UNGODLY INTENT

once.

CHAPTER 1

THE SOUND OF CRASHING waves echoed throughout the ocean view cottage. Other than an invasion of marching ants into the kitchen pantry, Camille Santiago had little to complain about. She’d forgotten about leaving her sliding glass door ajar. Perusing her tight living space, she decided that exterminating the ants wasn’t an option. Instead, she swept the ants outside and put some sugar beyond the garden gate. Camille was good at assessing options.

A fifteen year career as an investigative journalist had taught her well. She’d been successful in exposing a highly profitable network of sex traffickers prostituting little girls from Mexico into the U.S. Just like outfoxing the ants with sweet offerings, young innocent girls were kidnapped and sold never to be seen again.

Camille poured herself a cup of herbal tea. It was 7 a. m., time to listen to world news. She flopped down on the sofa and started watching CNN’s coverage of the pope’s Easter Sunrise sermon.

From out of the bedroom, the familiar tone of her cell phone rang, but she wasn’t inclined to answer. Leave a message, she thought. It could only be Paul Easton, her editor intruding on her this early on Easter Sunday. Easton, a forty-nine-year old workaholic was driven seven days a week and expected his correspondents to follow suit. True, she had a final report to finish and a deadline to meet, but he could wait. She had just been patient with an army of ants. The phone stopped ringing, then, in less than a minute, it started over again.

Concern replaced apathy. Camille left her comfortable niche and bolted for the phone. An unfamiliar international number flashed across the screen. She answered.

Hello, Ms. Santiago, I hope I have not called too early. It is Pope Dominic.

Camille stood speechless. The last person on earth she could imagine getting a personal call from on Easter Sunday was the pope. Yet, she knew this wasn’t a prank. Pope Dominic was known for making personal calls. And she had given him her card when they met a few years ago. She knew something very serious must be happening.

Most Holy Father, this is an honor.

Thank you, Camille. I need your assistance, but it must be kept strictly confidential. Unfortunately, this cannot be discussed over the telephone. I need to see you in person. When can you visit Vatican City?

Camille was dumbfounded. Thoughts raced through her mind like laser beams. She cleared her head and responded respectfully.

I will arrange to fly out first thing tomorrow. How long should I expect to be there?

That all depends. It could be a few days or even a few weeks.

A knot formed in Camille’s stomach. Whatever you need, Your Holiness.

I knew I could count on you. Of course, we will cover all your expenses. I am sorry for the last minute agenda. As soon as you know your flight information, call this number with the itinerary. A driver will pick you up. Happy Easter.

Happy Easter, Most Holy Father, but the pope had already hung up.

CHAPTER 2

IN A QUIET farming community on the outskirts of Itaim Paulista, in the district of São Paulo, Brazil, thirteen men met to discuss their next course of action. This was their first face-to-face gathering. Each had a code name, as their real identities were no longer necessary. Besides, it was fitting these twelve believers should take on the names of Jesus’ apostles as the man at the center, number thirteen, was their new savior.

The men were bowed in supplication. But, their prayers were no longer self-sacrificing nor their motives noble. All twelve had been disgraced before their congregants, stripped of their priestly positions, condemned for committing sins of the flesh. Though each had taken their vows seriously, in the end, they were just men overcome by moral weakness. Despite their trespasses, they still loved God and church and the pathway to sainthood. They, too, would sit with the angels one day, but until then a new dawn would bare its teeth.

A knock at the outer door at first was ignored, each man so deep in prayer disregarding the interruption. Finally, insistent pounding stirred the group and all eyes shifted toward their redeemer. The plainly clothed man with iridescent eyes and lanky frame excused himself to handle the intrusion. The rest sat pensively waiting.

Good news comes from abroad, their leader shared as he reappeared. Things are progressing as planned.

At that, the follower known only as John stood up.

May I speak?

The redeemer nodded and sat back down on the cold tiled floor.

John looked into the eyes of each man searching for some sense of camaraderie. Not sensing any, he spoke. When I was contacted to join, I was hesitant. Yet, a shepherd without a flock is lost. When I left my parish, several parishioners threw stones at me. Tears filled his eyes. We are all brothers here, despite our condemned status. I did nothing worse than what was done to me years ago. Anger tinged his words. "We are taught to forgive. Where is our forgiveness?" Murmurs broke out.

