Pandora's Ark by Rick Jones Page A

be.”
    “And we haven’t enough data to support the need to act. And
even if we did,” he added dolefully, “we know longer have the resources to
intervene.”
    The cardinal turned back to the movements on the screen,
the people milling about on an obvious hot and dry day. Auciello was right, he
considered. The Vatican Knights were the only true resource to act on behalf of
the Church in affairs of war and battle, in which the lines drawn were not
specifically done so at the Vatican door. Most interests were in foreign lands
with diplomatic ties which were well beyond the reach of the Church, some
halfway around the world. Now that the value of the Knights had been cast to
the wind, there was little or no salvation beyond Vatican City for those with
the most need.
    Furthermore, al-Qaeda was a faction of opportunity. If they
truly were in possession of the Ark, then they would capitalize in such a way that
would subsidize terrorist campaigns for years to come. How they would benefit
was the question that lingered in the cardinal’s mind. But they were talking
about al-Qaeda.
    And al-Qaeda would find a way.
    “Bonasero?” Father Essex sounded almost contrite. “If I may
be candid.”
    “Of course.”
    “Since the times of Pope Gregory and Cardinal Angullo, we
have been somewhat revoked to act accordingly.”
    Bonasero Vessucci understood. Without the Vatican Knights
to act upon pertinent information that may prove detrimental to the assets and
interests of the Church, or to its citizenry, then there was no point in having
the SIV other than to convey rudimentary intelligence.
    “I hear you,” he said, and then he ushered them away from
the Jesuits once again. When they were in the pooling shadows with minimal
light cast from the screens, Cardinal Vessucci spoke to them with open
objectiveness. “As you know, I am impotent to act in the manner deemed
necessary by my station.”
    “Then perhaps you’ll elevate to the next level, so that you
can.”
    “It’s not a secret that I’m seeking the papal throne. But
Cardinal Angullo is a formidable candidate who seeks the throne as strongly as
I do.”
    “Should Angullo succeed the throne, others will suffer due
to the Church’s inability to protect them. So tell me, Bonasero, if you take
the papal throne, do you plan to bring back the Vatican Knights?”
    There was a moment of hesitation, and then he nodded, a
single bob of the head. “It would be my wish to do so,” he answered. “But the
good Cardinal Angullo would stand in the way, since he refuses to see their
necessity in the scheme of things. If al-Qaeda is truly in the possession of
the Ark, then we need to react before such a treasure is lost forever—or before
it’s used in ways not meant to be.”
    “I hear his camp has weakened,” said Essex.
    “But still formidable. Remember, gentlemen, he has strength
by being the secretary of state and as Pope Gregory’s close friend. Those two
facts alone make my journey a difficult one to achieve.”
    There was a momentary lapse of silence.
    And then, with forced spirit, the cardinal smiled. “We must
be patient by waiting to see how His will plays out,” he said. “If the good
Cardinal Angullo excels to the throne, then so be it.”
    “You know as well as I do that if he does, then the Church
suffers greatly. It’s not only His will, Bonasero, but there’s a human element
involved as well.”
    “From where I stand I can do very little. But if my peers
see me as a suitable replacement for Pope Gregory, then the SIV will be brought
into play . . . as will the Vatican Knights.”
    Essex and Auciello did not smile, nor did they betray their
thoughts or emotions. But deep inside they wanted the cardinal to take over the
papal throne and the privilege to protect the interests of the Church, its
sovereignty, and the welfare of its citizenry, which could only be done with
the Vatican Knights under his rule and the rule of the Society of Seven.
    They