CHAPTER 8
Sighing, Pope Benedict allowed himself to be thrust into the nearby conference room. To his shock, he found the other nine leaders standing in a half-circle, holding their right hands behind them. All of them wore hostile expression on their faces. The folding chairs, he noticed, all leaned against the wall. The overhead light had been shut off; only one tabletop lamp shed any light across the room. A bolt of lightning zigzagged outside the window, followed by a louder thunderclap.
“So—you have the ambition to take over as world leader? Subject every one of us to your control?” Giuseppe approached him, a menacing look in his eyes. “I’ll tell you what you’re going to be subject to—death! You are going to die, Pope Benedict! You are going to pay with your life for what you did to my son!”
“What are you talking about?” Pope Benedict stared at him. “What did I do to him?”
“You gave your nephew drugs, and he gave some to Silvo!” Giuseppe roared. “And now, prepare to die!”
Pope Benedict couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Where had Giuseppe gotten the idea that the pope had gotten any drugs for Benito? Unless...
He had no chance to speculate further; Giuseppe raised his right arm over his head. A butcher knife gleamed in the soft lamplight. Pope Benedict stepped back, throwing his hands out.
“No!” he hollered. “Don’t do it—I am your friend! I never gave any drugs to Benito!”
Before he could protest further, a stabbing pain ripped through his chest. In that moment, the other leaders proceeded to stab the pope all over his body.
__________________________________
Unaware of what was happening in the conference room, Benito slowly crept toward his friend’s suite of rooms, two gold bricks under the crook of his arm. He had wrapped them in a burlap bag, to escape detection.
“I’ve got to get there before my uncle finds out what I’m doing,” he muttered. He glanced down at the Oriental rug that spanned the hall. “Silvo leaves tomorrow.”
“Don’t you think you’re making a serious mistake, Benito?”
The stunned boy whirled around. Monica stood in the nearest doorway. Benito’s mouth dropped open. “What—what—?”
“Benito, your uncle sent me to find you. He needs you—right now.” Monica touched his shoulder. “I’ll tell your friend Silvo that you couldn’t come to him. Go—now! I’ll take your gold back to your room! You’ll find it in your closet with the rest when you return there.”
Without a word, Benito thrust the gold bricks into her arms, then rushed in the other direction. His shoes thudded loudly on the carpet as he rushed in the direction of his uncle’s quarters. I hope nothing’s happened to my uncle!
Unknown to him, Monica followed him and prayed. His way, she knew, would take him through the conference room; the moment of truth was fast approaching for the boy.
__________________________________
Back in the conference room, Giuseppe inflicted the last stab wound into Pope Benedict’s side. “Die, tyrant!” Giuseppe shoved him down as he spoke, then kicked him in the leg. Laughing, the 10 leaders left the room, leaving the lamp on. A writhing Pope Benedict lay in a ever-widening pool of his own blood. A loud thunderclap outside startled the dying pope. In that instant, a torrent of rain lashed against the windowpane.
“Giovanni Angelico?” A man with sandy-brown hair approached the pope. He wore a light beige suit, and the same Heavenly glow that had earlier illuminated Monica poured over this man.
Pope Benedict groaned. “You’re another angel?”
“Yes, Giovanni. My name is Andrew.” Andrew touched his shoulder. “I’m an angel of death. God has sent me to take you Home.”
The pope choked. “Impossible. You look too gentle and kind to be the angel of death.” Another lightning bolt lit up the sky outside, then a deafening clap of thunder echoed in his ears. The pope winced at the noise.
An amused expression crept into Andrew’s eyes. He raised his hand in front of his waist. “God Himself is gentle and kind, Giovanni, and we angels illuminate His character. Only the fallen angels—demons—do not.”
With a nod, Pope Benedict grimaced, then winced in pain. “Please don’t let my nephew die! I’m too late to find him and stop him!”
A comforting smile spread across the angel of death’s face. “Don’t worry, Giovanni. God has His hand on Benito as we speak. He loves your nephew even more than you do.”
The door banged open; Benito rushed inside, slamming it shut behind him. He froze in front of the doorway, gaping down at his uncle, shock etched on his face. Hollering, he rushed toward his uncle’s side. “Uncle!” he yelled. “Uncle Giovanni, don’t die! Who did this to you?!”
As the boy knelt by his uncle, Pope Benedict reached up to pat his nephew’s face. “It’s too late for that now, Benito.” His voice sounded weak. “I’m going to die in a few minutes. Nothing can stop that from happening, nephew.”
Andrew touched his shoulder. “Talk to your nephew, Giovanni. When the moment is right, he will see me, too.”
Pope Benedict nodded acquiescence, then turned back to Benito. “Nephew, I have something very important to tell you, and I want you to listen with all your heart.” His voice sounded weak and raspy.
Grief etching the boy’s face, he nodded. “What is it?” He shifted position, perched on his knees.
Pope Benedict winced in pain again. “You will not get any relief from your pain by smoking marijuana or taking crack, my boy. Yes, I know what Silvo was trying to do.” He bit his lower lip. “God doesn’t want you to make a mistake that’s going to end your life, and neither do I.”
Benito’s mouth dropped open. “God?!”
His uncle nodded. “Yes. God.” He shook his head. “I was wrong, Benito. Dead wrong. There is a God in Heaven, and His Son did die for us 2,000 years ago. I refused to believe it, because I didn’t want to be accountable to Him. I just wanted to have as much power as the world would allow, and tonight, I foolishly tried to use the European Union to help me get more of it.” He winced yet again. “My choices have cost me my life—I’m going to be dead momentarily. The religion I was so proud of is going to die, too.”
He grabbed Benito’s sleeve. Another thunderclap, softer, sounded outside the window. The downpour continued to drum the windowpane. “I don’t want you to make the same mistake!” With much effort, he raised his head to look the boy in the eyes. “I don’t want you to die, too, and you will if you take any of that crack! I want you to live, to know God’s peace. To know His life.” Pain surged in his heart; he swallowed hard. “It’s too late for me—I’ll be in Heaven with Him, yes, thanks to His goodness in offering me His mercy at the last minute. But I’ll never get to live it out here. You still have that chance, though—don’t throw it away!”
Benito made an obvious effort to choke down a sob. “Yes, uncle.” He spoke quietly. “What should I do?”
The pope clutched the boy’s sleeve more tightly. Benito’s face looked blurry. My vision is going, he thought. I must hurry! Out loud, he said, “Give your life to Jesus. Ask Him into your heart.” Pope Benedict took a deep breath. “That’s what I did earlier, when Monica exhorted me. She’s an angel, Benito! So are Tess and Gloria. Whatever they tell you, nephew, do it. Promise me that, boy!”
Benito plunged his face into his hands. “Monica and Tess and Gloria are—angels?!”
“That’s right,” Andrew added. Raising his head, Benito leaned back, shock etching his face as he gaped at the angel of death. Another clap of thunder, softer still, sounded in the distance. Andrew continued, “She is an angel, Benito. And so are Tess and Gloria, as the pope said. God sent them to you and your uncle, to show you the way Home. He doesn’t want your uncle to die without knowing His peace, and He doesn’t want you cutting your life short, Benito. He loves you both.”
Benito looked from Andrew to Pope Benedict, then back again. “Are—are you taking him to Heaven?”
“Yes. I’m the angel of death.” Andrew removed a silver pocket watch from his pants pocket, opened its lid, and glanced down at it. As uncle and nephew watched, the angel closed its lid and gazed down at Pope Benedict. With a deep sigh, the pope closed his eyes and took his last breath. In the next instant, he found himself standing beside his now-lifeless body.
END OF CHAPTER 8