Bailey nodded. “The rest were thrown out, declared heretical. Including the Gospel of Thomas.”
Mara examined the two cards. “But why was Thomas’s gospel outlawed?”
Gray answered, “Because of the basic tenet at its core. Seek and you shall find.”
He remembered Vigor sharing this same knowledge, when they’d first met, during one of Gray’s first missions for Sigma, dealing with the theft of the bones of the Biblical Maji.
Bailey nodded. “Thomas believed the core of Christ’s teachings was never to stop looking for the God in the world around you—and in yourself. The early church did not appreciate this philosophy, preferring you stick with their teachings and interpretations versus seeking God on your own terms.”
Kowalski grunted. “Gotta fill those pews somehow.”
Sister Beatrice frowned heavily at his sarcastic viewpoint, silencing him.
“It’s more nuanced than that,” Bailey said. “But ultimately the Gospel of Thomas was declared heretical. Still, there are those among the church who respect and adhere to the basic tenet found in that gospel. As you know, the church is not beyond science. We have Catholic universities and hospitals, including research facilities that advocate forward thinking, new thoughts, and ideas. And yes, a certain part of the church is steadfast and slow to respond, but it also contains members who challenge and keep the church malleable.” He waved toward the silent nun. “That is a role we still serve. Those of the Thomas Church.”
A church hiding within the bigger Church.
Gray studied the cards, picturing Vigor’s warm smile, the secretive amused glint that had always been in his eyes. As he stared around the table, he also sensed the forces drawing him full circle, from his first adventure with Sigma to now. He could almost feel that tide, spanning centuries into the past and extending into the future.
Bailey drew him back to the present. “But the Thomas Church is not the only secretive order within the larger Apostolic Church. I was drawn here at the request of another.”
Surprised, Gray looked harder at him. “Who are you talking about?”
Bailey turned his back to the table and gazed out the window toward the church in the square, watching it sink into darkness as Christmas Day came to an end.
“An ancient order,” he finally said, “going back to the earliest centuries of Christendom. A group founded in this region and whose members have been fighting in secret against the dark tides of ignorance ever since.”
“Who?” Carly asked.
Bailey returned his attention to the table. “What do you know of La Clave? In English, the group’s name means The Key.”
Looks were shared, but no one recognized this group.
“How about the Cult of Columba?”
Gray shook his head, but Mara suddenly gasped, the name clearly ringing a bell with her.
“You’re talking about Saint Columba,” she said.
“Indeed.”
Gray turned to her for explanation. “Who are you talking about?”
Mara stared at the cards. “Columba is revered across this region.”
“But who is she?” Carly asked
Mara turned to her friend. “The patron saint of witches.”
6:08 P.M.
Mara again felt that twinge of guilt, for surviving when her mentors—women who took on the mantle of witches—were slaughtered. As acid etched her gut, she remembered the philosophy represented by the twin cards on the dining table.
Seek and you shall find.
This tenet could be further boiled down to one word, to one fundamental drive of humanity.
Curiosity.
For millennia, autocratic and dictatorial powers had sought to squash this trait, to silence those who asked questions, to ban books that challenged the status quo, to burn women who dared to look for answers. Children had this warning drilled into them while growing up, a caution against inquiry.
Remember, boys and girls, curiosity killed the cat.
Commander Pierce’s gaze had never left her face. “A patron saint of witches? There is such a thing?”
Father Bailey answered, but Mara barely listened. Having grown up in this region, she knew the story well enough. The priest explained the history of Saint Columba, a saint who worshipped Christ enough to be martyred, but who never stopped questioning the world, who never stopped being a witch.
“Ever since her martyrdom,” Bailey finished, “people continue to pray to her. Both to ward against black magic and to protect those witches who do good work. A cult of followers developed around her.”
“And this group, La Clave?” Gray asked.
“An inner cabal of Columba’s followers. The Key came into existence during the great witch trials that swept Europe. Back in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. They did their best to protect witches and shine a light into the darkness of that time. And ultimately they prevailed. The purges finally ended.”
“Then why did the group continue?”
“Because darkness never truly goes away. It only waxes and wanes. In this region, the witch trials were run by the Spanish Inquisition. But as a more enlightened era rose, the darkest sect of the Inquisition persisted. They dubbed themselves the Crucibulum.”
Gray’s eyes narrowed. “Meaning Crucible.”
“A vessel that purifies through fire,” the priest said.
Mara looked up, knowing one certain truth.
That flame still burned today.
“As this new light of reason grew brighter,” Bailey continued, “the Crucible’s power waned, forcing the group into hiding, becoming shadows to this new light.”
“And what of the Key?” Gray asked.
“They never forgot who their true enemy was in this region and kept tabs on the Crucible. The two groups have been forever waging a secret war, light against darkness, knowledge against ignorance.”
“Even to now?”
“Especially now. In these times when truth is under assault, the Crucible has only grown stronger, growing bolder. Their intent is to usher in a new Dark Age, to quash knowledge.”
“You’re wrong,” Mara said, interrupting and drawing attention. Under the combined gazes of the others, her voice faltered.
Then Carly took her hand, giving her the strength to make her case.
“They don’t want to just quash knowledge—they want to smother the very drive that creates knowledge. They want to strangle curiosity, to punish those who even dare question the world around them.”
Bailey’s eyes widened. “I believe she’s right.”
Attention thankfully shifted to the priest.
“Curiosity is a gift from God,” he continued, “a tool for us to explore and study the natural world. To do otherwise is an insult to Him and His creation.”
“And the Crucible is set against this,” Gray said.
Bailey nodded. “They’re all about power and control. They’re the tyrannical thumb pressing a head down to the ground, demanding blind obeisance. They want you to only listen to the word of their leader, instead of the loving word of God.”
Jason spoke, drawing focus to what truly mattered. “But who are these leaders?”
Bailey sighed with disappointment, sagging a bit. “The Key has ferreted out and eliminated many of the Crucible’s foot soldiers, but their true leaders remain unknown, especially its Inquisitor General.”
The title—Inquisitor General—chilled Mara. It harkened back to this region’s blood-soaked history. Every child who grew up in Spain or Portugal was terrorized by stories of the cruelties and depravities of the Inquisition. She prayed that that tyrannical darkness never rose again.
Father Bailey continued: “The Key recognized the handiwork of the Crucible in the attack at the university. They also recognized they were in over their heads, so they reached out to the Vatican, enlisting our aid. As a devotee of Thomas—of knowledge and enlightenment—how could I refuse?”
Mara glanced to Carly. “That’s why you tracked us down. But how did you find us?”
“Like I said, the Key was aware of several of the Crucible’s foot sol diers. We’ve been surveilling them, questioning those we were able to capture. We were lucky to be following a lead when we found you. I’m sorry we didn’t arrive in time to secure your project.”
Mara leaned back, worried.
“Unfortunately, we’ve had our hands full. The Crucible has proven to be slippery, well connected, and deeply funded. To complicate matters, we even crossed paths with other nefarious characters sniffing the same trail.”
Jason tilted his head toward Gray and whispered, “Could they have been sent by Valya Mikhailov?”
Gray waved this question away, his eyes narrowing. “From what you’ve learned, do you know what the Crucible’s intent is with Mara’s program, why they targeted her and her AI research?”
“Possibly. It’s why we needed you. All of you. If we are to stop them, we need to be on the same page. I’m still deep in the weeds, but from interrogating the enemy we were able to capture, we know at least where they intended to head with Ms. Silviera’s stolen project.”
Mara gulped, her heart in her throat. “Where?”
Bailey glanced over to Sister Beatrice, indicating this information had freshly arrived. “To France.”