The redeemer raised his hand to hush John. His eyes darted from man to man.

"You have all been chosen because you share deep faith and conviction despite being victimized by a system that preys upon human need. The church has washed its hands of us. Purgatory to those who disobey the rules!

So, now, we simply change the rulebook. An end must come to the exclusive authority the Vatican exhorts over its two billion followers. They hide their dirty secrets, yet cast out vulnerable shepherds like ourselves. What we have unleashed will sanitize a sacred house that needed housekeeping centuries ago. God will have a new holy place for worship, the Modern Roman Catholic Church. Let us pray for the success of our mission.

CHAPTER 3

CAMILLE’S HERBAL TEA had gone cold. The sunny sky she awoke to had morphed into a melodrama of encompassing fog. Her entire demeanor changed, too, since talking with the pope. She had no idea what she was getting herself into, but knew she needed a believable alibi to cover for her sudden departure and secret destination.

Organizing everything was going to be a feat in itself. Her biggest concern was what to tell her two children. Isabella was away at college, but called every morning to check in. Marco was in boarding school back east, but texted daily. Then she thought about Paul Easton. He was another matter altogether. If there was a major story she had an exclusive scoop on, he’d be all over her. She would need a very clever cover-up to appease all.

She walked into her bedroom and stared at a picture of Fernán playing with Isabella and Marco. It had been almost ten years since her husband was run down by a drunk driver. She felt a tug at her heart. What would he advise her to do if he were still alive?

Then her ear caught a news flash on CNN. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) and the World Health Organization (WHO) were giving a joint update on the global investigation into ATP2, the genetically engineered, sexually transmitted virus wreaking havoc in South America the past six weeks. Though their probe still hadn’t turned up the origin of the virus, they were certain it started in Brazil during Carnival.

Of course, the CDC and WHO gave assurance that their staff of experts was working diligently around the clock with the best medical minds available looking for treatment, cure and a vaccine. They were very optimistic. Most of the deaths that had been attributed to the virus were due to concomitant medical conditions. A cocktail of antivirals and blood transfusions appeared to be keeping the virus somewhat controlled.

The news reporter for CNN asked both representatives if ATP2 was due to terrorism. Neither wanted to take a position. The camera switched back to the CNN reporter.

So far, no one has come forward to take responsibility for this outbreak. We’ll just have to wait and see. Homeland Security has an alert advisory in place warning Americans not to travel to Brazil. We will keep you informed of any progress.

CHAPTER 4

DESPITE THE LATE night hour, the ensemble of believers listened intently as they received instructions. What their supposed savior did not reveal was the underlying reason why each had been chosen. All were multi-lingual and proficient in Latin, Aramaic and Greek. The fallen priests would be his emissaries all over the world igniting the flames of a holy war campaign.

The redeemer left the room and returned with a bowl of red ink. He proceeded to tattoo a Consecration Cross on the left palm of each man. They knew the significance of this cross, the twelve apostles. It would remind them of their need for redemption. He looked to the man on his right and nodded.

The individual known as Peter stood up.

I am honored to be named after St. Peter. From now on I will be your direct channel and spokesman. We have already carried out our first mission with success. We leave tomorrow to continue our campaign. I have new cryptograms for each of you to communicate with me. The chosen intermediary sat down.

It is time to introduce yourselves to your new family, the savior stated.

In sequence, the expelled priests announced their assumed names.

Brothers, I am Andrew.

My name is James the Great.

John simply nodded.

I am Philip. To the greater glory of God.

My name is Bartholomew. Be open to God's word, and know the truth.

"Matthew, Ad victoriam, to victory."

Thomas, I will never abandon God.

I am James the Lesser. Obscurity is my cloak.

Simon the Zealot, live true to yourself.

Jude Thaddeus, always stay courageous.

And I am Judas.

The group ended their meeting. They knew their purpose and would do as told. At this point, deliverance was all that mattered. Whether they ended up as martyrs was God’s call.

