THE LAST ARK

CHAPTER 3: CARDINAL ERROR

St. Peters Basilica, Vatican City Six Days Before Temple Ceremony

Derek strides into St. Peter’s Basilica as if he owns the place, hoping his confi dence alone will avoid undue suspicion for a cardinal entering with the tourists rather than the Vatican Gates. Disguised as Cardinal Sergio Maroni, Vatican Secretary of State, a tall, bald, aging man in his seventies, entering through Vatican Security without his security ID would be problematic. Th e real Cardinal Maroni should have already landed in Tel Aviv for negotiations with Prime Minister Jacob Benet to discuss the revived peace deal. Th e aging Saudi king died recently, which triggered an urgent desire by the new king to change the dynamics of the Middle East. “OK, where am I going,” he whispers to Jester. A sensitive mic embedded into the frame of his glasses picks up the vibrations of his jaw to transmit his voice to an encrypted satellite. That channel connects to a secret data center located north of Quebec in the subbasement of a restored eighteenth-century woman’s prison that looks like a castle. “I’m guessing Italian prison, you know, if they catch you. Or maybe purgatory—probably purgatory,” replies the Jersey Shore accent of Jester. For this mission, he looped in Jester for operational support to augment the unreliable WITNESS. Jester and WITNESS can see what he sees and track his movements. A cyber savant and ex-CIA quantum encryption genius turned vigilante; Jester resents the distraction. “Try the rear of the Sistine Chapel. There should be a door that leads onto the Vatican grounds. Probably has an alarm, not that y ou care.” “The Sistine is closed today. I need a less public back door,” Derek replies. “In that case, you better ask Jeeves.” Jester takes a cheap shot at the dysfunctional quantum AI. “You know, maybe it’s like pancakes or kids: the f irst one is a throwaway.” Jester makes a reasonable point. The SLVIA AI designed and programmed the WITNESS, the first AI to create another AI, on a quantum platform no less. Few have mastered the unique dynamics of quantum computing. Dr. Nelson Garrett designed the SLVIA, an experimental Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA) espionage AI that escaped the Sandia labs. He’s been working to optimize WITNESS for nearly a year with only minimal success. Without the SLVIA code, no one even knows why it created the WITNESS. “WITNESS. Check floor plans for St. Peter’s Basilica. I need a non-tourist entrance into the Vatican grounds. Display guidance in my lens,” Derek orders, continuing to walk the enormous cathedral. In theory, WITNESS should be magnitudes more powerful than any other AI on the planet, even the SLVIA. In operation, WITNESS can follow simple directions using pre-programmed algorithms created by Jester, but still needs far too much direction. “Official Vatican floor plans loading,” the voice of an aristocratic twelve year-old British boy responds. For a reason no one understands, the SLVIA designed WITNESS to display the persona of a preteen version of Nelson Garrett, its creator. The persona strikes Derek as a split between hilarious and creepy. Almost instantly, arrows appear within his lens frames that direct him toward the grottoes, thanks to a program he developed to work with the glasses. Derek moves with more intent, but not so fast as to draw attention. After Tomar, it took him a few days to track down Abbot Sabas. Any records of the fourth-century monk will most likely be located in the Vatican Archives. It’s a hunch, nothing more. Cardinal Maroni’s trip to Israel gave Derek a perfect window to con his way inside. How Sabas and the Sefer HaBahir connect remains a mystery, but the connection between the Templars and the Vatican intrigues him. In 1983, Pope John Paul removed all church objections to Freemasonry. That move opened the door for US Ambassador William Wilson, a Knight of Malta, to establish a link between the powerful American chapter of Scottish Rite Freemasons who f ill the halls of Congress, the Treasury, and the Department of Justice. Not long afterward, the pope’s golden staff featured an all-seeing eye. The Order had successfully penetrated the church. Interesting, but Derek doesn’t see how any of this information will lead him to the SLVIA. If he were honest with himself, then he’d admit that he’s grasping at vapor. There’s a fine line between an honest effort and an obsession. He crossed that line with the death of Olavo Silva. How far from