bauer, in a heavy German accent.

  “For that, new laws must be structured, carefully studied and passed.

  Laws that will apply to the entire Church, not just our brethren in the States.”

  The murmuring and loud whispering swelled. Cardinal Maximilian, gentle but firm, asked for quiet, which slowly returned. “I understand the need to maintain consistency in the Church precepts, but we can’t ignore the sexual violation of children.”

  “We understand,” responded Cardinal Osagiobare, his baritone voice and distinct African accent booming, “but many sins plague us from hell.

  How does this outrank other pressing issues, such as homosexuality?

  Surely, one sin does not outrank another.” Again, Cardinal Polletto smiled inside. He knew that Cardinal Osagiobare spoke of a faction of homosexual priests who called themselves Saint Sebastian’s Angels. Initially formed in the States, their numbers had grown substantially outside the U.S. in recent years.

  “Maybe the strategy should lean more toward temporary censure, than outright expulsion? At least until we get a better handle on how to proceed,” Cardinal Polletto finally said.

  “What do you mean?” asked the rotund African cleric.

  “Instead of expulsion, they could be reassigned. Not allowed to preside over mass or serve in any capacity where children will be at risk.”

  “That’s not new,” shot Cardinal Maximilian. “It’s been tried by many of the parishes. It makes us look as though we’re trying to hide the problem. Sweep it under the rug.”

  “Exactly,” chimed Cardinal Rousseau. “We’ve tried psychological counseling, long leaves of absence, spent millions of dollars with very little success. We have to take more drastic measures.” The room percolated and buzzed, as the men argued amongst themselves.

  “Quiet, gentlemen, please,” begged Cardinal Maximilian.

  “And just how will we confirm every accusation?” added Cardinal Polletto, as the noise died down. “Surely, you’ll launch a full investigation into each incident before stripping a priest of his duties. Or should we just hunt them down and burn them at the stake?” Cardinal Polletto’s heavy-handed remark sent tension washing across the room like a tidal wave. Some stood, snapping at him face to face.

  Others rushed to his side and fervently argued in his defense. Beautiful.

  Cardinal Maximilian banged his fist on the table and begged them to stay calm. “Your enthusiastic support of the brethren is noted,” he said, behind suspicious eyes. “Please, share with us the details of how you would handle a wayward priest under your watch,” he said to Cardinal Polletto.

  Every head turned toward Cardinal Polletto. He stood, back erect, serious, scanning the room.

  “It’s not my intention to insinuate that such a matter is simple,” he responded. “We should immediately censure any priest caught up in strong allegations, where confessions have been garnered or the evidence is obvious and overwhelming. But since canon law doesn’t allow for arbitrary discharge, we should reassign them, assess the case, and determine if the man can be rehabilitated.”

  “And how do we handle the financial liability?” asked Cardinal Maximilian. “We’ve already paid millions because of the most egregious offenders. If we don’t put a halt to this soon, it’ll turn into an international money grab.”

  “Even more of a reason not to be rash,” answered Cardinal Polletto.

  “If we’re too hasty to castigate and neuter our own, it’ll turn into a feeding frenzy.”

  “And what would you call it now?” asked Cardinal Maximilian. “I doubt it can get any more ferocious than it is right now.”

  “The media fervor will die down,” Cardinal Polletto offered.

  “They’ll move on to another hot topic soon, and then we’ll be able to handle this in a manner more in line with canon law. At a pace that will foster decisions best for everyone concerned.”

  “What about the authorities?” inquired Cardinal Bauer. “They could go a long way in helping us sort out these affairs since our own manpower is short, or in most cases, non-existent.”

  “And how far should we allow them into Church affairs?” asked Cardinal Polletto. “Certainly their interests don’t coincide with our own.

  We should employ private investigators we can control. I, for one, am not in favor of trusting outsiders, or throwing our brothers to the wolves.”

