House of Acerbi (god's lions) Read online

  The group stared back at him in respectful silence, for tonight Rene Acerbi was about to undergo a transition. In less than an hour, he would be among the Twelve.

  Moving outside, they looked up and saw that the sun had finished its arc in the west, leaving a star-filled sky as the only outside witness to what was about to come. Listening to the cries of small wildlife all around them, they followed a winding path lit by flickering torches deep into the forest.

  Nearing their destination, they saw a distant glow through the trees that spurred them onward until they found themselves standing in a towering grove of some of the most ancient trees on the planet. Despite the fact that all of them had been to this spot in the forest before, the sight took their breath away. Towering above them, a gigantic sculpture rose forty feet into the air. To some, it looked just like any other massive piece of undefined modern art one sees erected in front of corporate and governmental buildings the world over, but to those who understood its true meaning, it resembled a bird of prey.

  Hollow inside, the sculpture had been constructed to look as if it had been carved in place from a natural rock formation. Running diagonally across the front was the engraved image of a large red snake, an explicit allusion to the Acerbi bloodline that had stretched across the centuries, while tall flames leapt into the air from a sunken fire pit at the base of the sculpture, lending a primitive aura to the proceedings.

  On the moss and lichen-covered ground below the stage, a large gathering of lesser group members sat in rows of chairs placed in a semi-circle. In the background, as if the entire scene wasn’t bizarre enough, the stage suddenly erupted in pulsating white light, while strange and melodic music began to emanate from inside the gigantic sculpture.

  “It appears that everyone is here,” Rene said, turning to the select few who had followed him to the grove. “Please, take your seats up front.”

  When the audience spotted Acerbi, they began to applaud and shout out his name. His presence seemed to stir something within them, much as it had for his father when he had stepped upon this same stage for a similar ceremony years before.

  For centuries, this hidden grove had been a place of refuge for the members of this secret cult. It was a place where, united by their true heritage, they could gather yearly to celebrate their beliefs and make plans for a new world-a world where they would not have to wonder if they would once again be hunted down like their ancestors and persecuted for who they were or what they believed in.

  Acerbi peeled off from the group and made his way behind the stage before entering a hidden door that led inside the massive sculpture to a dressing room. Assisted by others, he donned a black silk robe and turned to stare into a full length mirror, his black eyes staring back at him. With the others watching, he pulled a pointed black hood over his head and stood back to admire the sight.

  Rene Acerbi was about to be reborn.

  Lingering to take a few deep breaths, he turned and walked out onto the stage through a cloud of red smoke that flowed from the sides. Before him, eleven hooded men wearing dark blue robes stood in a circle, while off to the side stood another hooded figure dressed in flowing white robes-the leader.

  As soon as the audience saw the black-robed figure of Rene Acerbi standing motionless under the huge sculpture, they grew quiet. Against the backdrop of the smoke and flames, the clandestine fraternity of men and women began to sway to the strange music as flickering, shadowy images danced in the tall trees surrounding the grove.

  Suddenly, the music stopped, prompting the man dressed in white to thrust his arms up toward the sky. For a few seconds, all was silent, and then the chanting began.

  The man in white lowered his arms and walked over to Rene. After clasping him on both shoulders, he took him firmly by his left arm. Without fanfare, he led him to the circle of blue-robed men and stood by his side as the chanting increased. Those gathered below were witnessing an ancient rite that had remained virtually unchanged since the 13th century.

  Rene would be the twelfth member of the circle, mimicking the number of apostles in the New Testament. Within his faith, these twelve were known as the Perfecti, a religious rank on par with that of the cardinals in the Catholic Church, but that was where any similarity stopped.

  Acerbi’s entrance into the circle signaled the beginning of the ancient rite of consolamentum. It was a baptism of the spirit, a spiritual regeneration. It was absolution and ordination rolled into one, and when it was all over, Rene Acerbi would be one step closer to his birthright of replacing the man in white. Not only would he sit at the head of one of the largest corporate empires the world had ever seen, but he would also be the ultimate leader of their faith, thus making it almost impossible for anyone anywhere in the world to ever challenge his authority again.

  He had already proven his ability to lead them in business, and now Rene would be given the chance to prove that he could hold sway over their religious beliefs as well. Until then, the spiritual well-being of the Acerbi clan would rest in the hands of the man dressed in white, and he had no plans for stepping down anytime soon. It’s only a matter of time, Rene thought to himself … a very short time indeed for the man in white.

  The black color of Rene’s robes was symbolic of the fact that he still remained in darkness, waiting to be reborn as a Perfecti. Once the transition from darkness to light had taken place, his black robes would be removed and replaced with ones of blue, the color of the Perfecti, signifying his membership among the spiritual elite.

  Ever since the day their previous leader, Eduardo Acerbi, Rene’s father, had disappeared, the Perfecti had wisely decided to keep their leader’s true identity a closely guarded secret. Many found it difficult adjusting to the fact that no one except for the Perfecti had any idea who their leader truly was. It had become fashionable at social gatherings to jokingly refer to one another as leader, because no one except for the Perfecti knew which powerful man sitting among them was the man in white. They could be sitting right next to him at a meeting and never realize who he really was.

