The Iscariot Agenda Read Online Free

heinous crimes the same way the monsignor was easily explaining away Kimball’s killings as justifiable. It was all in the matter of viewpoint and perspective of what one faction’s principle should be. But Kimball saw no difference since one thing was certain in war: both sides always believed to be correct, even though their principles were miles apart. How easy it was to explain things away and justify them at the same time, he thought. 
     “I don’t think salvation lies at my end,” he proposed.
    The monsignor fell back into his seat and stamped the cigarette out in the ashtray, his gaze remaining studious as he again tented his hands in steeple fashion. “Salvation lies at everyone’s end,” he told him. “And the mystery of what lies beyond will be answered upon the moment of death for everyone. But you have to have faith, Kimball. You need to start believing in the good in yourself, rather than to dwell on a past laden with the sinful wage of pride. Now I believe you when you say you’re truly repentant for past sins, but yet you can’t seem to forgive yourself in your own eyes when you have already been forgiven in the eyes of God.”
    “That, Monsignor, is because I don’t believe that anyone can justify terrible acts with simple faith in what we believe God thinks is right. I believe it goes much deeper than that.”
    “And that, Kimball, is why you need to see beyond the box and realize that you need to step further away from the darkness you lived in for so long, and step closer to the Light. You may be a high-ranking member in the eyes of Vatican principals, but you are also a man who is very detached from God.”
    “That’s because I have seen too much of the real world, Monsignor. And I participated in many things I’m not proud of, things that will make me a castaway on Judgment Day.”
    “Perhaps, Kimball, you need to put aside your doubts and open up to Him.”
    “You try to make it sound so easy, Monsignor. But it’s not.”
    “At least give it a try,” he said. “Go back to your chamber and open up to Him. Pray to God and ask Him to hear you out.”
    Kimball shook his head in a nonplussed manner. “Can I ask you something?”
    “Yes, of course.”
    “Have you ever killed a man?”
    The monsignor’s eyes widened, a brief flare, the question catching him off guard. “Lord no, of course not.”
    Kimball leaned forward. “When you do, then you come tell me the secret of keeping the memories of those you killed buried so deep they’ll never show up in the middle of the night as horrific images while you’re sleeping, and drive a scream from your throat.”
    The monsignor’s shoulders dropped. “Kimball, I can’t perform magic. And I’m obviously not going to make you see a new direction within a few sessions. That’s understandable. But you have to help yourself as well. Although repentance is the first step, you need to open yourself up to Him and embrace Him.” He undid the steeple of his fingers and reached for a cigarette. “All I ask is that you open yourself up and pray with true conviction. That’s all I’m asking . . .  Just for now. Let’s start with that.”
    Kimball sat idle, unwilling to state whether or not he intended to make an effort. He truly didn’t know at this point.
    “A week from today,” said the monsignor. “Same time as usual. And please don’t be late like you were this afternoon.”
    Kimball stood, his towering frame looking down upon the monsignor’s bad comb-over until the monsignor got to his feet and offered his hand, which Kimball took in a crushing grip.
     “Good luck, Kimball. If you take time to forget the past rather than reliving it, you may find the Light.”
    “I’ll take prayer into consideration,” he finally said.
    “Good. And can I ask you one more thing?”
    “Sure.”
    “Can you stop shaking my hand? You’re hurting it.”
    Kimball released the cleric’s hand and left the office, leaving behind a lobby filled