The Secret Chapel (god's lions)

by John Lyman

  Being at sea must be a lot like being in outer space, he thought. Everyone onboard is separated from terra firma on a self-contained vessel cast upon a great void, traveling from one point of land to another, unable to survive outside the warm enclosure of their ship in the middle of an unyielding sea. The crew onboard could safely venture out of their craft in port, but at sea, the boat was their whole world.

  Leo imagined that, if only they could just keep on sailing right by the coast and never touch land, maybe the book would remain out of the hands of those who would use it to work their evil against the world, a world that was already so saturated with hate that all it needed was the strike of a cosmic match against the fuel of intolerance that had formed like a puddle of gasoline across the globe.

  Father Leo stood at the railing. He felt the salt spray in his face and the cooling breeze blow through his hair. The wind ballooned his half-buttoned shirt away from his chest as he closed his eyes and wondered how a small, insignificant priest could possibly accomplish anything against such odds.

  Chapter 36

  The Carmela was still miles from the harbor as dawn approached. It was 4:00 AM, and the night crew had awakened everyone onboard. This was, after all, not a luxury cruise, although it had seemed like one at times. Lev and his staff had done everything in their power to make life a little easier for those who would soon be going ashore in the final dash to Rome. They would all be facing a terrifying enemy as they made their way to the city-and some might not return.

  The chefs had set up a breakfast buffet in the main salon for the large group who filtered in and gathered on sofas and chairs with plates of food on their laps and steaming cups of coffee in their hands. A large screen in the front of the room came alive with images from Daniel’s computer as he readied the presentation. Alon stood against the back wall and dimmed the lights so that Moshe could go over the scenario he had been working on almost all night long. The old former general had fallen into bed and slept for only two hours before his 4:00 AM wakeup call.

  Moshe stood and walked over next to the screen. He was barefoot, wearing baggy white shorts and an orange fly-fishing shirt. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep as he twirled the ends of his immense handlebar moustache and scanned the room for any sign of a reluctant participant. Everyone had to perform their part seamlessly or the plan would collapse.

  “This will be what we in the military call a multipronged assault,” Moshe began, pointing at the screen. “What this means to a civilian is that many of you will be going in different directions at different times in different vehicles. Our goal here is to create as much confusion as possible for anyone who might be watching us or trying to intercept the Devil’s Bible before Leo and John can deliver it to the Vatican. In order to do this, we will be sending several of you out in groups of two, all heading for Rome. One couple will be racing up the coast in one of the Carmela’s speedboats to the harbor at Fiumicino on the outskirts of Rome, while the others will be in different cars on separate highways heading toward the city. All of you will be carrying a backpack identical to John’s when you leave this boat so that anyone who might be watching won’t know which one of us has the book. It’s a version of the old shell game.”

  The group began to experience a hybrid mixture of emotions, a subtle crossover between fear and excitement. Those gathered together in the salon looked at one another in anticipation as Moshe finished his part of the briefing and handed off to Lev.

  Wearing his usual khaki shorts and white shirt with the top two buttons undone, Lev rose from his seat and stood barefoot in front of the group. He took a sip from his coffee and paused to clear his throat. “The real Devil’s Bible will, of course, be with John and Leo. They will be departing in the helicopter with Nava before dawn while we are still at sea. The rest of you will leave the boat after we dock and head out from the harbor in rental cars as a diversion. The helicopter will drop Leo and John off in the countryside on the outskirts of Portenza, this village here.” Lev pointed to a map on the screen with a red laser pointer.

  “The helicopter will then return to the yacht while Leo and John walk into town and catch the morning train to Rome. Moshe and Alon will drive one of the rental cars to the same village and stand by outside the train station as a backup until Leo and John catch their train. If there are no problems, they will return to the Carmela, where they will board the helicopter and fly to the airport outside Rome with Nava. Moshe and Alon will then take a rented van and drive from the airport to the train station where they will meet Leo and John.”

  “Why not just fly Leo and John right to the Vatican?” Ariella asked. The others all shook their heads in agreement and waited for an explanation.

  Moshe moved in next to Lev and continued. “This plan requires diversion and confusion in order for it to work. These people are smart, and they probably know we’re in the area. We will be launching the helicopter right before we enter the harbor when the sun is just starting to rise. All of the lights will be turned off to make it look like we are being secretive about it. If they’re watching, they will naturally assume that the helicopter is en route to the Vatican and tell their people watching the highways and train stations to head for Rome. This will provide a window of opportunity for Leo and John to board their train unobserved. Then, after all the cars race away and the helicopter returns to the yacht, they’ll be totally confused.”

  “Wow,” John said. “You guys think of everything.”

  “Military scenarios are like a big chess game,” Moshe continued. “Every move requires a counter move, and you must be constantly at least five steps ahead of your opponent. Lev and Ariella will remain aboard the Carmela in the operations center to coordinate communications and send help if needed. After we know that Leo and John are safely on the train en route to the city, the yacht will leave the harbor at Maratea and head north to Rome. That will create yet another distraction to anyone watching.”