  On those occasions like tonight, when their leader was required to be physically present according to the sacred laws governing the ancient rite of the consolamentum, his identity was hidden by the white hood that concealed his face from others.

  When the chanting stopped, the man in white stepped forward and faced Rene. For a full minute, their eyes were locked, each man searching the soul of the other. The audience was spellbound while Rene stood there, transfixed, like a serpent under the gaze of a snake charmer, until suddenly he stumbled backward. He had just seen something. Although he had only seen the eyes, a flash of recognition had just jumped full force from his subconscious into his conscious mind.

  Impossible!

  His breath began to come in short, shallow gasps, and he could hear his heart pounding in his ears as the ground swayed beneath his feet. It was as if time itself had come to a grinding halt in a disorienting symphony of emotions.

  No! It couldn’t be!

  But it was.

  Rene watched as the man reached beneath his white robes and produced three scrolls along with a letter. Looking deeply into Rene’s disbelieving eyes the man reached out and gently placed the scrolls in Rene’s trembling hands. Then, without a word, the old man suddenly turned and disappeared into the thick red smoke drifting across the stage.

  Rene felt like he was dreaming, for he had just come face to face with someone even more powerful than he … someone he never thought he would meet in this world … or any other for that matter.

  CHAPTER 23

  In the yacht’s dining room, Leo and the others sat drinking coffee with glum faces. News of the pathogen’s return had put a damper on a day that had been filled with promise, and none of their attempts to find any new information about the source of the pathogen had proved fruitful.

  “I’ve just received another message from the villa,” Lev said, finally breaking the silence. “They’ve received word that o
ther compounds have begun to seal themselves off from the outside world. People are beginning to think this is Armageddon.”

  “They may have a point,” Alon said. “I mean, sooner or later this thing is going to land on our own doorstep, and we’d better be prepared.”

  Lev rubbed his temples and stared down at the floor. “I believe this plague is part of a much grander plan. If we’re to succeed, we need to step up the pace and start using all of our resources. Right now, the only ace we hold in our hand is the code in the Bible … a code put there by God Himself. I’ve always believed that the real purpose of the code is to authenticate the fact that the Bible was divinely inspired and that it is the true word of God, but there may be other reasons for its existence. God, in His infinite wisdom, left us a code meant to be deciphered now, at this exact point in history. If I’m right, it may also hold the key to this plague.”

  John pinched his lips together in thought before finally deciding to join the conversation. “You know, I’ve been thinking, no one really understands the Book of Revelation very well. I mean, it reads just like a code … it probably is a code … and a lot of people have a lot of different interpretations of it. Maybe we are looking at Armageddon.”

  Leo frowned. “That dog just doesn’t hunt, John.”

  The cardinal’s countrified response not only brought smiles to all the faces around the table, but it also revealed a tough, working-class upbringing that sometimes surfaced when Leo was faced with a difficult problem. As a man who had once fought in the ring and worked in the coal mines beneath the rolling farmland of central Pennsylvania, Leo’s scarred left eyelid and blunted nose revealed a past not always spent in quiet introspection.

  Leo had always believed that his scholarship to Georgetown University had been a gift from God, but from the moment he had received it, he had always felt that he had a debt to repay-not to man, but to God. Leo’s method of repayment had been the priesthood, and for the past thirty years he had risen through the ranks of a group of sanctified commandos known as the Jesuits to his present position as a Prince of the Church. He had made the journey from a coal mine in Pennsylvania to the Vatican. From the rough, unpolished upbringing of his youth to the halls of academia as a highly educated professor of history, God had delivered him this far for a reason. Leo was sure of it as he slammed his fist down and glanced around the table at the others.

  Everyone was taken aback by the sudden display of emotion from the usually reserved cardinal.

  Ariella leaned over and laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Leo … what is it?”

  “We’re missing something. I can feel it. The answer is right there, right beyond our grasp. We need quick, honest answers and fresh minds. I was just thinking, this whole thing reminds me of a cave-in we had at the local coal mine in my hometown. When men are trapped underground, miners from all over the country come to help with new equipment and fresh ideas. Now, it seems as if mankind itself has suffered a cave-in of sorts. We’re at the bottom of a deep, dark hole with no light shining in from above. We need light and we need fresh air. I’m calling Morelli … and then I think we should call Mendoza and his team of scientists and ask them to join us. After our discussion last night, I’m convinced they know more than they’re telling us. This is a war, and some of the best people in the world are out there waiting to fight it with us.”

  Lev rubbed his beard and leaned back from the table. “If we are going to get more aggressive in our approach, then we need to make it a priority to find out just who or what the real enemy is.”

  Lev’s last statement made Leo pause. His Israeli friends, some of the most accomplished tacticians and fighters in the world, lacked a visible enemy. None of them had any idea what they were really up against. The pathogen was an invisible enemy that drifted on the wind, and the lack of something more concrete to target had become a roadblock to people with no experience in fighting a microscopic foe. Leo was about to give them one they could see.

