Chapter IV
Chapter 9

There were clouds across the Spanish sky. The sun was just starting to rise above the horizon.

PENA AND MARCO MADE THEIR WAY across town in one of the unmarked police vehicles that the Spanish detectives had at their disposal. For the last couple of days Marco had been schooling Pena on the intricacies of the Roman Catholic Church.

“So,” Pena asked casually as he completed a left turn onto a larger road.

“How many Jesuits are there?”

“At least one-hundred thousand, maybe more by now,” Marco answered matter- of-factly.

Pena nodded slightly, still not convinced at this whole world-domination- plot-thing. A little too Hollywood for him. “And all of these guys work for the Pope.”

Marco considered the statement. “Not . . . not exactly. You see, there is another man who controls the Jesuits. And he and the Pope kind of legislate together.”

“What? He’s like the assistant to the Pope, taking care of his side action?”

Marco watched as they passed a van full of children, probably on their way to a field trip of some kind. “It’s almost like they rule together. The

Black Pope, that’s what they call him. He works behind the scene. He and the official Pope share the same goals, but achieve them through different avenues. Imagine the Black Pope as the Jesuit General, so to speak.”

“I’ve never heard of the Black Pope,” Pena said skeptically.

Marco started to hint at a smile. “But you’ve heard of the Alumbrados, no?”

“The Illuminati. That’s all the rage now, isn’t it. Masons, Knights

Templar, Illuminati. Secret organizations that run the world from behind the scenes. Makes a good novel.”

“Remember when I told you about Ignatius Loyola?”

Pena nodded, checked the rearview mirror, and made a lane change.

Marco continued, “He formed the Jesuits in fifteen-forty-one. And his secret organization was the Alumbrados. They were the enlightened ones . . . the Illuminati. “

Pena smiled, “Where do you get all this stuff? I read all kinds of books and I’ve never heard most of this.”

“It was part of my religious schooling. I studied a great deal, and had to be prepared to answer any question, no matter how delicate or devastating.”

“So our renegade Angel, as you call him . . . he’s enacting vengeance for

God, or for the Pope?”

“God,” Marco said softly, and then seemed to be thinking about something he hadn’t previously considered.

“And the Pope . . . both of them, they want him stopped?”

Marco held up his hand for a moment, closing his eyes. Pena glanced over at him as he drove. “I wonder if everything has come apart.”

“Fill me in Marco,” Pena said. “I don’t know where you’re coming from.”

Marco nodded. “Ok, Loyola. He was born in the Guipuzcoa province, here in Spain. His real name was Lopez de Recalde. One of his ‘secret’ projects was to have all of the religious documents translated and archived. In these translations there are many stories that the current bibles do not address.

Things that the Roman Catholics thought were too dangerous for the common man to interpret.”

“So, fast-forward to today.”

“They still believed in the texts. They were very sacred. In the early nineties the Vatican released a tiny portion of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Just a fraction, though. The really good stuff . . . that was obviously kept secret. Tucked away deep within the hidden chambers of the Vatican. They keep all of these things very secret because they would have a catastrophic effect on the Roman Catholic Church as we know it.”

Pena cleared his throat. “And we know about this renegade Angel because of these secret texts—”

“The Prophecies,” Marco interjected.

“Right.” Pena didn’t say anything as he pulled up to the stoplight and waited to make a right turn. Off to their right was the waterfront. “Alright, so they believe in all of these ‘secret’ prophecies.”

“Oh, yeah,” Marco said emphatically. “Some of these Prophesies talk about the times when Lucifer was cast from Heaven. At that time a third of all of the Angels followed Lucifer.”

“That was a bad call,” Pena suggested. “I mean, we all know who wins in the end.”

Marco turned his head negatively. “That is not so certain as the world has been led to believe.”

“I don’t follow. I’ve read the bible, when I was a child. In the end, God wins.”

Marco’s expression was much less confident, “Certainly, in the legislated texts which you read—your right. But the Prophecies speak otherwise. They tell of an uncertain future. A future that is not yet written. Imagine one of those books where the last several chapters aren’t written when you read it. You have to fill in those pages. The book of our future, well . . . it’s full of blank pages.”

Marco turned towards Pena as the car made a stop in front of the same travel agency that they had visited when Ricky had been struck by the bus. He sighed, “Lucifer. His name means the bringer of light. And though many speak of him as the Prince of Darkness, there are others who believe that he will win the Great battle. Heaven and Hell are stirring as we speak, preparing for war.”

“Don’t wig out on me, Marco. Let’s stay in the real world. I need to replace this assassin.”

“Then,” Marco said, “I believe that we’ll replace our answer in Rome. But we must be willing to go all the way.”

“I can’t just go to Rome on a whim. I need something more,” Pena explained. “Alright,” Marco said. “After we talk to this man we must go on an adventure across town.”

“And where will this adventure take us?”

“That is a surprise. But I will tell you this . . . you will be a believer.” Pena nodded. He then reached down and checked his pistol, making sure it was loaded. He lifted it to his waist and pulled the slide back a few centimeters. He saw the greyish glint of the Hydro-shock, hollow-point rounds. He let the slide fall back into place, and slid the de-cocking lever down to set the hammer flush.

Like a practiced martial art, he released the magazine and placed an extra round in it.

Click.

He replaced the magazine and holstered the Sig P228. “Administrative load,” he said to himself.

“We’re just asking a few questions, right?” Marco said almost nervously. Pena smiled. “The lord helps those who help themselves.”

“Claro que si,” Marco answered.

Of course.

They were quiet as they exited the car. Pena made plenty sure to look both ways as he made his way to the sidewalk. Neither of them had said it, but they were both thinking of it.

“Antonio,” Marco said softly as they met at the sidewalk.

“Yeah?”

“Ricky is in God’s hands, now. We can’t try to avenge him, or undo what happened. It was an accident.”

“Or,” Pena said as he walked towards the travel agency, “it was the will of God.”