“It would be a masterful showing of goodwill between the religions,” he said. “Perhaps this is the beginning of true healing.”
“The imam bears no ill will.”
The pontiff thought this over. “Of course we’ll have to open the Ark,” he said. “At least to make sure that it bears nothing of ill intent — germ, biological, radioactive, everything needs to be thoroughly examined.”
“We have scholars, scientists and historians waiting in the wings,” Auciello told him.
“Then make it happen,” he said firmly. “I’ll contact Kimball and advise him to set up an elite security line surrounding the dignitaries. In the meantime, contact the imam and set up delivery in Rome per my instructions. The Ark will be sent to the lab and examined in a controlled environment to ensure that it’s sanitized. It should take about a week. During that time I want the bishops of the Holy See to extend a hand to all clerics of the Islamic, Hebrew and Catholic faiths. And to formerly invite all the political principals willing to attend the Ark’s revealing. Such a promotion between the denominations will only serve as a message that the religions may not be so different after all.”
After Father Auciello left the pontiff’s chamber, Bonasero sat alone, musing over the fact that everything looked fine on the surface but not so in his heart. True, the imam was a man of devout faith whose conviction was geared toward sanctity and peace. But on the flip side Bonasero referred to his instincts, sensing something slightly amiss, an inborn caution.
Though the display of the Ark was too good to pass up, Bonasero would maintain prudence by having it thoroughly examined, at least giving him some control over its introduction. He would then request that the Ark be sealed and placed within a controlled environment prior to transport, and then sequestered upon its arrival in Rome where it would be scientifically examined.
Being in such an advantageous position, Bonasero Vessucci saw the glory of the Summit. But he also saw a side that could become the critical mass of pure darkness in which the intentional good behind the unveiling held nothing but the absence of light.
Picking up the phone, Pope Pius called Kimball Hayden.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Upon the clandestine arrival of the Ark in Rome by way of Jordan, a massive security detail made up of the Italian Polizia Municipale and Vatican Security — who in essence were Vatican Knights in security dress — arrived with a hermetically sealed container. The crate was boarded up so that the Polizia Municipale could not see the relic within. They only knew that the item was to be guarded during its transport to the Micron Environmental Laboratory in Rome, where it was to undergo the most advanced technological examination.
The Micron Laboratory was basically a building that was glass central with concrete walkways and manicured landscaping. In the lower tiers below ground, laboratories with state-of-the-art equipment filled a particular chamber where the platform rose approximately a foot off the floor. The surface of the platform was entirely constructed of solid glass that served as the lens of an x-ray machine. Its purpose was to scan the entire object from underneath. There were also diagnostic imaging machines with robotic arms that moved swiftly from one spot to another on command, snapping photos as it circled the Ark. Imaging scanners were used, emitting doses of radiation to clarify certain aspects of the artifact. Viral scans, infrared technology, and bio checks looking for biochemical fingerprints were also utilized. Geiger counters measuring radioactive traces other than the doses proffered by the imaging scanners were sought for. Swabs of the Ark’s shell were taken, looking for biological or chemical attachments.
Over the past few days tests were conducted repeatedly in search of anomalous readings. But the findings were consistent and nothing out of the ordinary was found.
The Ark was completely sanitized.
The only anomaly, at least according to scripture, was that the Ark appeared to contain the tablets of the Ten Commandments and nothing more. Missing was the staff of Aaron and the golden bowl of manna.
After the fifth day of continuous testing with negative results, the Vatican was informed of its findings.
Bonasero Vessucci had set his reservations aside and invited the Ark to be transported to the Basilica, where it would be held in display behind cordoned-off partitions until its unveiling before the congregation of VIP’s in front of the Papal Altar.
On the sixth day it was crated and transported to the Basilica, where it was placed in the Cathedra Petri behind partitioned walls. The security was immense.
Inside the Cathedra Petri, Bonasero stood before the Ark in paralytic awe, realizing that what he felt was novel. The Ark held something wonderfully golden in its existence, something tangible and intangible at the same time. It was the feeling of true serenity, the feeling of seeing the advent of His true Light. In homage he placed his hands on the Ark and closed his eyes, almost expecting to see or feel something spectacular.
Kimball stood behind him, watching, seeing the Ark as nothing but a container encrusted with gold.
“Isn’t it wonderful, Kimball? Can you feel it?”
“Feel what?”
Bonasero stood back with eyes filled with adoration. “It’s realness,” he said. Kimball laid a hand on the Ark, but couldn’t sense or feel what it was that Bonasero was experiencing. “Uh, well, not really,” he said.
Bonasero smiled. In his heart he knew it to be real. And for his hands to touch the Ark, he considered, was a gift from God.
“Tomorrow,” said Bonasero, “world dignitaries will arrive. Are we prepared to ensure their safety for the unveiling on the day after?”
Kimball nodded. “The Polizia Municipale will be posted at the outskirts of Vatican City,” he told him. “The Swiss Guard will be positioned at all entrances, and Vatican Security will float around the city in plain clothes looking for anyone on the grid who may appear suspicious. The Vatican Knights will remain ready to be dispatched to problem spots, should they arise.”
Bonasero nodded.
Everything appeared to be in place.
The very moment Kimball and Bonasero Vessucci stood inside the Papal Altar and the Baldacchino, Sayyid and his team entered Rome and took residence in one of the hotels. The four men shared a two-bedroom suite that overlooked the ruins of Augustus’s palace.
Sayyid sat on the balcony, a beautiful day with a clear blue sky, his laptop on the table before him, tapping away. He pulled up the rune-like encryptions, deciphered the instructions, and committed them to memory. Without running the actual program, he used the instructions to run facsimiles and engaged in false scenarios that enabled the bots to initiate. He did this several times until the process became habit, his fingers and mind exercising the procedure so that the real program could be set off through muscle and finger memory within seconds. It was like a pianist perfecting the craft of learning a musical score until every chord was perfected.
After painstaking hours, after the once blue sky began to evolve into sunset blends of reds and yellows and oranges, he closed the lid.
He was ready.
And in less than twenty-four hours he and his team would be in Paradise while the infidels burned in the pits of Hell.
Allahu Akbar!
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Sayyid left the hotel with two of his guards and the laptop, which always seemed affixed to his hand, and headed to a café less than a quarter of a mile from their stay. They maintained an upbeat tempo, their voyage to Allah getting closer with every passing moment, which caught the attention of two Polizia Municipale, who were informed to profile anyone of Mid-East origin within earshot of the Vatican.