Chapter IV

The barely audible hum of an oxygen filtration system purred inside the chamber. It was early morning, and the translations had not yet begun.

THOMAS MADE HIS WAY DOWN the yellow-lit hallway. He was several stories underneath the Vatican’s St. Peter’s dome. As he walked he played out all of the scenarios and probabilities in his mind’s eye. None of them seemed reassuring. He wondered when the next body would come. It would come. The Prophecies all but guaranteed that the killing would continue. Then again, maybe it was continuing and he was not privy to such inside information.

His translation chamber was on the second hallway from the stairwell, otherwise known as the Eastern Tunnel. His work chamber was marked with some strange symbols that were a mixture of Cyrillic letters and pictograms.

Every fifteen meters there was a security camera posted on the left. Then, fifteen meters later was a camera on the right. This was the pattern throughout all of the caverns and tunnels under the Vatican. Thomas had plenty of time to get intimate with these tunnels. For twenty years strait he had been in one quiet room or another. Translating and transcribing. Unearthing and memorizing.

He had met a few different Popes in his time at the Vatican. They had expressed their extreme appreciation for his tireless pursuit and dedication to translation of the texts.

Pedro was his direct superior, although he was really more of a friend at this point. He had met several other Swiss Guards, including the former

Commandant, Colonel Alois Estermann. The news of his death had been quite a shock to Thomas. Especially since it came just days after the Colonel had visited with Thomas personally. Estermann had been murdered, along with his wife, Gladys, and a young guardsman. It was a horrible affair, but Thomas suspected that there was more to it. Of course, there are many secrets between the walls of the Vatican. His own work with the texts was proof enough of that.

Pedro’s superior was the new Colonel, Giovanni Ritti; but there was somebody else in the loop. A cardinal named Delatorre. He was a strange, needly man with dark, sharp features. He had a spooky disposition and was always curious of everything that Thomas was doing. Sure, he did it all surreptitiously, but Thomas could feel him behind the scenes—pushing and pulling levers. He had met him a few times; but even stranger than that, he had passed him lurking throughout the tunnels and passageways. It was not often that they let anyone move unattended in areas where all sorts of dark secrets are hidden. The only reason that Thomas was allowed to walk around, unguarded, was because

he had shown over twenty years of trustworthiness. And besides that rapport he had developed with years of patience and service . . . he was never outside the view of the cameras. They were everywhere, and could see every square foot of the Vatican, including the tunnels. Every square foot.

As Thomas approached his work chamber he noticed the bluish light pouring out into the corridor. That was strange because it was early in the morning and he wasn’t told to expect anyone. Not that lie received many visitors, but even if Pedro was going to make an early appearance, he would surely have said something last night as they talked.

Thomas looked behind him, trying to see if this was some kind of clever joke, or perhaps a test of some kind. He decided to make his way to the door very quietly. In his brown Puma trainers that was no problem. He clung to the wall as he neared the open chamber door. Moving in millimeters, he peeked his eye around the corner. He couldn’t be too James Bond because, he was still on camera, and didn’t want to look like a complete basket case.

He noticed the man bent over the desk, pointing to a marking that Thomas had drawn and hung on the wall near the desk. It was one of the potential letters that he thought were being represented in some of the Prophecies.

Recently, during his latest translations, there had been a few letters and symbols that held similar, but not identical, meanings to the translations that he was working from. So, what he was getting had two or three potential interpretations. And there were two letters, in particular, that he could not find in any of the Vatican’s archives. That in itself was amazing. He had never come upon such unknowns before. And now, in this current page,

he had several. So, though he knew that there was la Renegade Angel walking the earth, he was missing some vital things. Maybe today would be the day

He continued to study the man. He decided to cut through the curiosity. it all came together.

“May I be of some assistance?”

Startled, Donnie stood upright and turned, reaching for his pistol. Thomas threw up his hands as he backed out info the hallway. Donnie took his hand off his holster and placed both of his hands up in surrender, “I’m sorry, Thomas, I didn’t mean to alarm you. My name is Donnie, I work with the Swiss Guard. I’m an internal investigator. I work directly for Colonel Ritti.”

“I’m quite sure you won’t find a use for that I weapon here. It’s only me. And I usually brush my teeth so that I’m not too offensive,” Thomas said as he smiled, walking slowly forward. I

Donnie was not an intimidating man, nor was he completely disarming either.

He just kind of looked like a thinker. The kind of guy that puts you off with a clever line of prose, and then takes your wallet.

Donnie apologized, “I know how this must look, but we need to talk.”

Thomas nodded. This wasn’t the way things worked in this project. Any second someone would come barging in and . . .

“What is the meaning of this intrusion,” Pedro barked as he entered the room with two other guards.

All of them had their pistols drawn, lining up scopes on the odd man out.

