The Templar Concordat by Terrence O'Brien Page B

responsible for the Vatican Library. Nobody else was going to step up. The Cardinal Librarian was probably dead or severely injured. He could mourn the dead later, but there was urgent work do right now. There had been a theft, but he didn’t know what was taken. That’s where his duty was right now, to the library.
    Santini ran up the steps to room H21, surprised his back didn’t scream in pain. The door was still wedged open with the chair he had placed there earlier. He scanned the room and saw the document drawer open on the work table. He checked the drawer number against the computerized catalog and saw ten documents listed for that drawer.
    He lifted each document from the drawer and laid it on the table. He counted nine, not ten, as the computer said. He checked the data slip with each document. All were there except something called the Treaty of Tuscany. Interesting. What was that? He never heard of it. The entry in the computer said it had been found two months ago between the pages of a Sixteenth Century volume of biblical criticism in another collection. That’s precisely why this recataloging was so important. They had things they didn’t even know about.
    So, the treaty had come in here, and the technicians had routinely scanned it into the computer, but the entry showed it had not yet been examined by the curators. That was normal. Work on this section was about fifty percent complete. Technicians would enter unknown manuscripts into the computer, then curators would examine them.
    He drilled deeper into the computer. Let’s see what the scan of this manuscript shows. The scan would have a very detailed picture of the document under both normal and infrared light. Once scanned, the software allowed the curators to bring out features that were invisible in normal light. What exactly do we have here?
    A large, flat-panel screen showed the document at normal size, and he adjusted a few filters and enlarged it to take up the full screen. He read the old Latin, read it again, looked at the seals of the Popes, and felt sick again. Is this what was stolen? Could his Church have done this? His Church? How could it ever create something like this?
    Even worse, had this document been in the Vatican Library all these years? And was his recataloging program responsible for loosing this horrid Treaty of Tuscany into the world? Was he responsible?
    This couldn’t be passed off to anyone else. He was stuck with the problem, and the clock was ticking. The strike team officer had promised to alert the proper authorities. Would he? When would they come? What if they found the treaty? That wasn’t an option.
    He checked to make sure the computer logging system was turned off, and entered new computer index numbers for the treaty, removing it entirely from the Twelfth and Thirteenth Century Papal collection, and putting it into his own personal section. It was much like physically taking a book off the shelf on the fourth floor, sliding the other books together so no space was left, and putting it in his secret bookcase in the basement. There would be no trace left on the fourth floor. This was the same, just done with computer files.
    He gathered up the data slips that had been attached to the treaty, carefully removed its title from the folder that had held it in the drawer, and slid the folder into the middle of a stack of empties. He surveyed the room. It looked just like any normal sorting room half-way through a recataloging. Good. 
    But that was only half the job. Now he had to “steal” something, so the authorities could find evidence of a theft. He went back to the main reading room. Still empty. He called out asking if anyone was there. Quiet.
    An archway led off the main reading room into a display area currently occupied with several glass cases exhibiting royal seals from medieval European royalty. Every king had one, and in an era where illiteracy was the rule rather than the exception, the kings made