Relic Page 8

  “Hey, Ash, how are you?”

  “I’m good. Everything is good.”

  “No more problems then? You’re staying safe, right?”

  “Don’t worry, Jake. I’m fine. I have some unbelievable news. Don’t you want to know about the artifact?”

  “Of course. I was wondering when you’d get around to it.”

  “You’re not going to believe it, Jake. Before leaving for Spain, I turned it over to Brian Hastings in the Chemistry Department. He brought in a priest, and working together, they contacted a few leading experts in the field of Biblical archaeology and…They are very excited. I cannot overstate how excited they are.”

  “What did they say?”

  “It relates to the Bible.”

  “Right, you mean Jesus.”

  “Yes, but according to the experts, it may have been mentioned in the Bible.”

  “The artifact?”

  “Yes, in the Book of Revelations, Chapter 5, the Lamb is called worthy to open the book with seven seals. According to Deacon Basil Kempis of Canterbury, the book of Revelation refers to a sealed book that was only opened by the Messiah.”

  Jake thought back to the artifact. He recalled that it had once been a sealed book. The lead pages had been sealed, but at some point in history, the seals had been broken.

  Ashley went on: “There are vivid descriptions in the sixth chapter of the Book of Revelation. These descriptions reflect images on the lead pages of the codices: the horses, the moon, the beast, the sword, and the mountains.”

  “Maybe they’re just common Christian symbols.”

  Ashley ignored this comment. She said, “I found an article from three days ago in a Spanish tabloid where Irina Gonzales is quoted saying that she had come into possession of an ancient artifact that she will soon be sharing with the world.”

  “Did you say three days ago?”

  “I thought that would get your attention. She says it will have profound implications upon our understanding of history. She claims that an archaeologist who was looking for more Dead Sea Scrolls found a lead book a few years ago in a remote arid valley in northern Jordan. He found it in a cliff-side cave with a very narrow entrance so that it didn’t even look like a cave. It was a big discovery, so he got a few confidential opinions and forced his experts to sign confidentiality agreements. Then the archaeologist died. Irina claims that he turned the artifact over to her for safekeeping.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, except she’s probably lying.”

  “Probably. She told me the confession survived the Maravillas shipwreck.”

  “She said that?”

  “Yes…Well, not so direct. She was in shock after I rescued her from her sinking boat, partially hypothermic from the cold waters, but she said things. She was holding onto to a package containing the artifact as if it was her most valued possession. When I touched it, she tensed and pulled it away. She said something incomprehensible. One thing I heard clearly was the word Maravillas.”

  “That matches up with my research at the Archive of the Indies. I learned that the priest on the Maravillas kept the artifact that he was given by Camilo Torres during the shipwreck because he wanted to show it to church officials. However, it was stolen after his rescue. He never saw it again. It seems unlikely that it would have ended up in a cave in Jordan.”

  “Very unlikely. She’s lying for some reason.”

  The light changed. A crowd of people crossed the street, leaving Jake alone on the corner, holding a phone at his ear.

  Ashley said, “We had to get our own experts. Father Ignatius Favala said that early Christianity had a secret tradition, and it involved lead books similar to these. The experts are investigating the possibility that this book is the very book referred to in Revelations 5.”

  Jake was speechless.

  Ashley continued: “The director of the Israel Antiquities Authority said he thinks that the books were made by the apostles within a few decades after the crucifixion. He thinks this could be the most important discovery in the history of archaeology.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “No Jake. According to William T. Rutherford, a metals analyst from Jerusalem University, the evidence is impressive and credible. He says that the trace element pattern of the lead was consistent with ancient lead of the first century, although he did say that similar lead can be obtained from other sources. He says that further study will be needed, but the findings so far are very encouraging.”

  “What is the book all about? Is it really a confession?”

  “A linguist is studying photographs right now. It’s going slowly because it’s a Galilean dialect. I’ll get back to you soon.”