Pedro glanced over at Thomas, “Are you alright?”

Thomas nodded. “Just confused.”

“Me too.” Pedro walked toward Donnie, who, for some reason, didn’t look the least bit worried that there were three men with pistols in their hands, aimed at him. “What the hell are you doing down here? This are is restricted to everybody but the Pope. And you don’t look like his Holiness.”

Donnie smiled. “Well, I was just in the neighborhood and I’d thought I’d stop by to do a little catching up on my French.” Donnie lifted one of his eyebrows quizzically. “This isn’t the French class?”

Pedro wasn’t laughing, “I want you to place your hands behind your head and interlace your fingers. Then you—”

Donnie interrupted, “I’m an investigator with the Swiss Guard. Don’t you remember, Pedro?”

Pedro squinted his eyes, trying to figure out if Donnie was serious.

“I administered your polygraph test two months ago,” Donnie added. “You’re still employed here because I signed off on your evaluation.” Donnie reached slowly into his jacket pocket and removed his wallet and credentials. He tossed them across the room where they landed just a few centimeters from Pedro’s feet.

Donnie caught the wallet and placed it back in his jacket. “Well, wasn’t that exciting.”

“Don’t shoot him yet,” Pedro said as he slowly kneeled down. “Keep your bloody hands where I can see them.” He retrieved the wallet and flipped it open. He studied the documents and identification cards. He was legit. He tossed the wallet back and holstered his pistol. He motioned for the other guards to follow suit.

“I apologize for our entry, sir. But you must understand that there are very serious rules in effect for these areas.”

“Goes without saying,” Donnie said as he turned his body halfway towards the desk. “Thomas and I need to talk.”

For a few seconds, nobody in the room said a word. Thomas looked over toward Pedro, who nodded as he motioned to the other guards that they needed to clear out.

Pedro turned toward Donnie, “I’ll have the guards leave for the sake of discretion, but I’ll just stick around to see if I can be of assistance to your—”

“No, Pedro,” Donnie said with the brush of his left hand. “This doesn’t concern you . . . yet. If and when we need to brief with you we’ll let you know.” Donnie turned back to the desk and fixed his eyes on an old, brown, tattered document, ignoring Pedro and his obviously resentful expression.

Grudgingly, Pedro left the room and the door quietly slid back shut.

Thomas made his way across the room. “So, Mr. . . .”

“Donnie is fine, Thomas.”

“So . . . Donnie, what is it you would like to know?” He studied Donnie for some signs of personality, but there were none. His posture and accent betrayed nothing.

“Hold on,” Donnie said, “just a couple of seconds.” As Donnie spoke he pulled out a small greyish box, nearly the size of a cigarette box. ’<He smiled as he held it at waist height.

Thomas raised his eyebrows, curiously. Donnie explained, “When I talk to people, I don’t like it when other people listen.” He then toggled a small switch on the side of the box. “From this point on, nobody can listen to our discussion. They can’t record it, and they can’t analyze it . . . in any way.”

“So, it emits some variable frequency sound waves, or something like that?” Thomas posed as he studied the box as it was placed on his work desk.

Donnie held his hands out, clearly wanting more explanation.

“Kind of. It does some other clever things too. They won’t be able to film us either. Won’t be able to take the video back and read our lips. No video, no audio.”

“Couldn’t they just put a cup up to the door and listen through?” “Donnie laughed. “Sure, I suppose they could. So we had better keep it down, eh.”

Thomas approached the desk, standing beside Donnie. “So then, what can I tell you?”

“I was sent an anonymous security tape.” He pointed around the room.

“I think the tape was taken three days ago, and somebody was here.”

“Well, this is where I do my work. Naturally I would be here,” Thomas said innocently.

Donnie nodded, “Right. Only, the person on the clip of video we received wasn’t you.”

“Sure, Pedro has access to all of-my work. He is my handler, so to speak. He checks the security of every issue in this project. He—”

“It wasn’t Pedro either. It wasn’t either of you. As I found out, you two were in town, watching an American film.”

Thomas grinned. “It was a great film. Predictable, but it really delivered.”

“Only got two and a half stars in the paper, so I skipped it,” Donnie said with a grin. “Anyway, somebody was here, where I am right now. They were looking down on this desk, and then over to the right . . . to that sketch on the wall.” Donnie pointed.

“Oh, 1 . . . whenever I’m having a little trouble with a character or symbol, I’ll make a quick drawing and tape it to the wall. Then I’ll just walk around the room, doing laps, and the answers will eventually find me.”

“What I’m worried about, Thomas, is that somebody knows enough to look down at your work, and then makes a correlation to the sketch on the wall.”

Thomas looked down at the old document, covered in a thin piece of glass.

“You know who this person was?”