CHAPTER 5

THE MAN SMILED as he turned off CNN. He was bemused with himself. A vow he had made to his dying partner was now coming to fruition. AIDS was an ugly way to die. He’d watched as Dante turned into a living skeleton before succumbing to the disease. Despite newly passed legislation giving equal rights to gay couples and superficial acceptance of homosexuals, there was still a negative stereotype.

It had taken a decade and tens of millions of dollars in research to create ATP2. A state-of-the-art laboratory was built on his private island for his genius virologist. He knew money and power had a way of blurring morality. Furthermore, no one questioned his own brilliance. He was known as a mathematical wonder. Despite his philanthropy in funding medical research and higher education there was a dark side to this mysterious billionaire.

During his earlier years, while building his fortune, he had taken a liking for young girls. Prostitutes became regular fixtures at his home. His parties were wild and everyone enjoyed the fringe benefits as invited guests. For Maurice Kane, sex was sex, pure and simple. It had no gender affiliation or boundary. As a sexual predator he felt no guilt or remorse.

However, living a lifestyle of hedonistic debauchery eventually was his undoing. The U.S. government learned of his involvement in child sex trafficking. Prosecutors were bound and determined to take him down. Finally, he couldn’t dodge the courtroom any longer and Kane was charged with soliciting prostitution and served time in jail. For his lascivious appetites he was now a registered sex offender.

Maurice stood up from his chair and walked outside onto the patio and stared at the peaceful sea that faced him from every direction. He relished his privacy and living on an island gave him the solitude he needed to think without distraction. Just hours before, his administrator assured him that everything was still a go with his cadre of expelled priests.

The provocateur snickered as he looked out, Human need feeds on human greed.

He made it his business to know all the inside dirt on Washington politicians, European aristocrats, public figures, and the clergy. The final joke would not be on him. Now it was payback.

He really had no gripe with the Roman Catholic Church, but their Victorian stance on morality needed a shakeup. An infected population would be fast to accuse, and who better to use than cast out sheep. Maurice was tired of being persecuted. It was time for a new sacrificial lamb.

CHAPTER 6

MONDAY MORNING CAME and Camille was packed and ready to go. The airport shuttle was due to arrive any minute. Fortunately, things went smoothly when she told her kids she’d be gone for a while. Neither Isabella nor Marco questioned her phony story. She sent a brief email to Paul Easton telling him a family emergency in Florida needed her attention and she’d be out of town for a few days. She attached the final report stating if any changes were still needed, they would be completed as soon as she returned. Camille turned off her computer.

The last thing she remembered was boarding the airplane and closing her eyes. With a twelve hour flight Camille knew she could catch up on sleep and be refreshed when she met with the pope. It was early Tuesday morning when they touched down at Fiumicino Airport in Rome.

A short man holding a sign with her name on it was waiting in baggage claim. She approached him and said in Italian, "Ciao, io sono Camille Santiago." One of Camille’s strong suits was her fluency in multiple languages.

The driver was pleasantly surprised and responded in perfect English, Hello, my name is Nuccio. It is my pleasure to be your driver during your stay in Rome.

They arrived at The Gran Meliá Rome Hotel. On check-in, the manager said an exceptional suite had been arranged with breathtaking views that included the Vatican dome and the castle of Sant’ Angelo. He was sure she’d be delighted.

Nuccio handed her a card with his phone number. His parting words were a relief.

"Today is to rest up and get settled. Until tomorrow, ciao."

After getting unpacked, Camille decided to take a stroll. This might be her only opportunity to be a carefree tourist. She took along her rosary and Bible. St. Peter’s Basilica was just a short walk away. She’d had the good fortune of visiting there three years before just in time for mass. Being raised Catholic, attending mass in the holy shrine was enthralling. Plus, it seemed fitting to start off this puzzling visit praying with Saint Peter, one of Jesus’ twelve apostles and the first pope and bishop of Rome.

CHAPTER 7

THE SCIENTIFIC COMMUNITY joined forces. The CDC and WHO led the effort with other government agencies, including academia and industry. The Director of National Institutes of Health Investigators (NIH) along with lead researchers at the National Center Biotechnology Information (NCBI) formed a comprehensive team. It consisted of computer scientists, molecular biologists, mathematicians, biochemists, and research physicians to focus exclusively on this crisis.