  “Great work, Ash. Stay safe.”

  Jake hung up, feeling lightheaded, even confused. First, he’d thought the confession was that of a legendary 17th-century sinner. Then it was supposedly a Confession of Christ. Now it was not only a Christ Confession, it was also mentioned in the book of Revelations. Jake didn’t know what to think. Irina had evidently written a dishonest article. Why would she do that? The experts were vouching to the relic’s authenticity. This was all crazy. He had to know what those codices said. On the other hand, he was almost scared to find out.

  ***

  One block away from where Jake Sands was standing on the corner with a growing crowd at the crosswalk, Nick Rosario aimed his Nikon camera and zoomed in on Jake’s profile. Nick snapped off several photos, which he would have run through facial recognition software and crosschecked against known frauds, criminals, intelligence agents, and international law enforcement officials. Even though Sands had passed the background check, Nick knew he could never be too careful. He’d already learned that Sands had been involved in a big conflict surrounding the old Queen Mary cruise ship a couple of years back. He’d shown he had a propensity for violence, although that was common in this business. The Queen Mary mess happened under totally different circumstances, but it was a red flag. Beyond that, Sands was known to own a fishing boat and at least one old cargo ship. He seemed legit, but there was no end to background checks. Nick casually put away his camera and walked back the way he’d come.

  CHAPTER 22

  After her arrival in Buenos Aires, Irina’s bodyguards drove her to the Pontifical Catholic University of Argentina. Although she had known for some time that her son was a student here, she had refrained from coming to Argentina until the time was right. Returning was like a recurring nightmare. It was like she was reliving the past all over again. She remembered a truck broadsiding her car and running her off the road. She recalled her car rolling. It all happened in an instant, but her son’s legs had gone through the passenger window, and one of them was crushed. He had eventually lost his leg.

  It had been no accident. Her husband had let her take the fall for his failures in life. As El Jefe had said, the only way for Nick to make reparations for his betrayal was to sacrifice either his wife or son. There was no other way for El Jefe to save face if Nick was allowed to live. Otherwise, El Jefe would be seen as weak in the international criminal underworld.

  Terrified that Nick would put her son at risk, and unable to provide the care that the boy would need, she had staged her death and gone off the grid for five years. The writing had been on the wall for years. Her husband was a sad excuse for a man. He was completely immoral and lacked character. She had known for a long time that she would not be able to count on him in tough times, so she had siphoned money out of dozens of their accounts and used some of the creative accounting methods she knew from studying accounting in college and working several years as an accountant.

  Skimming money wasn’t hard given that she’d done accounting work for family corporations. She had total access. Neither was it hard to make copies of founding documents for hundreds of Rosario Corporations, documents she kept on Cutter Island in the San Juans. She’d wanted all this information to keep tabs on the Rosarios while she plotted her revenge. B
efore she went off the grid for five years, she had tucked away nineteen million dollars in a Panamanian account, and the Rosarios never even missed it. Even if they had, they’d have never attached it to her; after all, dead people don’t need money.

  Although she was not really dead, staying alive was probably worse. Her heart had been ripped to shreds by the people that she was supposed to be able to count on—her family. They had thrown her to the sharks, so she didn’t blame herself for the fact that her son had gotten lost in life and stumbled into religion. The boy wasn’t raised right. He didn’t have the proper guidance. He was raised by cold-hearted scum—the same animals who had turned him into a cripple when they hired a hit man to kill her. She just hoped it wasn’t too late to save him from foolishness.

  Irina had a deep, suppressed longing for the love of the child who was torn from her when she was cast off like trash by her own husband. To win that love back, she would do anything. To get revenge against those who destroyed her life and crippled her son, she would unleash the floods of hell on them—and also on a naïve and unsuspecting world.

  They had talked on the phone yesterday, but this was their first face-to-face meeting in five years. When Irina saw her boy approaching in the hallway, she felt moisture in her eyes. She saw that his limp was noticeable even with the prosthetic leg and ivory-handled cane.

