The Omega Factor(116)

He stepped to the other niche and the rectangular glass container. Inside he saw loose pages, dry and brittle, edges curled, the surfaces all the color of brewed tea.

“That is The Testimony of John,” the abbess said. “It is a firsthand account of the Blessed Virgin’s life after the death of Christ, including her death and burial here in the Pyrénées. It’s an original first-century manuscript.”

“There aren’t many of those in this world,” he said. “How do you know it’s authentic? How do you know the bones are authentic?”

“We actually don’t,” Claire said. “But we had a sample carbon-dated a decade ago, which verified the pages themselves are from the first century. We also know that a copy of it was taken during the Albigensian Crusade. A contingent of soldiers came south to the Roussillon, looking for us. They went to the village of Las Illas, not far from here, thinking we were there. Thankfully, their information was incorrect. We’d left that village hundreds of years before. But that didn’t stop them from torturing and killing everyone there.”

What a brutal time.

“A copy of this text was in the church at Las Illas,” Claire said. “We were not aware of that until after it was taken. The crusaders delivered that copy to the pope, and it stayed in the Vatican archives, relatively unnoticed, until the twentieth century. We obtained photographs of those pages and compared them to this manuscript. They were identical, except for a reference that the one stolen was a copy.”

Amazing.

“To answer your second question,” Claire said, “we don’t know if the bones are authentic. But we do know that they are the same bones interred in the first century in the cave that was destroyed today. The cave itself is exactly as described in The Testimony of John. And they are the same bones that have been guarded and protected continuously by this order ever since. They did not move from that cave, until we brought them here in the twelfth century. Fuentes knew of The Testimony of John. He quoted from it in the cave. Everything matched how the manuscript described the tomb. Which seems further verification of authenticity.”

“And Jan van Eyck is in fact buried in our graveyard,” the abbess said. “Which, to the Vatican, is further verification that this is the place they sought.”

He wondered how, but did not ask.

“You let me go after Friar Dwight, who had a gun,” Kelsey said to the abbess. “You closed the doors behind me. Why?”

“Was there any stopping you?” the older woman asked.

Kelsey said nothing.

“No, Sister Deal, you were intent on going after Dwight. I merely allowed you to do that. But Sister Claire was in the tower, with her bow, watching, just in case. Of course, you leaping onto the man’s back did complicate things for her.”

The abbess seemed fierce and dutiful, but also compassionate and understanding.

“What now?” Nick asked.

“We continue on with our duty,” the abbess said. “The church is satisfied. In their minds, the issue is resolved. We’ll never hear from them again. And the Blessed Virgin can rest here, in peace, forever.”

“Why not tell the world the truth?” Kelsey asked.

“It would accomplish little and create more problems,” the abbess said. “Better to allow the fiction to live on and for those men in Rome to think themselves so important.”

“I still have those images from the Just Judges,” Nick said.

“Which are no longer a problem,” Claire said. “Only us and the Vatican understand their significance as a road map to here and, thanks to Omega, Rome has no need to inquire into them. So let the world enjoy them.”

He agreed.

Which might go a long way toward smoothing things over with the Belgians and Reynaldo. After all, he had retrieved them.

“I’ll shortly retire,” the abbess said. “To Ghent and our convent there. Sister Claire will almost certainly take my place. I have long thought she will need a competent Vestal. Someone with intellect and spirit. Someone we can trust. I was hoping, Sister Deal, you would join us and take up that task.”

He stared at Kelsey.

A woman he’d once loved deeply, and still loved today, only in a different way. He was so glad she’d reached out to him. The past few days had been challenging, but also rewarding. He’d not only done his job but also made a new friend. And that’s what she was. His dear, dear friend.

“I’d be honored,” Kelsey said.

Time for him to go. He stepped over and gave her a hug. “Take care.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “You too.”

He gave the two other women a slight bow. “It’s been a pleasure. And if you ever need anything.”

He paused and pointed at Kelsey.

“She’ll know where to find me.”





Writer’s Note




I’ve not written a standalone novel since The Columbus Affair (2012). Before that it had been seven more years removed from The Third Secret (2005), eight from The Romanov Prophecy (2004), and nine from my first published novel, The Amber Room (2003). Intermixed among those individual efforts are sixteen Cotton Malone adventures. Not to worry, Cotton will be back next year (2023), but, in the meantime, there’s this new character, Nick Lee, who’s been floating around in my head for a long time. It was good to finally bring him to life. I hope you enjoyed him. It’s possible you could see him again, and who knows, at some point he might even get to meet up with Cotton.