The Rozabal Line Page 11

  Vincent’s eyes adjusted themselves to the dimly lit room. It had become dark outside and the light that had been filtering in through the window when they had started the session was no longer available. Terry reached out to the bedside lamp and switched it on.

  ‘So, how do you feel?’ asked Terry.

  Vincent’s words came gushing out, ‘Awesome! Terry, I am truly blessed to have been able to see the Lord. I had only read about the cross-bearer Simon of Cyrene, but I’d never ever imagined that I could have been that person in a previous life. I am truly blessed. Thank you for helping me experience this.’

  Terry thought for a moment and then, lowering his voice, he said, ‘Vincent, I must tell you I am as excited as you are. I have never been through a more nail-biting regression therapy session than the one I just put you through. It’s only natural that you will want to share this experience with others. My advice is that you should be selective in choosing the people you share this information with. You should be prepared that many will think you a lunatic if you tell them what you just experienced.’

  ‘Thanks for the advice . . . tell you what, let’s go someplace where we can have a drink and I can share this with Nana!’ said Vincent, excitedly kicking his feet off the bed and picking up his jacket that lay folded on the armchair in the corner.

  Terry stopped him. From his pocket he took out a folded envelope and handed it over to Vincent. On the face of the envelope were two words, ‘Bom Jesus’.

  Vincent was confused. ‘What’s this?’ he asked.

  Terry replied, ‘I have spent the last few years studying virtually every religion around the globe. Inside this envelope is a document that will have dramatic consequences for the world. I do not expect you to understand it. Just keep it safe and promise me that you will research it further in the event that your regression experiences point you in a certain direction. Having held you back from the truth in a previous life as your father, I need to ensure that the truth prevails in this lifetime! I can’t let sleeping dogs lie, my friend!’

  Even though Martha was curious about the outcome of the regression session, she suppressed her eagerness. The three of them headed to the White Horse. The White Horse, located at Parsons Green, was probably London’s best pub, precisely because most Londoners did not know about it. The pub’s cellar man, Mark Dorber, was internationally acknowledged as one of the best artists in the storage and serving of English casked beer. The pub’s menu was wide, but the hot favourites were bangers and mash, red bean soup and goat’s cheese salad. The pub was one of Terry’s regular haunts.67 Having settled in and ordered their drinks and food, Martha finally spoke, ‘Well, Vincent, how did it go?’

  Vincent recounted what he had seen during the hour-long session that Terry had put him through. Martha was wide-eyed with amazement as he attempted to recall each detail between gulps of Gales Trafalgar, a deep amber beer. Vincent couldn’t help pondering over the fact that Jewish burial customs had not changed in almost 3,500 years and that Jewish burial simply involved washing the body and burying it. Embalming the body with herbs such as aloe vera and myrrh was never employed.68

  So why were crushed myrrh and aloe vera used on Jesus after he was taken down from the cross? And why did the soured-wine-vinegar sponge smell of opium and belladonna? Why was Pontius Pilate willing to give the body of Jesus to the influential Joseph, even though Roman law did not allow those sentenced to crucifixion to be given a burial?

  There were just too many questions and not enough answers. ‘I have to discuss this with someone who can possibly help me reconcile what I have just seen with my faith,’ thought Vincent. He helped himself to another succulent sausage with creamy mashed potatoes and thought of his friend, Thomas Manning.

  Thomas Manning and Vincent had attended St Joseph’s seminary together and had been ordained to the priesthood at the same time. When Vincent’s parents died, it was Thomas who had taken care of all the funeral arrangements. He had continued to visit Vincent each day in the hospital while he was recovering. Yes, Thomas was just the person to give him direction and advice. But hadn’t he seen Thomas Manning in Ireland in a previous life? Would he be doing the right thing by trusting him? Yes, he was sure he could trust Thomas—a past life incident was certainly no reason to mistrust someone.