  Francisco was a tall young man who wore eye glasses. He was a beautiful young man, and it crushed her to think that he had grown up without her. A thousand regrets burned through her veins like liquid fire.

  They caught up a little bit on the way to the waterfront restaurant and worked through some of the emotions. After their lobster arrived, Irina got down to business.

  “Francisco, I want you to leave religious school.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Things are about to change in ways that neither you or anyone else can imagine.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “For starters, I mean things are about to change in the family. The deck is about to be re-shuffled.”

  “I don’t care about that. I’m devoting myself to the church. I don’t want to be like father or El Jefe. I’ve left it all behind.”

  “You’re going to be greater than either one of them. To be all alone, to be betrayed by your father, to think your mother has died—anyone could have weak moments with all that. I know you felt lonely and helpless. I know you hurt deeply. I know how you have suffered, but I am back. You don’t need religion anymore.”

  “It’s not about religion, mother. It’s about peace in my heart. It’s about how I treat other people. It’s about my life, which is very short.”

  “Whatever you call it, you’re wasting time. Life is just a fleeting chemical reaction. Morality is an excuse for … weak, misguided people with nothing else to cling to, those who are doomed by nature.”

  Steam rose from Francisco’s plate, but he did not touch the food.

  “What good is religion anyway?” Irina continued. “It’s a waste of time. Religion is just like law. It was an invention of clever men in authority to control the people. Jesus was just a wise man—a good man, perhaps, but a man. God is a myth and will soon be replaced with human idols and personality cults. Your uncle Ajax has gotten on my train. He will soon be idolized around the world. He was also cast off by his family, but he, too, is making an epic comeback with my help. You, Francisco, must also get on the train. You are positioned to rise to the very top.”

  Francisco did not react.

  Irina sipped her Bloody Mary and watched him for a moment. His face was unimpressed like a poker player. Irina got a strong sense of his intelligence and confidence. He had potential if she could only get through to him.

  “I have my spies,” Irina said. “I know that El Jefe is suffering tremendous pain from old injuries from the assassination attempt. I know he is weighing options for a replacement as grandmaster of the Augean Command. Who could take over for him? Could Ajax? Of course not. El Jefe doesn’t respect Ajax. Could Nick? No. Nick was implicated in the assassination attempt. El Jefe demanded a sacrifice in order to avoid killing him. Your father sacrificed me to save himself—and you. He was willing to let me blow up my own boat and die at sea. Why? To put himself first. To allow El Jefe to save face and maintain power and an image of strength. But El Jefe would never forgive him enough to turn over the Augean Command to him. Who’s left, Francisco? You. You’re the only person who is unstained by the past. You’re the only one with sound judgment. It has to be you.”

  Francisco sipped his glass of water. “You just said I have sound judgment. That’s why I left my family behind. I want no part of them. As for your philosophy, mother, I hope you’ll rethink it because it’s wrong.”

  “No, Francisco, you are wrong. I’ve been around longer than you. Don’t forget. I changed your diapers.”

  “And I’ll always love you, mother, but I hope you’ll rethink your philosophy. Keep in mind that I was a miserable person for years after you left. I was miserable. Then I found God. You say God is dead, but I have never been happier. I have enjoyed His companionship every day, all the time. He is a God of love. He cares about us and has time for each one of us. You say God is a myth. If He is, then I am still better off for my illusions. I have never been happier in my life. Am I to throw that away and return to misery like the Jews wanted to return to slavery in Egypt? No, mother.”

  “What are they teaching you?” Irina sipped her Bloody Mary. “You need to deal with reality.”

  Nick took off his glasses and wiped them with a napkin. “You might be right, and then again, you might be wrong. Think about Pascal’s Wager. Pascal was a 17th-Centruy philosopher. He faced the same dilemma that you face—to believe or not to believe. He decided that a rational person will choose God even if there is a chance they could be wrong. Why? Because if they are wrong, they have lost very little, just some material gains. They live lives of peace and great happiness. Yet if God is real, they will have gained everything when they die. On the other hand, if they reject God, they may gain some material benefits, but those are only short term. They risk eternity.”

