The Light of Our Yesterdays

by Ken Hansen

  “So then why the dismissal?”

  Zaugg smiled. “Fine acted like the snake he is.”

  “How’s that?”

  “We discovered that Fine had hired private investigators to dig up dirt on the pope from his earlier days as a priest. He hoped to use that dirt to blackmail the pope into resigning.”

  Huxley nodded. “I’m guessing he failed.”

  “Correct. His Holiness has led a holy life. He will admit he is not perfect, but nothing in his past could rise to the level of blackmail.”

  “So the pope was upset with this underhandedness and decided to cut off the Snake’s tail?”

  “No. He confronted Fine privately with the evidence we had supplied. Fine confessed and begged for the pope’s forgiveness, which the pope immediately granted him on behalf of himself and God. Fine then promised he would cease any further attempts to undermine the papacy. His Holiness thought the matter at end until we discovered that Fine had begun meeting with some pretty scary people outside of the country. Since he couldn’t find any real dirt, Fine had been working to manufacture an embarrassing story.”

  “What was that?”

  Colonel Zaugg sat back and shook his head. “I do not think it worthy of repeating, even here.”

  “It may be important, especially if the same terrorists were involved.”

  “Let us just say they had tried to bribe a few of the pope’s former servers.”

  “Altar boys?” Huxley asked.

  Zaugg nodded slowly. “They are grown men now. This group had tried to convince these men to invent allegations about inappropriate conduct. You can probably figure out the rest since the papers are full of such stories about priests around the world.”

  “How do you know they were invented?”

  Colonel Zaugg gave a pained expression and shook his head slightly. “Thank God, one of the former altar servers refused the bribe and contacted us. Before this all blew up, we put an end to the matter with the others. Then His Holiness had no choice but to unceremoniously laicize the Snake. We set his options out clearly for him: if he called off his dogs, we would not press criminal charges. However, if even one allegation were made against the pope, he would serve many years in prison. He selected the route of least resistance.”

  “Now I get why you don’t want this to hit the press. Why didn’t you just demote him and stick him in a monastery somewhere where he could do little damage and the matter would not become public?”

  “His actions were just too extreme,” Zaugg said. “Besides, the pope had taken that step after Fine’s first blackmail attempt, and it obviously didn’t have the effect he had anticipated. No, I think this was appropriate. If we had just left him on an outpost and he ultimately made some other allegations, how would His Holiness defend himself in the press when he had not punished the man severely for this travesty?”

  “I see,” said Huxley.

  “Do you?” Zaugg leaned forward. “Could you imagine what such lies would do to undermine the pope’s ability to address this scourge that has harmed so many innocents and has marred the church’s reputation for the past several decades? It would set us back another thirty years. Many expect the pope to wave his hand and immediately end the misery that has infected the church for so long now, but there are few simple truths or solutions, and his power to bring change through the huge bureaucracy and rigid power structures of the church is much more limited than the outside world understands. The conservative cardinals and bishops have seen that as an opportunity to drive a wedge between the pope and the flock.”

  “I get that it is complicated. But if they moved against the pope for a false allegation, couldn’t the Vatican demonstrate the witnesses were bribed into committing perjury.”

  Zaugg shook his head. “Unfortunately, such recourse often proves difficult. When an allegation is made, the public assumes the worst. Do you really think that would matter if we proved his innocence after the fact? The immediate glaring headlines would swallow the truth whole. The facts would emerge out the crap hole only after it was too late. Look, you are an experienced investigator, so you know that people like to believe what their preconceived notions tell them. The actual evidence often seems irrelevant.”

  Huxley nodded. “Your Vatican secrets are safe with me. But they may prove quite helpful because they give me an insight into the Snake’s mind. Thank you so much for your assistance.”

  “You are welcome, Mr. Huxley.”

  “Can you give me any leads on his scary friends?”

  “Not much, except they had close ties to some of the terrorists you have held in Cuba for a few years.”