  A young voice spoke up from the back of the room. “Will we be using our cell phones?”

  “No cell phones,” Lev said. “Your backpacks will contain secure radios and satellite phones to contact the yacht and stay in touch with each other. It’s important that all of you stay in communication with the yacht as you drive to Rome using different highways. Even though we have ways to track you, we need to have voice communication with you at all times until you meet up with the yacht when she docks at Fiumicino Harbor, about thirty miles west of the city.”

  Lev took another sip of coffee and scanned the room. “Are there any more questions?”

  No one spoke.

  “Ok, then, let’s get going.”

  Everyone filed outside to finish their coffee and watch the horizon for the coming of the sun. In the early morning darkness, they could hear the sound of the helicopter’s engines come to life up on the top deck.

  John approached Ariella and stood in front of her with his backpack slung over his shoulder. She bit her lip, trying to avoid the tears she knew were close. John saw through the ruse and held her tightly. “Don’t worry. I always feel safe when Leo’s around for some reason. I think it’s safe to say we have God on our side.”

  She nodded her head and put on a brave smile as she had done in the past when she bid farewell to others who were leaving on missions to defend those they loved. Kissing her gently on the cheek, John turned away and climbed the exterior stairs to the helipad.

  John saw that Leo was already strapped in and climbed onboard with his evil burden. All lights had been extinguished throughout the boat, and Nava had intentionally left the flashing red strobes of the helicopter turned off.

  The yacht was now nothing more than a black hole in the sea as the rotor blades spun faster and Nava pulled back on the controls, slowly lifting up and away from the Carmela as the yacht passed beneath them in the darkness below. As soon as the chopper had departed, the captain ordered all the lights switched back on. The Carmela’s outline was now illuminated as she ma
de her turn toward the small harbor situated under tall cliffs that hugged the shore.

  On a narrow road that skirted the cliffs above, a small car was parked at a scenic overlook. Two men had been watching the progress of the yacht through binoculars as it moved north along the coast. Earlier, they had seen the lights of the boat suddenly go out, causing them to lose sight of her. Panicking, they scanned the darkness, unable to see anything until their eyes adjusted enough to see the shape of the boat in the dim moonlight. They had watched with curious interest for several minutes until the lights came back on. Why did they do that? The helicopter was gone!

  They cursed as one of the men dialed a number on his cell phone while the other continued to watch the yacht turn into the channel leading to the harbor. Suddenly, the man observing the yacht shouted and grabbed the shoulder of the man speaking on the cell phone. Looking skyward, he pointed excitedly to the dark, dragonfly-like shape of a helicopter highlighted by the moon as it passed over the coast before disappearing behind the hills.

  A row of rental cars reserved by Moshe through a third party in Italy was lined up along the dock next to the Carmela. By now, the glow of the impending sunrise could be seen over the distant hills as the yacht rocked gently against the lines that secured her to the dock. Activity erupted on the boat as two backpack-toting staff members ran out onto the main deck and clamored over the side down some nylon webbing into one of the yacht’s speedboats. The small boat’s powerful motor roared to life before it raced away past the breakwater at the harbor entrance and headed north along the coast toward Rome.

  At the same time, four other staff members carrying identical backpacks bolted from the main deck and ran down the gangplank onto the dock. They jumped into two small white rental cars and sped away from the harbor in opposite directions. They were followed by four more backpack-toting members of Lev’s staff who also raced away in white rental cars. They would be taking roads leading away to the east before turning north toward Rome. Then, Daniel and Sarah and Moshe and Alon, all raced away from the harbor in two different cars, heading in two different directions.

  A group of curious locals stood along the dock watching with amused stares as the scene unfolded around them. One of them turned to another and wondered aloud why all those people wanted off that boat in such a hurry. They all laughed before turning their attention back to their work of mending torn fishing nets.

  As soon as all the vehicles were away, the helicopter returned and circled to land on the helipad. Nava jumped out and purposely left the chopper’s doors open so that anyone watching could see that the helicopter was empty. Now, everyone left onboard the yacht could only wait for Moshe and Alon to call and let them know that Leo and John had made it safely onto the train.

  Standing on the cliffs above, the two men watching stood motionless. They were completely dumbfounded by the scene. At least a dozen people had sped away with identical backpacks in identical cars heading in different directions. Then, the helicopter had returned to the yacht with no one onboard except for the pilot. Had it just been scouting the area? They had already called Rome and informed their associates that the book was probably on the helicopter. Sweat caused by the adrenalin-fueled response to fear ran down their collars as one of the men opened his cell phone and hit re-dial.

  Chapter 37

  Leo and John were literally hiding in the bushes. Twenty minutes earlier, the helicopter had dropped them off in a darkened field. They watched the traffic on a narrow road leading into the village of Portenza before slinging their backpacks over their shoulders and walking quickly out of the brush onto the edge of the road. Dressed casually in polo shirts and jeans, the two looked like tourists backpacking through the countryside.

  “It seems like only yesterday that we were trying to get out of Italy,” John said, squinting at the sunrise peeking over the surrounding hills. “What time does our train leave?”

