Sean Chercover - The Trinity Game

Conrad hung up, put the cell phone on the bar, and picked up his drink, overwhelmed by a bone-deep sadness. The girl in Nigeria would now be remembered as a miracle and no longer needed the Vatican’s official stamp. Daniel wouldn’t certify her, so she had to die. Regrettable, but necessary.

No, it was much worse than regrettable, it was horrible, it was monstrous.

But still necessary.

And Conrad might very well go to hell for it, among other things. But the world was at war, with the fate of humanity quite literally hanging in the balance. And war makes monsters, even on God’s side. So he made that choice, a long time ago. To become a monster, to willingly sacrifice himself to hell, in order to win the war for God. People like Nick and Daniel would never understand. They’d only thank him when the war was won.

And Conrad believed that, when his time came, God might give him a dispensation for his service to the cause.

He had to believe that.

Anyway, the girl’s death was having the desired effect, slowing the tide, buying time for the council to move their tin soldiers and weapons to where they were needed, and the Nigerian oil would keep flowing. For now.

And Conrad couldn’t afford to think about it—he had more pressing concerns. Ever since the Trinity Anomaly broke public, he’d been expecting the Fleur-de-Lis Foundation to rear its hypocritical head, and he’d gotten confirmation last night from a council operative in New York City. A one-line e-mail that read: Carter Ames leaving on foundation jet. Destination: Atlanta.

The director’s words echoed in Conrad’s ears. Carter Ames is the most dangerous man you will ever meet. The director was not given to hyperbole, and Conrad would be careful not to underestimate Ames. But the challenge sent a thrill through him just the same.

Conrad’s phone buzzed, this time with the text message he’d been anticipating:

ELEVATOR ACCESS CODE—018992

He paid the bill and headed for the lobby.

There was an envelope waiting for Daniel at the Westin’s front desk when he returned. No wax seal, but the stationery was every bit as fine quality as any used in the Vatican. Cream colored, 100 percent cotton, heavy stock, and it took fountain pen ink without a trace of feathering. A broad and flexible nib had laid down the emerald-green ink. The script told of a masculine hand, properly trained in penmanship. Boarding school educated, perhaps. The note said:

Daniel:

The Vatican’s response, while unfortunate, was expected. We are heartened that your loyalty is to the truth. You have chosen well; Trinity is the path.

Walk the path, find the truth.

But beware: There are thieves in the temple and mortal danger lurks nearby.

Be very careful whom you trust.

—PapaLegba

Whoever he was, PapaLegba certainly had flair. Daniel put the note away and returned to Trinity’s hotel suite. This time he drank his uncle’s bourbon.

“First, some ground rules,” he said, counting them off on his fingers, “One: I don’t work for you, so don’t treat me like an employee, and I don’t follow you, so don’t treat me like one of your flock.”

“Agreed.”

“Two: Don’t ever lie to me.”

Trinity raised his oath hand. “I swear. I want your help, lying wouldn’t serve—”

“Three: You stand in front of those cameras tomorrow, and the first thing you do is tell the world that you are not the Messiah.”

“With pleasure. I ain’t applying for that job.”

“OK. But what I told you before still stands. If this all turns out to be some massive con, I will make it my mission in life to ruin the rest of yours. I will expose you, with the whole world watching.”

Trinity reached forward and clinked his glass against Daniel’s. “I’ll hold you to that.” He drank the bourbon down in one gulp and refilled his glass. “Look, I understand you still suspect a grift…” He shrugged. “How could you think otherwise? But when that oil refinery blew, part of me died… I’m not lying to you. I believe in God, and this is no con.”

“Then you better tell me what you and God are planning.”

“Well, now you’ve pierced the heart of it.” Trinity’s hand shook a little as he sipped his drink. “I don’t have a clue what God is planning. He don’t tell me a goddamn thing.”

“He told you He wanted me at your right hand.”

“Danny. This thing didn’t come with an instruction manual. I’m fumbling around in the dark here. Help me.”

Daniel stepped back, rocked by the sudden and certain knowledge that there was no con, that it was all true…and by the responsibility it imposed…and by the enormity of what they didn’t know.

He sat on the nearest chair, drank the bourbon.

Trinity’s smile contained no humor. “ Now you seein’ what I see. Welcome to my hell.”

OK, all right, no panic. Use the brain God gave you, figure it out…

Daniel took a deep breath. “All right, let’s start with what we know. You’ve been given the gift of prophecy—”

“That’s a stretch,” said Trinity. “It just spews out of me at random, and I don’t even know what I’m saying when I’m saying it.”

“Maybe God doesn’t trust you with it yet, but it’s still prophecy. What else do we know?”

“We know it comes with money and power,” said Trinity.

Daniel made a face. “Do you ever think of anything else?”

“No, you’re not hearing me. It’s not about my desires. I already had plenty of money, but now I got money simple . That may be part of God’s plan, I don’t know, but we can’t ignore it. He musta known the dough would pour in when this went public. And the sermon tomorrow? Half a billion people might hear it, or read it in the paper. That’s power. And it petrifies me.”

“Yeah…we can’t let fear paralyze us. What else do we know? We know—”

“Holy crap!” Trinity shouted.

“What?”

“I got it! I got it!” Bouncing on the balls of his feet, like an excited kid. “The answer’s right there in scripture, son. Do not worry beforehand about what you are to say; but say whatever is given you at the time, for it is not you who speak, but the Holy Spirit.”

“You’re just gonna wing it? That’s your plan?”

“Oh ye of little faith,” said Trinity. “I’m gonna stand up there on that stage, look into the camera, open my mouth wide, and invite God to talk.”

“A minute ago, you were petrified.”

Trinity swallowed the rest of his drink. “Still am. But I’m choosing to put my trust in the Big Guy. Otherwise, why bother getting up there at all?”

Daniel thought about it a long time, saying nothing, not quite successfully avoiding the thought that Tim Trinity’s faith was stronger than his own. He nodded, put down the glass.

“OK, Tim. We’ll leave it up to God. Get some sleep, we’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

As Daniel slipped the card key into the door, he felt the full weight of the last twenty-four hours. God, he was tired. He figured to be asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

He opened the door, stepped inside, flipped on the lights.

His carry-on bag was sitting open on the dresser. He’d left it closed, on the chair.

He crossed to the dresser and looked in the bag. The case file was gone. He ripped open the dresser’s top drawer. His laptop computer, also stolen. He walked to the closet, pulled the extra pillow off the shelf. The digital camera had been snatched as well.