room, directly in front of the pope’s altar with its almost 100 feet high brazen canopy, at which the pope occasionally consecrate priests. This baroque masterpiece, flanked by two brazen pillars, caused awe and feelings of triumph at the same time. 95 gilded oil lamps surrounded the Confessio, the subjacent room at the high altar, in which the marble statue of the kneeling Pope Pius VI. stood.
403 feet above my head arched the dome, which had been created my Michelangelo. Four giant pentagonal pillars with a huge diameter and volume were the fundament. Above those a cylindrical attachment arose, which was broken by countless windows. The light of the thunderbolts was refracted in the glass and created bulky blocks of brightness in the darkness. In this colossal resonance chamber the thunder resounded like the hammering of a giant for a long time. From up here I could easily see the interior surface and the outer canopy. The lantern hallway was in this double hemisphere, which allowed walking around the dome.
How much would I have enjoyed a sightseeing tour without any disturbing photoflashes of tourists. Even from this point there was already a lot to see. At the farthest end the Cathedra Petri, a giant fantasy in gilded bronze and as outsized as an upended tanker truck. On the right the grand alter of the saints Simon and Judas, on the left that of the saints Processus and Martinian. One could have spent days between those alters, marble statues, memorials, monuments, equestrian statues, baptisteries and sacrament chapels until one – turned into an angel – ascended to the dome and through this directly to Catholic heaven.
But unfortunately there was more pressing concerns right now. The main door with its giant brazen gate built by Filarete was closed. Apparently all guards had been sent home and one had made sure not to be disturbed tonight. At the end of the center nave Antonio sat on his rear legs and watched me with his turquoise emerald eyes. He was only a small shadow in the distance but I noticed him immediately. He somehow appeared to be down. Next to him his master Umberto stood in his black priest’s robe, whom he was connected to by a fateful affection and the same view at the world. The man looked pretty pale. His bullet wounds probably still bothered him. Cattycorner the rough older man with the snow-white hair showed up, whom I had seen talking to my reputed Samaritan two days ago at the airport. Back then I had wondered about the military insignia on his lapel. Now I realized that he was a general of the US Army. The talk between the two men of different professions, which I had kind of overheard, had been about an event at some church. Now I was even allowed to attend this secret meeting!
Umberto also had brought a toy: the miniature missile. It was put on a small ramp, and pointed at the vast of the church. A few feet away I saw a laptop, which was very obviously the commander of the high tech device. The padre began to speak now, and thanks to my uber-ears I was able to hear every single word despite the distance.
»You know what this house of God means to me«, he said in his angelic voice to the military, who was dressed in the finest English tweed. »And exactly for this reason I have invited you here for a test screening of Miracolo. If I weren’t confident, I hadn’t done this. Because if this holy house or one of its artworks were hurt by just a single scratch, I would never forgive myself. Even more, being security chief I would hold myself accountable. I wouldn’t be ruined in an earthly view, as I don’t have any property and will therefore give this prototype to your government without rewards, but at this place there is a downfall beyond monetary considerations.«
Umberto, the handsome guy, turned away and began to wander around with his head bowed. He seemed incredibly tired, just as if he had been forced to bear an incubus for years.
»Miracolo is a self-regulated missile with a usual warhead. Just that he isn’t just capable of destroying espied buildings and sites, but ...«
He paused meaningfully and freakishly smiled at himself.
»... but people it knows. He can be fed with a certain person’s biometrical data – even a newspaper picture will do –, and its ready for hunting. This technology is neither