The Omega Factor(32)
Time for a little research.
He grabbed his computer and opened the search engine, typing in Maidens of Saint-Michael. Which had a website. He chuckled. Didn’t everybody? He found the site, then clicked the History tab and read.
The order went way back. A charter dated July 14, 1007, executed by Count Wilfred and his wife, Guisla, donated land to the church, located on the north side of the Canigou, a mountain in extreme southeastern France, right along the Spanish border. They also provided wheat, sheep, a mule, a silver chalice, fine linens, forty books, and the funds to erect an abbey in honor of Our Lord Jesus Christ, that it will have sisters under the Rule of Blessed Father Benedict and, in accordance with his will, that they serve the Almighty God in perpetuity. The abbey was eventually built and survived countless wars and the French Revolution, which had not been the fate of most in the region. According to the site, the maidens followed Christ according to the Gospel, seeking God in community through a life of prayer and service of others. They sought God together, having all things in common, living in simplicity, in relative silence and solitude. Hospitality was a key to their values. Those who arrived at the abbey to share in the prayer and peace were never turned away.
They made three traditional vows.
One of stability with a commitment to live where God called. A second to obedience, agreeing to listen to God and to live under the authority of an abbess, with mutual obedience to others in the community. Then a final one for a conversion, turning one’s whole life to God, striving to become more Christ-like. As expected, included within all of that were pledges to chastity and poverty.
He scrolled down further and read how the Blessed Virgin Mary played an important role in the spirituality of the order. Then something caught his attention. The fleur-de-lys is special to the maidens as a symbol of their devotion to the Virgin Mary and all that she held dear. It resembles both the iris and the lily, two flowers long associated with the Mother of God. The lily is a symbol of virginity and purity. A species of white daylily only blooms during the time of the Assumption, in mid-August. The iris, or Sword Lily, is an emblem of Our Lady’s Seven Sorrows.
Which explained why the dead woman was wearing one around her neck.
He read on and learned that the search for God through a life of prayer was the maidens’ primary activity, but principles of education and gentility remained at the heart of the order. They operated a school in a nearby town, along with hosting retreats and catechesis. Other activities, according to the website, included raising animals, gardening, and making altar breads for sale to churches. He wondered where martial arts training and paramilitary operations figured into their overall mission.
Especially the willful destruction of cultural icons.
He had a ton of questions.
With no answers.
He kept scrolling around the site and learned that the Abbaye de Saint-Michael, the maidens’ motherhouse, located in the high Pyrénées, was open to visitors and thousands came yearly for a guided tour. There were even guesthouses where people could stay, sharing in the peace and prayer, enjoying a break from the business of everyday life.
Really now?
Only the one sister he’d taken down, and the mother superior, had seen his face.
Should he test the odds with a visit?
Why not.
Seemed like the right play.
Chapter 20
Abbaye de Saint-Michael
Pyrénées Region, France
9:45 a.m.
Claire faced the abbess and explained everything that happened in Ghent. The older woman stood still, a slight crease in her spine, both hands behind her back, the dark eyes focused like lasers.
“The information we had,” she said, “indicated that the workshop closed around 5:30. Which is what happened. We waited three hours before proceeding. Nothing indicated that Sister Deal would return. She had not the previous two nights. Somehow attention was drawn to Rachel and she was pursued. She threw the laptop down to me and stayed to face her pursuers. We have to return and help her.”
“Rachel is dead,” the abbess said.
Claire closed her eyes just as they began to tear. No. This can’t be.
“The police shot her.”
Anger grabbed her. “You were warned.”
“That I was. By you. Of which I do not require a reminder.”
She bit her tongue and stayed quiet.
“We have to look at the larger picture,” the abbess said. “Determining Rachel’s identity will be difficult, but not impossible for the police. Of course, their searching our convent in Ghent provides quite the arrow pointed straight to here. Do you have any idea how that man located you?”
She shook her head. “I slipped away in the boat and quietly made it back to the convent. I was unaware of being followed.”
“But followed you were.”
The words bit into her. On purpose.
“You blame me for Rachel’s death,” the older woman said. “But you have exposed us all. The man who followed you is an investigator from the United Nations named Nicholas Lee. Thankfully, your prompt action in sanitizing the convent and leaving helped when the police returned to search the premises. There was nothing to find. It was Lee’s word against ours.”
But she still felt the barb. Sharp. Deep.
The abbess was not noted for niceties. She was a small, sparrow-sized woman, brutally honest, a no-nonsense Italian who’d led the order for the past fifteen years. Practical and pragmatic, attuned to the slightest change in moods. Up until a few weeks ago they’d never had a cross word, which explained Claire’s rise to Vestal, only one step removed from the abbess herself, essentially the second in overall command. But all that changed when the Just Judges reappeared. The abbess had one course. Claire another. But she’d pushed her objections aside and done her duty.