God's Lions - The Dark Ruin (30 page)

“Didn’t what, Professor? Didn’t want to scare me off?”

“Yes, but I was also going to say that we were concerned for Adrian, and we weren’t sure how we should go about telling you any of this.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be so concerned for my feelings, because I’m a lot tougher than I look and we’re both on the same side. Please, allow me to fill in the rest of the gaps, because time is running short and your team will never figure it out because you don’t think like Cathars.”

“Now I’m confused,” Peterson said. “What on earth are you talking about, Mr. Acerbi?”

“The scrolls of the Cathars, Mr. Peterson. They were written in an ancient language that was totally foreign to everyone except for a few Cathar scholars. My wife was one of them, but after we visited the stone monoliths in Turkey she began to act strangely, and after we arrived in Babylon things only got worse. Finally, I enlisted the help of another Cathar scholar to help me in transcribing the passages I was looking for. When the professor and his team discovered the scroll on Patmos that revealed that both Rene and Adrian were born of a jackal in a place surrounded by stone monoliths, it all began to make sense. We were able to locate a passage in the Cathar scrolls that led us to believe the Beast will be transformed from a human born of a jackal at the place of his birth, and the ancient Cathars had given the place a name. They called it
The Dark Ruin.
Combine that with the phrase
final transition,
and a definite picture begins to form. When I thought back to how my wife had suddenly wanted to visit a remote part of Turkey for no apparent reason, we began looking for more clues and quickly discovered that she had led us to the wrong area; that the area the villagers in Orencik referred to as the
Black Ruin
is really the Dark Ruin mentioned in the scrolls. Not only that, but we found that it holds the devastatingly evil power to kill whoever stumbles upon it, especially men of the cloth. That’s why I called you when I was informed you were on your way there. I knew right away that you had discovered the birthplace of my sons and the place where Adrian will be transformed into the Antichrist. Now that Rene is dead, we know that Adrian is the one, and I will do everything in my power to keep his so-called transformation from happening, because he is just an innocent child!”

“Believe me, Eduardo,” Lev said, “if there’s any way we can help you prevent this from occurring we will try. I just have one other question. How were you able to view the image on the scroll we discovered in the cave?”

“When you returned to your yacht you scanned it into a computer. A copy of it was lying on my desk an hour later.”

“Is this some kind of a joke?” Shane Trent said. “Because if it is, I can assure you that I have more important things to do than listen to some religious crackpot go on about a son he believes to be the mythical Antichrist.”

The fire reflected in Acerbi’s dark eyes. “I can assure you this is no joke, Mr. Trent.”

“But even if all of this is true, Mr. Acerbi, you’re missing the most glaringly important point of all. Look, I’m no atheist ... I’ve even read the Bible. I’ve read about everything that’s supposed to happen in the end times, and when you get right down to it all of this Antichrist stuff has already been prophesized in Revelation. So, if you really believe in what you’re saying, you should also realize that there’s nothing you or anyone else can do about it. According to your own beliefs his arrival has been predestined. Personally, I think it’s all a fairy tale.”

“Your analytical mind is what I value the most, Mr. Trent. In fact, it’s one of the reasons you were invited here. However, I have to say that it is that kind of thinking that brought us to this point in the first place. I am no Luddite ... espousing the dangers of technological evolution, but there are two worlds surrounding us all. The physical one that we can feel all around us, and the spiritual one that remains invisible but nourishes our souls and allows us to see beyond that which is purely physical. Some call it faith, while others call it an ignorant primitive desire to worship a father-like figure we call God in an effort to gain His favor and thus His protection. In the world of the analytical, you suppress the God-given spark instilled in us all at the time of our birth. You place science over faith, when in truth both can co-exist ... must co-exist, if we are to survive as a species. As a Cathar, I believe God has also given us a choice in our destiny, so even though it has been written, I still believe there’s a chance to prove our worth as a species in God’s eyes before it’s too late.”

