The omega factor, p.31
The Omega Factor, page 31
“There will be no more attacks,” he said. “Is that clear?”
No one said a word.
“You will bow to the will of your archbishop, who is here, and His Holiness, of whom I am the duly appointed representative.”
Haffner stood. “And the Dominicans with guns? Who have they come for?”
“They’re here to ensure your compliance,” he said.
“With what?” the abbess asked.
“Revealing the location of the Chapel of the Maiden.”
Ω
Nick heard a shot.
He and Labelle were still outside, approaching the building, noticing that all of the windows were protected by filigreed iron grilles. No way to get through any of them. The sound of gunfire made it even more imperative that they find a way inside. The place seemed a mishmash of randomness. A wing here. A tower there. Annexes of differing styles. Lots of blue-gray limestone and a mantle of ivy beneath a slate roof defined by crenellated gables.
They rounded a corner and headed toward the rear.
The whole structure sat at the edge of a promontory, nothing but open air on the other side. They passed a small enclosure that held some wrought-iron tables and a few concrete chess pedestals flanked by wooden benches. Farther on they found a flight of stone stairs, built out from the wall and protected by a slender wrought-iron rail, that led up to a door.
Unlocked.
Finally.
A break.
A long barren corridor stretched ahead studded with more doors, not unlike the one from the convent in Ghent. Only difference, the ones here were all closed.
They hustled ahead.
Ω
Vilamur was becoming progressively more uncomfortable. Fuentes had brought him along to gain entry. That had been accomplished. So why was he staying? These men were on a mission that certainly did not concern him any longer. And the guns? Then the battery on the maiden.
This was too much.
He was a metropolitan archbishop of the Roman Catholic Church. True, he had a problem. But that had been cured last night, no danger of any of it resurfacing as it would implicate not only him, but Fuentes and the Dominicans as well. Bernat de Foix was gone. All of the incriminating evidence was gone. True, his mistakes had compromised his reputation, credibility, achievements, even his probity, but not his title. He was the archbishop of this diocese, usually residing high above the world, free from worry, wrinkles, and harm. But he could not escape, or disguise, the leaden grooves which his thoughts had found and from which they could not free themselves. This was bad. And going to get worse. So he made a decision, then silently cleared his throat and drew saliva to the top of his mouth so that a cracked voice would not betray his anxiety when he spoke.
“I’m leaving,” he said, his manner businesslike.
Fuentes turned to face him. “I did not dismiss you.”
“Forgive me, Eminence, but I don’t require your permission.”
Ω
Fuentes assessed the situation.
Vilamur was challenging him in front of the maidens.
Not the best time.
Bishops could be that way. Within their diocese they were more powerful than a pope. They were the absolute rulers. Cardinals, not even those within the Curia, could not overrule them without consequences. This archbishop seemed different. He wanted to be a cardinal, and to do that he had to curry favor with those who could make that possible. But for some odd reason Vilamur was willing to throw that away.
Or was he?
He’d always judged people by gauging what they wanted in life. And this man definitely wanted more than he presently enjoyed. Of course, the blackmail on Vilamur cut both ways. God knows enough had happened that could be classified as out of the ordinary. No danger of the maidens lodging any complaints. But Vilamur? Possible. So why fight him? Not now anyway. That could always be done later.
“Of course, Archbishop, you don’t require my permission,” he said.
“You can handle whatever remains of this on your own. It does not need my presence.” Vilamur faced the abbess. “Please know that I am bowing to the wishes of the Vatican here. This is a matter between you and Rome. It is a private affair that does not concern me.”
“And yet you are here.”
“Yes, abbess. I am. But now I leave this to you.” Vilamur bowed to the older woman then turned and said, “Good day, Eminence.”
And he left through the main doors.
Ω
Nick and Labelle headed down the corridor. They were toward the far end of the rambling building. The main entrance was more to the center, so he turned at a junction and headed that way, past a line of more closed doors. He assumed all hands were on deck dealing with the intruders, so no danger of encountering anyone. But, if so, they were all on the same team this time.
Right?
Voices.
He stopped. Labelle did too.
The sound was coming up through the open staircase ahead. Leading higher up were more narrow stairs, to probably where the archer had been stationed. He motioned and they retreated back, away from the stairs, stopping beside one of the outer windows.
Heavy doors opened and closed below.
They both stared out the window.
The archbishop was walking away from the building. He looked at Labelle, who pointed at his chest then down at Vilamur.
He understood.
Labelle turned, but he grabbed the younger man’s arm and mouthed good luck. Labelle nodded, then hurried off the way they came.
Nick turned his attention back to the staircase.
Chapter 65
Kelsey had taken a chance rushing to Sister Claire’s aid. But she’d never firsthand witnessed such heartless physical violence, and it was her duty to help those in trouble. The blow had been sudden and vicious and Claire seemed dazed.
“Are you okay?” she asked, crouching down beside her.
