The Secret Chapel

Father Leo was feeling the fatigue of the past twenty-four hours as they finished their wine and lifted themselves slowly from their chairs before heading for the parked car along a narrow street filled with brightly lit shops. Leo watched the Gelato-slurping tourists peering into the store windows and thumbing through their Italian-English translation handbooks while the local populace took advantage of the break in the rain to venture outside and visit with neighbors.

The BMW was surrounded by admiring teenagers who were startled to see a Roman Catholic priest hop behind the wheel. Morelli revved the engine for their benefit before driving away slowly through the pedestrian-filled streets. He wound his way back to the Amalfi as the rain again began to fall, causing the pavement to take on a shine that caught the reflection from the lighted dome of Saint Peter’s Basilica across the way.

Pulling to a stop in front of Leo’s hotel, Morelli glanced at his watch. “I’ll meet you for Mass in the morning. Six o’clock in front of the Basilica.”

“Sounds good,” Leo said, crawling from the ground-hugging car.

“Welcome back to Rome, my friend.” Morelli grinned at Leo and waved before roaring off down the wet street and sending a rooster-tail of spray in his wake.

Leo turned to see a fashionably dressed young couple locked in a passionate embrace inside the hotel’s entranceway before they descended the aged stone steps. They smiled at the priest before walking hand-in-hand down the wet sidewalk, oblivious to the rain as they stared into each other’s eyes. Father Leo watched them round the corner before looking up at the darkened window to his empty room. A familiar feeling of loneliness crept into his soul.

Chapter 4

In Vatican City, thick maroon drapes were drawn in front of a row of tall windows, blotting out the lights illuminating the Basilica. Inside the darkened room, a man dressed in the long black cassock of a priest paced in front of a gilded Italian desk and stared at the phone. He walked back and forth with his hands behind his back before finally coming to a decision and lowering himself into the chair behind the desk. He glanced at a heavy bronze clock next to the phone. It was time to make the call. His pulse quickened as his breath came in shallow gasps. With hands shaking in nervous anticipation, he dialed the number.

A deep voice with the slight hint of an accent answered. “Yes?”

“It appears that Morelli has enlisted the help of an old friend, sir.”

“Who?”

“Father Leopold Amodeo. He arrived today from America.” The priest shifted uneasily in his seat. He was talking to his master.

“Is he a part of this?”

“I don’t believe so, but he could be. He and Morelli have been friends for years.”

“Do you think Morelli knows where it is?”

“No, he doesn’t even know where the chapel is.”

The voice sounded distrustful, almost angry. “Are you certain?”

The priest felt a surge of panic rising in his throat. “Yes, sir. So far we’ve been able to prevent them from finding it without raising suspicion. There’s no way they can get to it without our knowledge.”

The voice seemed more relaxed. “Good.”

The priest started to breathe normally again. “Thank you, sir. What would you like me to do next?”

“Now that they’ve discovered the code, it will only be a matter of time. We’re going to have to take more aggressive steps to make sure their search stops now.”

Panic again seized the priest. “What should I do if they discover the chapel?”

The voice became angry. “It’s your job to keep that from happening. The possibility still exists that they may find some clue there that will lead them to it. You will do whatever has to be done to assure that it remains safe. Anything! Is that clear? Morelli must not be allowed to continue.”

The priest’s body trembled behind the desk. “Yes, sir. I understand.” He heard breathing on the other end of the line. After a brief pause, the voice became soothing, almost fatherly. “Our work here is far from over, and you will have to find the strength to carry on.”

“My life is devoted to you, sir.”

“Your dedication has never been an issue. You’ve always been one of our most faithful servants, and your reward will come in time.”

Excitement replaced fear within the priest. His master loved him. “Thank you, sir. I will call you tomorrow and let you know of my plan.” The phone went dead in his hands as he leaned back in his chair and gazed up at the hand-painted ceiling covered with images of angels and saints. Below that, a crucifix hung on the wall over his bed. Soon he would paint over this ceiling and replace the crucifix with a symbol of his own. One his master would approve of.

Chapter 5

It was still dark outside Saint Peter’s Basilica when Father Leo arrived the next morning and ascended the steps. In front of the enormous open doors, a brown-robed figure stood framed by bright yellow light streaming from inside the Basilica, making it difficult to see the face under the hood. “Father Leopold Amodeo?”

Leo looked up at the monk. “Yes.”

“Hi. I’m John. John Lowe. I work with Father Morelli. He just called to say he’s running late and asked me to meet you here for Mass.”

The monk brushed the brown hood from his head to reveal a young man in his twenties with soulful eyes, long black hair, and a short, trimmed beard. They shook hands and turned to enter the massive church created by Michelangelo and Bernini.

“I see you are a Franciscan, John.”

“My sense of fashion usually gives me away,” John laughed. “Actually, the Franciscan Brothers in Assisi have allowed me to live in their community while I consider the priesthood. I’m currently on loan to Father Morelli as his assistant for the next few months. We met this past year while I was finishing some graduate work on an archaeological dig on the outskirts of Rome.”

“Father Morelli seems to be involved in a lot of projects around here. Are you an archaeologist also?”

“I have a PhD in history, and I’m working on my master’s in anthropology.”

At least this new assistant had the right training to help Morelli, Leo thought.

Practically everyone who had ever entered the immense Renaissance church was overcome by its unparalleled beauty, and Leo and John were both awed as they passed through the mammoth doors and headed up the aisle toward the main altar.

“What kind of history, John? I mean, what was your thesis work about?”

“Classical Rome … the Roman Empire during the time of Christ. That’s what drew me to Italy in the first place.”

“Interesting. When did you first think of entering the religious life?”

“I’ve been thinking about it on and off since grade school. I was raised Catholic, went to Catholic schools all my life. You get pretty well indoctrinated by the time you reach high school. Two of my friends from school became priests.”

Leo looked up at the ceiling as they walked along. “I went to Catholic school too, but a lot of my friends became police officers and firefighters. I came out of a working-class neighborhood, and we had a lot of kids from my graduating class who entered those fields. It’s funny how we all gravitated to professions where we could help people.”

They continued up the center aisle of the enormous basilica that contained eleven chapels and forty-five altars and seated themselves near the baldacchino, a monumental canopy that sheltered