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he always came out to greet her in this fashion. They knew many of the same people, and often shared stories and gossip.
    “And you as well, Your Holiness.” She bowed. “May I say, you are looking especially well today.”
    “You have brought me another recipe?” he asked, knowing full well that only official business was carried in such a manner.
    She giggled, revealing a toothy smile. With a diminutive mouth, smooth skin, and clear brown eyes, she appeared much younger than her sixty-three years.
    Accepting the cylinder from her, he brought forth a sparkling diamond key and opened it. The cylinder twisted into two sections. He removed a slip of parchment from one of them and left the sections on his desk.
    “Mmmm,” he said as he read. “Minister Culpepper again, but this time he isn’t asking for money.”
    She nodded, and despite her familiarity with the pontiff she maintained her place, not asking any questions.
    “It seems he has a twelve-year-old grandson who wants to embark upon a career with the Church. The boy’s father is a manufacturing executive, taking a position in Rome.”
    “I see,” Sister Meryl said.
    “Culpepper says the boy is bright and a fast learner.” Then, with a heaving sigh, the Pope set the parchment on an ornate side table. “In four years—when he’s sixteen—we’ll set him up as a clerk while he attends seminary.”
    “Do you have any orders for me?” she inquired.
    “Yes,” he said with mock seriousness. “Wear my robes for awhile and deal with all the important people who want favors.”
    * * *
    Half an hour later, Sister Meryl sent a coded e-mail message to UWW headquarters, informing them what had occurred that day in the papal offices. From minuscule to large details, she had been providing them efficiently for more than two decades. The week before, she had transmitted other records on the Roman Catholic Church, updating information that the UWW already had on the religious organization’s real estate holdings and other assets all over the world. This was absorbed into the burgeoning UWW data base, along with similar facts on every other religious group on earth.
    Sister Meryl wondered what the UWW did with all of it, and what their plans might be, although she believed in the group because they advanced the cause of women. Lately she’d been hearing intriguing rumors that the female leadership had embarked upon a top secret project. She liked their energy. The United Women of the World, in contrast with the Catholic Church, was dynamic and in a constant state of flux.

Chapter 5

    The omissions of recorded history are substantial, and sometimes the process of recovering lost information takes surprising turns.
    —Report of the Commission on the She-Apostles

    As they entered the house, the woman introduced herself as Su-Su Florida, a real estate agent. “Do you live near here?” she asked Camilla.
    “Across Lake Washington—in Seattle.”
    The woman’s brow wrinkled and she gazed down her nose, as if she considered the Vales interlopers from an inferior social class. “Oh,” she said, and hurried down the hallway.
    Camilla and a hesitant Lori followed. The teenager absorbed everything around her. She sensed something very peculiar here, but was unable to identify it. Her stomach was turning over.
    Incense burned on William and Mary side tables, which had Christian objects arranged on them, including Rosary beads and angel candle holders. A small painting of Jesus Christ adorned one wall of the entry, and across from that a large painting of St. Joan of Arc depicted her in a suit of armor, leading the soldiers of the French Dauphin, Charles VII, into battle.
    The visitors entered a tastefully decorated living room, featuring deep cushion Queen Anne chairs, a Chippendale sofa, and a Goddard desk. A large painting of the crucified Jesus hung over the fireplace. Women were moving furniture out of the way, with a short but muscular black woman of around