The Omega Factor(69)

“I was hoping that might be the case. I will need your knowledge of that area.”

He was curious. “For what?”

“Popes are fools.”

The sudden shift in topic surprised him. Truth? Or this man’s way to catch him off guard and ferret out a bad apple? Especially one about to be elevated as cardinal?

“I don’t agree,” he immediately said.

Fuentes stared at him. “This is not a test, Archbishop. I am being honest, as you have been with me. Popes are imperfect men who hide behind their own self-made image. They do what is necessary at the time, for the good of their church. And make no mistake, while they live the church is indeed theirs. It molds and conforms to their thoughts, their likes, their dislikes. Pius XII declared in 1950 that the Virgin Mary, having completed the course of her earthly life, was assumed body and soul into heavenly glory. Quite a bold pronouncement. Body and soul. Pius simply ignored The Testimony of John, saying it was unproven. And since no one beyond a handful of people knew of the manuscript’s existence, he could do that with impunity. Nearly fifty years later John Paul II ignored it too and clarified one point. Having completed the course of her earthly life meant she died. But he did not refute what Pius had said about her body and soul being assumed whole into heaven. All of that remains dogma, backed up by papal infallibility, to be believed by 1.2 billion Catholics, nearly 18 percent of the world’s population, on threat of excommunication. But, unfortunately, they were both wrong.”

He was shocked.

“The Virgin Mary lived and died and was buried here, on this earth,” Fuentes said. “Her grave exists and it is being guarded, as it has for nearly two thousand years, by a group that calls themselves les Vautours. They are mentioned and described in detail within other accounts we have in the archives. Now do you see why this is so important?”

He did. “Being wrong is one thing. But a pope being proven wrong? That’s quite another. Not to mention the theological implications. If the church was wrong about that, what else falls into that category? Holy Communion? Confession? Its stance against homosexuality? Abortion? Priestly celibacy? Every concept and view will come into question.”

“We are not strong enough to withstand all of that. We live in a world of instant communication to every corner of the planet. Many will take delight in our arrogance and conceit. And if the faithful stop believing in dogma, stop relying on the church for absolute guidance, then it is all over.”

Okay, he got it. This was important. At least to Fuentes. And maybe to the pope himself. “What do you want me to do?”

“I need you to tell me everything you know about this son of yours. Then we are going to determine if he is a person in the know, an opportunist, or a fraud. After that, we will deal with him.”

“And the Vultures?”

“I plan to deal with them too.”

“Can I ask how?”

“What should have been done long, long ago.”

He waited.

“I will silence them.”





Chapter 44



Nick entered the nondescript building on Ghent’s southern edge that served as the local morgue. It sat next to a police substation that was busy with activity. He’d learned the location thanks to some recon work from CLIO’s New York office. They’d provided him with not only the location, but also a schematic of the building. How they’d managed that? No clue. But he appreciated the extra effort.

They’d driven over in the vehicle he’d earlier secured, also with New York’s help. A small Mercedes coupe that was now parked a block over on a quiet side street. From the intel he’d been provided with there were two ways in and out. One served as the main entrance for the public off the street, the other a service dock in the rear. That was most likely where bodies were brought in and out, beyond a chain-link fence that provided a measure of security and privacy. He had to assume there’d be cameras. Nowadays, in facilities like this, there was always a camera somewhere.

So he’d decided on using the front door.

Straight in.

Where any visitor would go.

The late hour should help, and hopefully the facility was sparsely staffed, but the cops next door were an issue. Once inside, he saw that no one waited behind the front desk. A closed door led from there into the bowels of the building.

“Check it,” he said to Claire as he watched for anyone else who might enter behind them.

She moved toward the door and tested the knob.

Open. So far so good.

He nodded and they both headed through and into a dimly lit corridor. Everything smelled of formaldehyde. Claire made sure the spring-loaded hinges did not cause the door to slam back into the jamb and alert anyone. He hadn’t said a word about that. She just did it instinctively. Impressive. Three closed doors lined the corridor with another at the far end. She tried all three. Locked. No cameras were in sight here. Good. He headed for the door at the far end.

Which opened.

Inside was the refrigeration room, two walls lined with latched stainless-steel doors for body compartments. He wondered where the attendants were. From the look on Claire’s face she was thinking the same thing.

Then he heard it.

A door opened, then closed.

Footfalls.

Approaching.

He nodded to Claire, who assumed a position behind the door. He stood in the middle of the room and waited.