obsession does insanity lay? “Jester, any luck finding who tried to kill me in Portugal?” Derek asks. Derek’s anxious about being in public, even in disguise. Days after he escaped the Convent Church, someone broke into his Lisbon hotel to leave a deadly snake between the sheets. Sadly, the snake killed a poor girl from housekeeping. “Bro, like you’ve hacked every intelligence agency on the planet, so the short list is really, really long, you know,” Jester retorts. “Let’s narrow it down to the CIA, FSB, MI6, China, or your mysterious buddy, Praeceptor. Who knows, the killer could be anyone around you, maybe even a nun?” “Glad to know you’re taking this seriously,” Derek replies, hoping his disguise throws off his stalker on the remote chance they tracked him here. “Look man, if you don’t find your Digi-girl hanging with the pontiff, then like, I totally need you back here, man. A tsunami of AI malfunction keeps building. Dude, like, even my heebies are getting jeebies.” “OK, but one impossible mission at a time, please,” Derek says. The proliferation of AI applications across commercial, government, and criminal sectors has created an entirely new point of access and sabotage for criminals or despots like Putin. Losses in Ukraine and heavy sanctions on his economy have driven the Moscow Madman to desperate measures. “That’s the prob, man—you’re like, too distracted, you know,” Jester responds. Jester may be right. Derek has been more than distracted; he’s depressed, discouraged, second-guessing his SLVIA obsession and even his life choices. Obsession is never about choice; it has a will of its own. “It’s called multi-tasking,” Derek retorts. “Dude, it’s called delusional thinking,” Jester replies. “Only if I’m wrong.” St. Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City Six Days Before Temple Ceremony Devlin McGregor has never killed someone inside of a church before, but he senses no unease within his spirit about breaking the ancient taboo today. Not only must he regain the confidence of the Prelate for his failures in Portugal and Spain, but his mission is true and holy. Besides, for nearly two millennia, Catholic popes have corrupted and profaned the faith, building their glorious cathedral to the idols of indulgence, power, and pride. And yet, as Devlin enters for the first time, for just a moment, the splendor, opulence, and Baroque magnificence take away his breath. Millions of square meters of polished Italian marble in white, gold, charcoal, green, and rose expertly cut into intricate patterns that rise hundreds of meters to breach the very heavens. To the illiterate pilgrim, it must seem impossible that such splendor and perfection could come from human hands. Devlin came to find the elusive leader of the SNO network called the f lapjack, aka the fugitive CEO of Taylor Security Systems and Services: Derek Taylor. Devlin had lost the scent until a confidential source, a friend of the Solar Temple within Roma Policia, contacted him. They caught the fugitive on a security camera staying at a nearby boutique hotel. It took considerable pressure to get the hotel owner to reveal that Taylor had taken a cab to the Vatican. The hacker must still be here. Devlin moves to the center of the long gallery between the sarcophagus of Pius III and Paul II, wondering why the faithful are so inspired by marbled mausoleums of the dead. The Romans twisted the teachings of a Hebrew messiah into an extravagant pantheon of saintly idols. The great transformation will purge this blasphemy before the second coming. Come, I will show you the judgment of the great harlot sitting on the many waters. The kings of the earth committed s****l immorality with her, and those living on earth became drunk with the wine of her immorality. Revelations 17 T he Solar Temple teaches that the great harlot and the apostasy of the pedophile Catholic priesthood are the same. Devlin shakes off the silent rage to position himself in the center of the basilica where he can scan each face on both sides. Step by step, he advances toward the Baroque bronze canopy of St. Peter, called the Baldachin, which rises into a spectacular painted 450-foot dome, taller than the great pyramid. Legend maintains that the bones of St. Peter rest directly below the Baldachin; God above and St. Peter below, another testimony to spiritual pride. Convinced that Taylor wears another disguise, Devlin pays close attention to tall men in every style of dress, quickly discarding them for various reasons. Near