The Stolen Gospels (26 page)

Chapter 33

The gospels of the she-apostles were missing for nearly two thousand years. In 1945, a fragment of the Gospel of Mary (Magdalene) was discovered in a buried earthenware jar at Mt. Jabal-al-Tarif near Nag Hammadi, Egypt. Later, more female manuscripts were found in ancient catacombs at Alexandria, also in Egypt. And recently, the reincarnated she-apostles began to appear miraculously, in the form of children. One by one we obtained custody of them from their parents.

—UWW press release, timed to coincide with publication of the
Holy Women’s Bible

Alex sat on a bench inside Lori’s cell, staring at her as she slept, worrying about her safety. She was beginning to stir. He saw her eyelids flicker, and open. Her lavender eyes were strikingly beautiful, filled with surprise at first, and then irritation.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Now tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t really know.”

“Let’s start with what you
do
know,” she said in a low tone. She swung out of bed in her pajamas, stood looking at him with her arms folded across her chest. “Your mother ordered you to be with me. I’ll have my explanation now, please. Are you supposed to be my stud knight? Is that it? They’ve turned you into a sex slave?”

Shaking his head, he said, “That’s not it at all.”

“Then what is? You also said you’re here to protect me. Are you some kind of a personal bodyguard, then, one who sleeps in?”

“No. I want to protect you from them.”

“Them? I presume you mean the UWW—”

“Right.” He broke gazes with her, wished he might say something that would make the eavesdroppers pick her to survive, and him to execute. But he didn’t believe that whole scenario from his mother, and didn’t want to play her little game any more than he had to. He didn’t want to tell Lori, either, or she might try to act heroic and incriminate herself. She had that type of personality: impulsive, defiant, and brave. No, silence was best. Dixie Lou would do what she intended to do anyway.

“You’re hiding something, Alex. Don’t play dumb with me. Save that act for the others.”

“I’m not hiding anything. As for my act, they’re on to me.”

“Well so am I.” She paused, chewed at her lower lip.

“I don’t like this any better than you do.”

“Do you know your own feelings?” she asked. Lori rose to her feet, began pacing the small room.

“Sure, I guess.”

“Do you find me attractive?”

“Sure I think you’re attractive. You’re smart and pretty and I like you. It’s just that I have other matters that are requiring my attention.”

“You’re only seven years older than I am. Not so much.”

“Not so much later, but now it’s a lot. I’m a man and you’re still a child.”

“Don’t be condescending to me.”

“Sorry, I’m only trying to be realistic.”

“Alex, I’m a
woman
, not a virgin. I’ve already had several experiences.”

“I don’t know how to break this to you, Lori, but there’s more to being a woman than having sex.”

“I know that!” She smiled disdainfully, but her expression faded into a scowl. “I don’t like you or your mother. You
use
people, lie to people. It’s how you were raised, isn’t it, Alex? You’re both manipulative.”

“I’m ashamed of that woman,” Alex said. “I hate her. I’m not like her at all.”

Lori laughed. “Oh, but you are, Mr. Big Shot Child ’Napper, using everybody for the cause. Maybe you’re a BOI agent, trying to get the she-apostles for them. How’s that so different from your mother and her UWW? Everyone is secondary to the Cause, with a capital ‘C.’ In your family there are no real personal relationships, are there?”

“You have it all wrong. As I told her, I have nothing to do with the BOI. As for my mother, she always thinks of herself first and the UWW second. I’m somewhere down the line, around the level of a pet.”

“However you look at it, neither of you are capable of love.”

He arched his thick eyebrows. “And you’re an expert on the subject?”

“More than you, obviously.”

He stood in front of her, and with a gentle hand moved her long hair out of her eyes. “Lori, I—”

She pulled free of him. “Get away from me. In fact, get out of here. Now!”

“I don’t have the key.”

Furious, she turned her back on him.

* * *

Styx Tertullian took a deep breath, hesitated. His entire body was shaking, and he felt feverish.

If he went through with this, things would never again be the same between him and Minister Culpepper. There would be no way to conceal the gross insubordination, because only he and his boss knew the codes.

This was no small matter, nothing to be overlooked or forgotten.

It’s him or me after this. I die, or he does.

