“Cynic? You mean the teachings are …” Blaney had to think for a moment. “You’re not telling me we’re in danger of having to rethink the entire tradition, are you?”

“No. That’s what’s extraordinary. Q gives us the same Jesus, the same faith we’ve always known, except maybe with a little expansion here and there. It’s the way we’ll look at the church that’s going to change.”

“The church?” Blaney’s enthusiasm seemed to return. “You think it might cause problems.”

Pearse sat back. “I don’t know. That’s where it gets tricky. There are things in Q, things that could rock the foundations as we know them.”

“So there is something dangerous.”

“Yes, but it’s not the real threat. That’s not why I came to you.” Again, he leaned forward. “Your connections at the Vatican are still-”

“Can I see it?” Blaney interrupted. He slowly placed his glass on the table.

“Q isn’t the problem, John. Trust me. You might find this hard to believe, but there’s a group of-”

“Still, I’d like to see it.”

Pearse hesitated, momentarily uneasy with Blaney’s insistence. “I don’t have it with me,” he said.

Now Blaney paused. “Why not?”

“It wouldn’t have been safe. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

“Where is it, Ian?”

“You don’t have to worry about the scroll, John.”

“The ‘Hagia Hodoporia.’” Blaney paused again. “Where is it, Ian?”

The two men stared at each other. For nearly half a minute, Pearse couldn’t move. Then, slowly, he sat back in his chair.

“I was hoping you’d just bring it to me,” said Blaney.

Pearse continued to stare.

“Not that you had too many other options, I imagine.” He waited for a response. When none came, he reached again for his glass. “Q. That’s a bit of a surprise. Although I suppose it does make sense.” He took a sip.

Another long silence. Finally, Pearse spoke. “How long?” No anger, no accusation. “Slitna? Chicago?”

Blaney held the glass in his lap. “It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“How long?” repeated Pearse. “I’d like to know when I stopped making decisions for myself.”

“Don’t get dramatic, Ian. You’ve always made your own decisions.”

“All that talk about the ‘purity of the Word,’ ‘faith untethered.’ Only you weren’t talking about my faith, were you?”

“Faith in the Word is faith in the Word. It ultimately amounts to the same thing. Now, where is it?”

“When?” Pearse asked again, still no sign of emotion.

“That doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Pearse didn’t answer. The two men sat in silence.

“All right,” Blaney finally said. “About … a year and a half ago. When we found the last of the ‘Perfect Light’ packets. When I knew we were getting close.”

“A year and a half? I met Salko over eight years ago.”

“Yes, you did.” Blaney nodded. “And it was completely unrelated to all of this. I wanted you to come out of that war alive. I asked Mendravic to look after you. As a friend. Nothing more. That we unearthed one of the packets while you were there … Mani’s will, I suppose. You have to believe me.”

Now Pearse waited. “So, you and von Neurath-”

“Erich? No. He has no idea who you are. That was the whole point.”

“‘The whole point?’”

“There are things going on here you don’t understand.”

It took Pearse a moment to respond. “So you were the one who sent the Austrian to the Vatican?”

“The Austrian?” Now Blaney needed a moment. “Ah,” he finally said.

“Herr Kleist.” He shook his head. “No. Not at all. In fact, it was my men who made sure you got out of there that night. Why do you think I sent Mendravic to Kukes? I’ve been trying to protect you all along.”

“Protect me?” The first hint of anger. “Did that make it necessary to involve the woman and the boy?”

“Von Neurath’s men would have tracked them down,” he answered, “used them as bait, or worse. They did it with your friend Angeli. That’s why Mendravic picked them up. Yes. In order to protect them.”

“So you knew about Angeli, and you just let her sit there.”

“Interfering would have shown my hand. I had no choice.”

“Protect me from what?” asked Pearse again. It slowly began to dawn on him. “Von Neurath?” He continued to stare at Blaney.

“Where is it, Ian?”

“Why?”

Blaney waited. “I need the scroll.”

“And how did you know the ‘Perfect Light’ prayer would fall into my hands?”

This time, Blaney said nothing.

“How?”

“Don’t put me in a difficult position, Ian. I need the ‘Hodoporia.’”

“And you think I’m actually going to give it to you?”

“Yes. I think you will.” Before Pearse could answer, Blaney pressed the intercom. “Puoi portarli dentro adesso, Gianetta.” He released the button and looked at Pearse.

“Did I tell you to go to seminary even when you were having doubts? No. Did I tell you to continue with the classics after seminary? The ancient puzzles? No. You made your own choices. That was Mani’s will, as well. I’m sure you can see that.”

The two sat silently.

A knock at the door, and Gianetta stood waiting. Blaney turned and nodded to her. She stepped aside. A moment later, Ivo’s little head appeared in the doorway.

For the second time in the last five minutes, Pearse slowly sat back, stunned.

With a little prodding, Ivo moved into the room, Mendravic directly behind him. Two guards remained by the door.

“The woman is upstairs,” said Blaney.

Pearse stared at the little face. Ivo looked slightly confused; as ever, though, he was holding his own.

“Hi, Ian,” he said.

Pearse tried to focus. “Hi, Ivi.”

“I took a plane trip,” said Ivo, his hand now locked in Mendravic’s.

Pearse nodded. “That sounds great.” He waited for the little nod. He then turned to Blaney. The words almost caught in his throat. “You knew all along, didn’t you? Even before I went back to seminary?” Blaney said nothing.

“You knew about them, and you said nothing.” Pearse had never felt such a rush of violence. “A year and a half? This goes back a lot further than that.”

“There are things going on here-”

“That I don’t understand. Yes. You’ve said that.”

“Did you want me to let von Neurath’s men find them?”

“You turned my son into one of you.” Pearse was having trouble stifling his anger. “What? You couldn’t find someone else who knew how to play with the scrolls? Who knew how to decipher the cryptograms? Or was it just that you knew you could use the two of them to keep me in line? Just in case.”

“Ian-”

“Let me see her,” said Pearse.

Blaney remained silent.

“I need to see that she’s okay.”

“When I have the ‘Hodoporia.’”

Pearse waited. “Still protecting me? Them?” He continued to stare at Blaney. He then stood. The guards inched farther into the room. Pearse ignored them. “You want your scroll, I’ll need half an hour.”

“I think we can send some of my men.”

Pearse shook his head. “I don’t need you ‘protecting’ the person who’s got it. You want the ‘Hodoporia,’ you let me go.” He glanced at Ivo, then back to Blaney. “You’ve made sure I’ll be coming back.”

Blaney thought for a moment. “All right. But you’ll take my men along with you. Just to make sure you come back alone.”

Rather than answering, Pearse stepped over to Ivo and crouched by his side.

He tried a smile. “Was the plane fun?”

“My ears hurt for a while.”

“That happens to me, too. A little gum usually helps.”

“Mommy doesn’t let me chew gum.”

“I guess I’ll have to talk to Mommy about that, won’t I?”

Ivo smiled. “Mommy said … she said it wasn’t my fault what happened yesterday.”

“And she was right, Ivi. None of that had anything to do with you. I promise.”

He nodded. Then, in a whisper, he added, “She said it wasn’t your fault, either.”

Pearse reached out and gently pulled Ivo in close. At once, the little arms squeezed around his shoulders, the tiny cheek buried in his neck. The boy released. It took Pearse a moment longer to let go. He turned to Blaney.