NCBI, unquestionably the master of databases for the medical and scientific communities, could execute sequence searches against the entire DNA database in less than fifteen seconds. Despite the vast expertise and reach of this group, ATP2 was beyond their comprehension. It defied all known protocols. The methodology had not yet been developed.

All they could determine was that this virus had recombinant cells revealing a new combination of genetically engineered DNA. With ATP2, a reverse viral vector had been created by using harmful modified genetic material inserted into cells. Stopping a population from having sexual relations was unrealistic. Whoever created this contagion had spent a lot of time and money fashioning the disease.

Meetings were in progress at all levels of government. The President of the United States was briefed regularly on the outbreak and its ramifications. The Internet and social media added to the blaze with numerous types of conspiracy theories and hypotheticals. There was no escaping this deadly threat.

The investigation was concentrated in Brazil as this is where they believe the outbreak started. Because the United States had just put a travel restriction in place, fears of severe economic repercussions brought Mercosur, South America’s version of the European Union, into the picture. Brazil was one of its five sovereign member states.

In a matter of six weeks, an unknown, perfect virus had managed to wreak havoc across the world.

CHAPTER 8

AFTER A FULL day of sightseeing and attending mass at St. Peter’s, Camille was spent and ready to return to the hotel. When she reached her suite, La Repubblica, Rome’s daily newspaper was sitting at the door. She picked it up and entered the room. The front page articles talked about the pope and his moving Easter sermon. Pope Dominic was truly beloved by his followers.

Camille believed this pope had done more for the less fortunate, women’s causes, and strengthening inner-faith relationships than any other pope. In addition, he repaired scandals the church had suffered with regard to sexual misconduct within its ranks. This pontiff had no tolerance for abuse in any form which brought to mind why he had contacted her in the first place. She had racked her brain thinking about what scenarios could be at force here. Where would it all lead?

As she laid the paper down, she noticed a message light flashing on the telephone. She picked up the line and listened to two messages. The first was from the front desk asking about dinner reservations. The second call made her anxious. It was from Pope Dominic wanting to make sure she was comfortable. He stated that he looked forward to seeing her early tomorrow morning and had set aside time for them to meet alone. A special invitation for a private audience with the pope would be delivered this evening. It seemed everything had been arranged. Camille’s only unknown was why.

Camille walked into the bathroom to undress. She stared at her naked reflection. True, her strong Cuban genetics were a blessing. No one that met this striking redhead could believe she was forty-one. Her chiseled face still had that provocative look men hungered for. She also managed to keep her figure lean and tight, yet, it was those telling brown eyes that were the window to her soul. Despite all she’d been through, with losing a husband and raising two children alone while completing school, the sparkle never left them.

She finished up, switched off the bathroom light, and called for room service. Waiting for her dinner, she turned on the television and watched BBC Global News. The entire report centered on the growing concerns regarding ATP2 and its disturbing impact on Brazil’s population and economy.

Camille had kept herself informed on the escalating crisis. She knew whatever the news reported was just the tip of the iceberg.

CHAPTER 9

AS PROMISED, the special invitation was delivered to Camille’s room just before she retired for the night. A private appointment had been scheduled for 9 o’clock the next morning. She envisioned the pope’s personal Swiss Guard, his daily entourage, and extensive security detail clambering about wondering who she was.

Arriving promptly, a properly dressed Camille Santiago was received at Vatican City. After going through security, she was whisked away by staff to the Apostolic Palace where the pontiff maintained his office. His Holiness was not there when she arrived. Camille looked around in awe at the collection of art and history. She still couldn’t fathom what had transpired in the past three days. Bewilderment and disbelief enveloped her.

Pope Dominic appeared. Instantly, Camille noticed his distress. She dropped to her knees and bowed her head.

Most Holy Father, I am honored to be in your presence. As Camille knelt she took his hand and kissed the papal ring. He smiled, helped her up, and indicated a chair for her to sit. He sat in an adjacent chair. After a short prayer their meeting commenced.

