by John Lyman
Whipped by the building wind, the sea had turned an angry gray as waves crashed across the decks, making it almost impossible to maintain a direct course. Bracing himself against the roll of the boat, Morelli poked his head up from below and shouted to Francois. “What course are you steering?”
“I’m pegged at 260 degrees ... more or less.”
“Good. Keep heading west on that course and the island should be two miles straight ahead of us.” Morelli began to turn away but stopped and looked back up into the pilothouse. “Oh, I forgot to mention ... it’s surrounded by rocks. We have to approach the cove head on, so try to keep the course steady.”
“I’m trying, Bishop, but the ocean isn’t exactly being cooperative right now.” A large wave crashed against the side of the boat, laying it on its side as Francois fought the wheel and pushed the throttles all the way forward until the boat righted itself and turned in a slow arc back to their original course. “To tell you the truth, we’ll be lucky to find the island at all, much less a small beach surrounded by rocks. Did they mention what we’re supposed to do once we get there?”
“Not really.” Morelli grabbed the sea chart and climbed the short steps the rest of the way up into the pilothouse. “The man from the embassy just said to anchor off a small beach inside the cove and wait.”
“Anchor! Are they kidding? There’s no way we can anchor in this storm. We’ll be dragged right up onto the rocks! If we don’t find it soon I’m afraid we’ll have to turn back.” Squinting ahead, Francois stared through the blinding spray until he thought he saw the outline of something dark in the distance.
Another wave swept over the pilothouse, and when the water had drained, he saw a line of towering cliffs directly in front of them. “Got it!” he shouted to Morelli. “The island is right in front of us! Now all we have to do is find that cove and hope we don’t tear the bottom out of this thing after we make it past the breakwater!”
Morelli grabbed a brass railing and peered through the rain-streaked windows into the misty gloom surrounding the island. With the cliffs looming overhead, the thunderous roar of pounding surf grew louder as they skimmed down the side of a wave and bobbed in a foamy trough a hundred yards offshore.
“There!” Morelli tossed the chart aside as he pointed through the window to a gap in the cliffs. Near the opening, the color of the water changed from storm-tossed gray to bluish-green as it flowed in and out through a narrow break in the rocks. “That must be the way into the cove!”
Leander strained to see as another thunderous wave crashed down on the boat and slowly drained through the scuppers. “OK. We’ve got to get away from all of these rocks. I’ll aim for that space in the cliffs, and you might want to say a little prayer, Bishop, because once we enter that opening there’s no turning back.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of the praying, Francois. Just aim for that space and give the engines all they’ve got.”
Gritting his teeth, Francois shoved the throttles all the way forward, forcing the boat up over an incoming wave and allowing it to power-surf straight through the gap in the rocks into a small cove. As soon as they entered the cove it was as if someone had suddenly hit a switch and turned off the storm. Inside the ring of protection offered by the encircling cliffs, the sea calmed and the howling winds lowered almost to a whisper.
With the boat now riding calmly on smooth water, Morelli and Francois looked out through their windows and saw three figures waving to them from a tiny beach at the bottom of the cliffs.
Francois’ eyes widened. “How in the world did they get in here?”
Morelli grinned. “I have no idea, but I’m sure there’s a good story behind it.”
Francois pointed excitedly. The three figures on the beach had shoved a small rubber boat into the water and were now rowing out to the cabin cruiser. A few minutes later, Pope Michael, Cardinal Leo, and Eduardo Acerbi were looking up at them from the tiny bobbing craft.
“Your Holiness!” Morelli exclaimed. “We’ve been sick with worry about you.”
“I’ve been in excellent hands, my friends, but it’s good to be back.” The pope vaulted over the rail and reached down to take a shivering Eduardo Acerbi by the hand as others helped lift him up onto the deck. “We need to turn this boat around and head back to Rome as soon as possible. Mr. Acerbi is ill.”
“But the storm, Your Holiness,” Francois sputtered. “We barely made it in here. It’s not safe to take you back out into a sea with waves this big.”
“We have no choice, my friends. Storm or no storm, we must get Mr. Acerbi back to Rome today.”
Moving back into the pilothouse, Francois started the engines while the shivering new arrivals made their way down into the relative warmth of the front cabin. As soon as they were seated, the two Swiss Guards began pouring hot coffee from a thermos while handing out dry clothes.
“I suggest you change into the dry clothes now,” the guard said. “There are also baseball caps and dark glasses in each bag.”
“You guys always come prepared,” Leo said through chattering teeth. “Thank you.”
“You can thank our boss, Cardinal. Francois always thinks of everything. He knew you’d be freezing and he doesn’t want anyone recognizing you when we arrive back at the dock. The harbor authority placed security cameras all around the harbor in Fiumicino last year to prevent theft, and we’re pretty sure they’re being monitored by whoever is looking for you.”
“What’s happening in Rome?”
“We’ll get to that when we dock,” Morelli said, pulling Leo aside. “Right now I have to know how all of you ended up on that island.”
“Submarine.”
“A sub? In here?”
“Actually we surfaced out beyond the surf and they brought us ashore in two rubber boats. They left one for us and returned to the sub in the other one.”
