Read the Third Secret (2005) for Free Online

Spirit.”
    Clement’s mouth formed an irritating smile. “Or perhaps it was affected by the fact that none of the other candidates, yourself included, could amass enough votes for election?”
    They were apparently going to start feuding early today.
    “You are an ambitious man, Alberto. You think wearing this white cassock will somehow make you happy. I can assure you, it won’t.”
    They’d had similar conversations before, but the intensity of their exchanges had risen of late. Both knew how the other felt. They were not friends, and never would be. Valendrea found it amusing how people thought just because he was a cardinal and Clement pope, theirs would be a sacred relationship of two pious souls, placing the needs of the Church first. Instead, they were vastly different men, their union born purely of conflicting politics. To their credit, neither had ever openly feuded with the other. Valendrea was smarter than that—the pope was required to argue with no one—and Clement apparently realized that a great many cardinals supported his secretary of state. “I wish nothing, Holy Father, except for you to live a long and prosperous life.”
    “You don’t lie well.”
    He was tiring of the old man’s prodding. “Why does it matter? You won’t be here when the conclave occurs. Don’t concern yourself with the prospects.”
    Clement shrugged. “It matters not. I’ll be enshrined beneath St. Peter’s, with the rest of the men who have occupied this chair. I couldn’t care less about my successor. But that man? Yes, that man should care greatly.”
    What was it the old prelate knew? It seemed a habit lately to drop odd hints. “Is there something that displeases the Holy Father?”
    Clement’s eyes flashed hot. “You are an opportunist, Alberto. A scheming politico. I might just disappoint you and live another ten years.”
    He decided to drop the pretense. “I doubt it.”
    “I actually hope you do inherit this job. You’ll find it far different than you might imagine. Maybe you should be the one.”
    Now he wanted to know, “The one for what?”
    For a few moments the pope went silent. Then he said, “The one to be pope, of course. What else?”
    “What is it that bites your soul?”
    “We are fools, Alberto. All of us, in our majesty, are nothing but fools. God is far wiser than any of us could even begin to imagine.”
    “I don’t think any believer would question that.”
    “We expound our dogma and, in the process, ruin the lives of men like Father Kealy. He’s just a priest trying to follow his conscience.”
    “He seemed more like an opportunist—to use your description. A man who enjoys the spotlight. Surely, though, he understood Church policy when he took his oath to abide by our teachings.”
    “But whose teachings? It is men like you and me pronouncing the so-called Word of God. It’s men like you and me, punishing other men for violating those teachings. I often wonder, is our precious dogma the thoughts of the Almighty or just those of ordinary clerics?”
    Valendrea considered this inquiry just more of the strange behavior this pope had shown as of late. He debated whether to probe, but decided he was being tested, so he answered in the only way he could. “I consider the Word of God and the dogma of this Church one and the same.”
    “Good answer. Textbook in its diction and syntax. Unfortunately, Alberto, that belief will eventually be your undoing.”
    And the pope turned and stepped toward the window.

FIVE
    Michener strolled into the midday sun. The morning rain had dissipated, the sky now littered with mottled clouds, the patches of blue striped by the contrail of an airplane on its way east. Before him, the cobbles of St. Peter’s Square bore the remnants of the earlier storm, puddles littered about like a multitude of lakes strewn across a vast landscape. The television crews were still there, many now broadcasting reports back home.
    He’d left the tribunal before