Perspiration ran down his brow. He trembled as he voice activated the computer. Styx was in his own office, but acting like a thief there, an intruder. It was the middle of the night, as still as a graveyard.

Seconds of trepidation elapsed that seemed like hours. Then urgent impulse guided his fingers and he tapped in the deep-access military codes, a combination of numbers, accent marks, and umlauts. Someone might stop him if he didn’t hurry.

The screen came to life in a silvery glow, with a border of black BOI crosses and a heading that read in bold letters, “Most Secret. For Eyes Only.”

Key-stroking for a deeper, even more secure code, he brought up a red-bordered screen with a golden circle in the middle. Within the circle he typed a series of words in phonetic English, directing Bureau paramilitary forces in Albania and Bulgaria to coordinate a powerful strike against Monte Konos.

Styx’s screen flashed three times, confirming that the messages had been received.

He tapped the codes to exit the system, and shut off the computer terminal.

* * *

“We need a golf course up here,” Dixie Lou said, as she gazed through an open patio doorway at a grassy field outside the Refectory Building. “Then we can discuss business on the links, the way men do.” Thick clouds were socking the monastery in, with rugged mountains barely visible to the south. A dark gray rainstorm could be seen approaching from across the valley.

She was seated at the head of a long table in the Refectory’s private dining room. The entire council was present with her, a working luncheon. The aroma of exotic spices, butter, and seafood wafted through the air.

“Too much slope,” Katherine Pangalos said, as she set down a glass of iced tea. “The balls would roll off the cliff. Not enough room up here, either. We could only fit in three or four holes.”

“We won’t have to hide on this mountain forever, ladies,” Dixie Lou said, watching a black, wild goat negotiate a treacherous path along the top of the cliff. “When the
Holy Women’s Bible
is published and women are empowered, we’ll take the world by storm! Men will hide from
us
!”

The women were quiet as they watched Dixie Lou attentively. One of them got up and closed the door, since a cold wind was picking up outside.

“I’ve been thinking about our new book,” Dixie Lou said. “and I have a funding issue to propose.” She noticed the rain clouds getting larger, darker, and closer, dominating the sky.

“What about the kidnappers?” Bobbi Torrence asked. “Are you prepared to discuss the evidence with us?” Nervously, she dropped a napkin from her lap, but because of her girth couldn’t reach down to pick it up.

“Do you mean the
murderers
?” Dixie Lou asked, leveling a cold stare at her, since Bobbi’s niece was one of the accused. “I’m compiling evidence and will render my decisions in due course. Nothing in Title 8 says I have to discuss evidence of treason with the council.”

“The final judgments are yours,” Bobbi agreed, “but we thought you might want our advice at some point.” Her jowls quivered as she spoke.

“I’ve decided to go it alone,” the Chairwoman said.

“Oh,” Bobbi said, in a small voice.

“As for my son Alex, as I’ve said before, he will receive no special consideration. Each of you knows I will have him executed if I decide to do so, and I might even do it myself.”

None of the other councilwomen said anything.

“My investigators are preparing reports for me,” Dixie Lou added, “and I’ll review them privately.”

This was not true. There were no investigators—Dixie Lou’s judgments about the young people didn’t rely upon evidence that might be assembled in such a manner. Her decisions were dependent, instead, upon how much cooperation she received from her son and from Lori—and from the councilwomen at this table concerning issues she would present to them.

Dixie Lou could see any number of reasons why she might delay her announcements about the rebels’ fates. The longer she waited, the more funding votes would come up in the interim, and the more leverage she would have. It was all politics, the skillful management and manipulation of power. If two votes swung to her side—those of Bobbi Torrence and Fujiko Harui—it would mean a great deal on a sixteen member council. Then she would have ten votes in her camp out of the sixteen, a clear majority that would not require her tie-breaking vote as Chairwoman.

The sentencing possibilities available to her made Dixie Lou smile as she nibbled on a vegetarian sandwich, sprinkled with feta cheese. Gazing down the table she noted nervous, quick glances in her direction, and considerable indigestion. Fujiko Harui popped a little yellow tablet as she sometimes did when she was upset, an antacid from her pharmacopoeia.