  As they were getting up from their table, they saw a petite Japanese woman sitting, along with a Japanese man, at a table by the window. She was sipping red wine and speaking rather softly, despite the din of the noisy customers. Vincent couldn’t help thinking to himself: ‘What a delightful creature!’

  He did not notice her fixed gaze on Terry while they were inside the restaurant. He also did not notice her following Terry as he headed over to the university to pick up some reference material from the library later in the evening. Most significantly, he did not notice his aunt, Martha, staring intently at the young Japanese woman. Just like he’d never noticed the barely perceptible little tattoo on his aunt’s wrist.

  Chapter Ten

  Ireland, 1864

  The Great Famine of Ireland had been caused by the failure of a single crop, the potato, which was the staple diet of Irish peasantry. Even though Catholic peasants were able to grow enough potatoes, most of their crop had to be sold off in order to pay the exorbitant land rents that were demanded by the Protestant tax collectors.69 One of the poor Catholic families that fell victim to the Great Famine was the illustrious Ó Mainnín clan, descendants of Mainnín, a great chieftain of Connacht. They were left with no alternative but to immigrate to America in 1864—all because of the damned spud!

  The Catholics who left Ireland and arrived in America never forgot the hunger that they had experienced. They clung to their faith with fervent devotion but they also clung to their hatred of the Protestant minority which had caused their hunger in the first place.

  Middle Village, New York, USA, 1968

  One could not escape death in Middle Village. It was a neighbourhood in west-central Queens that had grown precisely because of the cemetery business. Middle Village had begun as a cluster of English families and had derived its name because of its central position between Williamsburgh and the Jamaica Turnpike. In 1879, St John Cemetery had been established just east of 80th Street by the Roman Catholic Church. The hamlet’s economic progress had soon become inextricably linked to death.70

  Ninety years later, Thomas Manning had been born to parents who lived in a simple nondescript house along Metropolitan and 69th Street. Thomas’s father worked for The Ridgewood Times, the local newspaper, which had been around since 1908. Their family name Manning was simply the English equivalent of the Gaelic Ó Mainnín.

  In 1853, the bishop of New York had observed that there were many Catholics who were without a church in the Middle Village area. He had commenced the construction of St Margaret’s Church and school in 1860. Thomas Manning would be baptised here in 1968.

  The church and school would become the centre of Thomas Manning’s early years growing up in Middle Village. His favourite teacher, who taught the students science, economics and mathematics, made sure that he inculcated the right values among his wards. His favourite lessons and teachings were taken from a book of 999 sayings, or maxims.The book of 999 maxims, entitled The Way had been written by Josemaría Escrivá, the Spanish priest who had founded Opus Dei. Yes, Thomas Manning was a very good student.

  Einsiedeln, Switzerland, 1988

  In fact, Thomas Manning was an excellent student. After preaching for several years at St Catherine in Virginia, Father Thomas Manning had settled down in Switzerland in the Benedictine abbey of Einsiedeln some years later. Even now, the book of 999 maxims continued to remain by his bedside. His affiliation to the Priestly Society of the Holy Cross continued to be strong—much like the foundations of Einsiedeln. Father Thomas Manning had morphed into Brother Thomas Manning.

  Einsiedeln traced its origins back to A.D. 835 when Meinrad, a Benedictine monk, had withdrawn as a hermit into the Dark For
est. Many more hermits had followed him. Around a century later, Eberhard, a priest from Strasbourg, had assembled the hermits into a monastic community and had founded the Benedictine monastery of Einsiedeln.71

  Einsiedeln would eventually become extremely important for Swiss Catholicism as also an international site of pilgrimage. Einsiedeln would spur the creation of monastic foundations in North and South America, some of which would go on to become significantly bigger than Einsiedeln itself.

  In fact, it was one of these American foundations that had found Thomas Manning and arranged for him to meet Cardinal Alberto Valerio in Italy. Valerio had discreetly spoken to the master of Einsiedeln and ensured that the Oedipus trust had its way in recruiting the right man for the job.

