Bipolar WINTER. Samuel David Steiner
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Then the only woman who had occupied his thoughts for the last six years had shown up in his room requesting he act as her spy.
Perhaps the biggest shock, though, was having his laptop confiscated. He understood the risk the Church faced if his research ended up in the wrong hands. And he couldn’t help feeling like it was his fault Church secrets had been uploaded on the Dark Internet. Any number of people could have accessed his research during the years he spent collecting data.
David poured Aldo a glass of water from a pitcher on the nightstand. Like many of the art pieces Aldo had seen within the Apostolic Palace, the beautifully hand-painted clay pitcher looked authentic. But David seemed completely unfazed by the fact he was serving a potential informant water from an early Greco-Roman antique.
Smiling, David handed the glass to him. “I hope you slept well.”
“Uh, thanks,” Aldo said hesitantly. Then quickly draining the glass, he handed it back to David, who refilled it. “You seem to know what I need even before I do.”
“That’s my job,” he replied. “I act as a valet for important dignitaries.”
“Must be a slow week if you got stuck with me.”
David chuckled and handed him the glass again. “Well, until I’m told otherwise, you’re a VIP. Please let me know if there’s anything you need.”
Aldo drank the second glass then set it on the nightstand. Noticing a slim black device on the table near the bathroom, Aldo stood and walked over to it. Running his hand over the laptop’s sleek surface, he asked, “Is this…”
“I apologize for not having it ready last night. I wanted to make sure it was equipped with the same software as your old one.”
“Thank you, David.”
David bowed then gestured to the corner of the room where Aldo’s suit hung from a mahogany valet stand, already pressed. “I’ll leave you to get dressed. When you’re ready, I’ll take you to the southeast courtyard for your breakfast meeting.”
Aldo thanked him again and waited for the door to close before opening the laptop. He switched it on, and quickly shaved and combed his hair while it booted up. Getting dressed in record time, he slipped his reading glasses on, and then sat down at the table to peruse the programs and functions on the new machine. He found encryption coding software along with the newest cloud computing system, but none of his files had been uploaded.
They really did confiscate everything. He sighed. It was probably for the best though. His data had been password protected, but no doubt it would be much safer with the Holy See. And he couldn’t be sure he would even need his research notes. Not if the pope wanted him to try to hack into the Dark Internet, but based on the setup of his new laptop, David seemed much more qualified for that task.
Aldo shut down the laptop and joined David in the hallway outside his room, following as the priest guided him back through the maze of corridors. A few moments later, they stepped out into a courtyard filled with a variety of flowers, all in full bloom despite the chilly February morning. Three gardeners were already busy coaxing nature out of her winter slumber.
“Good morning, Aldo,” the pope called jovially from a small bistro table set to one side of a patio that ran the length of the courtyard. “I trust you slept well.”
Sure. “Yes, Your Holiness. Thank you.” Aldo pulled out the chair opposite the pope and sat down as waiting attendants filled his plate with fruits, eggs, and bite-sized pastries. His stomach grumbled and he realized he hadn’t eaten since the previous morning.
The pope chuckled. “Ah, to be young.”
“It all looks delicious,” Aldo said, blushing. Well, at least he’d already lowered any expectations the pope had of his decorum with his wardrobe yesterday. Aldo waited for the pope to give his blessing before taking his first bite. As he ate, Pope Benedict watched him in silence, taking only a few small bites of a pastry in between sips of espresso.
Aldo held up his hand when the attendants tried to refill his plate a third time. “No more, thank you. It was delicious.” After taking his plate and topping off his coffee, they excused themselves, leaving him alone with Pope Benedict.
The pope set down his espresso mug, and then leaned in. “I have a special research assignment for you,” he said quietly.
Research? While relieved, Aldo had assumed removing all traces of Septem Montes from the Dark Internet would be the Church’s top priority.
“I’m honored, Your Holiness,” he said after a moment.
Pope Benedict nodded. “What do you know about the end of World War II?”
Aldo sat back in his chair and took a sip of his black coffee. “Just the basics, I’m afraid. As religion played less of a role at the end of the war than at the beginning, my study focused more on the first half.”
“Fair enough,” the pope said. “You’re about to become an expert.”
Aldo stared at him. “Really?” That was his first assignment? He had to be missing something. What did the Nazis have to do with Septem Montes ?
Pope Benedict nodded again and handed him a black leather portfolio.
Aldo opened it, expecting to find a stack of documents. Instead, he pulled out a boarding pass for a flight to Buenos Aires, Argentina, leaving that afternoon. There was information about a rental car and hotel as well. And tucked into a flap on the right side was a credit card embossed with his name. “I’m leaving now?” he asked, baffled. “But I just got here.”
“I do apologize,” Pope Benedict said, “but you understand our urgency.” He took another sip of espresso. “I had David make the arrangements last night.”
So, you planned on sending me to Argentina from the beginning.
Aldo stared at the boarding pass for a long moment. His lack of sleep wasn’t helping his confusion. “You want me to research World War II in Argentina?”
“Yes,” the pope replied.
Still unable to think of a logical correlation, he gave up trying. Why did it seem like this was just an excuse to keep him busy? “What precisely am I looking for?”
“That’s a good question,” the pope said with a wry smile. “I need you to use your keen observational skills. Look around, ask questions, scrutinize, learn. Do what you do best.”
“So, be your eyes and ears," Aldo replied, using Allison’s words from the night before. He was beginning to feel like the rope in a game of tug-o-war.
“To put it simply, yes.”
Aldo tucked the travel documents back into the portfolio. It made sense. He’d very likely had a hand in unintentionally exposing secrets the Church didn’t want made public. And while they’d confiscated his research, what better way to keep him from picking up where he left off than to distract him with a new topic? This assignment was along the same vein as his thesis, though, so keeping him in the dark couldn’t be their goal.
“No hints then?”
The pope shook his head. “I don’t want to feed you information that could be biased. I have theories, but I need you to approach this with a clean slate.”
“I understand,” Aldo said slowly. “May I ask how this assignment relates to Septem Montes?”
The pope thought for a moment then nodded. “I believe there is a correlation to the Seventh,” he replied vaguely.
Aldo knew that the Seventh-day Adventist Church had regional offices in Argentina, but he was still missing what connected the church to the events at the end of World War II. “The Seventh-day Adventists, right?” Aldo confirmed.
Pope Benedict smiled. “I see you’ve already put that piece into place.”
“Yes.