“We will now discuss funding the completion of our most important project,” Dixie Lou said, “the
Holy Women’s Bible
.”

All eyes were riveted on her. The clinking of silverware and dishes ceased.

“We have a little problem with the project, don’t we?” Dixie Lou drawled. “Our missing twelfth she-apostle? I don’t suppose any of you are hiding her?” She took a small bite of the moist sandwich, swallowed.

Nervous laughter traveled around the table. Someone coughed.

Dixie Lou raised her voice: “What are we supposed to do, hold up the release of our book until Martha of Galilee makes her grand entrance?”

“I don’t see what other choice we have,” Katherine said.

“Maybe that’s why I’m the leader and you aren’t,” Dixie Lou said. “Let’s review for a moment. The
Holy Women’s Bible
, as we have envisioned it, consists of
The Old Testament
and
The New Testament
—both edited to make them more female-friendly—and fanfare please!—ta ta!—
The Testament of the She-Apostles
! The only trouble is, we’re missing a small portion.”

“Are you suggesting that we publish what we have?” Katherine asked.

Dixie Lou shook her head, picked a bone out of her salmon. “No, something far more interesting.”

Perplexed expressions surrounded the table.

“What if we bring in a baby—and say it’s the twelfth?” Dixie Lou asked.

“What are you driving at?” Katherine inquired.

“We bring in a baby; it doesn’t matter which one. Then we write a new gospel on our own, and say it’s from—” She paused as a male waiter opened a door and entered the room. He refilled the cups with strong, steaming coffee, and left.

After the waiter closed the door, Dixie Lou continued. “Don’t you see?” Her dark eyes glittered with excitement. A vein at her temple pulsed. “This is the best thing we could possibly do. We create a logical story for the twelfth she-apostle. We already have her name, Martha of Galilee, and make up events that might have occurred in her life—excluding anything about the betrayal of Jesus by a ‘She-Judas,’ whoever that might be. Then we print our new holy book and spread it all over the planet—in bound copies, recorded books, and e-books.”

“You mean
fake
it?” Katherine asked.

A wry smile worked at the edges of Dixie Lou’s mouth as she said, “I’m just talking about exercising a little creative license for one teeny-tiny little gospel. Men have done a lot worse to us. They suppressed and destroyed
all twelve
of our gospels, and rewrote others to put women in a bad light! They stole our heritage!”

Outside, rain began to fall, a sudden onslaught. The wild goat was gone, having disappeared down one of the trails scarring the cliffs of Monte Konos.

“But what if the real Martha is brought to us?” Tamara Himmel asked. A soft-bodied woman with an undersized head and pinched face, she had always sided with Dixie Lou in the past, but seemed agitated now.

“Simple,” Dixie Lou said. She nibbled on an olive, and shoved her plate away. “If we have her and she talks about a woman who betrayed Jesus, we suppress her gospel. If we don’t have her and she says those things, we condemn her as a liar.”

“And an instrument of Satan,” Councilwoman Nancy Winters added.

“Right!” Dixie Lou exclaimed.

“We can’t fake the
Holy Women’s Bible
,” Katherine protested. “We are charged with a sacred task, and must perform it honestly.” The rain intensified outside.

Murmurs of concurrence went around the table.

But Dixie Lou asked, with her gaze burning directly into the eyes of her principal opponent, “What about the Apostle Lydia’s statement concerning the She-Judas, whose identity is known only to the real Martha? We voted to suppress the She-Judas material, remember? What do you call that, Katherine?”

“A temporary and reasonable action,” came the response, “until we can obtain verification from the last she-apostle.”

“As long as I sit in this position,” Dixie Lou said, “our publication will never include anything about a
woman
betraying Jesus! You folks can vote to fund until cows go to college, but I have the final word on whether we actually proceed with any project.”

“Your proposal is too dangerous,” Katherine said. “If we’re caught in a lie over the last she-apostle, our enemies will extrapolate and say the entire
Holy Women’s Bible
is fraudulent. It’s a matter of credibility, in the court of public opinion. We need to hold off until Martha of Galilee appears, and include her gospel. We must be truthful!”

“What if the reports from the other she-apostles are wrong?” Dixie Lou asked, “and there are only eleven females instead of twelve?”