  Huxley nodded. “Guantanamo?”

  “Yes. There was reference to Abu Dakar.”

  “He died.”

  “Yes. Also, someone named Baqir Najwa.”

  Huxley’s head jerked up. “He has also died, though I find that interesting. Any details you can add?”

  “Not really. We never located him after the U.S. released him. His was just a name that came up in the investigation. Our security budget is a bit smaller than yours.”

  “I understand. Any connections to anyone who is still alive?”

  Zaugg shook his head. “Sorry.”

  “Any idea where we can find Fine?”

  “If I had known that, the Carabinieri would already have arrested him. We had an understanding with Italian Immigration that we would be notified if Fine ever tried to re-enter Italy, but someone over there screwed up or was paid off. We only learned he was back when the Carabinieri informed us a few weeks later. We’ve turned over every bit of personal contact info we had on Fine, but we understand they are still looking for him.”

  Huxley nodded.

  “I’m sorry,” Zaugg said. “If you find him, will you let me know so we can keep tabs on him? Based on the dire picture you have painted, I must also worry about some kind of attempt on the pope or other members of the Curia.”

  “Sure. I’m wondering, though, how does someone just disappear in Italy?”

  “You joking? It happens all the time.”

  Chapter 73

  After leaving Jochi, Tomadus found the communication pod and called a special number in Roma. “I hope I am not disturbing you. I am at a public pod in Parisius, though nobody is within sight at the moment.”

  “Parisius?” said First Consul Khansensius. “Then you are with Isa again?”

  “Yes, he has returned to the continent from Tetepe—safely I might add.”

  “I understand. That is quite…fortunate. Does he plan to return?”

  “I don’t know, but I would think so, eventually.” Tomadus paused. “They need him there.”

  “I thought you said we need him here, in the Three Empires.”

  “I think he may be able to bring the world together.”

  “So you have restored your faith in him?”

  “I wouldn’t quite call it that.”

  “But he has faith in you?”

  “Perhaps. There is a rumor that some authority will soon arrest Isa and may bring harm to him. It might help my credibility with the Way if I could ferret that out. Have you heard anything?”

  “No, I have heard nothing of the sort. However, if he returns to New Jutland too soon, who knows? As I have shared with you openly, we need to find a way to change the religious leaders into supporters of his. If the Grand Imams turn too strongly against him, well if even the Jewish Abh Beyth Diyn makes a fuss, the situation could become, shall we say, delicate? He needs to prove his bona fides. Have you given that any more thought?”

  “A bit, but I haven’t yet had a chance to talk to him about it.”

  “What do you plan?”

  “I’m thinking about a worldwide broadcast on the visi-scan.”

  “By Isa?”

  “Yes, if the leaders can see him speak themselves, if all the people can see him speak…”

  “I don’t know. I doubt you could convince the broadcasters to cover his sp
eech. It is expensive and closely-controlled, you know.”

  “I might be able to pay for it. Perhaps you could help with some of the approvals?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve already stuck my neck out for you with Yohanan.”

  “Yes, you tried. Thank you again for that. But this could mean even more. You’ve seen the impact he has. He might succeed. The peace could be lasting.”

  After pausing a few seconds, the First Consul said, “I shall take it under advisement, Tomadus. Just realize that if the religious leaders oppose Isa, my hands may be tied. Surely you have studied the Wars of the Three Empires, have you not? The emperors have, I assure you. Differences in their beliefs caused death and destruction for nearly two hundred years and weakened all of the empires. That is why Roma has some small power today—to keep these empires from squabbling over their little differences so that we can preserve our proper place in the world and maintain the balance. The balance is everything, Tomadus. So do not count on me openly taking sides in any religious fight—even if your friend Isa is one of its participants.”

