The Omega Factor(39)
“I know. I am asking, as your prioress, for you to walk away from this matter and return to the convent.”
“I can’t do that.”
Another knot of people drifted into the chapel and began admiring the altarpiece. The prioress motioned and they exited back into the church and found a quiet corner in the expansive nave.
“Then I’m ordering you to do as I stated,” the prioress said. “I was hoping it would not come to that, but you leave me no choice.”
When she took her final vows, she pledged to obey her lawful superiors according to the rules of the sisters of Saint-Luke. Though there were elements of a democracy within a convent, it was, by and large, a totalitarian state with one person in absolute charge. That oath meant something to her. But she wondered how much it meant to the prioress.
With no choice, she handed over the computer.
“Thank you,” the older woman said. “Now please return to the convent immediately. Your services here are no longer required.”
She knew the correct reply. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Is there a password required to access this machine?”
She nodded.
“I need it.”
She provided the information.
The older woman turned to leave, then hesitated and looked back. “I’m sorry this happened to you. Please know that I’m doing what I can to make this difficult situation right. I hope you understand.”
She nodded.
And the prioress left.
She watched as the woman headed for the cathedral’s main doors and exited, the laptop tucked safely under one arm. A moment later Nick walked over. He’d been watching it all from another corner in the cathedral. She kept her eyes locked on the doors in the distance.
“You were right. She’s connected to the Maidens of Saint-Michael.” And she told him everything, then said, “She sold me out. She sold the Just Judges out. She told the maidens about the images and where to find them. The only thing she didn’t know was about you.”
“She ask about copies?”
She nodded. “I lied.”
Which had been difficult, but necessary. Hopefully, God would understand. Nick had suspected that the leak was close to home. The curator and Monsieur de Foix had both requested copies of the images, so it made no sense that either would have harmed the panel. That narrowed the leak down to the only other person who knew of her discovery. So they’d uploaded a copy of the images to a CLIO server, safe behind a firewall and password-protected file, then erased them from the laptop. Nick had also activated the Find My Computer option, so they were now able to track the laptop’s journey.
She turned and faced him. “What’s going on here?”
“That’s hard to say. But I think we’re on the right path to finding out.”
Chapter 25
Toulouse
Archbishop Vilamur was back in his residence. He’d fled the farmhouse, leaving Father Tallard’s body for others to find. He’d been extremely careful inside, touching nothing other than the two crosses, which he’d brought back with him. No way he was going to leave those for the authorities to find. Bad enough that a pedophile priest had been strapped down and murdered, he could not afford the sensationalism that either one of those artifacts would generate in the media. Adding to his misery a new text message had come through his phone as he was driving back. From an Unknown Number. He’d pulled over to the side of the highway and tapped the screen.
Beware. Les Vautours still live. As do the Cathars.
Les Vautours?
The vultures. What in the world were they?
He’d never heard of them.
He decided that he had no intention of taking this heat by himself. Every single thing he’d done regarding Father Tallard had been approved by the Vatican, and he had the emails to prove it. Not once had he made a decision independent of them. He’d followed Rome’s orders to the letter. So he reached for the rectory’s landline and dialed Italy. After a staff member in the Vatican took his call, he explained the situation, in abbreviated form, expressed a desire to talk with the presiding official, and hung up.
Twenty minutes later the phone rang.
“This is Hector Cardinal Fuentes,” the voice said in English, laced with Spanish inflection. “I understand you have a problem.”
He was taken aback. He’d called the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, the department within the Curia that dealt with clergy sex abuse complaints. Fuentes had nothing to do with that. Instead, he headed the Pontifical Commission for Sacred Archaeology. Pius IX created the commission in 1852 to care for the Roman catacombs and conduct explorations, research and study so as to safeguard all of the oldest mementos from the early Christian church. Talk about broad. That could pretty much include anything and everything. He only knew of Fuentes thanks to his own interest in church archaeology.
“I don’t have a problem, Eminence. We have a problem. But what does that have to do with your area of expertise? And how are you even aware of the situation?”
“I received a call from the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. They apprised me of your communication.”
“That answers one of my inquiries. What of the other?”
“You mentioned les Vautours. Do you know what that is?”