The Celtic Conspiracy (44 page)

“Are you Mr. Shane?” asked a slim, fifty-year-old Italian man with a resonant voice. He was remarkably calm, considering the circumstances.

“Yes. Why?”

“Come with me.”

They went to an office. Shane’s attention immediately went to the television broadcasting a live event. “What’s happening on St. Peter’s Square?”

“Do you need a doctor, Mr. Shane?”

“No, no, it’ll be fine.”

“Could you please give me the briefcase now?”

“Yes...yes, of course.”

As they stood in front of the television, the ambassador opened the briefcase, leafed briefly through the documents, and crossed himself.

Shane was stunned by what the pope was saying on the television.

“It is my wish that you all have the freedom and self-determination to follow that faith that will bring you, personally, closer to God. As I had to learn in a most painful way, since that path is different for every person, any claim to an absolute truth can no longer be substantiated. I therefore resign from my position.”

The pope symbolically threw his zucchetto, his circular head covering, out of the window, and the murmur of ten thousand people could be heard.

“It is time that we join together to follow the true message of Jesus, the message of the Sermon on the Mount, and also the message of the many other revelations, which all speak of the one spirit of divine creation that resides in each of us. This includes the traditions of the Druids that have been discussed so much recently. We owe it to their few descendants to pay the same
respect to the historical accomplishments of these scholars that we pay to other spiritual beliefs.

“Before my resignation, I set a radical reform of the Roman Catholic Church in motion. All the archives will be opened as part of humanity’s legacy. I admit that this Church’s claim to absolute truth and to the representation of the one God was a mistake. My resignation is only a symbol. It is done out of love, respect, and a deeply felt sense of responsibility. It does not, however, mean the dissolution of the Church. We must come together even more to help solve the problems of this world. We will not abandon the people who need our practical and spiritual assistance, but we will set aside the misguided claim that we are the sole representation of God on earth. I ask from my heart that you pray for our weaknesses in brotherly love and tolerance, in whichever form you are able and desire to do. In all humility, I beg you for forgiveness and pray for healing for us all.”

The guard standing next to Shane said, “Now they’ll say he’s insane and shoot him through the head. Then they’ll vote in a new pope.”

“That will no longer be possible,” the ambassador said, still deeply shaken, as he laid the documents on the table. “Mr. Shane, did the pope give you anything else?”

Shane grew nervous. Should he tell him? “Yes.” With his uninjured left hand, Shane took the Ring of the Fisherman, the symbol of papal power, out of his pocket and held it out to the ambassador on his outspread palm. “May I now find out what kind of documents I was carrying through the city?”

The ambassador ignored Shane and quickly took his cell phone out of his jacket. “I need to call the master of ceremonies. He must bring the news to the cardinals before any other needless damage is done.”

“What are these documents?” Shane asked again. “What kind of news?”

“These are the termination papers for every cardinal throughout the world. Together with the missing Ring of the Fisherman...” Suddenly the ambassador, who had showed no emotion until now, began to tremble and broke into tears.

The guard caught on quickly. He looked at Shane half in awe, half amused. “You see, if there are no cardinals in office, there can be no new election for a pope, and at the same time, the cardinals can only be named by the pope. Add to that the fact that you are carrying the unbroken Ring of the Fisherman, and you theoretically hold the highest office in this Church.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Theoretically.”

Shane was growing uneasy. He wanted to go back to the Vatican. He wanted to protect the man who had just become a hero.

In the meantime the ambassador had reached Cardinal Pertrose, the master of ceremonies. But as he explained to him what he had in his hand, he heard only a strange sigh and a loud thud.

“Cardinal? Cardinal? Are you still there, Cardinal?”

Just as Shane was about to leave the room to return to the Vatican, the door opened and Catamo entered.

“Oh, thank the Lord, Catamo,” the ambassador said. “I have to talk with you. You need to make this public as quickly as possible. But brace yourself, this will be your last official duty.”

“I know. The pope took me into his confidence several days ago.”

“What?”

Shane looked at Catamo’s face and gave him his uninjured hand before hurrying out of the room and the embassy.

The guard followed him and hurried to meet him. “I think it would be better if I go with you, Mr. Shane.”

All over the world, television stations had interrupted their normal programming. The pope was standing in silence at his window and praying. Most of the people had knelt down or were just standing there quietly and praying with him.

For many, however, this moment wasn’t the end, but a new beginning, and it was such a liberating moment that they fell into each other’s arms in tears. People of all faiths were sitting in front of their television sets, Copts in Egypt, Jews in Jerusalem, Muslims in Tunisia, Buddhists, and many more. They all watched, awestruck by what this man had realized and accomplished. It was the strongest imaginable sign for peace throughout the world, a peace that now seemed possible.

In her first comment on the events, President Branks hailed this step as a historic moment, the dawn of a new era in which fundamentalism and claims of omnipotence would be replaced by tolerance and freedom. She maintained that it would apply to politics as well, which in the future would be focused on the potential and the value of every living being and not on the greed and excess of a few.

“The West has knelt long enough before the idol of commercial growth.”

