cardinal’s dimly lit office. John Paul’s eyes seemed patient , thoughtful and ever- watching from his elevated position.
Cardinal Giovanni Dalla Gassa dipped his quill in and out of holy ink whipping as t he h eavy bronze doors to his outer- office slowly opened . Multi - coloured tones of red, green, blue and golden yellow light shone through stained glass windows set just outside his office , in the main hall. Two men were silhouetted for a moment against the jewelled light before the door closed behind them with an echo that reverberat ed off the polished marble walls. The men quickly approached the cardinal’s office , each step echo ing louder and louder as they pass ed beneath the five large golden chandeliers that h u ng from the high ceiling of the cardinal’s outer office . T he holy lights did not provide much luminescence in the c ardinal ’ s personal and private chamber within the Secretariat quarter inside the Basilica.
A rich and heavenly mural with gold rimmed carvings felt heavy on the men’s heads; they felt as if it was pressing down on them from the lofty arched ceiling. Colourful f rescos hung on the walls and noble sculptures stood and guarded the corners of this astonishing chamber. H is great office was nothing short of breathtaking! They knocked quietly, and then entered through the heavy wooden doors.
The c ardinal’s table was elevated a few inches above floor level on a raised , white - marble base. Behind him , a magnanimous gold - framed mirror , thirty feet wide by twenty feet long, hung a top a marble mantelpiece . The mirror was etched with detailed and holy patterns, while solid silver crucifix e s sparkled on e ither end. The mirror was curved and angled by skilled craftsmen so that it reflected the Pope’s image opposite from his real and eminent blessed portrait above the door , including the cross , which shone brilliantly above his head.
The image was quite remarkable and so genuine that the men felt their nerves frazzling. No matter which angle —whenever they looked at the mirror , the pontiff’s gaze looked down upon them knowingly, and sympathetic. The whole effect gave an impression of the dead Pope’s presen ce inside the room ... and maybe he was . This grand chamber was once his study when he was alive , and had heard his final prayers before H is H oliness ’ s demise last century at the hands of the Illuminati.
On the right side of the c ardinal ’ s eminent desk sat the doctrine manuscript of daily prayers from Benedict.
Both men halted not far from the Cardinal’s table , near two large wooden chairs with forest- green leather upholstery . Solidly constructed with dark oak and hand - carved with many Latin inscriptions , the cardinal’s was a mighty office . B ut for all th e magnificent works and rich tapestries that hung on all sides , it was a cold place.
The two men looked at the top of the c ardinal’s red beret . The cardinal wore a red velvet cape trimmed in ermine and s eem ed disinterested in his audience; he continued to write furiously with a scratching sound , dipping his quill pen in and out of the golden well like a n inspired artist painting a picture. Using his left hand with wide , sweeping strokes across the old parchment and tap, tap, tapping the pen as he pondered is words and scratch, scratch, scratching the nib against the paper, he wrote. T hen , quite suddenly , he stopped.
Without looking up at the men, the cardinal gestured , raising his right hand, palm up and open towards them , and then angled it downwards. They sat slowly in silent command and waited until t he c ardinal raised his head.
‘Gentlemen , ’ he began, smiling al though no warmth was reflected in his frosty blue eyes. T here was a moment ’ s silence ... and then in quiet authority and thoughtfulness , he began to speak.
‘Last night , the acquisition of another small company was completed by the
Cardinal Giovanni Dalla Gassa dipped his quill in and out of holy ink whipping as t he h eavy bronze doors to his outer- office slowly opened . Multi - coloured tones of red, green, blue and golden yellow light shone through stained glass windows set just outside his office , in the main hall. Two men were silhouetted for a moment against the jewelled light before the door closed behind them with an echo that reverberat ed off the polished marble walls. The men quickly approached the cardinal’s office , each step echo ing louder and louder as they pass ed beneath the five large golden chandeliers that h u ng from the high ceiling of the cardinal’s outer office . T he holy lights did not provide much luminescence in the c ardinal ’ s personal and private chamber within the Secretariat quarter inside the Basilica.
A rich and heavenly mural with gold rimmed carvings felt heavy on the men’s heads; they felt as if it was pressing down on them from the lofty arched ceiling. Colourful f rescos hung on the walls and noble sculptures stood and guarded the corners of this astonishing chamber. H is great office was nothing short of breathtaking! They knocked quietly, and then entered through the heavy wooden doors.
The c ardinal’s table was elevated a few inches above floor level on a raised , white - marble base. Behind him , a magnanimous gold - framed mirror , thirty feet wide by twenty feet long, hung a top a marble mantelpiece . The mirror was etched with detailed and holy patterns, while solid silver crucifix e s sparkled on e ither end. The mirror was curved and angled by skilled craftsmen so that it reflected the Pope’s image opposite from his real and eminent blessed portrait above the door , including the cross , which shone brilliantly above his head.
The image was quite remarkable and so genuine that the men felt their nerves frazzling. No matter which angle —whenever they looked at the mirror , the pontiff’s gaze looked down upon them knowingly, and sympathetic. The whole effect gave an impression of the dead Pope’s presen ce inside the room ... and maybe he was . This grand chamber was once his study when he was alive , and had heard his final prayers before H is H oliness ’ s demise last century at the hands of the Illuminati.
On the right side of the c ardinal ’ s eminent desk sat the doctrine manuscript of daily prayers from Benedict.
Both men halted not far from the Cardinal’s table , near two large wooden chairs with forest- green leather upholstery . Solidly constructed with dark oak and hand - carved with many Latin inscriptions , the cardinal’s was a mighty office . B ut for all th e magnificent works and rich tapestries that hung on all sides , it was a cold place.
The two men looked at the top of the c ardinal’s red beret . The cardinal wore a red velvet cape trimmed in ermine and s eem ed disinterested in his audience; he continued to write furiously with a scratching sound , dipping his quill pen in and out of the golden well like a n inspired artist painting a picture. Using his left hand with wide , sweeping strokes across the old parchment and tap, tap, tapping the pen as he pondered is words and scratch, scratch, scratching the nib against the paper, he wrote. T hen , quite suddenly , he stopped.
Without looking up at the men, the cardinal gestured , raising his right hand, palm up and open towards them , and then angled it downwards. They sat slowly in silent command and waited until t he c ardinal raised his head.
‘Gentlemen , ’ he began, smiling al though no warmth was reflected in his frosty blue eyes. T here was a moment ’ s silence ... and then in quiet authority and thoughtfulness , he began to speak.
‘Last night , the acquisition of another small company was completed by the
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