  While he slowly approached the quay, Tomadus thought about that other world and the fate of Jesus—the man of God whose martyrdom served as a foundation for a religion known as Christianity. Was that where Isa was headed? Emperor Acamapichtli, Yohanan and now Simeon had seemed to worry about that possibility. Tomadus would not let it happen again. He had promised to protect Isa, and he kept his promises. The broadcast might just do that. Even if the religious leaders were still against him, the broadcast would make it that much harder to take action. The resulting popularity for Isa would certainly hinder Skjöldr from moving against Isa in Tetepe.

  A few last rays of the day’s sun shimmered on the Sequana River in Parisius as Tomadus stepped off the garden path and onto a street heading toward the town center. In front of Tomadus ran a small black and white dog, its articulated ribs testifying to the depths of its hunger. Tomadus tilted his head in contemplation as a strange tingle went down his spine. The dog was so familiar, but his family had never owned one. When he closed his eyes and thought of Huxley, a few flashes of a similar dog drew across his memory. Huxley had only been a child then. Tomadus opened his eyes and smiled, feeling in his pocket for the heel of bread he had left over from his noon repast. “Come here boy,” said Tomadus, but the dog just looked back at him and continued sniffing the ground and moving forward.

  Tomadus followed the dog around a building to his right, through a narrow alleyway, behind a garbage container and through a small pedestrian passage, where the dog stopped and stared at him with a strange look of hunger, almost a look of longing. Tomadus broke off a scrap of bread and kneeled down to convince the dog he meant no harm. The dog approached and took the first chunk of bread in one gulp. His tail began wagging, and he lifted his paws to Tomadus’s knee. “You little beggar,” Tomadus said tenderly. He handed him another piece of the bread and the dog quickly swallowed it down and came back for more, this time licking Tomadus’s face, which Tomadus shook as he smiled and held out another piece. “Here you go, fella.”

  As he handed the dog another piece of bread, Tomadus noticed the light from the door across the way begin to wash through the courtyard. A few seconds later, Adin appeared through the doorway, followed quickly by Isa. They were speaking in hushed tones as they walked, with Adin telling Isa he did not understand.

  “This is for the resurrection, Adin,” Isa seemed to repeat as he held out an open hand toward Adin. Tomadus could see a small item in Isa’s hand, but could not discern its nature in the twilight. “You must take it,” said Isa. “Trust me. It will be fine.”

  Adin replied, “But I don’t want to if it means—”

  “You must put that out of your mind,” Isa said. “You must do this for me. This will be a sign to all.”

  The dog jumped up against Tomadus’s chest and licked his face, forcing him to fall backward, causing him to lose a few seconds of the conversation. He picked the dog off of him and petted it as he scrambled to his knees to catch a few more words. All he could hear was a snippet at the end of a sentence from Isa: “…come back to the living.”

  Adin stopped, nodded slowly with a pained look, and looked down as he took the small item. Isa smiled and touched Adin’s shoulder, and the two turned and walked away.

  Tomadus remained kneeling in the alley a long time, petting the dog and trying to parse through what he had just seen without success. When the dog barked and jumped on him, Tomadus smiled and fed the little rascal his last scrap of bread. “I’m sorry boy, but that’s all I have.” The dog licked his face and trotted away. “Left again to myself,” Tomadus said aloud. “I, too, must return to the living.”

  Chapter 74

  Her dark rose lips parted and reunited with a gentle grace while words flowed through them with perfect elegance. The lips and words fashioned their own couplet full of beauty and style, sending tremors of longing though Huxley’s heart. But could he accept her words as oracles of truth? Like the oracles of the ancient world, perhaps they were nothing more than carefully crafted illusions leading him to a pre-ordained, horrific end. That he could not be certain terrified him. Her recent inability to identify Cardinal Fine as Tocelli’s Florentine snake had only raised his suspicions. But her contributions to his case had bothered him even more—a trail of careful breadcrumbs left cleverly along his path, always helping him find the way just when he thought he was lost.

  “Chris?” Sonatina asked.

  “I’m sorry, I must have zoned out for a second. You were saying?”

  “I asked you if you had found Armondo Fine.”

