Tom Clancy – Op Center 5 – Balance Of Power

‘I must preach the Kingdom of God to other cities also, for therefore am I sent,” was he said, quoting the Gospels. Then he sat back, still smiling. “It feels strange, Norberto, but it also feels good to be sent.” Norberto looked ahead at the other priests. He didn’t share Jimenez’s optimism. The priests’ ministrations should have come before the people turned on one another. Before they turned to rioting-and murder.

Nor did Norberto presume to know what Jesus felt when He went into the wilderness. However, as he thought about it, Norberto imagined that Jesus was probably disturbed and overwhelmed by a society polluted with prejudice and mistrust, violence and immorality, greed and discord. Faced with that, there was only one place Jesus could have turned to for strength.

In his distress, Norberto had momentarily lost sight of that place. Closing his eyes and bowing his head, Father Norberto prayed to God for the courage to take on this burden. He prayed for the wisdom to know what was right and for the strength to overcome his own sudden rancor. He needed to hold on to the faith that was fast slipping away.

The plane arrived in Madrid early but was forced to circle for nearly half an hour. Military traffic had priority, they were informed. From what they could see through the window there was a great deal of that. When they were finally able to land at ten o’clock, the group entered terminal two, where they joined priests from around the country.

Father Norberto recognized a few of the clergymen-Father Alfredo Lastras from Valencia, Father Casto Sampedro from Murcia, and Father Cesar Flores from Leon. But he didn’t have time to do more than shake some hands and exchange a few words of greeting before the group was ushered onto an old bus and taken to the Cathedral of the Almudena.

Norberto sat by the open window and Father Jimenez sat beside him. Traffic into the city was extremely light along the Avenue de America and they reached the famous-as well as infamous-cathedral in just under twenty minutes.

The sprawling Cathedral of the Almudena was begun in the ninth century a.d. Little more than the foundation was completed before work was halted due to the arrival of the Moors. The invaders raised their mighty fortress beside it. When the Moors were driven from Spain and the fortress was dismantled to make way for the Royal Palace, work was also scheduled to resume on the cathedral. However, the powerful and jealous Archbishop of Toledo did not want any church to be more imposing than his own. Individuals who gave money to finish a church on a site made unholy by the Moors faced both excommunication and death. It was nearly seven hundred years before work continued on the church. Even then, money and resources were scarce. Sections were completed and then work was abandoned, resulting in a chaotic variety of styles.

Finally, in 1870, the patchwork church was pulled down and a new Neo-Gothic church was planned.

Construction began in 1883, though funds ran out with regularity and the effort was finally abandoned in 1940.

It wasn’t until 1990 that work was undertaken to finish the cathedral in earnest. Yet once again the billions of pesetas needed to execute the job were not forthcoming. Ironically, it was just three weeks ago that the last of the paint was applied to the friezes in the main entablature.

The gears complained loudly as the bus suddenly slowed. They had just turned off Calle Mayor and swung onto Calle de Bailen, where literally thousands of people were gathered outside the twin spires of the church. Beyond them were groups of reporters and TV cameras. The print journalists were on foot and the TV crews were on the backs of parked vans.

Though the crowd was being kept away by a phalanx of metropolitan police, the arrival of the bus and the glimpse of the priests seemed to enflame them. The people began crying loudly for help and sanctuary. The heat inside the crowded bus seemed to enhance their voices and carry them to every ear, like a church bell in the still of morning. These were not political refugees but elderly men, mothers with babes, and schoolchildren. They were panicked and their numbers-like their passion-seemed to swell as the bus crept toward the front of the church. The priests regarded one another in silence.

They had expected need, but not this kind of desperation.

Linking their arms, a line of police officers was finally able to get between the bus and the crowd. Father Francisco came from the church and used a megaphone to implore the group to be patient. As he did, he motioned for the forty-four priests to come inside. They moved slowly, crowded into a tight, single-file line by the surging mob.

They reminded Father Norberto of the hungry masses he had once helped feed in Rwanda and the homeless he’d served in Nicaragua. It was astonishing the power the weak could have en masse.

When all the priests were inside, the doors were shut behind them. After the plane ride and the grinding of the gears and the shouts of the crowd, the heavy silence was welcome.

But it isn’t real, Norberto reminded himself. The fear and pain

outsidethat was real and it was growing. It needed to be addressed very soon.

General Superior Gonzalez was already in the apse of the cathedral, praying silently. As the group filed down the nave the only sound was the scraping of shoes and the rustling of robes. Father Francisco was at the head of the line. When they reached the transept, he turned and held both hands toward them. They stopped. Father Femandez walked forward alone.

Norberto was not a great admirer of General Superior Gonzalez. Some argued that the fifty-sevenyear-old Jesuit leader was good for the order because he courted the favor of the Vatican and the attention of the world. But unless the priests of Spain preached his views and advocated his conservative political candidates and collected onerous donations from the parish, none of the wealth and support he attracted found its way to them. Norberto believed that General Superior Gonzalez was interested in extending the power and influence more of Orlando Gonzalez than of the Spanish Jesuits.

Gonzalez was the General Superior and Norberto would never defy him or criticize him openly. But standing in his presence, in an old and magnificent church, Norberto didn’t feel the soul-warming piety he wanted to feel-that he needed to feel. He was still anguished and cynical and now he was also suspicious. Was Gonzalez concerned for the people?

Was he worried that the revolution would weaken his power?

Or did General Superior Gonzalez hope that a new leader would turn to him to help win the support of the nation’s Jesuits?

After three or four minutes of silent prayer, Gonzalez turned suddenly and faced the priests. They crossed themselves as he offered a benediction. Then he walked toward them slowly, his long, dark patrician face with its pale eyes turned toward the heavens.

“Forgive us, O Lord,” he said, “for this day was the first day in over one thousand years that the doors of this cathedral have been barred from the inside.” He regarded the priests. “In just a moment I am going to open those doors. I must leave, but Father Francisco will assign each of you to a different section of the cathedral. I ask you to talk to the people in turn, assuring them that this is not their struggle. That God will take care of them to trust in the leaders of Spain to restore peace.” He stopped when he reached Father Francisco’s side. “I thank every one of you for coming,” he continued. “The people of Madrid need spiritual guidance and reassurance. They need to know that in this time of turmoil they have not been abandoned.

Once Madrid has been quieted, its faith restored, we can move outward and bring peace to the rest of Spain.” General Superior Gonzalez moved past the priests. His black robe swung heavily from side to side as he walked toward the door. His step was confident and unhurried, as though everything was under control.

As Norberto watched the General Superior go, he realized with sudden horror that perhaps it was. That maybe this mission was not about ministering to the frightened or needy-not for their sake, anyway. He looked around him. Could it be that the most serene and devoted, the most trusted of the nation’s priests had been brought here for one purpose only-crowd control? Create a demand for comfort, whip it to a frenzy by keeping the doors locked, and then dispense it generously?

Father Norberto was scared. He also felt dirty.

General Superior Gonzalez was not looking to gain favor with the leaders of this revolution. Norberto suspected that the General Superior was already part of this process to secure a new government for the nation.

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