Callahan rose from behind the desk. “You talk about service to God? You’ve ordered the assassinations of world leaders, potentially destabilizing entire regions. Is that how you demonstrate your faith?”
“The Kingdom of God must be defended at all costs. And unfortunately, our friend Mr. Wolf still holds onto the myth that Himmler programmed within his twisted heart. The legend of the so-called Holy Ossuary.”
Carver leaned across the desk, his face only 12 inches from Lang’s. “The blood trail leads to you. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you here where you sit.”
“Here in Vatican City? I doubt this is the type of international incident the American government is prepared to explain.”
Carver’s answer came without hesitation. “My status is deniable. The White House won’t be on the hook for your death. I will. And that’s just fine by me.”
“My death would not solve your problem, which, as you stated, is to eliminate the threat. My mission is merely to ensure the preservation of the Church and the righteous path of its believers.”
The American straightened up. “And how is it that killing Senator Preston preserved the church?”
“Let me relate this to you in terms that an American can understand. In Texas, there are ranches where hunters pay top dollar to kill the dama gazelle. This is animal that is nearly extinct in Africa, yet paradoxically, flourishes in Texas. On the surface, it is oxymoronic to kill an animal in order to save it. It is about as sensible as building nuclear stockpiles to achieve peace. And yet both tactics, while counterintuitive, are equally effective. In Africa, the animals were nearly hunted into oblivion. But the Texans are very smart. They understand that the game must be managed. The money paid by the hunters to kill only a few gazelles is used to save the entire species. And by doing this, they can restore balance to the ecosystem worldwide.”
“You’re not hunting game. You’re hunting people.”
“Even so, the parallels hold true. Our battle is also one of sustainability and spiritual balance. Good versus evil. God versus the devil. Do you have any idea what would happen if people stopped believing in the resurrection of the flesh? If they thought that the church had deceived them for two thousand years? The world would lose its moral compass. Fear of God, along with the promise of heaven, is a major deterrent to sin.”
Carver leaned forward. “You say this whole thing is a myth. But you wouldn’t risk instigating a worldwide holy war for just any old box of bones.”
Lang checked his watch. “We are running out of time. Not just me, Agent Carver. All of us.”
“Then tell me what this is all about.”
“The knowledge you seek has been shared by only a handful of people over the past 2,000 years.”
“You’ve got exactly one minute to give me the abridged version.”
Senate Offices
Washington D.C.
A lone staffer was boxing up the last of the late Senator Preston’s files when Hank Bowers arrived. The FBI section chief was bundled up in a heavy coat. A cold front had descended on Washington, complete with sleet and high winds. He slid his gloves off, pulled out his ID and held it out for the tall, thin kid to inspect.
“It’s Mason, right?”
Mason Fielding nodded reluctantly. “Look, I already talked to the FBI. That was the day after the fire. I think my statement is on file, if you’d like to check.”
There was no need. Bowers had already been through it countless times. The Bureau had dispatched a shadow team right after Mary Borst had disappeared. Although they had been kept in the dark from the Senator’s true cause of death, they had still managed to collect a treasure trove of information about Mary.
Bowers took off his coat and sat down at one of several empty desks, indicating his intention to stay a while. The office was a ghost town, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. The governor of Texas had appointed a successor who was said to be en route to Washington.
He looked up at a UT Austin poster on the wall. “Hook ‘em, Horns!”
“Did you and the senator go to school together?”
Bowers held his right hand out, using his thumb to point at his TKE ring. “Same fraternity.
“Ah.”
“So you’re the last man standing, huh?”
Fielding sat opposite, his arms folded across his chest. “Guess so. It’s a little like digging a grave, to be honest.”
“It was a terrible tragedy.”
“I mean my grave, not the senator’s. After I finish packing this place up, I’m out of a job.”
“You ever consider a career in intelligence?” Bowers put two fingers into his jacket pocket, slid out a business card, and pushed it across the table. “We hire a new wave of recruits every year. Call me tomorrow. I might be able to put in a word.”
Fielding picked up Bowers’ card and examined it closely before sliding it into his front shirt pocket. A small spark of hope glimmered in his eyes. “How can I help?”
“I’m here about Mary Borst.”
The staffer nodded. “I heard a rumor that she was killed in the fire. Then I heard maybe she was missing.”
With all the collateral damage in recent days, Bowers had very little time to focus on the fire itself. There was no doubt in Bowers’ mind that Borst had actually started it. But her motive was still a mystery to him.
Given the similar ways that Vera Borst and Preston had been butchered, it now seemed unlikely that Mary had started the fire to disrupt the investigation into the senator’s killers. It was more likely that she feared something in the senator’s home would lead them to the Fellowship and its activities.
“Have any thoughts since then?” Bowers asked.
Fielding shook his head. “I saw that story about her Mom in the news. None of us know what to think.”
Bowers believed him. He had been personally monitoring Borst’s mobile account since the night of the senator’s death. Mason had texted her a few times and called. He truly seemed to have no idea where Mary was.
“Did Mary or the senator ever mention something called the Fellowship World Initiative?”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“I understand you and Mary were involved,” Bowers continued. Another fact he had drummed up by sifting through Borst’s vast stores of personal communications. From what he could deduce, Mason and Mary had been more than coworkers for a period of weeks or months. “You sure she never mentioned the Fellowship?”
Fielding’s face turned red. “I can’t be absolutely sure, but I don’t remember it.”
“How long were you together?”
“Six months or so. The senator didn’t like relationships among his staff, so we tried to keep it quiet.”
“You’re what, 27?”
“Yes.”
“Did you and Mary ever talk about the future?”
“Yeah, but I eventually realized it wasn’t going to work out long-term.”
“What led you to that conclusion?”
Fielding got up and shut the office door, then returned to his seat. “There was nothing there physically. I kept expecting it to, but it didn’t pan out.”
“You mean sexually.”
“Yes. At first, I thought maybe it was because she was really religious or something, but she never talked about that. After a while, I figured out that she was seeing someone on the side.”
“And what led you to that conclusion?”
“At first she disappeared a lot. Never wanted to tell me where she was, or who she was with.”
“And then?”
“One night I asked her, just hypothetically, if she wanted children. She said she was going to have one child. A boy. One. Boy.”
“She was that exact?”
“Yeah, it was weird. Usually, women just say they want children or they don’t. She had the whole plan in place.“
Bowers scribbled in his notebook. “What exactly did she say?”
“She said she was going to conceive in Rome, but the kid would be born in America.”