  “Listen, everyone. This thing didn’t just spring forth from nature … it has a maker. We need to concentrate on finding him, or them, or whoever. I mean, what’s their goal? There has to be a payoff for them. In fact, that may be the very thing that leads us to them. We’ve got to think outside the box. There are clues all around us, but we aren’t seeing them yet. We need a common denominator, and by some strange twist of fate, I think we might have just found it … the Acerbi Corporation. We’ve got to keep our focus on them. Their logo is an exact match with the image of the stalk of wheat painted on the chapel wall. There’s no way they could have copied it exactly, because it’s been buried underground for two millennia.”

  “Excuse me, Cardinal.” Everyone looked up to see a female crewmember standing in the doorway to the dining room. “We just received a call from the Vatican. Bishop Morelli would like to speak with you right away.”

  Leo quickly rose from his chair and made his way up to the communications room. “Anthony, I was just telling the others we needed to call you. What’s up?”

  After a brief conversation, Leo walked out onto the deck surrounding the bridge. He gazed out across the dark water at the lights rising from the distant shoreline into the hills of the Spanish countryside. The lights were a comforting reminder that people were still in their homes, eating supper and talking to their children. Life was still going on … but for how long? Holding on to the railing, he felt as though the force of gravity no longer applied to him. Any moment now, an invisible switch with his name on it was about to be flipped, and he would float up into a dark void and disappear. Of course, life would still go on for others. People would still go about their daily lives, and the fact that a well-known Catholic Cardinal had suddenly disappeared would only be a side note to their evening discussion around the dinner table as they listened to the TV news in the background.

  The yacht’s captain was watching Leo from behind the windows of the wheelhouse. As with most seagoing men, Alex preferred watching the sea to listening to other men’s troubles, but Leo had become a friend, and tonight he had a feeling the cardinal needed someone to talk to. Walking outside, he stood by the rail and lit a cigarette before tossing the match overboard. “What’s wrong, Cardinal?”

  “Sarah Adams.”

  “Who?”

  “Sarah Adams … Daniel’s girlfriend. She was the flight attendant who was in the plane crash with us last year. She was also on the Carmela when we sailed from Israel to Italy.”

  “Thin, blond-haired girl?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about her?”

  “She just happens to be the only person in the world who’s contracted the virus and survived.”

  “Well, that’s good news, isn’t it?”

  Leo continued staring straight ahead, as if not making eye contact with the captain made the words come easier. “She’s gone missing from her hospital room. They think she’s been kidnapped.”

  CHAPTER 24

  After spending the night in his cabin trying to catch a few hours of fitful sleep, Leo showered and made his way up to the main deck. Sitting at an outside table, Nava and Ariella were having coffee under a blue awning stretched overhead.

  “Good morning, Leo,” Nava said. “Sleep well?”

  “Not really.”

  “Neither did we.”

  Leo poured a cup of coffee as he looked out at all the seemingly empty boats rising up and down in the gentle swell of the harbor. Peering inside the main salon, he saw several of the yacht’s crewmembers gathered around a TV. News of the hit-and-run epidemics, as they were now being called, was being broadcast on every television network in the world. Even the sports channels had switched to running bulletins about the evolving plague since all large sporting events had been cancelled.

  People in every nation on earth were waiting to see when and where the pathogen would strike next. It was like trying to look for a tsunami headed toward the shoreline, but like the virus, the submerged mountain of water was invisible as
it ran just beneath the surface at the speed of a jet aircraft.

  The sound of a boat racing across the water caused Leo to look up. Heading toward them, he saw one of the Carmela’s speedboats slicing through the calm blue water of the harbor just before the driver pulled back on the throttles and let the boat glide up next to the yacht’s boarding stairs.

  Walking to the railing, he could hear the throaty idle of the boat’s powerful engine as the driver watched the rise and fall of the water to time his final approach to the yacht’s teak wood boarding platform suspended at the bottom of the stairs just above the waterline. After all three of his passengers had safely made the jump, they stared up at the gleaming white superstructure before climbing the swaying stairway to the main deck.

  Javier Mendoza flashed a toothy grin when he stepped on the main deck and spotted Leo. “Ah, Cardinal. I knew it would be you who would call us. From the sound of your voice on the phone, I could tell you needed some good Spanish wine.”

  As the two men shook hands, Leo noticed a crewmember struggling up the stairs with what appeared to be a case of rare Palo Cortado Sherry. Behind him, a strikingly beautiful woman stepped onto the main deck, followed by an older, heavyset man wearing a loose-fitting, Hawaiian-print shirt.

  “I see you’ve brought some new faces with you, Javier.”

  “Yes. My new colleagues are more suited to the job at hand. Also, since we don’t know where the pathogen will strike next, we took a vote and decided only volunteers should join your little expedition. I believe you will be very impressed when you see their resumes.”

  Leo looked at the heavyset man in the colorful shirt. With long but thinning white hair and a short-cropped moustache, the out-of-breath man resembled the famous newsman, Walter Cronkite.