“That’s not the answer, Holiness. The books are intact and bound. I’m missing the years between about 1475 and 1700. I think there’s a missing manuscript and I’d like your permission to use the papal resources to look for it.”
“By all means, Dominic. You have my permission to seek it.”
It seemed unusual to Conti that there would be a missing volume in the middle. He wondered if it had been removed because there was something there so important it had to be hidden even from the Pope. Hopeful that it was still in the Church family somewhere, the Cardinal sent out an inquiry to the Catholic churches worldwide. Although unlikely, it was possible that the manuscript could be resting as a relic in one of the far-flung churches. In these times of electronic mail things were far simpler and faster than the old days when a letter to say Africa might take six weeks to arrive and that much longer for a response. Since all the volumes so far looked similar on the outside, Conti included a picture in his email to make it easier for clerics to identify what he was looking for.
Within fifteen days he had heard from all the churches, large and small. None possessed the missing volume.
Back in Vatican City a group of twenty young Jesuit priests was assigned to scour the Vatican itself. This was a daunting task – the palace had at least ten thousand rooms and bookshelves lined the walls of hundreds of them. Although Conti doubted the priests visited every single potential resting place, after two weeks they reported the manuscript had not been found. Reluctantly the Cardinal suspended the hunt for the missing book and resumed the pressing duties of his office.
In January 2013 Conti finished reading the fourth volume. It was easier than the others because it was both in French and more modern English, covering the period from 1700 until 1950. There was nothing of significance in it. The Cardinal returned the volume to the Papal Secretary but was told His Holiness could not see him today. That had been the case for a while, Conti reflected. Benedict seemed to be removing himself from those who had surrounded him.
Pope Benedict had promised the Cardinal he had something else to show him once he finished reading the last volume – something that might shed light on the mysterious coded pages that appeared occasionally throughout the Knights Templars books. Conti tried for a week to arrange a meeting with the Pope, something that would have been simple a month ago, but was denied.
He had almost forgotten about it when in February he received an email from the Archdiocese of New York. When Conti’s original request went out to churches worldwide, the Archbishop had asked his staff to look closely at the books in his Manhattan residence. He wanted to ensure the volume wasn’t among over a thousand other old and musty books that had accumulated over the years. It wasn’t, but one of those who searched for it had come to the Archbishop recently with a newspaper article. The Archbishop read the clipping then told the young staffer to reply to Cardinal Conti’s email.
“Your Eminence,” the email read, “I am writing at the suggestion of the Archbishop. I participated in a search of the residence here in New York in an attempt to locate your missing manuscript. Your email contained a picture of another volume in the series of books, and I believe the enclosed article may refer to the book you’re seeking.”
Cardinal Conti opened the attachment to the staffer’s email and saw an article from an issue of the New York Times a few days ago.
Trove of Ancient Books
Found in Nova Scotia Basement
Halifax, Nova Scotia (AP) A collection of eight books, the earliest dating to the fourteenth century, has been found in a house in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada. Some of the books are bound in animal skins, others in leather, and all appear to be printed on parchment. Dr. Ralph Painter, an expert in antiquarian books at Halifax’s St. Mary’s University, examined the items. He explained that the use of parchment is an important indicator that the volumes were created for persons of wealth or social standing, even perhaps for use in churches. Dr. Painter estimated the combined value of seven of the tomes at more than US$1,000,000. He added that their remarkably good condition, extreme rarity and collector interest worldwide could cause them to bring even more at auction. He declined to give an estimate on the eighth book, a volume about the exploits of the Knights Templars that was in very worn condition and appeared to be one of a set, the rest of which are missing. Both those factors detract from its value, the expert added.
An invoice found with the volumes shows Antoine Crane, the home’s owner who died in 2000, purchased seven of the books from an antiquarian bookshop in Rome, Italy in 1921 for the equivalent of around US$5,000 in today’s dollars. There was nothing indicating the source of the worn Templar manuscript or how it ended up in Nova Scotia.
The eight volumes consist of three lavishly illustrated bibles from the Middle Ages, the Knights Templars book written mostly in Latin, and four works of literature dating from the 1600s and 1700s.
Brothers Robert and Sidney Crane, the heirs of Antoine Crane, discovered the books three months ago. Both are physicians. They reside in Los Angeles, California and Athens, Georgia respectively. The men visited their father’s house once after his funeral and then left it in the care of a local property manager. The house has been unoccupied from the senior Crane’s death until today.
The Crane brothers said they decided to put the house on the market, which necessitated a thorough cleaning. “Dad was a bit of a packrat so the place was crammed with boxes and file cabinets,” Robert Crane said in an exclusive interview with the Times. “Sid and I would open a box, glance at what was inside and put it either in a ‘keep’ or ‘toss’ pile.” The books, which were in a cardboard box, aroused the immediate attention of the men due to their obvious age.
Antoine Crane was a collector of many things ranging from clocks to music boxes, according to Robert Crane. A recluse in his later years, he had over a thousand books in his home but none was of much value, the sons said. Robert and Sidney Crane are “considering our options on the sale or donation of the volumes,” Sidney Crane said.
