Chương 131: Paul

The meeting room door was closed. Layers of unsorted documents covered the long table. On top lay printed photographs of the miracle in the Roman church. A thin priest with golden light bursting from his hands. Crutches left on the floor. A wheelchair empty after its occupant stood up. Beside the photos, verified reports and those still under review stood in separate stacks. The pope was looking at the same photograph for the third time. A cardinal across from him removed his glasses.

He rubbed the marks left by the nose pads, then slid a report forward.

"The medical staff present have given the same account." Another cardinal turned to the next page.

"We continue to receive reports of recoveries not captured on video." The secretary at the end of the table could not put down his pen. Whenever the confirmed count changed, he drew a thin line through what he had written and added the new number. The pope raised his eyes from the photograph. At that moment, the sound in the room cut off. A page stopped mid-turn. The wall clock's second hand still moved, but no sound came from it. Traffic outside and footsteps from the square receded together.

The secretary touched his ear. The cardinal opposite looked toward the door, glasses still in hand. No guard had entered. The telephone on the table had not rung. The voice came from the center of the room. Neither high nor low. It did not echo from the walls, nor did it sound inside just one person's head. Everyone at the table looked up at the same moment. The pope's hand stopped over the photograph. No one spoke first. The voice continued.

"One Transcendent, the king of all animals, and one otherworlder will visit." The papers on the table trembled lightly without wind. A drop of ink fell from the secretary's pen. The black dot spread in the margin of a report, but he could not move his hand.

"Welcome them with the utmost hospitality and attend to their needs." The pope remained still, both hands on the table. No one asked whose voice it was.

"After two days, once you have confirmed that they have recovered from their journey, take them to the forbidden place on the third basement level." The cardinal's glasses slipped from his hand. An arm of the frames struck the table with a short sound. The room's sounds returned. The clock ticked off the seconds again. Traffic and footsteps from the square rushed back through the windows. But no one moved. The secretary was the first to lower his head.

He tried to write down what he had just heard, only to stop at the first line.

"Did the voice say the third basement level?" He asked very quietly. The pope looked across the table without answering. The cardinal who dropped his glasses braced a palm on the tabletop. His lips moved once without sound. The cardinal beside him answered in his place.

"Even past popes did not enter that place." An old cabinet opened in the corner. The secretary took out a small key box. Three locks secured the black wooden case. When he placed it on the table, the metal inside clinked together. One cardinal crossed himself without taking his eyes from the box.

"The legends call it a passage to Hell."

"Legends," the pope said. The word was brief, but his hand moved toward the box. His fingers touched the first lock. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"The command we just received was not a legend." He looked at the secretary.

"Bring the access records." The secretary put down his pen and rose. Chair legs scraped the floor.

"We do not yet know whom we are to receive." The pope glanced at the miracle photographs spread on the table.

"Then let us begin by preparing to receive them."

The thin priest could not bring himself to sit before the pope. A high-backed chair stood directly behind him, but he remained standing with both hands folded at his waist. His black cassock sleeves reached a little past his wrists. Part of a rosary showed between his fingers. Since the miracle, people had not left him alone. They flanked him when he left the church. Cameras waited before he stepped out of the car. Even before he entered this room, people had lined the corridor for a glimpse of him.

Only when the door closed did the camera shutters stop. His hands still trembled a little. The pope looked at them.

"Sit."

"I am quite all right."

"Sit. Otherwise I must keep looking up at you." Only then did the priest perch on the edge of the chair. His rosary lowered to his lap. Cardinals and staff sat across the table. Accommodation lists, vehicle assignments, and meal plans were already spread out. The top sheet had three boxes with no names yet. The priest looked from the blank boxes to the pope.

"Who is coming?"

"One Transcendent, the king of all animals, and one otherworlder." The rosary stopped.

"If I heard correctly..."

"You heard correctly." The pope laid a hand on the accommodation list.

"We must offer them the utmost hospitality for two days, confirm that they are rested, then escort them to the third basement level." The priest looked up at the final words. Everyone else in the room knew what had startled him. A staff member quickly covered a sheet. Beneath it were the access procedures for the third basement level. The pope spoke.

"I ask you to take charge." The priest touched his chest.

"Me?"

"You became a saint through this miracle. Oversee the hospitality for our three guests." The priest's fingers caught the wrong button on his cassock. After a moment, he lowered his hand and gripped the rosary again. The staff across the table slid their documents forward at once. Vehicle assignments. Hotel floor plans. Meal plans. The expected arrival time of the three visitors was blank, but the field for the person in charge was ready to be filled. The priest looked down at the papers pushed before him.

He did not touch them. Only the thumb gripping his rosary moved slowly over the little cross.

"I have somehow been given the undeserved title of saint, but I do not know whether I can carry out such a great responsibility." A cardinal across the table nodded.

"Most humble of you." The priest's face relaxed a little.

"So perhaps someone else--""We have arranged four vehicles." The staff member beside him unfolded the assignment sheet. The priest looked at him.

"I was not speaking of vehicles..."

"We have reduced the security detail to keep it unobtrusive." Another staff member placed a sheet on top.

"We intend to reserve the entire hotel directly in front of the Vatican. We will prepare food from several countries and replace any ingredients our guests do not eat as soon as we learn of them." The priest looked at the pope.

"Your Holiness." The pope nodded.

"Tell us if you need anything."

"It is not a matter of what I need, but who should be assigned--" The door opened. Two nuns entered carrying thick measurement charts and a bundle of room keys. Behind them came a priest supporting the third basement level's key box with both hands. The box was placed before the thin priest. Papers shifted to either side. He looked between the black wooden case and the pope.

"May I refuse this task?" The pope considered for a moment. Everyone in the room waited for the answer.

"You may." The priest's shoulders lowered very slightly.

"But in that event, everyone here will ask you again." The cardinals watched him silently. The staff waited with pens in hand. The priest who brought the key box did not look inclined to pick it up again. The thin priest closed his eyes, then opened them. One bead slipped through his fingers.

"I will undertake it." As soon as he finished, pens throughout the room moved at once. The same entry filled every field for the person in charge. Only then did he lean back in the chair. His rest was short. A staff member immediately asked,"Would you prefer to review the meals first, or inspect the accommodation?" His eyes returned to the key box.

"I will see the third basement level first." As he took the box and began to rise, the secretary stopped him.

"One moment, please." He spread a new document on the table. At the top was wording concerning recognition as a saint. Below it, a name field remained empty. The priest looked at that space for a long time. Until now, the news had called him only `an unnamed priest in Rome`. After the miracle, that became `the saint who worked a miracle`, but there was still no name. The secretary raised his pen.

"We must record your new baptismal name." The priest's hand left the key box handle. The pope said,"Paul." The priest looked up. The pope pointed at the empty name field.

"Let it be Paul." The room fell quiet. The priest looked down at his hands. They still trembled after the miracle. The rosary hung between his thin fingers.

"It is too great a name for me."

"The work you have just accepted is great too," the pope replied. The priest could say no more. The secretary's pen moved across the page. `Paul. ` One short name filled the space. The secretary held the sheet up briefly to keep the ink from smearing, then turned it toward the priest.

"Please confirm, Father Paul." His gaze stopped on the name. Everyone in the room waited as he was addressed by it for the first time. Paul slowly bowed his head.

"Confirmed." The secretary added the title below. `Chief coordinator of hospitality for the three visitors. ` Paul looked at the line beneath his name longer than at the name itself. Before the document was dry, the meal plans and hotel floor plans slid before him again.