* * *

Shane and the guard had the driver get them as close as possible to St. Peter’s Square. When Shane felt the weapon in his back pants pocket, he took it out and gave it back to the guard. “Thanks, though it didn’t really help me much.”

The car came to a stop.

“Are you ever going to tell me your name?”

“Peter.”

“I’m Adam. I’d love to talk, but I don’t want this man to be killed, like so many before him who wanted to change the world. Least of all him, since what he’s accomplished is really a miracle.”

Shane opened the car door and got out.

The Vatican had been taken over by pure panic. As the cardinals found out about their dismissal and the death of the master of ceremonies, some of them sat in the Basilica, stunned. Others were standing together, dumbfounded, in front of the pope’s rooms. All attempts to break through the door had suddenly stopped. At some point, the first of the church dignitaries took off his hat and left with his head bowed. Some of the others followed, while others continued to stand there, unable to move.

In the rooms of the pope, the guards could breathe a bit easier as the noise abated. The pope had taken a
normal priest’s robe out of the cupboard and put it on. Then he had two of the guards open the door, and those standing outside saw something that no one in the world could have imagined possible two hours earlier: the pope was going to leave the Vatican as he was—a simple man, a simple priest.

When Shane and Peter had fought their way through the crowds to the entrance to St. Peter’s Basilica, the heavy doors suddenly opened. First came two Swiss Guards in traditional dress with their lances outstretched, then several cardinals who had remained true to the pope. As a sign of their solidarity, several of them had also put on simple robes. Then came the man himself, Giuseppe Mardi, who, until a few hours earlier, had been known as John Paul III.

The last pope went slowly down the steps. When he saw Shane, he waved him over to his side.

* * *

In Dublin, everyone was sitting in front of the television set in MacClary’s library.

MacClary ran his hands over his face. “I’m overwhelmed. Just overwhelmed. God, look at that.”

“I don’t believe it,” said Jennifer. She saw Adam Shane—
her
Adam Shane—walking next to the pope through the crowd. The people were making way for them out of respect.

“He’s wounded,” Jennifer said with a concerned look at Adam’s bandaged hand. What on earth had happened in Rome over the last several hours?

“What’s going to happen next?” asked Ms. Copendale, who had been watching everything from her chair.

“He’ll come to Ireland,” Deborah said, never taking her eyes from the screen. “The pope, I mean. The Irish government has agreed to take him. But this picture here...isn’t it incredible? Aregetorix was right after all. The return of the Druids isn’t a literal return. It’s simply the return of consciousness, that the divine expresses itself in an unending variety of ways. Do you realize that we’re watching this happen right now?”

* * *

The last pope turned to Shane and whispered, “Have I kept my promise?”

Tears were streaming down Shane’s face. Suddenly a feeling he had never experienced flooded over him, a mixture of grief and joy, deference and dignity, all at the same time. For a brief moment, the two men stood and looked into each other’s eyes. The crowd around them grew still, as if it could sense that something was happening here, something so intensely overwhelming, the like of which had not been felt here for a long time, if ever.

“You are a hero, Holy Father.”

“From now on, please call me Giuseppe, Adam.”

Slowly they continued on to the waiting limousine, where the driver was already holding the door open.

“If you want to go to Dublin, my dear Adam, then come with me,” said the former head of the formerly most powerful church in the world.

* * *

“I’m slowly starting to believe that this is finally over,” MacClary said to those assembled around him. “This day will never be forgotten, and you have played a huge, painful part in it. I’d love to embrace you all.”

On the television screen, the limousine was leaving the square.

And suddenly you know: it’s time to begin something new and have faith in the magic of a new beginning.

—Meister Eckhart, Christian Mystic

The United Nations had recognized the claims of the few direct descendants of the Druids, and after international experts had been allowed to look around the archives, they actually found a few more valuable items: philosophical tracts about the healing arts and architecture, works of art, and many other ideas that finally put to rest the image of the supposedly barbaric Druid tribes. MacClary had the three-ton stone with the spiral of life brought from the Magdalensberg to Glendalough as soon as he could. The transportation had cost a year’s salary, but he didn’t regret a single cent.

Glendalough, in the middle of the Wicklow nature sanctuary, was one of the most beautiful treasures of Ireland and an important site in Ireland’s church history. From the surrounding hills, there was a breathtakingly beautiful view of two lakes. There were streams, forests, and little waterfalls, a mystical spot for dreaming. In the neighboring forest, the stone now rested in the middle of a circular clearing and gave the spot an almost solemn atmosphere, even if it was only a symbol of a culture long past. Who knew what the new culture would produce connected to remnants of the old?

Shane had sat down a bit apart from the others. His cell phone had rung, and when he saw the number on the display, he felt hot and cold at the same time.

“Victoria? I’m...I’m sorry that I haven’t called, but I’m guessing that you’ve got some idea of what’s been going on...”

“You don’t need to apologize, Adam. But I have someone here who wants to see his father,” Victoria said without the least hint of reproach in her voice. “I hope you’ve finally found what you were searching for.”