  Cardinal Polletto watched the room sink into a morass of confusion and disillusionment, and took delight in seeing Cardinal Maximilian lose control of the gathering. He laughed inside as the chocolate skinned cleric begged for order he didn’t get. The discord and loss of harmony was just another in a long queue of well-spun arguments initiated at the behest of The Order, all designed to erode, disrupt and destroy.

  Hedonism in the bowels of the Catholic Church was nothing new.

  Since the mandate that all who serve in the priesthood abstain from sex, and only marry the Church, the opportunity to capitalize on the natural fleshly desires that wage war against all but those who share the gift of celibacy with the Apostle Paul, was to Cardinal Polletto’s delight, plentiful.

  A longtime, well-known, but only recently publicized concern of Church leaders, homosexuality and sexual perversion, had long been a battleground the Church hierarchy worked feverishly to veil from public eyes. News of these incidents slipped through occasionally, but were easily covered up and dismissed under the cover of secrecy, buried by the unmatchable power and high-reaching influence of the Holy See.

  But, as time edged forward, the perversions did not abate, they grew, even into the inner sanctum of the College of Cardinals, including pederasty and sodomy. In some cases, the escapades were so perverse, the Church fathers considered it an epidemic.

  The Order of Asmodeus had never fully taken advantage of the Church’s obvious weakness, until Cardinal Polletto rose up through their ranks. The first stage was easy. Nurture and cultivate sexual degradation in the Church at every turn. The Order established a network that tracked each wayward priest and nun, cataloging every abortion, affair, drug user and apostate.

  Cardinal Polletto watched The Order’s efforts burst forth within a wave of hedonistic fervor that rivaled Sodom and Gomorrah. Soon, the campaign fed off of itself, and sent the inner sanctum at The Vatican into an all out panic.

  The next move was to expose the turmoil to the public. Sensitive information was leaked, articles written, but nothing took hold or had the devastating impact they hoped. The Vatican, no doubt with the aid of the highly surreptitious Hammer of God, managed to quell most of the fires before they really got started, until Cardinal Polletto spotted a diabolically fiendish trend.

  While analyzing reports that came in from around the United States, Cardinal Polletto noticed that the number of priests caught up in, or accused of, pedophilia in America had risen sharply since the beginning of The Order’s campaign. It was the hook they’d been waiting for. Not even the upper echelon of Rome could hide decadence against children.

  It worked.

  The Church fought back, hiding incidents, paying off victims, sending pedophilic men of the cloth to psychiatric institutions, all in an effort to kill any mounting public outcry. Each step of the wa
y, the Il Martello di Dio did its best to find The Order and quail the effort, but to no avail. Once the press got wind of the magnitude of molestation in the Church, it grew into all-out chaos, threatening the foundation of the Church, and the moral high ground it pretended to possess.

  Cardinal Maximilian was finally able to bring order to the dim, humid auditorium, but the debate continued to rage on for another hour.

  Cardinal Polletto sat quietly and watched the others try to navigate complicated and confusing canon law. Cardinal Maximilian looked dismayed up on stage, occasionally glaring in Cardinal Polletto’s direction, discomfort and disappointment on his face as he shifted back and forth in his chair. Cardinal Polletto allowed a smile to creep on his thin lips. To his surprise, Cardinal Maximilian smiled back, then stood.

  As though it were a signal, the others fell silent.

  “This has been a spirited debate,” said Cardinal Maximilian, his voice steady, controlled. “But one we’ll have to continue at our next meeting, ninety days from today. Notes from this meeting and an agenda for the next will be sent before that time so that our next discussion will be more productive.”

  Cardinal Polletto stifled the urge to laugh. It’s all too easy. Soon, with the help of the savior we’ve been prayerfully waiting for, the Church will give way to something new, something wonderful.

  “But before we take our leave,” Cardinal Maximilian continued, “I think it would be helpful if one of us would provide a specific example we can all follow as a case study of how to handle this situation.” He faced Cardinal Polletto, his eyes mischievous, penetrating. “Since Cardinal Polletto seems to have a strong handle on how we can turn around these brethren, I’d like him, with the permission of this counsel, to give us a brief explanation of how he’s dealing with the challenge of one of his own.”

