Savage knew he was right — that such an event could promote further actions as long as they were tagged as justifiable. The easiest thing for any man to do is to justify any action, no matter how heinous the act may be.
“We are bound, nonetheless,” he said finally. “Pope Leo was evasive. But I could clearly see in his face that this decision racked him as well.”
Leviticus crossed his arms across his chest. “Pope Leo has always been a good man,” he said. “To make such a call is unlike him.”
“I believe that Leo thinks that the discovery of Eden holds something dark and dangerous about it, something that could hurt the Church.”
Leviticus shook his head. “Can’t do it, John,” he said. “You know my team lives by the credo: Loyalty above all else, except Honor.”
Savage nodded.
“She’s an innocent woman who doesn’t deserve this. I — my team — will not target her.”
“Then you will have to explain this to the pontiff.”
“I’ll have no problem with that.”
There was a pregnant pause between them, both men unwilling to relinquish their steely gaze.
Then Leviticus relaxed by lowering his arms. “Look, John, you’re my friend. But this is your problem. Now I know you have combat skills rivaled by few, but this is a matter you may have to perform on your own if you choose to do so. But if you do, then do a little soul searching and ask yourself what’s more important: Duty to Pope Leo or duty to yourself. This isn’t the Crusades where we promote Catholicism by the sword. This is the time to uphold and value our honor and the honor of the Church, no matter who holds the scepter of rule.”
Savage just looked at him. Leviticus stared back.
Although he was SIV and Leviticus a soldier, in his heart he was also a warrior. For more than ten years, he had served as the head of an elite navy SEAL team. On several occasions, he and his team had been sent on covert missions performing the “impossible,” with every member of the team believing that the word “impossible” didn’t mean that something could not be done; it only measured the degree of difficulty.
And his unit met that high level of difficulty time and again, and always came away victors.
“My duty is to the Pope,” he said, but there was little conviction in his tone.
As a SEAL, he was forged to act without question, it was ingrained in him. But the moment he retired from the SEAL team, he had set off to Italy where the Vatican chose wisely in its decision to have him direct the Servizio Informazione del Vaticano. But he could not deny that he missed the feel of a gun in his hands or the flow of adrenaline coursing through his veins.
“Then follow whatever your conscience tells you to,” said Leviticus. “Mine is clear.” Without saying goodbye, Leviticus turned and left Savage standing alone by the stand of flowers next to the Old Gardens. And there he stood vacillating between duty and honor, wondering if both were equal or separate.
“Leviticus is a good man,” Pope Leo told Savage. They were standing on the balcony of the Papal Chamber that overlooked St. Peter’s Square. In view were the Colonnades and the Obelisk, and a perfect sky that was uniformly blue. “But there is much that Leviticus does not know,” he finished.
“Yet you ask him to commit murder.”
The pontiff reached out and placed a gentle hand on Savage’s forearm. “What I ask I do so with much heaviness in my heart,” he said. “Believe me, John, when I say that I agonize over this ruling. But sometimes harsh decisions must be made in order to preserve the integrity of the Church.”
“And Eden poses such a threat?”
“It may. But it’s something I can’t afford to risk.”
“But you’ve never said why.”
Leo released him and looked out over the square, at the throngs of people milling about. “There’s an ancient scroll,” he said, “that’s in the possession of the Vatican. It spells out in detail the location of Eden… as well as what’s inside.”
The pontiff offered nothing more so Savage pressed him. “And?”
Pope Leo lowered his head. “All I can tell you, John, is that it’s a place where science and religion meet,” he said. “Nothing, not even this place—” He cast a hand outward to indicate the city “—may be as it seems. Not even us, for that matter.”
Savage looked at him questioningly. The man was talking in circles. “I don’t understand.”
“John, I’m being cryptic for a reason. The secret of Eden is entrusted to the reigning pope, and is subsequently passed down to the successor. So I ask you to respect that. I’m also asking you to take that leap of faith and do for me what Leviticus refuses to do. I need you to preserve the interest of the Church.”
Savage worked the muscles in his jaw.
“The scroll demands it,” said Leo, building on his goading. “It’s been ordained.”
“By whom?”
Leo didn’t answer. At least not right away. And when he did speak, it was only in the form of a question. “Will you do this, John? Will you find the girl?”
Savage gave the pontiff a sidelong glance and then, for some reason, he raised his hand and flexed his fingers, opening and closing his hand in and out of a fist, wondering what it was like to once again hold the weight of a firearm.
“Find the girl,” said the pontiff, “before she finds Eden.”
“And if she should find it before I find her?”
“Then destroy it,” he said. “Destroy it so that it can never be found again.”
Without anything further, Pope Leo turned and walked away, leaving John Savage alone on the balcony beneath a beautiful blue sky.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Obsidian Hall was back on board the Seafarer, sitting in the antiquities room that overlooked one of the yacht’s three pools. He was surrounded by priceless goods such as jade vases and glass skulls bearing the mystiques of supernatural histories. On the walls were stolen pieces by van Gogh and Rembrandt, the “Poppy Flowers” and “The Storm on the Sea of Galilee,” respectively, and worth more than one hundred and fifty million dollars combined.
“Mr. Montario was the last,” he said into his Bluetooth. He sat in a chair on the upper deck that overlooked two bull sharks circling each other in the pool. “Now that Professor Moore’s entire team is gone, that leaves Ms. Moore as the only person who has the ability to translate this book,” he added, holding the small journal up in front of him.
“You didn’t have to kill him,” said the voice coming over the sound speaker.
“I gave him every opportunity to comply.”
“You would have killed him anyway.”
“Most likely, yes. It’s obvious the Turkish government knows nothing of the location of Eden. And now that Mr. Montario has been liquidated, that leaves me with the high probability that I possess the coordinates somewhere within the encrypted pages of the journal I now hold in my hand. I have thereby taken the liberty to scan the pages and will summarily forward them to you. You will then proffer them to Ms. Moore and mine her for information.”
“After what you did to Mr. Montario, I no longer wish to be in league with you.”
Obsidian traced his fingers over the curvature of a crystal skull that had been misappropriated from a Columbian museum, and was reputed to possess spiritual and mystic powers. Never once did he take his eyes off the sharks. “Do you know what I’m doing right now?”
“No.”
“I’m watching a pair of bull sharks circle inside my pool,” he said smoothly. “If you ever feel that you’re in charge of anything I’m involved with, financially or otherwise, then I will personally oversee the effort to have you brought here to join them. Is that clear?”
When the caller didn’t answer, Obsidian repeated himself more emphatically. “I said, is that clear?”