The Secret Chapel

Leo glanced at Morelli but was met by a look that indicated the cardinal shouldn’t be burdened with any further news at the moment. Paramedics lifted the stretcher and headed off toward the cardinal’s apartment followed by an entourage of priests and other cardinals. The Vatican’s chief of security trotted along, never leaving the cardinal’s side, while Leo and the others struggled as they climbed the final series of polished steps into the Basilica.

The enormous open doors of the Basilica and the fresh breeze from outside beckoned the group toward the entrance. Their walk turned to a jog before they noticed the bronze pillars surrounding the main altar, causing them to stop with the knowledge that they could never leave this church without offering a prayer of thanks to God for His intervention in the chapel.

When they were finished with their prayers, everyone turned and ran outside where they breathed in the exquisite Roman air tinged with the aroma of spring flowers that bloomed in the Vatican gardens. Especially the roses.

Lev looked up into the fading sky and marveled at the stars that seemed to be switching on one by one in the growing darkness. “I have a strong feeling that Jerusalem is still intact and that somehow the rocket was stopped.”

Leo shot John a glance. He then turned to the newly resurrected Father Morelli. “Is there somewhere we can find a television set and tune in to the news?”

Morelli was about to speak when Alon’s radio crackled to life. “Alon, come in. This is the Carmela. Do you read us?” Alon grabbed the mike and keyed it. “Yes, Carmela, come in. We read you.”

“Where are you?” It was Alex. “Is everyone alright? Did you complete your mission?”

Alon smiled at the others. “Yes, we’re OK. Our mission was a success. Have you heard any news from Jerusalem?”

There was silence. Standing in the middle of Saint Peter’s Square, they looked down at the ground in the gathering twilight listening for words to return through the air over the still radio. The tension was palpable-they all wondered if their worst fears had been realized. The sound of Alex’s voice broke the stillness. “There’s been a miracle in the Holy Land. The missile headed for Jerusalem disappeared over the city about half an hour ago.”

Leo exhaled. Exactly the same time as the Devil’s Bible burst into flames.

Shouts of relief filled the air as they all embraced one another. Alon broke into a huge grin and physically lifted John off the pavement, causing Ariella to shriek with laughter. People around them looked on in amusement as the group danced around, hugging and clapping each other on the back.

Alex’s voice came back over the radio. “Gabriella was flying over the city when it happened. Her unit was scrambled from their base in Tel Aviv, and when their helicopters arrived on the outskirts of Jerusalem, the incoming warhead just vanished in midair. They all saw the image of a giant golden sword appear in the sky overhead … it lit up the entire city before it slowly faded away.”

The group was hushed as they realized that two miracles had occurred on this day. It was a jubilant moment worthy of celebration. The Devil’s Bible had finally been destroyed, and Jerusalem had been spared a nuclear holocaust.

Houston hadn’t been so lucky. If they had been looking at a giant celestial scoreboard, it would have read God 3, Satan 1. Leo thought about the message that had been delivered to him by Gabriel. Men were still in possession of weapons of immense power, and he was not naive enough to think that, in the realm of geopolitical affairs, the attack on Houston would go unanswered.

He knew that, even now, plans were being made by some in the United States to exact revenge on those they believed not only planned and committed the act, but also on those who sponsored it. That could mean a mindless nuclear attack on a city filled with people who did not share the vision of radical Islam and had no knowledge of what the evil attackers had planned. God had protected His holy city, but the world was still at risk.

Leo looked around at the other members of the team. They had been through so much together since they all met, and he feared they would face even darker days ahead. He looked forward to the day when man would not have to keep score between good and evil and wondered if mankind was truly living in a time when only God’s intervention could save the world. Globally, people would have to someday throw off the shackles of nationalism and religious radicalism. They would have to come together without the presence of misguided super elders telling them what to do and who to hate.

Morelli broke the silence. “We need to get something to eat and drink. In my case, the drink comes first.”

Leo had already forgiven Morelli for making him believe he was dead, but he couldn’t resist one final jab at him now as he put his arm around the shoulder of his old, dear friend. “You’ve read my mind, Anthony. But since you died and left all your money to me, I’ll buy dinner tonight.”

The others roared with laughter as Morelli stood there speechless, his eyes squinting at Leo. Their laughter had barely died down when Morelli’s red BMW sped up beside them. “My car!”

“No, my car,” Leo said, enjoying the moment.

Morelli peered into the car after it screeched to a stop. “Is that you, Moshe?”

“Father Morelli? I thought you were-”

“It’s a long story. What are you doing here with my car?”

“I’ve got to get back to the yacht. Our van was damaged in the storm, so Arnolfo told me to take this car and leave it at the dock. I didn’t know it was yours.”

“That’s OK. It’s all for a good cause. I’ll pick it up later.”

Lev rushed over to the passenger side and jumped in. “I’m coming with you. I need to get back to the boat and call home to see if everything is alright at the villa.” Lev looked over the group. “When will you all be coming back to the yacht?”

“As soon as we have a few drinks and a bite to eat,” Leo said. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep an eye on Ariella and make sure she gets home on time.”

Lev laughed out loud. “Good luck with that.”

Ariella threw her head forward and blew her father a kiss. “Bye, Daddy.”

With a wave from Moshe, the car sped off into the streets of Rome, headed for the harbor. The group turned and walked together out of the piazza through Bernini’s columns onto the Via della Conciliazione. They strolled along the wide street to the Castel Sant’ Angelo, where they stopped and stood for a moment, gazing up at the lighted statue of Michael the Archangel. They marveled at how they had actually seen this very real angel just a short time ago. It was surreal.

They continued to gaze up at the statue as small groups of people strolled by, going about their daily lives and not really understanding the mystical power that surrounded them. Leo pondered the miracle he had witnessed this day, knowing that sometime in the future, he would have to reach deep within himself to discover why he had been chosen to be a part of it.

Fittingly, they crossed the river Tiber over the Ponte Sant’ Angelo, the bridge created by Bernini in the seventeenth century and lined with spectacular statues of angels sculpted by him. Leo never wanted to leave this wonderful city again. Maybe he would transfer here someday.

They headed down the Via del Banco de Santo Spirto to the piazza of the same name. It seemed like the entire populace of Rome was out in the streets, some cleaning and sweeping away the debris from the storm, while others simply walked about breathing in the warm air, their senses heightened to the fact that the scent of flowers was stronger than usual.

They found an open trattoria and sat together outside. Soon the waiter left a bottle of wine at their table and they were inhaling the aroma from their glasses as they took the first sips of their much- needed reward. Leo thought about making plans to return to the yacht, but the stillness and lack of motion at the moment was like a long, luxurious bath. The tension in their bodies slowly began to ebb as the wine took hold, and a warm glow descended over the group.

John and Ariella were busy talking a mile a minute to Morelli, regaling him with stories of their adventures in the Negev Desert.

“Amazing!” was all Father Anthony seemed capable of saying when hearing the details of Satan’s