Luis Rocha - Papal decree

Tarcisio noticed the connection his friend was making. Rafael’s suspicion was not as crazy as it sounded.

‘Loyola completed his mission,’ Schmidt said, with a gesture for Tarcisio to go on.

‘The Society of Jesus was the reward. Loyola brought the parchments and much more,’ Tarcisio said thoughtfully.

‘The bones of Christ,’ Schmidt added.

The secretary nodded, as if putting it into words was too painful.

‘Where are those documents?’ Schmidt asked.

‘The Jesuits are their faithful keepers. They confide them to the pope only on the night of his election.’

‘And the bones?’

‘Also in their possession,’ Tarcisio said, exhausted.

Schmidt got up and went to the window again. Historical facts, holy men, prestige, legends, none of this mattered. Only information, validated with some skepticism. Feelings were inimical to thoughtful decisions. He paced back and forth from one window to another, from the desk to the sofa, comparing the facts Tarcisio gave him with those he’d assimilated the night before.

‘All right, if Loyola recovered the parchments and bones and remained the faithful guardian of them, from which the Jesuits derive their power, only one question remains, assuming the Jesuits are involved in this.’ Schmidt paced back and forth with his chin in his hand.

Tarcisio waited expectantly for the question.

‘What piece is missing for them?’ Schmidt concluded.

Tarcisio looked as if he didn’t understand.

‘Leo the Tenth was the first to struggle with the problem. He appointed his nephew, the future Clement the Seventh, to investigate. Clement, for his part, recovered the documents and the bones. Problem solved. What is it that they want? What could be more important than the… bones of Christ?’ he said in a whisper.

‘The Gospel of Jesus,’ Tarcisio informed him.

Schmidt looked at his friend incredulously. ‘What did you say?’

‘Just what you heard. That’s what they’re after.’ It was Tarcisio’s turn to connect the dots. ‘As you said, they have everything except that piece of the puzzle. They eliminated everyone they fought with, directly or indirectly, for the relics and became the faithful guardians, as happened with Loyola.’ That was it. It could only be that. Simple, silent, bloody.

‘With one difference,’ Schmidt interposed. ‘This time without the pope’s consent.’

‘Jesuit dissidence is not a new thing. It goes back to the beginning of John Paul the Second’s papacy. There were also some quarrels with other pontiffs that were resolved. The greatest interference, involving Wojtyla, was over Superior General Pedro Arrupe’s resignation. A pope had never named a papal delegate to preside over the General Congregation that was going to elect a new superior general. The Jesuits were resentful and offended. They considered an insurrection against the pope,’ Tarcisio explained.

‘But Paolo Dezza, the delegate Lolek chose, was a Jesuit,’ Schmidt argued.

‘But he wasn’t named by the superior general.’

‘Because Pedro Arrupe was in no condition to do so,’ Schmidt said, showing some indignation. ‘A stroke had left him partially paralyzed and unable to speak clearly.’

‘Go explain that to them. For many Jesuits it was an outrage,’ the secretary continued.

Schmidt frowned and changed the subject. ‘I assume it’s in Ben Isaac’s possession.’

Tarcisio nodded. ‘That gospel is very intriguing.’

The gospel was mentioned for the first time in the apocryphal Gospel of Mary Magdalene, the same one that revealed the correct location of Christ’s tomb. Who better than Magdalene to know where He was buried? Who better to guard a gospel written by her own companion, Jesus?

‘So Loyola didn’t recover the Gospel of Jesus?’ Schmidt asked.

‘He couldn’t find it. The Gospel of Magdalene, as you know, was not complete.

‘Pius IX got involved in the nineteenth century. He read the secret and formed a trusted group to investigate. They found three more parchments that mentioned the Gospel of Jesus, and, more seriously, when and where and by whom it was written… but not the gospel itself.’

Tarcisio wiped the sweat from his face.

Every previous attempt to find the Gospel of Jesus had failed. The only certainty was that it did in fact exist.

‘Until Ben Isaac,’ Tarcisio declared.

‘Until Ben Isaac,’ Schmidt repeated, looking at his friend. ‘Something’s bothering me, though. The society and the church are on the same side. Why all this conflict? Couldn’t they negotiate and arrive at an agreement? The Jesuits wanted the Gospel. Why not negotiate with Ben Isaac?’

Tarcisio smiled as he got up, bent over with the effort. ‘The society and the church haven’t been on the same side for a long time.’ He looked down again on the empty square below, lashed by the wind and incessant rain.

‘They must have talked about it?’ Schmidt asked.

‘Many times,’ Tarcisio answered painfully. ‘Today I have to meet with Adolph.’

‘Let him know you know what’s going on. Lean on him,’ Schmidt suggested.

‘It doesn’t help, Hans. I’m going to be talking with the CEO of a large corporation. There are many interests at play. The Jesuits know they can’t attack us directly.’ He sighed and wiped his face again. ‘Nor can we attack them.’

William returned to the papal office, flushed, obviously tired.

‘The CIA is onto us,’ he said.

‘That’s all we needed,’ Tarcisio grumbled.

‘What do they have to do with all this?’ Schmidt asked.

‘What do they have to do with anything they get involved in?’ Tarcisio protested, and looked at William. ‘Excuse me, William, but your compatriots are always sticking their nose into situations that don’t concern them.’

William could have said, Look who’s talking, but he was silent. Tarcisio had a point.

‘What do they want?’ the secretary inquired.

‘They want to know about Rafael, Ben Isaac, and Sarah. They know something, but don’t really know what they know. They have Jacopo. I gave them a few crumbs of information in exchange for his release.’

‘You didn’t have to give them anything. He could have been released if he’d been patient. Are they going to be a problem?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Any news from Rafael?’

‘He’s going to have dinner with the director of the CIA at Memmo. Now he’s lying low in Mayfair at the Church of the Immaculate Conception.’

Tarcisio whispered, ‘Let’s hope he gets away intact.’

David Barry was better informed after talking with Cardinal William on the phone. Jacopo had revealed almost nothing, but had said that, if he wanted to know more, Barry should contact Jacopo’s superior, who by coincidence was a fellow American. David Barry played this same card, talking about Long Beach and the RMS Queen Mary, the transatlantic liner that now served as a hotel and museum, permanently anchored at that California city. He also talked about Houston’s incomparable museum and theater district, aware that a cardinal, unfortunately, always owes his duty to the pope, and not his country of birth. That’s how careers are. Everyone sells his work and loyalty to his job.

‘Did you call me?’ Aris asked from the director’s office door.

‘Yes. Come in and close the door.’

Aris came in and sat down without being asked.

‘I talked with the Holy See,’ Barry informed him.

‘Okay, you’ve got my attention.’

‘It was the only thing I could drag out of that son-of-a-bitch historian. The name of his superior, Cardinal William, who happens to be from Long Beach,’ Barry muttered.