“I think so, yes,” Donnie answered matter-of-factly.

Thomas looked at the sketch. “That has been giving me some problems for a few weeks, now. It would clear many things up if I could get clear about its meaning.”

“I’m not going to ask you what your doing. Your project is confidential. and it doesn’t concern me.” Donnie took a breath and slowly exhaled. “But here’s what does concern me: There is something very illegal and deadly going on out there . . . in the real world. And it starts here. Somewhere here, in the Vatican. Possibly, right here in this room. With your work.” Donnie paused so that Thomas could put the pieces together. “So, to that extent, this project intrigues me to the fullest.”

“’What do you know of this project?”

“I know that you translate religious documents. That is all. I don’t know what happens after you translate, or anything else. It hasn’t concerned me. But,” Donnie said with a conspiratorial glare, “I think I have some ideas.”

Thomas started, “I translate old religious documents. Well, most of them are religious in nature. Every once and a while I will do some old legal document or historical record. But most of it is religious. Old stuff.”

“How old?”

“Before Christ,” Thomas returned. That silenced Donnie. “Some of them several thousand years old.”

“And they are authentic,” Donnie said, only half asking.

Thomas nodded. “More than that. These are the fundamental documents that were used to show the ancient bedrock of the various religions.”

“Pagan rituals and all that.”

“Yes. But, many of the stories are not only similar . . . they’re true.”

Donnie turned his head at an angle. “I’m not sure I follow.”

Thomas licked his lips, he had been waiting to tell somebody this for a long time. At least this way, he would be able to deny it later, as there was not audio or video evidence of their meeting. “Imagine, if you will, that we had a historical time line of the beginning of man. It tells us every peek and valley that Humans have ever encountered. That would be quite a useful tool, both to the religious community as well as to the scientific.”

“Sure,” Donnie SR.id, “it would settle all of the arguments . . . if it was real.”

“Oh,” Thomas said confidently. “It most certainly is. Now, the key to all of this is to compartmentalize. You don’t want anyone knowing all of the pieces, or having access to all of the translations. Too much power.”

“Absolute power corrupts, absolutely.”

“That’s correct. So there are several other translators, just like me. I believe there are four of five others, based on the way I receive the different ’documents to be translated. Remember, I’ve been doing this work for two decades. You’ll have to forgive me for my conspiracy theories, but I’ve spent a little too much time on my own,” Thomas said staring downward.

“No, no. This is fascinating. Please continue.”

“Well, I’ve been working on all of these various documents and I noticed that the dates kept getting closer to modern times.”

“How current?” ~Donnie said casually, not thinking much of the question. “Um, that’s the thing you see . . . they don’t stop. The timeline continues to push forward. Old scriptures telling of the past, present, and the . . .” Thomas stopped, knowing he was starting to sound ridiculous.

“Future,” Donnie finished.

Thomas nodded slowly, not meeting Donnie’s eyes but for a fleeting moment.

He studied Donnie’s reaction. “You think that I’m insane.”

“No,” Donnie answered. “I think you’re a brilliant man who has spent his life in the service of the church, learning God-knows-what, and having to keep it a secret. Let me ask you this, Thomas: Is there a chance that these documents were faked? Like, perhaps they want you, and the others, to give them the Vatican’s seal of authenticity?”

“No.”

“But how can you be so sure?”

“Alright, I will grant you that at first there was the possibility that what you say could be. Maybe they were using us to create a volume of documents that would persuade the world that Roman Catholicism was the true path.”

Donnie nodded. “And who would doubt the authenticity if scientists and geniuses such as yourselves did the work. Inscrutable.”

“Yes,” Thomas admitted. “I indeed considered that. So I decided to test the water a bit.”

“How so? Did you throw in your own signature somewhere?”

Thomas moved closer. “I have a photographic memory, but it works different than most people’s. If I hear something, it is there forever. If I read something to myself, it can always be recalled. Always.”

“So you talk Ito yourself a lot?” Donnie said with a playful grin.

“More than you know. What I did, on certain documents that I thought clearly predicted the future, was to rewrite my translations. I altered them just enough to know whether or not this was all some kind of act.”

“Yeah, but you’re altering the past. What’s the difference?”

“No, no. I only altered a series of texts that are referred to as the ’Prophecies.′ They predict the future, running up until the end of days. That’s, you know . . . the big one. So the prophecies kind of script the beginning of the great battle.”

“That’s a gamble isn’t it?”

“Sure. I don’t know what translations the others have gotten, so I don’t know what they have written. I have to be very careful what I write. Although . . .” Thomas thought for a moment. “You know, I’m not sure if the others have tried any of the Prophecies.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I received two translations, one a few years ago, and one recently, that were in order.” Thomas turned his head from side to side. “That never happens. There’s almost no chance that they’d let me work on consecutive documents. Blows the whole point of compartmentalization.”

