Apocalypsis 1.03 Thoth Read Online Free

world is experiencing today. I know that you suffer from powerlessness as much as I do; unable to do anything to stop the world from being on the brink of collapse from wars, climate change, and an inhumane economic system.«
    »Spare me the sermon, Christian.«
    »Yes, cut to the chase.«
    »The world needs faith. Faith and peace. And we are responsible for providing mankind with this peace.«
    »Big words, Christian.«
    »Cut to the chase. Or are you planning on holding one of your seminars?«
    »I am planning on establishing a new congregation for interfaith dialogue.«
    »How very honorable of you, Christian,« the Sheik mocked him, adding, »but we are already talking with you crusaders.«
    Chaim Kaplan greeted this remark with an annoyed sigh.
    »I do not mean bilateral talks. The new congregation will only be the first step. My goal is a general assembly of all world religions.«
    »This is absurd,« Kaplan called out. »I’d never have thought that you, of all people, would indulge in such romantic notions. The United Nations of Religions? Shmontses !«
    »Just for a change, I have to agree with the Zionist, Christian. What is this? Another badly disguised attempt by the Catholic Church to proselytize the world? Come on, Christian, you want your exclusive salvation back. You want to run us down, destroy and extinguish us. You want power!«
    »No,« said the Pope, »the only thing I want is peace. If we want to prevent mankind from perishing – soon, very soon – we will have to stand united for the first time in the history of our religions and stand up to our mutual enemy.«
    »And who would that be, Christian?«
    »Yes, I am very eager to hear that, too,« said the Rabbi in a decidedly amused tone.
    John Paul III looked at the two men sitting before him. »Satan,« he said. »He is already on his way.«

XXVII
    May 12, 2011, Rome
    T his perpetual disappointment about life as it is. That old, familiar feeling.
    How appropriate .
    It would have taken only one further »treatment« and he would have confessed everything to them. The break-in and what he had found, the amulet and who had it now, the rolls of parchment and papyrus and what Don Luigi had already found out about them. Next time he would have talked. He had talked already. He had confessed to murdering Loretta only because he wanted to gain some time, only because he wanted to give them something that they would believe. He had even confessed that he planned to blow up St. Peter’s Basilica. For where was the difference between a vision and reality if there was a wet towel over your face and you were in the process of drowning?
    Next time he would have told them the rest, too.
    Peter had always imagined that persistent torture would result at some point in indifference, in the wish just to die. But this principle seemed not to apply to waterboarding. The panic and the fear had grown with every »treatment«, and with them grew the desperate wish to survive. Peter didn’t want to die. He wanted them to stop drowning him. And he was willing to do anything to make them stop. He was willing to betray every secret that had ever been confided to him, and to confirm any lie and any insinuation or imputation.
    Absolutely everything.
    Next time.
    But then Alessia Bertoni’s phone rang. She walked into one of the corners of the basement to get some privacy, and there she listened for a while and answered in a soft and upset voice.
    There is a problem. You are the problem.
    The relief over the unexpected delay.
    The frustration of not knowing what was happening on the other end of the telephone line.
    The fear of the towel. That horrific fear.
    Alessia Bertoni hung up and exchanged a few words with the two Americans, who were not particularly amused. Reluctantly, the shorter one of the two cut the duct tape that bound Peter to the chair, and pulled him to his feet.
    »What are you doing?«
    »Change of venue.«
    »Where are you taking me?«
    »Shut your