True, he thought. Even so. “I’m still not comfortable.”
“As I said, then we can’t help you.”
Pearse waited. Another glance at Mendravic. The Croat shrugged. “Photinus,” Pearse said.
There was a pause on the line. “The monastery on Athos.”
“The Vault of the Paraclete.”
Another pause, this one far longer than the others. A decision was being made. “Father Pearse?”
He didn’t know whether to feel relief or anxiety. He was about to answer, when Mendravic suddenly pulled the phone from his ear and hung up.
“What are you doing?” Pearse asked, stunned.
“Do you realize how stupid we both are? I can’t believe I only thought of it now.”
“Thought of what?”
“Think, Ian. What’s the simplest way to find out exactly where you are?”
Pearse shook his head.
“A trace. They were keeping you on the line to pinpoint your location Very easy to do, even with satellite hookups. I can’t believe I was so stupid.”
“But they sounded as if they were trying to help.”
“I’m sure they did.”
Pearse stood there, not knowing what to think. Of course Salko was right, but then who would these people be?
The image of the four men from Kukes instantly fixed in his mind. Especially the one who had come after him, the look in his eyes just before Salko had attacked. No threat. No menace.
But if they knew about Athos, why go after him? Why not go after the Manichaeans directly? It didn’t make any sense.
“Do we need to get out of here?” he asked, unwilling, for the moment, to focus on anything but the immediate threat.
“I think we caught it in time,” Mendravic answered. “But I don’t know. We could go to Visegrad, if you want.”
“And sit there?” Pearse said, his mood souring. “I still have no idea where the ‘Hodoporia’ is.”
“The what?” asked Petra.
“The thing we’re looking for. The parchment.” The phone call had evidently taken more of a toll on him than he cared to admit. “I haven’t … gotten it. I haven’t broken the code. And I don’t know if I can. Look, there’s a woman in Rome-”
“All right,” said Mendravic, trying to keep Pearse from sinking deeper into frustration. “We stay here tonight. We go tomorrow. Maybe … I don’t know. I could take a look. You could show me how it works….”
“Oh, that would be good,” Petra piped in, also trying to lighten the mood. “I’m sure you’d be a lot of help.”
“I’m just suggesting-”
“He’s trying to move forward, Salko, not back.”
“Your confidence is overwhelming. I’m sure you-”
“I’ve already been dismissed,” she said. “I couldn’t pass the Latin test.”
“There’s a test?” he answered.
Listening to the two of them was enough to snap Pearse out of his funk. “I get it. You’ve made your point.”
“Good.” Mendravic nodded.
“Look, I’ll … figure it out. I have to figure it out.”
“I don’t think anyone was worried about that,” she said.
Mendravic put his hand to Pearse’s neck; he squeezed once. “My guess is, you get to Visegrad, and everything falls into place. Trust me. You’re friend will be fine.”
Pearse nodded. Why not? The alternative wasn’t worth thinking about.
The contessa had been right. The congregation seemed primed to hear him speak. Harris had spent the better part of the last hour listening to what many considered the preeminent Pentecostal preaching in the South. Archie Conroy and his Ministry of Peace. Five thousand strong had gathered in the largest amphitheater he had ever seen. Another 120,000 had tuned in for the early-morning services. That the contessa had set it all up on such short notice had astounded him. Thirty million on deposit was one thing. Having one of the most powerful ministries in the States at his beck and call was another. Conroy hadn’t flinched. If the contessa was involved, Harris had carte blanche. He was learning not to underestimate her.
“Now, before I hand you over to the colonel, who has been so kind to join us here this morning”-Conroy’s accent and demeanor reeked of southern hospitality, with a little medicine show thrown in just for fun-“I want him to know who is with him today, joining him in prayer.” Conroy paused. “I think I would be right in saying it’s a community of the faithful.” Amens from the crowd. “Which embraces anyone of faith.” He smiled and looked over at Harris. “Even an Anglican, Colonel. Even an Anglican.” A wave of laughter from the audience. Harris could see Conroy wasn’t quite ready to cede the stage.
“Because we
The entire congregation echoed, “‘One voice.’”
“Again.”
“‘One voice,’” this time louder.
“Can you hear the power in that? Can you sense the power of that one indomitable spirit-unbroken, untarnished by personal desire, by personal lusts, by personal affectation. ‘One voice.’ Paul warns us in Philippians. He tells us that there are those who ‘preach Christ from envy and rivalry.’ ‘Envy and rivalry,’” he repeated. “How? How can they preach it that way? Because they ‘proclaim Christ out of partisanship.’ ‘Partisanship,’” each syllable given its due. “Those walls they build high, as if somehow they can keep the Word only for themselves, hold Christ within their churches? Can the Lord be so tethered? Can the Lord be kept for only one group, no matter what they call themselves? No. He alone flies free to all who would embrace Him. But to those who embrace ‘partisanship,’ He has only one answer: ‘Affliction and imprisonment.’ Choose to build those walls, choose to place those stumbling blocks between brothers, and you will not find Salvation in Him.
“It seems so obvious, doesn’t it? One God, one salvation, one faith, one voice. How else would He hear us? Even when He afflicted us with the Tower of Babel-that voice scattered throughout, altered, and divided-His message was clear. Those differences don’t matter. Language, culture, wealth”-he paused for emphasis-“denomination. Seek Him out, and you speak but one language. The language of God. The language of Christ.
“Now, I know there are plenty of preachers who think my views on inclusion only complicate things.” He began to pace, nodding, eyes staring straight ahead. “‘Leave things the way they are,’ they say to me. ‘Archie- Baptist with Baptist. Methodist with Methodist. We all have different needs,’ they tell me. And maybe they’re right. Who am I to argue with the status quo? Who am I to say we’re stronger than that, that the only thing that matters is our faith in Christ? What other needs do we have? I don’t know.” He stopped and turned to face the audience again. “When the Pharisees told Jesus that His ways were too dangerous, His message of love and inclusion too bold, He continued on. I don’t know if I have that strength. I can find it only through Him. But henever talked about different needs. He never talked about the status quo. He talked of love and salvation. He talked of ‘one voice.’”
Archie turned again to Harris. “It’s a kind of salvation itself, isn’t it, Colonel?” For all his homespun rhetoric,