“Unless they think that you don’t remember the first document, and that you wouldn’t put the two together.” Donnie considered another possibility. “Or . . . that you’re the only translator that has been able to make progress on these Prophecies?’“

Thomas ran his hands through his hair pondering the idea.

“So, tell me how you know that the threats are real.” Donnie asked, bringing them back on point.

“Because the killings continue.”

“The religious killings of all the priests?” Donnie said emphatically. “Yes. I didn’t care to include any of the killings after the first five, but they continued. They still continue.”

“And you know there will be more?”

“Yes. I believe there will be three more, at least.”

“You know their names?” Donnie tried.

Thomas turned his head. “Sadly, no. I. I only know of the location, and the times. You-know how all of those religious scriptures read. One man could derive six different meanings from each one. Ask two people, you’ll get two different answers. Both of them plausible.”

Donnie agreed with that. “But you’re sure that the murders will continue because you committed the ‘real’ translations to memory, and falsified—”

“Altered,” Thomas interjected.

Donnie nodded, “Right, altered. You altered the translations that you turned over to your bosses.”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“Who are your immediate bosses?”

Thomas rolled his head back a bit, looking upward. “Pedro, of course. Then the Cardinal.”

“Delatorre?”

“Yes. And then the Papal Nuncio, and then the—”

“Wait . . .” Donnie said as he held his index finger up. “Belsito Pasquale is privy to your work?”

“Yes, why do you ask? He is among the highest “ranking members of the church, beside the John Paul the third, himself.”

“Because he was the man on the video we received. He was going through your documents.”

Thomas didn’t see this as being too alarming. He shrugged. “And?”

“And, he is with my boss, Colonel Ritti, in England. They are taking possession of the body of the murdered Archbishop.”

It hit him like a load of bricks. “That wasn’t on the translation that I turned over. I decided to leave that one off.”

“Well, it looks like your little litmus test paid off,” Donnie said as he grinded his teeth, his jaw tight.

“He’s going to know something’s wrong,” Thomas said under his breath.

“Because he has access to my translations he’s going to know that I left something off.”

“Maybe. Maybe he’ll just think you made a mistake.” Donnie looked at his watch. “They’ll be back in a couple of hours. I’ll meet with Ritti and try to make sense of all of this. Of course, I’ll keep our discussion off the record. I won’t jeopardize your safety, Thomas.”

“Of course you won’t,” Thomas reassured. “You’re from Interlaken, Switzerland.

Your-father instilled in you a sense of honor and courage.”

Donnie grinned, “How do you know that?”

“The Prophecies,” Thomas answered softly. They both sat in silence.

Finally, Thomas grinned. “Just kidding. I could hear’ the inflection in your accent. Took me a while to get it but the German finally floated to the surface. Northern I believe.”

“Cheap parlor trick,” Donnie said with a smile. “Anyway, how do you want to proceed?”

“How can I contact you?”

Donnie extended his hand. In it was a small, Motorola, cellular phone.

“It’s satellite secure. Prepaid. All you have to do is turn it on and speak my name. It will do the rest.”

Thomas took the small, platinum colored phone. He studied it like he might an ancient scripture.” “It looks like it fell out of a UFO.”

“Sure it did. I just got it down the hall, from the Vatican’s ET project,” Donnie joked.

“Hey, you never know.”

“When you are questioned, which you undoubtedly will be, tell them that you just received news of your biological mother’s death. You are saddened, but asymptomatic. It’s been so long, and you never really knew her. That should pull heavily on their heart strings.”

“But she’s not dead, really.” Thomas asked with a curious expression. Donnie wi1ked. “She is doing just fine. Lives outside Castelnaudary, France.”

That almost brought a tear to Thomas’s eye. “Thank you.”

Donnie put his hand on Thomas’s shoulder. “When this is over, maybe we’ll take a trip, and say hello.”

“That would be very nice,” Thomas said, almost choked up.

“I heed to ask you one more question, Thomas. You don’t have to answer; but it would make my job much easier.” Thomas nodded. “What is the location of the last three killings?”

“Here, inside the Vatican City,” Thomas answered.

Donnie nodded. He then turned and started toward the door. As he neared it he turned and made a phone sign with his thumb and pinky finger, “Call me, Thomas. Let’s stop these killings.”

Thomas nodded, sadly laughing to himself. There would be three more killings, for sure. And, of those three, one of them would be the ‘innocent’ that the Prophecies speak of.

’And when the blood of the innocent is spilt . . .

the beginning of the end will be upon us.

And the spilling of the innocent’s blood

will mark the beginning of the End of Days;

and the Great Battle between Heaven and Hell will ensue.’

(Prophecies, Chapter 6, verse 66)