"Camille, I want to thank you very much for coming so far to meet with me. What I am about to share with you leaves me saddened and quite concerned. There is no denying that the church has had its share of difficulties through the years. As the leader of the Catholic Church, it is my obligation to be exemplary to our faithful, to live a righteous life, and be all giving. I must keep the light of the church above the darkness of ignorance, corruption and sin. It is also incumbent upon me to heal the wounds some of our lost sheep have inflicted.

"As you know, the Congregation for the Doctrine of Faith promotes and safeguards the doctrine on faith and morals for Catholics worldwide. They carefully investigate ‘delicta graviora’, the most serious of crimes. The Prefect and his staff of cardinals, priests and laymen share a big burden. It grieves me to say that almost nine hundred priests have been excommunicated in the past decade alone for inappropriate sex acts with children. The church is under constant fire and scrutiny regarding the behavior of our clerics." The pope clasped his hands.

I have just gotten a report that seven of these excommunicated priests have committed suicide. When I first heard about this, the number was two. Then, in a matter of weeks, several more have taken their own lives. We believed these men did this ungodly act because they could not handle their reality.

Camille was shocked. She quickly responded. The newspapers never reported on this, why?

Parishes that are rocked by scandal try to get past the upheaval. These men were shunned by their communities. Since many had no place to go once removed, their current whereabouts was unknown. Most died in remote areas. The bodies were not discovered for a period of time. Unfortunately, these tragic deaths went unmentioned beyond local news. Vatican City eventually hears about everything that happens relative to our priests. After learning of the fifth suicide, I was sure there was a link. We did a quiet investigation.

This is terrible, Your Holiness, but what does this have to do with me?

We are convinced now that these deaths were not suicides, but well-thought-out murders!

Camille’s eyes widened. The ramifications were frightening.

What makes you believe these people were killed?

They all died in the same manner. Their wrists were slit with large thorns and they bled to death.

What exactly do you want me to do?

So far, all the victims come from isolated villages in South America. I would like you to go to Brazil and start your own investigation. Four of the seven victims were Brazilian.

I see, but why do you think I am the best suited for this job? The police would have a much better chance of uncovering a plot to kill excommunicated priests.

"There is more, Camille. A small boy who discovered the last victim found a piece of cloth in the dead man’s hand. He had dipped his index finger in his own blood for ink. He wrote, Inficio Infeci Infectum. In Latin, virus means the same thing as poison."

Camille now understood. Her eyes flashed horror at the realization.

"I have several reasons for wanting you to investigate. The whole world is currently looking for the person or persons responsible for creating the deadly virus known as ATP2. After the seventh victim was discovered, I did a global search looking for any other excommunicated priests who had disappeared. Over the past two months twelve others came up in our database. They are all from South America, but mostly Brazil. Yet, there have been no more deaths reported. I am fearful that these twelve men are involved with the viral epidemic. If this is true, there could be possible implications for the church. Many would believe we were somehow to blame as most of the people infected are homosexuals. Their communities have been hit the hardest. Our moral judgment will be on trial.

"You are very experienced in undercover work. Exposing a highly guarded corridor of child sex traffickers in Mexico showed your shrewd ability at fooling your enemy. You found the winding road leading to that wealthy pedophile so he could be brought to justice. As a Cuban woman, I believe you will be able to access places the police will find difficult. You are a Catholic, speak these languages fluently, and will not be suspected of working with the Vatican.

You will have ample support from us and safe places to stay. Your main contact is a man who I trust implicitly. His name is Luis Jose Barros of São Paulo. He is a Brazilian physician who gave up a lucrative practice to give full attention to the research of the AIDS virus. Luis lost a brother to the disease. He has given me his word he will assist you with anything you need.

Just then a knock at the door sounded. The pope looked at the time. He was already ten minutes late for his next appointment.

From out of a desk drawer, Pope Dominic took a small envelope and passed it over to Camille. It wasn’t hard to guess what was inside. Then he gave her a sealed folder containing instructions for her forthcoming trip. Confidential information on the twelve excommunicated priests was included as well.

Time is of the essence, dear friend. Your flight leaves at noon.

His parting words were profound.

"The light of