  “Six forty-five exactly,” Leo said. “Italian trains are always on time, so we can’t be late. From what I could see when we flew in, the village should be just ahead.”

  The two picked up their pace, peering inside every vehicle that passed for signs of out-of-place men in suits. John nudged Leo when Moshe and Alon drove by in their rental car without acknowledgement. Keeping a low profile, the two Israelis continued into town and parked a block away from the train station so as not to draw any attention to Leo and John.

  Entering the outskirts of the small town, Leo and John made their way through sleepy streets to an Italian train station built in the typical style of the 1930s. The interior was spacious, with high ceilings towering above, supported by square green marble columns. The Italians seemed to love the colors of green and yellow, and this building was no exception. The entire station was done in a green and yellow color scheme, with green and yellow tiles on the floor surrounded by yellow-tiled walls. Even the signs displaying arrival and departure times were yellow.

  The only deviation from this theme was the brown wooden ticket window where Leo and John purchased their tickets using cash. Daniel had painstakingly made some false IDs for them, but the agent didn’t seem interested and never asked for identification.

  Taking a final look around the inside of the station, they passed through a pair of immense two-story wooden doors onto a concrete platform located outside above the rails. Stealing glances at the other passengers lining the platform, they took seats on a bench resting against the station’s red brick wall. Both felt the same edginess that had gripped them when they had escaped from Italy the week before. It was 6:35 AM, and they could see the bouncing headlight of a train approaching in the distance. If nothing happened in the next ten minutes, they would soon be on their way to Rome.

  The dark blue train screeched to a stop, and a few passengers stepped off while an equal number clambered onboard. Leo and John climbed the metal steps into a dingy railway coach that was beginning to show its age. They turned down a narrow, window-lined passageway and walked through the smoke-stained car while peering into separate wood-paneled compartments built to hold six passengers each on facing brown-upholstered bench-type seats.

  “Here’s one,” Leo said. He stepped into a vacant compartment and looked through the oversized window at the now-empty train platform for anyone that seemed suspicious. John eyed the seats and stuffed the backpack onto an overhead shelf before sitting by the door.

  A sudden jerking motion signaled movement as the engine began pulling the train away from the station. The aged train slowly increased speed until the scenery was flashing by their windows in a blur of green. Leo was restless and stood, pacing the compartment and poking his head out into the narrow passageway. “I think I’ll get some coffee and a paper in the dining car.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?” John asked.

  “No, you’d better wait here with the backpack. You want some coffee?”

  “That’d be great,” John said. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat as Leo exited the compartment.

  Leo peered into every compartment as he walked through the connecting passages toward the front of the train. The only other passengers he saw appeared to be the local Italian gentry who seemed surprised when they looked up and saw someone who appeared to be a tourist within their midst. Not good, he thought. Anything that made them stand out from the crowd was not to their advantage, and he and John seemed to be the only tourists on this train.

  Stepping into a wood-paneled coach from another era, Leo approached a marble-topped counter and ordered a small cup of dark espresso. He grabbed a paper and tried to look casual, sipping his coffee and glancing at the pictures of the devastation in Houston spread across the front page under bold headlines in Italian. A sense of urgency gnawed at his already unsettled stomach.

  The priest folded the paper and offered it to an attractive middle-aged woman standing next to him. They made small talk for several minutes before Leo decided that it was probably unwise for him and John to remain sep
arated for too long. He ordered coffee to go for John and tapped his fingers nervously on the counter as he and the woman next to him continued to smile at one another. She turned and leaned forward while laying her hand on his. “It’s a long ride into Rome,” she said. “Why don’t we have another cup of coffee and sit at one of the tables?”

  It was obvious to Leo that he had been a little too charming. Forgetting John’s coffee in his haste to retreat, he excused himself from the disappointed woman and began making his way toward the back of the train.

  Entering one of the tight connecting passageways, Leo stepped right into the path of two well-groomed men wearing suits. Leo froze and tried to think as the train swayed from side to side over the worn tracks. He had looked into every compartment on the way to the dining car, and these men hadn’t been in any of them. He held his breath as the two men squeezed past with only barely perceptible nods.

  Walking quickly through the next car, Leo looked back over his shoulder at the men who appeared to be continuing on toward the front of the train. The train lurched around a bend just as he reached his compartment, forcing him to grab the edge of the doorway before stumbling inside. It was empty. No John … no backpack. He stepped back and looked up at the compartment number posted on a bronze plaque over the door. It was the same compartment they had been sitting in.

  Looking up and down the empty passageway, Leo felt his heart beating in his chest as panic began to settle in. Abandoning the need to maintain a low profile, he raced toward the end of the train, systematically looking into every compartment until he came to the end. No John. He turned and retraced his steps, wondering what to do next. He knew that he hadn’t passed John when he was returning from the dining car. In his panic, had he missed him somehow when he searched the rear section of the coach? He swirled around just as a thin wooden door opened, almost hitting him in the face. It was John holding the backpack.