“How long have you been out here?”
“About three hours. The storm picked up quite a bit after we landed. We could tell that those sailors had quite a time getting back out through the surf in their little rubber boat, even with an engine.”
“We had a little difficulty ourselves,” Morelli said. “I just hope we can make it back out, because the waves out there look even bigger than they did when we arrived.”
“We’ve got to make it, Anthony. Eduardo grows weaker by the hour.”
“Is he still insisting on traveling to the Dark Ruin?”
Leo paused to sip his coffee as he looked up at the darkening sky. “I’m afraid so, but I think it’s obvious to anyone who looks at him that a trip to Turkey is out of the question.”
“Did he tell you what this so-called transformation process involves ... or if there’s anything that can be done to stop it?”
“Only that the first part of the transformation involves extinguishing the divine spark that shines within us all ... the spark that’s instilled within every living thing once they begin to grow within their mother’s womb.”
“But Adrian’s birth was an aberration. He and his brother were born of a jackal, and when we talk of a divine spark, we’re actually referring to the soul, which means we’re treading upon some very interesting theological ground here.”
“The nature of his birth is less puzzling to me than the reason he was allowed to live as a normal boy for all of these years,” Leo said. “Just think about it for a moment. Why would Satan wait? Why would he go through all the trouble to transform an apparently normal boy into the Antichrist after he had spent all of his formative years in a loving home that provided him with such a positive moral base? That part of it is a total mystery to me ... one I can’t seem to wrap my head around.”
Morelli rubbed the stubble on his chin as he stared out at the breaking waves. “You know, Leo, when you think about it, Christ led a pretty normal life until he began his ministry. Maybe the forty days he spent in the desert when he was tempted by Satan was a kind of transition period, because things certainly kic
ked into overdrive once he returned. Maybe this transition Acerbi speaks of is the turning point in Adrian’s life, only it’s a direct opposite to Christ’s life. I mean, when you’re talking about the Antichrist you’re talking about the opposite of Christ.”
“I don’t know, Anthony. The whole thing just doesn’t feel right. To take a normal, loving child and turn him into the Beast is something I’m having a hard time coming to grips with. Maybe it’s all part of his education. You know, it takes one to know one. The Antichrist is going to be very charming, and he has to learn those skills somewhere. Maybe that’s what the first part of his life was all about ... learning to act like a normal person. All I know is that he will suddenly appear to come out of nowhere and offer mankind a solution to all of the problems plaguing them just when things are beginning to spin out of control, and things are definitely beginning to spin out of control right now.”
“Good heavens, Leo. You really do dive below the surface. Have you discussed any of this with the Holy Father?”
“No, he has enough on his plate right now. Lucifer is a very crafty fellow, Anthony, and I believe he’s surrounding us with deceit and diversion right now. We must tread very carefully in the hours and days ahead, because the Evil One isn’t going to show his hand so easily. He’s a master poker player in every sense of the word, and if he discovers that we’ve stumbled upon his cosmic sleight of hand he will come at us with everything he has. If Adrian is really the Antichrist, there’s nothing we as men can do to stop his transition.”
Morelli looked down and ran his fingers over the gold cross on his ring. “Do you really believe we’re being deceived right now, Leo, or are we being tested?”
“Let’s just say that I have a strong hunch that anyone who tries to interfere with Satan’s plan will be falling into a trap. In all of my years as a Jesuit priest, I’ve always compared Lucifer to a master poker player who plays for souls instead of money, but he’s also a magician. While he diverts your attention in one direction, the real action is occurring somewhere else. Card shark or magician, his methods are the same, and he’s been very successful at the game of evil. He’s been infiltrating our church and stirring up enmity between different religions for thousands of years, and the human race just keeps falling right back into the old habit of playing the game by his rules.
“As a species, it seems we have very short memories. History has taught us nothing, and we are preparing to pay the ultimate price. I’ll be very interested to see what emerges after this so-called transition occurs, because we’ll know soon enough if this is the real thing or just another one of Lucifer’s magician’s tricks to divert our attention from the real game he’s about to play. Let’s just say that, as an old poker player, I have a hunch that this time Satan’s not bluffing.”
CHAPTER 38
Nightfall was fast approaching when the boat carrying the pope appeared from the misty gloom covering the dark water and motored up to a dock in the Porto Romano Marina at Fiumicino Harbor. Standing on the dock next to a plain white van, Cardinal McCulley and Leonardo Vespa held umbrellas over their heads while Francois eased back on the throttles and let the boat glide the rest of the way up against a set of old tires draped over the concrete dock.
Wearing jeans and a black sweater, the pope pulled his baseball cap down over his eyes and climbed up onto the dock.
“Your Holiness!” Vespa gasped. “You don’t know how relieved we are to see you. Please, come this way. We must get you into the van before you’re spotted.”
“Let’s get Mr. Acerbi tended to first.”
Looking down into the boat, they could see the old man’s parchment-like skin was devoid of any color as he wheezed beneath two blankets. Quickly, the Swiss Guards lifted him up onto the dock and carried him to the waiting SUV.