Peterson cleared his throat as he stared into the fire. “I think everyone who knows me knows that I happen to be one of those pessimists who believe it’s already too late for the human race, but all this talk of an Antichrist in the 21
^st
century is absurd. Besides, if anyone should be giving us a speech about biblical prophecy, don’t you think we should be hearing an opinion from someone like the pope, who just happens to be sitting right here?”

Lifting himself up on his elbows, the leaping flames from the fire illuminated the dark hollows circling Pope Michael’s eyes. “I was getting around to it, Mr. Peterson. Mr. Acerbi and I met in private before we summoned all of you here, and although we disagree on a few points, the sense of urgency attached to the situation precludes any time we may have to debate the existence of God or the possibility that the Antichrist is about to arrive in the world. His reality and his presence will soon be felt regardless of what you choose to believe, so let me just say that many men in the past ... men of superior intellect ... men like Sir Isaac Newton and Albert Einstein, all had one thing in common, and that was an abiding faith in God and the knowledge that the world we live in could not exist without opposites. They saw the two opposing forces of good and evil all around them, in nature as well as in the actions of man, and as scientists of the highest order they knew that this phenomenon was no accident.”

The pope paused as he looked around at the flickering patterns of light on the cavern wall created by the dancing fire. “Einstein once said that God doesn’t play dice with the universe. It’s a saying I’ve always cherished, because I wholeheartedly agree with Mr. Einstein’s observation. Now is not the time for us to lay odds on whether or not there exists an entity we call the Antichrist, because I can assure you he will soon make his presence felt in the world of men, and for those who need it we now have scientific proof in the form of a code in the Bible to back up my statement. As to whether or not mortal man can do anything to change a biblical prediction is where Mr. Acerbi and I part ways in our thinking. Although I shudder at the thought, I feel that the human race is in for some very dark days ahead, and it is my belief that we must prepare for the inevitable. Therefore my question is this. Will you go back and tell your leaders that they must prepare for the darkness that is to come, or will you tell them you’ve just spoken to the pope ... and that he is stark raving mad?”

In Vatican City, the rain was coming down in sheets as groups of cardinals emerged from the Apostolic Palace and made their way to a row of waiting limos parked in the
San Damaso
courtyard. Walking in the opposite direction through the downpour, Bishop Anthony Morelli’s small umbrella offered little protection from the driving rain’s horizontal assault, leaving him thoroughly drenched by the time he reached the residence hall.

Choosing the stairway instead of the elevator, Morelli huffed his way up past Baroque paintings and marble statues depicting various religious tableaus of saints with their faces turned upward in anguished pleas to heaven above. Arriving on the third floor, he shook the water from his coat and used his key to enter his small apartment. “I thought the meeting would never end,” he said to the man waiting for him inside.

Francois Leander peered down into a cloistered garden from the only window in the room. “What did you find out?”

“You might want a stiff drink first, Francois.”

“I’ve already had one. There’s one for you on the table over there.”

Morelli quickly downed his drink and wiped his mouth. “They voted for Delacroix, who then mysteriously stepped aside for some reason and handed control of the Church over to Cardinal Acone.”

“Acone!” Francois’ eyes widened in disbelief. “They gave temporary control of the Church to that pig of a man!” Francois was livid. “Forgive me, Bishop, but there’s something I should have told you sooner, but it didn’t make sense until now.”

“What are you talking about?”

Leander downed the rest of his drink and set his glass on the table. “Last week I had my people check the meanings of the names of all those who make up the College of Cardinals. Would you like to know what turned up when we entered Acone’s name?”

“Go ahead. Something tells me it was most appropriate.”

“The word
chilling
would be a better description. Acone’s first name, Serafino, is from the Roman form of Latin. The literal translation can mean either
the burning one
or
the serpent
.”

Morelli’s eyebrows arched as he looked down at his empty glass. “Go on.”

“His surname, Acone, also has a Roman Latin origin. It’s actually a toponym for an ancient Roman settlement that was called
Pontus Acone
, which was located in
Britinia
.”