Claire nodded.
Kelsey stood. “You’re a cardinal of the church. These are nuns.”
“Get out of the way,” Fuentes said to her, his voice lashing across the room with an iced menace.
Her resolve strengthened and she did not move.
“Now,” Fuentes yelled, his face a mask of rage.
“Does it make you feel important to strike her?” she asked him. “To put a gun to my head?” She’d always been the one who’d plunged headfirst into things, no sense stopping now. So she checked the fear that threatened to swallow her and said, “What are you going to do? Shoot me? Shoot all of us?”
Fuentes raised the gun and motioned with it. “Not at the moment. But the situation is fluid, so who knows what I might do a few minutes from now.”
“Are you truly here, Cardinal Fuentes,” the abbess said, “on authority of the pope? Or is this a more…personal quest?”
“Does it matter? I’m here. You’re here. And we have things to discuss. Where are the rest of the maidens?”
“In the chapter room. I assumed you would want to speak to us all.”
“You assumed correctly. Please, lead the way.”
Ω
Nick listened from the top of the stairs.
What the hell was Kelsey doing challenging that man, Cardinal Fuentes? Apparently, the Vatican was now involved with the Dominicans. Kelsey was headstrong as hell, but these men had come on a mission, and there was no reason to push the envelope. He heard everyone moving, heading off below to his left. Before him a corridor extended twenty feet or so to an open doorway in the same direction.
He edged that way.
The floor beneath him was polished pine planks atop stone. Solid. Not a sound betrayed his steps. At the open doorway he stopped and saw that he was on the upper level of the chapter room, small, not unlike the one in Ghent, only this one had a large barrel-vaulted ceiling and an upper gallery that wrapped on three sides, the fourth broken by windows with deep reveals high on the outer wall. He stood back, out of sight, and watched as the group from below joined the maidens already there. His thoughts were paralyzed with apprehension, so he dropped all speculation, tried to suppress his emotions and stop his mind from questioning.
But there was no denying.
Everything had changed with Kelsey here.
Ω
Claire reached up and gently caressed the gash to her cheek. It and her jaw hurt. Never had she taken a blow like that before. But she’d accepted the attack without rebuke. Retaliation would have accomplished nothing. Thankfully, the other maidens had practiced a similar restraint. She felt the power and threat that surrounded her, but was not afraid.
Not in the least.
She stepped into the chapter room and walked to its center. The other maidens were already seated on benches at the tables. The five from the cemetery, and the two Dominicans with guns, joined her among the others. Only their footfalls detonated across the deep silence. Her heart pounded with a heavy throbbing that seemed to beat through the center of her wounded face. Fuentes kept Sister Deal close. The room loomed like a mausoleum, illuminated only by shafts of weak sunlight filtered in through the high mullioned windows.
“I’ve come for the Chapel of the Maiden,” Fuentes said. “Who among the legendary Vautours will tell me where it is?”
No one spoke.
The cardinal seemed pleased with himself. “I repeat my question. Who will tell me the location of the chapel?”
The knot of women continued to cling together in silence.
“All right,” Fuentes said. “You give me no choice.”
He motioned and Friar Dwight grabbed one of the maidens from the cemetery by the shoulder, forcing her to her knees, the barrel of his gun pushed into the soft flesh below the ear.
The hammer clicked into place.
“If I do not have an immediate answer to my question,” Fuentes said, “he will shoot her.”
Ω
Nick could hear and see what was happening below. He’d dropped down, lying prone on the wood floor, back from the iron railing that guarded the gallery’s outer edge. He did not want to reveal his presence. But Fuentes’s move on the maiden had changed his thinking. He’d assessed the situation, and was about to vault the rail, when he noticed Sister Ellen, the one he’d taken down in Ghent. She sat across the hall at one of the tables with an angle to spy up to the gallery. She seemed to be the only one not focused on the men in the room.
Their gazes locked.
And he immediately noticed the tiny shake in her head. He pointed to himself, then down. She shook her head again. He got the message. Don’t do it. He decided to trust her judgment, though the situation with the gun below urged otherwise. Every fiber in his being told him to react and he debated ignoring her warning.
But he stayed still.
“Maidens,” Fuentes said. “To your credit, you have managed to remain hidden for a long time. You’ve eluded Rome for centuries. But that all ends today.”
The declaration was firm, direct, and without any equivocation.
“What will you do?” the abbess asked. “Kill her, then us all?”
Fuentes motioned and the gun was withdrawn from the woman’s neck, the hammer replaced. The maiden scurried away from Friar Dwight, clearly shaken. “No, abbess, I will not harm anyone. But I will have this order dissolved and every woman here removed to another convent. Then I will dismantle this building, stone by stone, and search every millimeter of it and the land around it with the best scientific equipment, until I find what we both know is here.”
No one said a word.
“That I will do,” Fuentes said. “And with Rome’s backing. Surely you realize that we are but the advance guard. More Dominicans are on the way.”
