Berry, Steve - the Third Secret

“There’s no evidence that Malachy even experienced visions,” Michener said. “As I recall, that was all added to the story in the late nineteenth century from secondhand sources.”

“Read some of the mottoes,” Ngovi calmly said.

He stared again at the pages in his hand. The eighty-first pope was prophesied to be The Lily and the Rose. Urban VIII, who served at that time, came from Florence, which used the red lily as its symbol. He was also bishop of Spoletto, which took the rose for its symbol. The ninety-fourth pope was said to be A Rose of Umbria. Clement XIII, before becoming pope, was governor of Umbria. Apostolic Wanderer was the predicted motto for the ninety-sixth pope. Pius VI would end his days a wandering prisoner of the French revolutionists. Leo XIII was the 102nd pope. A Light in the Sky was his attributed motto. The papal arms of Leo showed a comet. John XXIII was said to be Shepherd and Sailor. Apt since he defined his pontificate as that of a shepherd and the badge of Vatican II, which he called into session, displayed a cross and a ship. Also, prior to his election, John was patriarch of Venice, an ancient maritime capital.

Michener looked up. “Interesting, but what does this have to do with anything?”

“Clement was the one hundred and eleventh pope. Malachy labeled him From the Glory of the Olive. Do you recall the gospel of Matthew, chapter 24, the signs of the end of the age?”

He did. Jesus left the Temple and was walking away when his disciples complimented the beauty of the building. I tell you the truth, He said. Not one stone here will be left on another; every one will be thrown down. Then later, on the Mount of Olives, the disciples beseeched Him to say when that would happen and what will be the sign of the end of the age.

“Christ foretold the second coming in that passage. But, Maurice, you can’t seriously believe that the end of the age is at hand?”

“Perhaps not something that cataclysmic, but nonetheless a clear ending and a new beginning. Clement was predicted to be the precursor to that event. And there’s more. Of Malachy’s described popes, starting in 1143, the last of his one hundred and twelve is the current pope. Malachy predicted in 1138 that he would be named Petrus Romanus. ”

Peter the Roman.

“But that’s a fallacy,” Michener said. “Some say Malachy never predicted a Peter. Instead, that was added in a nineteenth-century publication of his prophecies.”

“I wish that were true,” Ngovi said as he slipped on a pair of cotton gloves and gently opened the bulky manuscript. The ancient parchment crackled from the effort. “Read this.”

He glanced down at the words, penned in Latin:

In the final persecution of the Holy Roman Church there will reign Peter the Roman who will feed his flock among many tribulations, after which in the seven hilled city the dreadful judge will judge all people.

“Valendrea,” Ngovi said, “took the name Peter on his own accord. Do you see now why I’m so concerned? Those are Wion’s words, supposedly Malachy’s as well, written centuries ago. Who are we to question? Maybe Clement was right. We inquire far too much and do what we please, not what we’re supposed to do.”

“How can you explain,” the cardinal-archivist asked, “that this volume is nearly five hundred years old and these mottoes were attributed to these popes long ago? Ten or twenty being correct is coincidence. Ninety percent is something more, and that’s what we’re talking about. Only around ten percent of the labels seem to have no bearing whatsoever. The vast majority are remarkably accurate. And the final one, Peter, comes exactly at one hundred and twelve. I shuddered when Valendrea took that name.”

A lot was coming fast. First the revelation about Katerina. Now the possibility that the end of the world was at hand. After which in the seven hilled city the dreadful judge will judge all people. Rome had long been labeled the seven hilled city. He looked over at Ngovi. Concern laced the older prelate’s face.

“Colin, you must find Tibor’s reproduced translation. If Valendrea thinks that document is critical, then so should we. You knew Jakob better than anybody. Locate his hiding place.” Ngovi closed the manuscript. “This may be the last day we have access to this archive. A siege mentality is taking hold. Valendrea is purging all dissenters. I wanted you to see this firsthand—to understand the gravity. What the Medjugorje seer wrote is open to debate, but what Sister Lucia penned, and what Father Tibor translated, is quite another.”

“I have no idea where that document might be. I can’t even conceive of how Jakob removed it from the Vatican.”

“I was the only person with the safe’s combination,” the cardinal-archivist said. “And I opened it only for Clement.”

An emptiness swept over him as he thought again of Katerina’s betrayal. Concentrating on something else might help, if only for a short while. “I’ll see what I can do, Maurice. But I don’t even know where to start.”

Ngovi’s face remained solemn. “Colin, I don’t want to dramatize this any more than necessary. But the fate of the Church could well be in your hands.”

FIFTY-SEVEN

3:30 P.M.

Valendrea excused himself from the crowd of well-wishers gathered in the audience hall. The group had traveled from Florence to wish him well, and before leaving he assured them all that his first trip beyond the Vatican would be to Tuscany.

Ambrosi was waiting for him on the fourth floor. His secretary had left the audience chamber half an hour ago and he was curious why.

“Holy Father,” Ambrosi said. “Michener met with Ngovi and the cardinal-archivist after he left you.”

He now understood the urgency. “What was said?”

“It was behind closed doors in one of the reading rooms. The priest I have in the archives could learn nothing except they had an ancient volume with them, one that ordinarily only the archivist may handle.”

“Which one?”

“Lignum Vitae.”

“Malachy’s prophecies? You’ve got to be kidding. That’s nonsense. Still, it’s a shame we don’t know what was said.”

“I’m in the process of reinstalling the listening devices. But it will take time.”

“When is Ngovi scheduled to leave?”

“His office is already cleared. I’ve been told he departs for Africa in a few days. For now, he’s still in his apartment.”

And still camerlengo. Valendrea had yet to decide on a replacement, debating among three cardinals who hadn’t wavered in their conclave support.

“I’ve been thinking about Clement’s personal effects. Tibor’s facsimile has to be among them. Clement could expect no one but Michener to go through his things.”

“What are you saying, Holy Father?”

“I don’t think Michener will bring us anything. He despises us. No, he’ll give it to Ngovi. And I can’t let that happen.”

He watched Ambrosi for a reaction and his old friend did not disappoint him. “You want to act first?” his secretary asked.

“We need to demonstrate to Michener how serious we are. But not you this time, Paolo. Call our friends and enlist their aid.”

Michener entered the apartment he’d been using since Clement’s death. He’d walked the streets of Rome the past couple of hours. His head started hurting half an hour ago, one of the headaches the Bosnian doctor warned would reoccur, so he went straight to the bathroom and downed two aspirin. The doctor had also told him to have a complete physical once back in Rome, but there was no time for that right now.