“Britinia?”

“It’s the old Roman name for modern day Turkey.”

“You’ve got to be kidding!”

“No, Bishop, I’m not. Put the two names together and you have ...

“
The serpent from Turkey
,” Morelli finished the sentence.

“A very appropriate name for someone who could very well be the representative of the Evil One, don’t you think?”

“This is all very interesting, Francois, but the origin of a man’s name proves nothing.”

“Maybe not,” Francois agreed, “but there’s something else. Acone is from Orencik.”

“Orencik!” Morelli repeated. “When did you find that out?”

“When we were researching his name.”

Morelli loosened his collar and refilled his glass. “This has to be more than mere coincidence. We have to find a way to contact Pope Michael. Any word yet on where he is?”

“The last time I spoke to him was right before I smuggled him out of Vatican City through the catacombs in the middle of the night. He told me then that he would contact us through messengers because he didn’t want any of his communications intercepted.”

“If there was ever a time when we needed his council it is now.” Morelli’s posture slumped as he thought about Acone sitting behind Pope Michael’s desk in the Apostolic Palace. “What about that computer worm that struck Israel. Any indication that it’s spreading?”

“Nothing definitive, but I can promise you that the Israelis will find the source of the worm, and when they do they’ll be taking action against whoever sent it.”

Morelli stared down at his empty glass. “That goes without saying, and you can bet they’re probably making preparations to do something about it right now. Unfortunately, we’ll never find out what they’re planning, because those people can keep a secret better than anyone else on the planet.”

* *

At Mossad headquarters in Tel Aviv, a burst transmission received from an Israeli sub off the coast of Gibraltar had everyone scrambling.

Flash traffic – Top Secret

Subject: Action request

Status: Urgent

From: Danny Zamir, Director, National Intelligence Agency

Believe source of worm originated from computer in underground facility below Eduardo Acerbi’s palace in Babylon, Iraq. Send Special Forces Team 5 to scout area and report back. If able, recover Acerbi’s son and return him to Israel.

End transmission

Even though the sun had just settled over the horizon, the steel deck of the Israeli warship was still warm when Israeli Special Forces Team 5 boarded two of their new stealth helicopters and strapped in before lifting off and skimming over the waves of the Arabian Sea. Circling high overhead, a specially modified Boeing C-17 surveillance aircraft began jamming Iraqi defense radars, sending the pilots of the choppers into a state of high alert, for even though the Iraqis radar was now useless, they were now aware that something was headed their way even though they couldn’t see it.

Through her cockpit window, Gabriella, the blonde female pilot everyone called
Gabby
, could see the tendril-like outline of the Pleiades in the star-filled sky above as she flew over the beach and hugged the glistening dunes—trading the safety of altitude for the danger of an unlit desert floor filled with rising obstacles and hostile patrols armed with stinger missiles.

Sitting behind her, Captain Ben Zamir, Danny Zamir’s son and the commander of team 5, watched the desert rushing by outside the open door. A blast of cooler air hit his face when they flew over a reedy inland marsh before the terrain changed into an obstacle course ringed with red stone spires that rose into the sky. Threading her chopper through a narrow pass, Gabriella dove back toward the flat desert floor and leveled off over a
wadi
that shimmered in the moonlight.
Wadi
was an Arabic word that meant valley or dry riverbed, and they were always a welcome sight to pilots who knew that flying over their winding, reflective surfaces at night made navigation easier, especially when they had their GPS units turned off.

From the open door, Ben looked back over his shoulder at the black-painted faces of his men as he tried to stay focused on the mission ahead. He hadn’t heard from his father in days, and despite the problems they were having with secure communications he couldn’t help but worry. His father was one tough bird. He had fought in almost all of Israel’s wars, and as the current head of the Mossad he had been involved in numerous clandestine missions that no one outside his tight-knit band of black-ops warriors would ever hear about. Just the same, Ben knew his father was only human—and that he had a big target on his back.