“He’s looking worse by the hour,” the pope said to Francois. “Have your men bring a doctor to the hotel.”
McCulley’s face reddened. “Hotel?”
“Yes. I’ve decided not to return to the Vatican just yet, Cardinal.”
“But, Your Holiness ... Cardinal Acone is attempting to have you replaced permanently as we speak.”
“Acone, eh.” Fire blazed in the pope’s eyes. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Looking toward the outline of Rome in the distance, he made his way to the waiting van as Vespa tilted his umbrella to cover the pope’s face.
“Take us to the Hotel Amalfi,” Pope Michael said. “I’m afraid I must play out this little charade a little while longer, so I’ll be setting up a temporary headquarters there for the next few days until it’s safe to return. There are dark forces at work all around us right now, and we must wait for our enemies to reveal themselves. One must know his enemy before he can defend himself, and it will be by their actions that we will know our own.”
Settling into the back seat for the short drive into Rome, the pope noticed the look of exasperation showing on McCulley’s face. “What’s wrong, Cardinal?”
“I’m afraid I have bad news, Your Holiness. In the past twenty-four hours a computer epidemic of global proportions has started to affect practically every country on Earth. There now appears to be a new and even more powerful worm, and it’s making its way into computers all over the world. People are literally panicking in the streets, because someone or something with great power has taken control of almost every aspect of their lives. We’re talking about things like power plants, banks, transportation systems ... anything that’s connected to a computer is at the mercy of this new worm. It holds the power to determine our ability to obtain the necessities of life, and it’s shutting us out.”
Those watching could see the look of determination on Pope Michael’s face. “Has anyone taken credit for this attack yet?”
“There was a single message that went out over the internet before it was shut down.”
“And what did it say?”
McCulley looked down as he grasped the wooden rosary in his lap. “It simply stated that humanity is on the brink of a great calamity and that a great savior is on the way.” McCulley paused again, as if talking about it somehow made it worse.
“Go on, Cardinal,” the pope said, “continue.”
“It went on to say that if people cooperate with the new savior they will have nothing to worry about ... that this action was being taken for the good of all mankind. According to all the news bulletins that were flooding the airwaves before the television stations went off the air, governments all over the world were working together in an attempt to locate the source. We’ve since learned that all government communications systems were shut down shortly thereafter, including all of the military systems. It’s a nightmare, Your Holiness. Some who know about it are even beginning to blame all of this on the arrival of the dark star.”
“They may be closer to the truth than they realize,” Leo said, looking out into the darkness covering the city. As they turned off the freeway, he could feel his jaw tightening as they drove past the Castel Sant’Angelo and the statue of the Archangel Michael, frozen in the act of sheathing his sword. It was a stark reminder of the spiritual battle that lay ahead for them all.
Rounding the corner, the van continued up the Via Germanico before coming to a stop a block away from the Hotel Amalfi. Looking down the tree-lined street, memories of all the times he had stayed at the hotel over the years before he had moved to Rome began to flood Leo’s thoughts. The owner, Arnolfo Bignoti, had always treated Leo like one of the family and had been instrumental in helping him out of tight situations in the past on more than one occasion. It was for that very reason that Leo felt confident that their sudden and unannounced arrival in the city would go unnoticed until they could return to the Vatican.
As soon as the van rolled to a stop, Francois asked everyone to remain inside while Leo pulled his hat over his eyes and stepped out. Walking on a narrow sidewalk in front of closed shops, Leo looked across the street at the Vatican and wondered how many cameras were pointed in their
direction at that very moment. Stopping in front of the hotel, he made a final scan of the street before bounding up the weathered stone steps. Light from inside spilled out through the tall, etched-glass panels set into a pair of aged Victorian doors, and as he peered inside he could see Arnolfo sitting behind the familiar wooden counter, deep in thought as he read his paper and sipped espresso from a tiny porcelain cup. Pushing the door inward, Leo stepped onto the black and white marble squares covering the 19th century lobby floor and walked over to the desk.
“Buon giorno, signor. I’m looking for a few rooms.”
Lowering his paper, Arnolfo’s eyes widened as he leapt from his chair. “Cardinal Leo! Come sta? We’ve all been so worried. We heard you were missing!”
“I’m fine, Arnolfo, but it seems as though I’ve gotten myself into a little jam again.”
“I figured as much, Cardinal,” Arnolfo winked. “How can I help?”
“I’m sorry to impose on you, my friend, but I have some guests outside that need a discreet place to stay for a few nights. Can you help us out?”
“Of course, Cardinal ... of course. Your friends are my friends. Besides, the hotel is practically empty right now with all this news about computers being broken or something. Our online booking system is down and the phone isn’t working for some reason. You and your guests can have the entire third floor.”
“That would be perfect, Arnolfo. I’ll be right back.” Leo turned and checked the empty lobby before walking back outside into the rain-cooled night air to signal the waiting group in the van.
A few minutes later, the unsuspecting hotel owner practically had a seizure when he recognized the tall figure of Pope Michael walk through the lobby doors. Dropping to his knees, Arnolfo clasped his hands together and bowed his head.
