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quickly to prevent the loss of such an important artifact to superstition and depravity.
                  In the next second I found myself thinking of Burtuchi’s words, I believe he is Grigori . I pondered the legend of the Atonement Lot and its connection to the Grigori. Could it possibly be what it was reported to be? Did the Lot actually bind the fallen angel Azazel in the earth?
         “No,” I said aloud. There was no doubt in my mind that the dangers were human, and had nothing to do with the supernatural.
                  Did the Vatican have the right to the Atonement Lot? Maybe, but I did not question the morality of it. In the possession of the conclave, the Atonement Lot would drop into obscurity again. Out of sight, and out of mind, just like many of the other antiquities the Pontiffs locked away from the world. For now I needed a plan—first to retrieve it, and then a means to disappear once it was in my possession. For the time being, I was sure I had a target on my back.
                  Dinard had not indicated that I was known to be Paladin, only an academic that would carry the Lot to Rome. I was sure the little man would have felt compelled to ask more questions if he suspected my true vocation. After all, the order was another of those religious legends of antiquity that surely would have excited the little priest. I took solace in the fact that whoever would opposed me for the Lotthey were, they had no idea who or rather what they were really dealing with. Let them come, I would not die alone.
     
                  Suddenly I felt the need to pray, but my mind was distracted. Maybe it was pride in my position at the Vatican that led me to my present circumstance. Wasn’t it my access to the secret archives that allowed me to identify the Atonement Lot in the first place? I thought of the vaults below the Vatican crypts where I would pass the ancient inscription on the wall, ‘Peter is here.’ 8 How many times had I walked down the narrow stone steps to the unobtrusive wood door that led into the steel security chamber. I would place my hand on the optical reader, and at the same time look into the retinal scan. I was then greeted by a computer voice requesting I enter my personal code at the keypad. Finally, I would respond to a number of questions that compared my audio response for final recognition. Once inside, most of the secrets were open to me for study. It was an awesome privilege.
     
                  On my very first visit to the vaults, Cardinal Betuchi himself accompanied me. I was awed at what I saw before me. There were scrolls from Alexandra, and Babylon, spoils from the Roman sack of Jerusalem as depicted on the Arch of Titus. 9 There were gold and silver objects from the Far East, and a section of the archive was devoted to the Knights Templar and Free Masonry. It was the letters and copious records kept by the Templar that identified the Atonement Lot I found in Milan. Constantine brought gifts to Milan to celebrate his sisters wedding with Licinius, Emperor of the Eastern Empire in 313 AD. However, the Templar described the Atonement Lot in a shipping manifest from Jerusalem to Milan in 1150 AD, long after Constantine’s sister’s wedding. I wondered if the Lot had been intentionally miscataloged to protect its identity. I would never know.
     
                  I finished emptying my suitcase, and placed the final items in the back of the closet shelf—a bottle of French brandy, an HK 45 pistol and a spare clip. I stood momentarily staring at the closet shelf.
    “Maybe access to the archives was not the reason I was lead to this penance,” I whispered.
                  I took a deep breath, remembering the warning Cardinal Burtuchi gave to me years ago when I accepted the Order of Paladin.
         ‘Adama, my son, do not take these responsibilities lightly. Pray always that you do not corrupt