  When Manning had first arrived in Einsiedeln, it had taken him a while to become acquainted with daily monastic prayer and work. This had been followed by a novitiate year during which he was introduced to the Rule of St Benedict, monastic spirituality, prayer, and community life. He then took vows for three years. During these three years, he was required to study either philosophy and theology or ‘work in his craft’.

  Brother Manning had chosen to apply his knowledge of mathematics and economics to better manage the finances of the monastery. Unknown to the other brothers of Einsiedeln, he was also managing several secret numbered accounts in Zurich for his mentor, Cardinal Alberto Valerio. It was indeed true that it was no longer sufficient to slip into a monk’s habit and sing the Gloria Patri. The skills required by Brother Manning were of an altogether different magnitude.

  London, UK, 2012

  In the UK, the commonly accepted joke was that The Times was read by the people who ran the country; the Mirror was read by people who thought they ran the country; the Guardian was read by the people who only thought about running the country; the Mail was read by the wives of the people who ran the country; the Daily Telegraph was read by the people who thought that the country needed to be run by another country; the Express by those who were convinced that, indeed, it was; and the Sun was read by people who couldn’t care less who ran the country as long as the naked girl on page three had big titS.72

  Vincent was sitting in the pathetically small lobby of the Airways Hotel reading the Sun. He was blissfully unaware of the big tits on page three. He was staring at the photograph of his new friend, Professor Terry Acton, on page one. The news story that followed was filled with gruesome details of the discovery of the severed head of Professor Terry Acton in the library of the School of Oriental and African Studies at the University of London. It quoted a visibly shaken librarian, Barbara Poulson, saying she ‘could not believe that any human being could do this to another’. Obviously, Ms.Poulson was not up-to-date with global crime.

  The story quoted a detective chief superintendent saying that a note had been found along with the severed head and that it had been decided to keep the contents of the note confidential to avoid public misconceptions about the nature of the crime. He went on to say that efforts were ongoing to locate the rest of the body and to track down the perpetrators as soon as possible.

  Vincent was trembling. Why was God doing this to him? Why bring Terry Acton into his life and then eliminate him? Why open up secrets of previous lives through Terry? Why place the Bom Jesus documents in his hands? And who in the world would want to kill Terry, a kind, gentle and mild-mannered professor?

  Vincent continued sitting in the lobby of the Airways Hotel, not bothered that the furniture and décor had seen better days. He continued staring at Terry’s photograph until he made up his mind. He got up, walked over to the front desk and asked the middle-aged matron behind the desk to lend him the phone. He pulled out his AT&T USA Direct calling card from his wallet and dialled the local access number in London, 0800-89-0011. The electronic English voice that answered prompted him to enter the area code and the seven-digit number in the United States. He entered 718-777-2840 for the number in Queens, New York. He was then prompted to enter his international calling card number, which he quickly did. He heard the single, long and straightforward ring tone that was so different to the local English hyphenated one. After four rings, Thomas Manning answered the phone.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Tom! I’m glad I caught you in New York. I wasn’t sure whether I’d find you there or in Switzerland.’

  ‘Vince, where are you? It’s been ages.’

  ‘I’m in London.’

  There was a pause at the other end. After a moment, Thomas asked, ‘Why are you in London?’

  ‘Well, why not? Listen, Tom, I have to tell you something . . . I’m wondering whether it’s such a great idea to have this conversation over a phone, but I don’t know when I’ll get a chance to meet you . . .’

  ‘Vince, is something wrong? Has something happened?’ Thomas sounded genuinely concerned.

  ‘Before I say anything else, I need your promise to keep this conversation confidential,’ said Vincent.

  ‘Sure, but what exactly is the matter? You’re beginning to worry me.’

  ‘Okay, here goes . . . as you know, I had been having strange visions after the passing away of my parents. In fact, you were there by my side in the hospital, right? I needed to explore these strange visions. Don’t ask how . . . but that’s why I arrived here.’

  ‘I don’t understand, Vince. Why this phone call?’