Conti’s hands shook as he read and reread the end of the first paragraph. “…a volume about the exploits of the Knights Templar…one of a set…” Could it be? He picked up the phone on his desk and made a call. Within minutes one of his assistants was researching the Internet to find the contact information for one or both of the Crane brothers. Los Angeles was difficult – there were twelve physicians in the metropolitan area who had both “Robert” and “Crane” in their names – but Athens, Georgia proved much more fruitful. The staffer found Dr. Sidney Crane, a neurosurgeon, and handed the doctor’s contact information to Cardinal Conti.
Thanking the young man, Conti reminded him that this job, along with everything else he did every day, was completely confidential. The work of the Church could not be discussed with anyone. Especially the information this young man had given the Cardinal.
Chapter Three
Rome
Tucked away in a side street a couple of blocks from the Spanish Steps is a tiny outdoor trattoria, one of perhaps thousands in the Eternal City. A trim bearded man around seventy years old sipped his second espresso and read the Italian-language newspaper la Repubblica, enjoying the cool morning air and the sunshine. Giovanni Moretti enjoyed his morning paper and appreciated living in one of the world’s great cities. And this café was only two blocks from his apartment on one of Rome’s beautiful avenues. Moretti had selected a table at the edge of the patio and requested no one be seated nearby. As a frequent patron and on a quiet morning, his wishes were easily accommodated.
He waited for the man who had arranged this meeting. They had met several times over the years but lately Moretti always wondered if the next meeting would be the meeting. The one that would end the waiting.
Precisely at ten am Moretti saw a priest wearing the cassock and familiar red zucchetto, or skullcap, of a Cardinal stride briskly toward him. The man was tall and younger than Moretti by perhaps twenty years.
Moretti
rose and bowed slightly. “Your Eminence.” He gestured to the empty chair beside his.
“Good morning, Giovanni. It’s good to see you again.” The Cardinal sat as a waiter rushed to his side.
Bowing, the server said, “Your Eminence, may I get you a cup of coffee?”
“Molto bene, grazie. A double espresso for me, please. Nothing else.”
The few other guests on the patio sneaked surreptitious glances at the prominent figure. Even in Rome where officials of the Roman Catholic Church were common sights, a Cardinal was accorded respect and reverence.
The two men leaned closer to each other and conversed quietly in Italian.
“Dominic, how are things with you and with the bank?” Moretti made small talk as he waited for the priest to eventually raise the subject of their meeting. They chatted, as old friends do who haven’t seen each other in awhile.
As far as most people knew, Dominic Conti’s job was to run the Institute for the Works of Religion, commonly known as the Vatican Bank. It was an important part of the Catholic Church. Although the bank was publicly “founded” in 1942, its roots as the financial arm of the Church dated back hundreds of years, maybe more. Cloaked in secrecy, the bank had only recently begun to issue annual reports of its operations and even then there were always questions about its activities.
And in fact that was the Cardinal’s job. But he held another position within the Church as well. A secret one. Dominic Conti was also the leader of a shadowy group that operated under the auspices of the Church but far behind the scenes. He was head of the Poor Soldiers of Christ and the Temple of Solomon. The Knights Templars.
The men continued their conversation until the cleric’s coffee arrived. He took a sip and quietly said, “We need your help, Giovanni.”
Moretti had often wondered when this day would come. He owed the Church a tremendous personal debt. Even as powerful as Moretti once had been, he had found himself unable to control his own fate at a crucial time. Cardinal Conti had arranged for the Church to willingly lend a hand and easily solve a problem. In exchange for a favor to be redeemed in the future. Perhaps. Or perhaps not. One never knew when dealing with people like this if they would ever call, or if the Church’s favor would forever go unrepaid. But now the day of reckoning had arrived for Giovanni Moretti. This was the day.
“I’m at your service, Dominic.”
-----
After spending an hour with Cardinal Conti, Giovanni Moretti left the trattoria. He fully understood his mission although he had not been told why the job had to be done. For now that was fine. Moretti didn’t care. He wanted to repay the debt he owed this man and move on. It was the final impediment in the new life he had chosen and he had lived with the shadow for some time now. He was glad the repayment would come soon and had no concern he would be able to perform the tasks the Cardinal asked of him.
Moretti’s previous work had left him with a wide network of contacts. And he could accomplish his goals for this project without having to reveal who he was. That was important.
When he arrived in Italy a few months back Moretti had set up a shell corporation in Turkey. Its owners were two trust companies in Liechtenstein. A corporation in Libya in turn owned those trusts. There would be no tracing ownership in Moretti’s companies.
Today, using a mail account set up through his front company, he emailed a private investigator in New York he had used for years. Moretti had never spoken with the PI or given the man his name. His identification was a string of numbers – a password – that identified him to the detective. Moretti gave the PI the name of a doctor in Georgia that Conti had provided – the doctor who owned the manuscript. The investigator accepted the job and Moretti wired $20,000 to an account he provided. Now Moretti waited.
In three days Giovanni Moretti knew exactly where the missing Knights Templar volume was. And it was in a place that he hadn’t expected, one that excited Moretti.