Silence continued to reign.
No one moved.
“I’ll tell you,” one of the maidens finally said.
“No. Don’t,” another voiced.
“I’ll tell you as well,” another added.
More voices joined in urging them not to speak.
“Silence.”
Sister Claire. Her voice loud and firm.
“None of you will say a word. Instead, I will lead them to the Chapel of the Maiden.”
Chapter 66
Vilamur passed through the main gate and kept walking down the road between rows of trees, sunlight spearing the ground from openings in the leafy canopy. Certainly, it was much easier going down this switchback than coming up. So many thoughts tumbled around inside his head. Mainly, bad. And under all that troubling debris, he was concerned about what came next. He’d challenged Fuentes and there’d surely be repercussions. A man like that would not take a public rejection lightly, especially when he’d come to France bearing gifts. But he’d deal with all that later. The fact remained that Fuentes needed him. His was an easy vote for the conclave. Bought and paid for. One more in the yes column. And he was counting on Fuentes to place his needs above all else.
He kept moving.
Away.
Nothing good was happening. The smart play, the only play, was to get as far away as possible. He felt numbed, half awake, dreamlike, confused and bewildered by all that had happened over the past couple of days. Usually, in life you got out of it in proportion to what you put in. And he’d definitely invested. But he was weary of the seemingly endless obstacles. Too late now, though, for remorse.
He heard quick footsteps behind him.
He turned back, expecting to see one of the Dominicans, or a maiden, and was met by a hard blow to the left side of his face that stunned and staggered him. The world around him blurred in and out of focus. He tried to stay standing but a wave of nausea and vertigo swept through him.
And he collapsed downward.
Ω
Claire stood her ground as the abbess stepped forward and confronted her.
“I order you to stay silent,” her superior said.
“I’m done taking orders. This is ludicrous. We cannot subject these women to the dangers they now face. I voiced my opposition weeks ago but was overruled. And look what happened. Rachel died. That was my fault.” She pointed. “Your fault. And all of the maidens who voted for that operation. And now, right here, in our motherhouse, Rome has come with guns, threatening to end us as an order. I won’t bear the burden of this sisterhood being dissolved or of anyone else being hurt.”
And several of the other women openly voiced their agreement.
“You’re a traitor to us all,” the abbess declared.
“Am I? Look around. Many of us opposed what was done. But you just kept going. We’re something from the past that has no place in the present.” Her gaze locked on the older woman. “I shot that man with an arrow, on your command. That was unnecessary.”
“I ordered you to do what was needed to defend this house,” the abbess spit out.
“And look what it got us. Not a damn thing,” Claire said. “That was my last act of blind obedience. This is going to end. Today. Right here. Right now. I’ll give him what he wants, and he’ll leave. No one will be hurt and our order will continue.” She turned toward Fuentes. “Right?”
The cardinal nodded in assent, but added a smile that irritated her. “There will be no further repercussions.”
“You’ll be violating your sacred oath,” the abbess noted. “Committing a mortal sin.”
“I’ll be violating common sense and my own conscience, if I don’t,” she declared. “And I’m not alone. Most here feel as I do.” She surveyed the room. “Who agrees with me? A show of hands.”
Slowly arms were raised. One at a time.
Eighteen of twenty-five.
A clear majority.
She faced the abbess.
“It’s over.”
Ω
Nick could feel the tension. The maidens were clearly divided. The older woman, most likely the abbess, seemed caught off guard by Sister Claire’s, and the other maidens’, reversal. Concern filled the faces of Sisters Ellen and Isabel who, along with a few others, had not voted yes. An overwhelming majority of the maidens, though, seemed intent on giving Fuentes what he wanted.
“Abbess,” one of the maidens said, “we tried to explain ourselves to you, to change your mind, but you would not listen. You went ahead with that reckless move in Ghent. I stand with the Vestal. This is no longer worth dying for and has to end.”
“This is something we should discuss among ourselves,” the abbess declared. “Outside the presence of strangers.”
“That’s not possible,” Claire said, voice rising. “Do you think they’re going away? They’re just going to walk out of here while we debate the point? There’s nothing more to discuss. They came for the chapel. I’m going to give it to them.”
Many of the other women nodded in agreement.
There seemed a clear consensus.
On rebellion.
Ω
Kelsey felt the deep resentment that had seeped into the room like a creeping vine. She’d never before witnessed such opposition to a convent’s central authority. Her own order was run like all of the others with power centered at the top. It was a democracy only to the point that the sisters freely chose their leader. But, once done, that leader’s rule was absolute. Certainly, through the centuries, there’d been revolts and coups to priors and abbesses. But that had been long ago. In another time and place. Nothing of any recent vintage, nor would that ever be tolerated. The vow of obedience she’d taken to join the Congregation of Saint-Luke commanded her to imitate Christ and obey her lawful superiors.