  Irina slammed her glass down on the table. “How dare you talk to me like that! How dare you tell me about Pascal! There is nothing wrong with my philosophy. I am offering you a better future.”

  People at other tables turned and looked at the disturbance. The whole restaurant got quiet. Irina ordered another drink. Conversations resumed at other tables. Silverware tinged on dishes.

  Irina leaned forward and said, “Do not question me.”

  “Relax, mother. It’s just the philosophy of someone who’s been dead hundreds of years. Why get so upset over nothing? If God is dead, then Pascal’s Wager is nothing to get upset about. After all, you talk to me about Critias of Athens, but I don’t get upset.”

  “Who?”

  “Critias of Athens… Your philosophy is the same as his. He was a 5th-century philosopher. He also argued that law and religions were the inventions of man, that they were meant only to control the masses. Let me ask you, mother: Why were all of the apostles—all of them—willing to die for a trick? If it was just a way to trick people, why die for that? Would every one of them willingly die and suffer for nothing? They were all martyred. Their heads were cut off. They were crucified. Don’t you think there’s a reason they would walk down that trail? Isn’t it possible that they knew something, that they had a good reason? Not even one of them took the easy way out.”

  Irina pushed her plate away. She reached for her purse. “I am in town for three days to recover from a health issue … Then I will return to Seattle to recover the Confession.”

  “What?” The color drained from Francisco’s face.

  Irina thought of Camilo Torres, dying as the Maravillas was sank in the Bahamas Channel in the 17th century. The story rushed through her mind of the great sinner turning the Christ Confession over to the priest. A scoundrel, another survivor of the shipwreck
, stole the artifact from the priest and sold it to a wealthy aristocrat. In Madrid, the artifact changed hands again and came into the possession of another member of the Augean Command. Irina leaned forward and spoke softly. “You know what I’m talking about. El Jefe’s secret. His artifact, passed down from one grandmaster of the Augean Command to another for centuries. His symbol of temporal power.”

  “What are you planning to do, Mother?”

  She sipped her drink. “It’s going to be very big. Nothing will ever be the same.”

  “Mother! You must slow down and think about what you are doing. You must stop what you are doing.”

  “It’s too late for that. The wheels are turning. I am offering you the world, Francisco. You can have anything in the world you want—anything. Just name it and you will have it. But you must renounce Christ and trust me.”

  Francisco said, “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. For five years I thought you were dead. Three days ago, I find out you are alive. I was so happy. To see you here today was the greatest moment of my life. But now you have broken my heart again.”

  “I did not break your heart,” Irina said in a strained voice. “You father did that—your wonderful father and El Jefe. Do not ever blame me for what they did. I came here for you. Everything I do, I do for you.” Irina leaned forward and clenched her fist, holding it up between them. “Just think about it. I am offering you a chance to seize the reins of wealth and power. Do not answer me now. I am your mother. At least think about what I have said.”

  Francisco said nothing. He looked devastated. His face was slack. He was leaning forward on his elbows. His shoulders were slumped.

  “You must not tell anyone that we have met,” Irina said. “Whatever I have said to you must be kept secret. I am in danger, and it would get much worse if I am betrayed.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Buenos Aires was a massive grid city, a checkerboard with all streets at right angles. Yellow and black taxis swarmed the avenues between aged high-rise apartment buildings. Irina sat in the back of her limo with the window down and the car idling at a stop light. Irina could smell the exhaust. She could hear the city. The city rumbled from cars and trucks, from uses and trams and taxis. The smell of pollution got stronger and weaker as they moved from block to block. She used to love Buenos Aires. Every new street and neighborhood was an adventure, a multicolored canvas of life and culture.