Thomas Greanias - The Atlantis revelation

A sporty Italian bellman named Gianni took Conrad's weekender bag that he had purchased in nearby Desenzano after his six-hour ride from Bern involving two trains, one passport check, and one transfer in Milan.

"Guten Tag, Baron von Berg," said Gianni in passable German. "Where is the baroness?"

"She has her own ride."

They walked outside the covered pergola and past the pool with ducks and terraced gardens toward the lakeside boathouse. Two couples were enjoying afternoon tea on the lawn while a third played a game of croquet. Nothing was forced, including the prosecco offered to Conrad on a floating tray. Life and love seemed to flow quite naturally here.

"We have our own yacht for cocktail cruises," Gianni told him. "You can arrange for a motor launch to take you and the baroness around the lake and even explore the medieval castle at Sirmione."

"That sounds wonderful, Gianni," Conrad said, sipping his drink.

The boathouse was spacious enough, with dark wood paneling and eggshell linens and upholstery. Its tall windows with sheer lace curtains offered a spectacular view of the lake.

Once the young bellman had closed the door on his way out, Conrad turned to find a dessert tray of lemon mousse sprinkled with fruit and edible flowers, a jasmine-scented candle burning on the nightstand, and rose petals strewn throughout the marble bathroom.

The only thing missing from this perfect romantic scene was Serena.

He looked at the antique Rolex, his gift from Baron von Berg. It was almost five o'clock, and Serena's seaplane was due to land on the lake any minute now.

Conrad removed the watch and adjusted the dial until the Roman coin fell onto the table. He then pulled out a set of two books titled Coinage and History of the Roman Empire that he had picked up at a rare coin shop in Desenzano. The pages were thin, the lines single-spaced, and the font small, which made reading hard, but he found what he needed.

Conrad picked up the ancient Roman coin.

It looked almost like an American quarter, with Caesar instead of George Washington on one side and an eagle on the other. But this eagle looked quite distinctive, with a club on its right and a palm frond on its left. Indeed, it looked just like the medallion Serena wore around her neck.

He took a closer look at the letters engraved around the coin's rim:

UROUIERAS KAIASULOU

Instantly, he knew the translation. He had come across it on coins during his digs beneath the Temple Mount in Jerusalem:

OF TYRE, THE HOLY AND INVIOLATE

He flipped to a page with the heading "Judas's Thirty Pieces of Silver" and a quote from the Gospel of Matthew:

Then one of the 12, called Judas Iscariot, went unto the chief priests, and said unto them, "What will ye give me, and I will deliver him unto you?" And they covenanted with him for 30 pieces of silver.

The book said the coin was a so-called Shekel of Tyre, or temple tax coin. It was the only currency accepted at the Jerusalem temple, so it was most likely the coinage with which Judas had been paid for betraying Jesus Christ.

The bust on the front didn't belong to any Roman emperor, Conrad realized, putting away the coin books. It belonged to Melqarth, the god of the Phoenicians, with a laurel wreath around his head like Caesar's. Better known as Baal in the Old Testament. Sacrilege to Orthodox Jews, to be sure. But these coins were the only ones close enough to pure silver to be accepted at the temple. Roman coins were too debased.

He searched for a date on the coin. He found it on the reverse side, left of the eagle and just above its club.

EL

That was the year 35 C.E. on the Julian calendar-or 98 B.C., according to contemporary calendars. Well within the time of circulation during Jesus' lifetime.

It was certainly not the Tribute Penny that Jesus had used to advise followers to go ahead and give their tax money to the state but their whole hearts to God. If anything, the shekel represented quite the opposite-man-made religion that trusted not in the God of heaven but in Caesar and the power structure of this world. The penny was blessed, in short, and the shekel cursed.

Like the Dei.

Conrad's concentration was broken by the sound of a prop engine. He looked out to the lake and saw Serena flying in. Hopefully with some answers, for once.

Serena swung her seaplane over the treetops and came in for her final approach on the shimmering waters of Lake Garda. The breathtaking Villa Feltrinelli rose on the distant shore like a fairy castle. The sheer audacity of Conrad's selection of such a romantic locale, and this while he was on the run, amazed and angered her. A virgin like her wouldn't last the night at a place like this, especially with a man like him.

She'd flown her first high-wing Otter as a missionary in the Australian outback. Later, she'd flown in the African bush. This plane was a propeller-driven DHC-3, powered by a single six-hundred-horsepower Pratt amp; Whitney Wasp radial and fitted with floats, just like the type she'd used in the Andes during her work with the Aymara tribe. That was where she'd first met Conrad, on Lake Titicaca, the highest lake in the world and her personal favorite. No doubt it was an association he had hoped to evoke here.

She prayed in advance for God's wisdom and strength to do what her mission required of her. The only problem was that she had so many missions these days, often at cross purposes. Her challenge here, she had to remind herself, was to steal from Conrad whatever he'd stolen from Midas, find out what else he knew, and then somehow get rid of him in such a way as to satisfy the Alignment and her own conscience.

Keeping her vows of purity, therefore, was the least of her worries.

She eased back on the throttle and put the Otter down into the water. The water was calm and gold in the late-afternoon sun, perfect to land on because of the enclosed nature of the lake. To her starboard, the hills looked like black paper cut out against twilight. Lots of peace and quiet here, she thought, which suited her just fine after the events of recent days and the days to come.

She taxied toward the boathouse in front of the villa. A man stood on the stone jetty with a rope tie. It wasn't Conrad. It was a porter from the villa who came alongside the Otter to tie it down.

She switched off the engine and climbed down to the plane's float. It was definitely more balmy and sensual here than in Paris at this time of year. She steadied herself for a second under the wing while she reached back into the cabin to pull out her little leather backpack. Then she took the extended hand of the young porter, who helped her step onto the jetty.

"Baroness von Berg. The baron is waiting for you."

I'm sure he is, she thought, and nodded with a smile but said nothing as she followed him down the jetty toward the villa. She could see that the Villa Feltrinelli offered everything a couple like her and the baron could want.

She looked out at the lake. If the porter knew who she was, he was saying nothing. That was one thing she had to give Conrad: Even if every member of the staff thought the holy Mother Earth had come for a secret tryst with her lover, and hazarded a guess this was her habit, nobody else would know. As much as she wanted to avoid the appearance of moral failure, this scenario was what it was, and people could think what they wanted.

He led her to the boathouse, which apparently was an even more private suite than those that occupied the main villa. Bravo, Conrad, she thought, and thanked the porter.

"Gianni," he offered helpfully.

She nodded. "Like the legendary soccer player Gianni Rivera?"

"Si!" he said, eyes wide. "I was named after him."

Serena smiled. These days Rivera was a member of the European Parliament for the Uniti nell'Ulivo party. She followed Canadian hockey more closely than European football, but she knew enough about Rivera to know that he'd been the Wayne Gretzky of soccer in his day, able to instinctively know where the ball was going before it went there. It was an ability she had tried to cultivate in her own arena, where religion and politics squared off.