  Cardinal Polletto felt a sharp stab in his chest. His jaw tightened. His mouth felt dry.

  “How is Father Tolbert?” asked Cardinal Maximilian, a faint smile on his lips. “Has he gotten better since his assignment here in Rome? I understand there’s been an incident.”

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  Cardinal Polletto gripped the arms of his chair tight, his face belying the rage boiling inside, as Cardinal Maximilian peered down from the stage like Moses from on high.

  “Is there a problem, Cardinal Polletto?” asked Cardinal Maximilian.

  Cardinal Polletto eased up from his seat, his eyes fixed on Cardinal Maximilian. “It’s no problem at all. I’m not sure about the incident you speak of, but as of today, Father Tolbert is doing fine.”

  “Then you have a handle on his problem?” continued Cardinal Maximilian.

  “I’m not sure there is a problem. A few scattered accusations have been made, but nothing has been substantiated.”

  “And how do you plan to proceed? Are you launching an investigation?”

  You pompous ass. “Until something more than rumors surface, why react? Nobody has come forward. We’d only look guilty.” The others in the room nodded their heads in agreement, like mindless sheep blindly following a wolf. “We’d do better to examine a situation further along than this one,” Cardinal Polletto added. Again, the others murmured their concurrence.

  “If there’s nothing there,” said Cardinal Maximilian, “why then his sudden reassignment to Rome?”

  Cardinal Polletto fumed. “As I’ve already informed you, Father Tolbert put in for the Vatican Archive assignment several times over the last five years. I thought it an opportune moment to let things die down in Chicago, and to give the poor man a chance to gather himself.” Cardinal Maximilian leaned forward on the table. “And what of the kidnapped child, the altar boy, Samuel Napier? Any word?” Inquisitive buzzing filled the room. Whispering, pointing, all eyes wide with questions.

  “I’m afraid I’m out of the loop where that’s concerned,” Cardinal Polletto said, smooth and easy. “That’s a question best left to law enforcement, and I fail to see its relevance here.” Cardinal Maximilian took a few more blind stabs, then turned the meeting back over to Cardinal Ottaviani, who said a brief prayer then dismissed the meeting. Cardinal Maximilian made a quick exit. Cardinal Polletto lingered amongst the others making small talk, not wanting to further telegraph that something was askew.

  Later, sitting back in the peanut butter leather of his black Mercedes, on loan from the Vatican carpool, Cardinal Polletto continued to simmer on a slow burn. His driver, Joseph, loyal to The Order, snaked the car out of Rome down Cassia Veientana Road toward Viterbo Road, and headed straight for Bracciano, thirty-three kilometers from Rome.

  Cardinal Polletto leered out at the passing countryside, a testament to the serene, beautiful Italy so few were privileged to witness. He rolled down his window. A burst of earthen air, cultured and clean, filled his nostrils, soothing his emotions. It wasn’t the exposure of Father Tolbert’s sexual proclivities that vexed him, he had gladly watched more than a few of the holy drown. But the cardinal needed Father Tolbert, needed his blood and soul, and wouldn’t allow anybody, especially Cardinal Maximilian, to cause a delay or derail his plans.

  I understand there’s been an incident. Cardinal Maximilian’s words hung in the air like an ominous cloud. Cardinal Polletto long suspected Cardinal Maximilian of being more than a suffocating ecumenical asshole. He long suspected, but had never been able to confirm that Cardinal Maximilian worked for Il Martello di Dio. If his suspicions were true, then things had just gotten much worse, and The Order’s time to act short.

  He picked up the phone and dialed Father Ortega. “Have you learned anything more about our target?” he asked.

  “Not yet, Your Excellency, but we’re close,” said Father Ortega.

