Dan Brown - Origin

The connection was broken.

In the sudden silence, Ávila raised his eyes to the brightest point on the horizon — a hideous cluster of deformed spires ablaze with construction lights.

Sagrada Família , he thought, repulsed by the whimsical silhouette. A shrine to all that is wrong with our faith.

Barcelona’s celebrated church, Ávila believed, was a monument to weakness and moral collapse — a surrender to liberal Catholicism, brazenly twisting and distorting thousands of years of faith into a warped hybrid of nature worship, pseudoscience, and Gnostic heresy.

There are giant lizards crawling up a church of Christ!

The collapse of tradition in the world terrified Ávila, but he felt buoyed by the appearance of a new group of world leaders who apparently shared his fears and were doing whatever it took to restore tradition. Ávila’s own devotion to the Palmarian Church, and especially to Pope Innocent XIV, had given him a new reason to live, helping him see his own tragedy through an entirely new lens.

My wife and child were casualties of war , Ávila thought, a war waged by the forces of evil against God, against tradition. Forgiveness is not the only road to salvation.

Five nights ago, Ávila had been asleep in his modest apartment when he was awoken by the loud ping of an arriving text message on his cell phone. “It’s midnight,” he grumbled, hazily squinting at the screen to find out who had contacted him at this hour.

Número oculto

Ávila rubbed his eyes and read the incoming message.

Compruebe su saldo bancario

Check my bank balance?

Ávila frowned, now suspecting some kind of telemarketing scam. Annoyed, he got out of bed and walked to the kitchen to get a drink of water. As he stood at the sink, he glanced over at his laptop, knowing he would probably not get back to sleep until he took a look.

He logged onto his bank’s website, fully anticipating seeing his usual, pitifully small balance — the remains of his military pension. However, when his account information appeared, he leaped to his feet so suddenly that he knocked over a chair.

But that’s impossible!

He closed his eyes and then looked again. Then he refreshed the screen.

The number remained.

He fumbled with the mouse, scrolling to his account activity, and was stunned to see that an anonymous deposit of a hundred thousand euros had been wired into his account an hour earlier. The source was numbered and untraceable.

Who would do this?!

The sharp buzzing of his cell phone made Ávila’s heart beat faster. He grabbed his phone and looked at his caller ID.

Número oculto

Ávila stared at the phone and then seized it. “ ¿Sí? ”

A soft voice spoke to him in pure Castilian Spanish. “Good evening, Admiral. I trust you have seen the gift we sent you?”

“I... have,” he stammered. “Who are you?”

“You may call me the Regent,” the voice replied. “I represent your brethren, the members of the church that you have faithfully attended for the past two years. Your skills and loyalty have not gone unnoticed, Admiral. We would now like to give you the opportunity to serve a higher purpose. His Holiness has proposed for you a series of missions... tasks sent to you by God.”

Ávila was now fully awake, his palms sweating.

“The money we gave you is an advance on your first mission,” the voice continued. “If you choose to carry out the mission, consider it an opportunity to prove yourself worthy of taking a place within our highest ranks.” He paused. “There exists a powerful hierarchy in our church that is invisible to the world. We believe you would be an asset at the top of our organization.”

Although excited by the prospect of advancement, Ávila felt wary. “What is the mission? And what if I choose not to carry it out?”

“You will not be judged in any way, and you may keep the money in return for your secrecy. Does that sound reasonable?”

“It sounds quite generous.”

“We like you. We want to help you. And out of fairness to you, I want to warn you that the pope’s mission is a difficult one.” He paused. “It may involve violence.”

Ávila’s body went rigid. Violence?

“Admiral, the forces of evil are growing stronger every day. God is at war, and wars entail casualties .”

Ávila flashed on the horror of the bomb that had killed his family. Shivering, he banished the dark memories. “I’m sorry, I don’t know if I can accept a violent mission—”

“The pope handpicked you , Admiral,” the Regent whispered. “The man you will target in this mission... is the man who murdered your family.”

Located on the ground floor of Madrid’s Royal Palace, the armory is an elegantly vaulted chamber whose high crimson walls are adorned with magnificent tapestries depicting famous battles in Spain’s history. Encircling the room is a priceless collection of more than a hundred suits of handcrafted armor, including the battle garb and “tools” of many past kings. Seven life-size horse mannequins stand in the center of the room, posed in full battle gear.

This is where they decide to keep me prisoner? Garza wondered, looking out at the implements of war that surrounded him. Admittedly, the armory was one of the most secure rooms in the palace, but Garza suspected his captors had chosen this elegant holding cell in hopes of intimidating him. This is the very room in which I was hired .

Nearly two decades ago, Garza had been ushered into this imposing chamber, where he had been interviewed, cross-examined, and interrogated before finally being offered the job of head of the Royal Guard.

Now Garza’s own agents had arrested him. I’m being charged with plotting an assassination? And for framing the bishop? The logic behind the allegations was so twisted that Garza couldn’t begin to untangle it.

When it came to the Royal Guard, Garza was the highest-ranking official in the palace, meaning the order to arrest him could have come from only one man... Prince Julián himself.

Valdespino poisoned the prince’s mind against me , Garza realized. The bishop had always been a political survivor, and tonight he was apparently desperate enough to attempt this audacious media stunt — a bold ploy to clear his own reputation by smearing Garza’s. And now they’ve locked me in the armory so I can’t speak for myself.

If Julián and Valdespino had joined forces, Garza knew he was lost, entirely outmaneuvered. At this point, the only person on earth with power enough to help Garza was an old man who was living out his final days in a hospital bed in his private residence at Palacio de la Zarzuela.

The king of Spain.

Then again , Garza realized, the king will never help me if doing so means crossing Bishop Valdespino or his own son.

He could hear the crowds outside chanting louder now, and it sounded like things might take a violent turn. When Garza realized what they were chanting, he couldn’t believe his ears.

“ Where does Spain come from?! ” they shouted. “ Where is Spain going?! ”

The protesters, it appeared, had seized upon Kirsch’s two provocative questions as an opportunity to rant about the political future of Spain’s monarchy.

Where do we come from? Where are we going?

Condemning the oppression of the past, Spain’s younger generation was constantly calling for faster change — urging their country to “join the civilized world” as a full democracy and to abolish its monarchy. France, Germany, Russia, Austria, Poland, and more than fifty other countries had abandoned their crowns in the last century. Even in England there was a push for a referendum on ending the monarchy after the current queen died.