  “No,” Huxley said. “We haven’t. Why?”

  “Why? You came all the way to Italy to find the man, didn’t you?”

  “Is that what you think? No, I just needed an excuse to have dinner in Rome with a most enchanting woman.” He flashed a huge, over-the-top smile, playing the love-struck schoolboy.

  Sonatina lowered her jaw, tilted her head to the side and raised her eyebrows above nearly pouting eyes. The entire look screamed incredulity. “I’m supposed to believe this puffery from a man whose every move suggests he does not trust me?”

  He would never live that down. “Sonatina, you know I trust you. There are limits to the sharing of state secrets, you know. They could throw me in a dark cell with really bad dudes.”

  She mouthed silently, “I know.” She grinned. “I do love to tease you, you ugly American spy.” They shared a laugh.

  But the truth still hung in the air, a heavy cloud of cynicism, though they both pretended not to notice. He needed her to trust him, to believe he trusted her. It was the only way this would work. Bring her back. But how? The dream. “It would be nice if this ugly American spy could get some sleep.”

  “Oh, are you tired of me already?”

  “No, its just…I keep dreaming crazy dreams and waking up in the middle of the night.”

  “Crazy?”

  “Crazy in that it keeps repeating, yet it has nothing to do with me, not really.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, I see Scooter, my old black and white border collie in the dream, at least at the end. I haven’t dreamed about him since he died.”

  “Was that recent?”

  “No, ancient history. His heart gave out a few months after I started college. That might be why I keep having the dream—I loved that old dog.” He smiled.

  “What is strange about the dog?”

  “The dog? No, he’s not that strange. He doesn’t come in until later. I’m in some part of the world where we all wear robes. There is one man in white robes, and we are talking about parallel worlds and strange things like that.”

  “Parallel worlds?”

  “Yep. I don’t quite remember the conversation, but I remember the man in white quizzing this huge, gentle man, asking him about how his father treated him when he did something wrong. The large man agreed that the father corrected him even though he forgave him.
Then he looked at all of us and asked us if his Father in Heaven would also find such a way to teach his children, to help their souls find a way. It was all kind of mixed up. You know how dreams are. But this one…” He stopped when he saw her puzzled reaction. She had tilted her head, narrowed her eyes and begun to twirl the hair by her ear. “Something wrong?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No, I…I don’t think so. Have you told me about this dream before?”

  “No.”

  “Funny, I could swear I remember it vividly. Deja vu, I guess.” She shrugged. “Who knows, maybe God is talking to you, and you are too bullheaded to listen. Where is he helping your soul to go—Heaven? Are you looking for Heaven, Chris?”

  “Right.” He snorted and shook his head. “I haven’t searched for that in a while. Maybe that’s where all these clues lead—a stairway to Heaven?”

  “Do not tease about Heaven, Chris. You still hang onto that crucifix?”

  He tried to hold back his smirk. “You know that is just to remind me of my mother. But you might be right. Maybe the guilt is pulling me down again. The guilt is telling my soul it needs help.”

  “Maybe it does.”

  Huxley bit his lip, holding back the rising heat. Trying to convert him back again. She had always seemed so rational, but then religion… Damn, he hated that. Just change the subject, Hux. “Anyway, I’m still trying to find Fine. Any ideas where to find the cardinal?” Huxley said quickly.

  “Why would I know? I barely knew him when he was a cardinal. He probably wouldn’t even remember me—except maybe from his time in Florence, although I was pretty young back then.”

  “I’m just gasping for a breath of air here and hoping that maybe you would find it in your heart to rescue me.”

  “Well, maybe later, after dinner.” She smiled coyly.

  He had to use every bit of self-restraint not to whisk her out of the restaurant. Giving into temptation could not work. Not yet, not for him. He still could not figure her out, and that scared him, but he had to play this thing out anyway. “We must find Fine soon. He might be a key player in this. We have to figure out a way to flush him out.”