  “Stay on him, he could be the key we need to close the Hammer of God down. I’ll be at the castle in a moment.” Cardinal Polletto hung up, hoping the lead Father Ortega was investigating panned out. If so, their hand would become stronger overnight.

  Night fell and blanketed the countryside as the Mercedes powered towards the small fishing village, Bracciano, its namesake castle towering magnificent in the distance, majestic royalty in a land of kingly monuments. As the car sped closer, the medieval majesty and architectural grandeur of the stunning feudal residence cast the perfect commanding aura of military and civilian design, one of the most beautiful castles in Europe, powerful, yet enchanting.

  In 1290, Bracciano Castle, along with other castles and villages in the area, became possessions of the Holy Spirit of Rome. Later, Bracciano was conquered by the Brenton clan, and became their general headquarters at the time of the struggle between Pope Urbano and the Anti-Pope, Clemente VII.

  Around 1470, the old fortified building, which was the prefect seat, was enlarged on orders from Baron Napoleone Orsini, who at the time was one of the most powerful figures in Roman nobility. Under the patronage of the Orsini clan, the castle became a renaissance court, a haven for artists, as well as an envied venue for sumptuous parties and galas, phenomenal fireworks displays, and private receptions.

  In 1696, the last of the Orsini’s of Bracciano sold the castle to Livio Odescalchi, whose family still retained ownership, and were more than happy to shut it down for Bracciano’s favorite son, Cardinal Polletto, one of their own. The cardinal promised that he would return it in the same condition. It’s the world that will be different, he thought at the time.

  Cardinal Polletto’s driver wound the car along the dark snake-like road, Via Claudia, stopping at the castle entrance, at the base of the eastern tower. The entire building was under-lit with high watt lights from the ground up, and the four massive towers at each corner, along with the windows and ledges of the rooftops, were accented with white Christmas lights, giving the medieval colossus a festive, dominate air.

  Up close, the years of wear, battles fought, and the elements of time, were much more evident on the castle’s outer wall. Like many of Rome’s ruins, the castle wore chips and cracks in its brick and stone with a historical pride that emanat
ed culture and conquest. Cardinal Polletto stepped out of the car and took in the familiar surroundings, remembering the stories his parents shared with him about the battles fought at the castle, and its secrets passed down through generations, known only to those who grew up in the small village.

  One of The Order’s faithful, Bishop Giordano, met him as he walked up the long, steep walkway to the front door. “Good evening, Your Excellency,” he gushed. “Things are proceeding as planned, and all preparations will be finished in less than a few weeks.”

  “We no longer have a few weeks,” shot Cardinal Polletto, continuing on through the front door.

  “How much time do we have?” asked the bishop, following so close, he almost crashed into Cardinal Polletto when he made a sudden stop.

  “Five days,” the cardinal answered. “Everyone will be here, so we can proceed at that time.”

  “But why? We still need to gather up the children.” Cardinal Polletto leaned close to the cleric. “The Hammer of God is on to us,” he whispered.

  Bishop Giordano took a step back and covered his mouth. “Il Martello di Dio. But how do you know? How can you be sure?” Cardinal Polletto stepped back. “Trust me, my friend, I’m very sure.”

  “Then we must inform the others,” said Bishop Giordano, panic in his voice.

  “We’ll do no such thing,” barked Cardinal Polletto, catching himself, looking around. “There’s no need to tell anyone,” he continued, in a much softer, more controlled tone. “I have it well under control. Have I ever failed?”

  Bishop Giordano took a deep breath. “No, Your Excellency. The Order has prospered well under your leadership.” He eased closer to the cardinal. “But let’s hope your certainty is one hundred percent, or we’ll all pay a price I dare not contemplate.” Cardinal Polletto smiled. “Where is our guest?”

  “Father Ortega placed Father Tolbert in the room next to the Hall of Arms. We’ve kept him under as ordered, but he should be coming out of it soon.”

  “Excellent,” beamed the cardinal. “I’ll look in on him myself. You may continue with your task.”