the Tomb of John Paul II, he spots a tall priest speaking to a group of tourists. A cardinal, judging from the crimson sash. From behind, he looks to be the right height, but it’s a sacrilege for the hacker to pose as a cleric. As he approaches, Devlin hears the cardinal speaking in perfect Italian to those who had gathered around him. “Per favore I miei figli (Please, my children), I will bless you, but then I require a private moment of prayer,” the priest promises as he performs the sign of the cross. T he wrinkled old face turns to Devlin with a gentle smile, wearing heavy rimmed glasses. Clearly not Taylor, but something doesn’t fit. Devlin continues past to check inside the Clementine Chapel when he realizes what bothered him; the cleric’s face contained heavy wrinkles, but the hands that blessed the tourists belonged to a younger man. The hacker’s fatal mistake. Spinning back toward the Tomb of John Paul II, Devlin finds the cardinal has already gone. In a dash that nearly knocks over an aged nun, he finds a good point to scan the vast interior. There are a dozen private chapels, niches, and corridors that Taylor could have taken. Then he spots the tall cardinal near the Tomb of Urban VI, toward the front of the basilica. Amazed at how he made it so far, so fast. He’s no old man. Devlin darts to the opposite side of the cathedral to catch up. Following at a brisk pace, Devlin removes the syringe from his jacket pocket and flicks off the protective cover. The needle contains a concoction of his own creation: a lethal dose of heroin with cyanide, the same as he used in Portugal. His pulse quickens and his nostrils flare as he closes in on the hacker. Devlin cuts over to hide behind a group of Catholic schoolchildren in plaid uniforms. Unexpectedly, the target turns into one of the Archeological Curio Rooms. Devlin follows inside to study a display while keeping the target in his peripheral vision. When the hacker stalls to examine a case, Devlin lunges with a sharp jab to the back of the neck above the collar. With a smooth pivot, he moves into the main basilica, never looking back. As screams and shouts for a medico echo across the marble halls, Devlin f inds an external exit onto the Piazza Braschi, and then turns toward St. Peter’s Square. By now, he figures, Taylor has collapsed, foaming at the mouth, unable to speak, with his eyes rolling back into his head. To be sure he succeeds this time, Devlin will wait for the ambulance from behind one of the massive columns of St. Peter’s square. His obedience to the Synarchy will earn absolution for his sin. St. Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City Six Days Before Temple Ceremony “WITNESS, say again,” Derek replies. “I must have a poor connection.” “You appear to be dead,” WITNESS repeats. No, he heard it right. On the lens of his eyeglasses, WITNESS displays a security camera view from St. Peter’s Basilica that shows people surrounding the body of a tall, bald cardinal. “Yeah, dude,” agrees Jester. “You don’t look so good.” “Vatican Police have contacted Casa Di Cura Mater Hospital for an ambulance,” WITNESS adds. “Not sure who’s in the video, but I assure both of you I’m alive and still looking for that old tunnel under the Sistine. Zoom in.” T he camera view zooms in just as a man steps out of the way long enough for Derek clearly to see the face of Cardinal Sergio Maroni on the floor, foaming at the mouth. “Oh crap,” Derek moans. “WITNESS, re-check Cardinal Maroni’s travel schedule.” “Processing,” replies WITNESS. Derek’s stalker from Portugal must have tracked him here. Even worse, the guy was good enough to figure out that Derek wore a disguise. “File not found,” the AI replies. “Try traveling during the fall to avoid the crowds.” “Hold on, I got it,” Jester says. A moment later. “The Israeli Ambassador to the Vatican canceled Cardinal Maroni’s invitation to Jerusalem this morning.” Not good news. The SLVIA would have caught that change before Derek even showed up. His window to search the Vatican Archives just got extremely narrow. Even worse, if they catch him masquerading as a dead cardinal, they’ll charge him for the murder of the real cardinal. Derek needs to go, but he can’t leave as Cardinal Maroni pass a dead Cardinal Maroni. Besides, somewhere in the Vatican Archives could be the next breadcrumb to the missing SLVIA code, or maybe even the SLVIA herself. Either way, he better move fast before someone notices that Cardinal Maroni has resurrected from the dead.