Locating the site satisfied only one part of the payback he owed Dominic Cardinal Conti. He knew what would come next.
Moretti made a call. From his desk in the Vatican, Cardinal Conti answered on the first ring. “What have you found?”
“It’s at an antiquities gallery. Bijan Rarities in New York.”
“Get it. Discreetly.”
The call ended, the cleric having given the response Moretti anticipated. This project was perfect. He could kill two birds with one stone, paying off one debt while collecting on another.
-----
Now that Moretti had been given instructions, the Cardinal was determined to push for a meeting with Pope Benedict. He wanted to know what the Pope had promised to show him – the key, perhaps, to the coded pages in the manuscripts. Dominic Conti pushed his chair back from his desk, laced his fingers behind his head and thought how to do it. As his mind considered various options a ding on his computer indicated he had incoming mail. He glanced at the screen and gasped as he opened and read an email from the Pope’s secretary.
This is virtually unprecedented. Now I understand what’s been going on. And now I’ll never find out what the Pope was going to show me.
On February 11, 2013 Benedict XVI became the first Pope in six hundred years to announce he was resigning. A month later he was out of office, his access to the secret vault in the Vatican now ended forever.
-----
In his spacious apartment Giovanni Moretti laid out his plan on a legal pad. The more he thought, the more elaborate his ideas became until he had designed a scheme. It was monumental and would completely mask the reasons behind it. The idea would take resources and effort, both of which Moretti could easily muster. He wouldn’t call upon the Church for help of any kind. Cardinal Conti would have the plausible deniability he required. All Conti wanted was the manuscript. All Moretti wanted, on the other hand, was revenge.
He placed several telephone calls. The plan would take time to execute but the project was underway.
Chapter Four
New York City
A month ago Brian Sadler had received a phone call from Dr. Sidney Crane of Athens, Georgia. The neurologist told him about the eight ancient books from his father’s collection. Brian agreed to take the manuscripts, estimate their worth and provide a proposal for disposition.
Like most Americans, the Crane brothers had heard of Bijan Rarities. Brian Sadler was a frequent guest on news networks as a recognized authority on antiquities. The History and Discovery networks had produced several shows in which either he or the gallery were prominently featured. His discoveries in Mexico and Central America had made headlines worldwide and Sadler’s name was well known to those who collected or had an interest in ancient things and peoples. He had been involved with some of the world’s strangest and rarest things, including the Bethlehem Scroll and the discovery of ancient gold of the Maya kings deep in the Guatemalan rain forest.
When Robert and Sidney Crane found the manuscripts in the old box they discussed what to do next. The find might be something really valuable but then again it might be eight old books that should be listed on eBay. Only an expert would know and they both came up with Bijan to fill their need.
Dr. Sidney Crane emailed Brian photos of the book covers and the first couple of pages of each. Brian was immediately captivated by the beauty and condition of seven of the volumes. They had weathered time well. He called the physician and gave him a very preliminary guess of the possible value, with the caveat that seeing them in person and spending some research time in the office with them would be necessary to nail down a true value.
Brian gave a ballpark estimate of the three bibles at perhaps $50-100,000 each and the four miscellaneous volumes of literature at roughly $20-40,000 each due to their age and unique binding. He reserved an opinion on the Knights Templars book. He agreed with Dr. Crane that the volume was very likely one of a set and no one had any idea where the others were or even if they existed. Its content guaranteed it had been written hundreds of years ago an
d the book’s cover looked as though it was from the early eighteenth century. It made the book interesting as an old tome but not particularly valuable standing alone, apart from the others in its set. There was also the matter of condition. The book was in poor shape at best – torn pages and a worn cover that was barely attached to the spine. Of the eight books it held the least possibility of any real value to Brian.
Two weeks later the eight volumes were at Bijan Rarities. Dr. Sidney Crane had brought them personally to New York, unwilling to trust them to a delivery service or courier. He spent only an hour with Brian, got a receipt for the books and left.
Brian laid the volumes on a side table in his office. The pictures hardly did justice to the beauty of the three bibles. And the four volumes of literature were clearly ancient and first editions, but they were by little-known writers. They had value not from their content but more for the age and beauty of the bindings, Brian mused.
He looked at the worst book first, to get it over with. As he’d suspected from the picture, this book was no different than hundreds of others he’d seen at antiquarian booksellers worldwide. It was old, for sure. Brian carefully opened the torn, moth-eaten cover and looked at the first page. Opus Militum Xpisti. Latin. It was one volume of a set, for sure. Who knew where the others were? Who cared, for that matter? The set had probably been separated long ago. If the others were in as bad shape as this one, Brian figured they’d been tossed in the trash.
The Templars manuscript was written in a combination of Latin, ancient French and English between the 1400s and 1700s, according to the diary entries in it. There were no redeeming factors on this one – no beautiful binding, no exquisite colored drawings, nothing to make this one worthwhile. Brian wasn’t going to spend any time on it. This one looked like something for a garage sale, not a rarities gallery. He tossed it to the back of the table.
Brian Sadler Archaeological Mysteries BoxSet Page 69