  ‘Tom, yesterday I met a person by sheer chance—Terry Acton, a professor of spirituality and religion. He helped me explain some of the confusion surrounding the odd flashes that were going off in my head.’

  The pause at the other end was much longer.

  ‘Tom, are you still there?’ asked Vincent.

  ‘Yes, sorry, Vince, my mind had wandered off elsewhere. You were talking about this professor.’

  ‘Precisely. We spent an entire day together and he was killed the very same night!’

  ‘What? How did that happen?’

  ‘I have no idea. Tom, I’m really scared. Could God have punished him for opening up my past lives to me?’

  ‘Whoa! Hold it right there, Vince. What past lives?’

  ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘Go ahead . . . I’m all ears,’ said Thomas Manning as he pressed the automatic recording button that was built into his phone while absentmindedly playing with the small pendant that hung around his neck.

  New York City, USA, 2012

  Thomas Manning picked up the phone and dialled the number in Vatican City.

  The Bang & Olufsen phone buzzed gently. His Eminence answered it on the first ring. He pressed the button on the SV-100 scrambler that was attached to the line; one couldn’t be too careful nowadays.

  When the voice answered, Thomas quickly spoke in Latin, ‘Salve! Quomodo vales?’

  The voice answered, ‘EGO sum teres. Operor vos postulo ut sermo secretum?’

  Thomas replied in hushed tones, ‘Etiam Vincent Sinclair postulo futurus vigilo.’

  The voice was concerned. ‘Quare?’

  Thomas began explaining the situation to His Eminence,‘Is orator volo . . . we have a problem . . .’

  His Eminence was on alert.

  ‘Professor Terry Acton may have spoken with someone before his death,’ continued Thomas.

  His Eminence was getting angry and he spoke sharply, ‘Who?’

  ‘Father Vincent Sinclair. Apparently they spent the entire day together before Acton was killed.’

  His Eminence was turning crimson red, the colour of his robes, but he controlled his rage.

  ‘Do you think he knows about Terry Acton’s research? Is Vincent Illuminati?’ asked His Eminence.

  ‘I don’t think he knows as yet. And no, I don’t think that Vincent is Illuminati. Terry Acton was definitely Illuminati, but I don’t think Vincent is. Terry Acton’s connections to the Illuminati only happened because of his Rhodes Scholarship and his membership of the Skull & Bones,’ explained Thomas Manning.

  Valerio cut in, ‘Thomas, let me be
more specific. Do you think that Acton would have shared the Bom Jesus records with Vincent Sinclair?’

  Thomas Manning was quiet for a moment. He then replied, ‘It’s very likely. It seems that Vincent believes he saw Jesus Christ in a previous life.’

  ‘Blasphemy!’ shouted His Eminence.

  ‘True. But he genuinely believes it. I have the recording of the conversation I had with him over the phone. I am quite sure that Terry Acton also believed it. It’s thus quite possible that they discussed the Bom Jesus papers,’ replied Thomas.

  ‘Then there’s only one solution. I will meet you in Zurich to decide the final steps to rid ourselves of this Illuminati menace!’ shouted one loyal member of the Crux Decussata Permuta to the other.

  Virgin Atlantic’s flight VS 900 from London’s Heathrow to Tokyo’s Narita airport took off at 1pm. The camera-festooned Japanese tourist couple, Mr and Mrs Yamamoto, were in Virgin’s Upper Class cabin, having received their professional fees for the library job from their mentor, Alberto Valerio, at The Dorchester Hotel. His Eminence had subsequently checked out on the same day and left for Vatican City. Mr Yamamoto did not know that Mrs Yamamoto had received a fresh assignment involving Mr Yamamoto.

  Unknown to them, another flight from Rome was taking off fifty-fifty minutes after their departure. Swiss International Airlines flight LX 333 was on its way to Zurich. Since the airline did not have a first-class section on this flight, His Eminence Alberto Cardinal Valerio had no option but to settle for business class.