He pulled the book from the shelf and looked at it absently. Communism as the Antichrist. Based on years of solid research and on his own secret experiences as head of the Secretariat of Non-Believers, the book had been written for laymen and clerics alike. During the worst days of the Cold War, it had become a text for serious scholars of the conflicts between church and state. And it had also become a popular best-seller in every country in the free world, making him a prime target for assassins.

Upon publication of the book, he became a sought-after guest on television and a popular speaker at religious and secular events. It had not hurt his climb within the Vatican’s Byzantine hierarchy.

And with its success, he had no trouble recruiting the most powerful men for the ecumenical council. He replaced less powerful members with those of more influence. Those who refused to resign and allow others to take their place usually grew too ill to serve any longer. The ecumenical council’s influence grew along with his own. He became an increasingly bitter focus of virulent propaganda and denouncement by the Soviets. And with each attack, and following each assassination attempt, his own support within the church had grown. Cardinal after cardinal came to him and they all said the same thing: Neils Braun would be the next Pope. It was just a matter of time.

But it hadn’t been a matter of time, Braun thought, as he angrily shoved his book back into its slot on the shelf, and walked toward his desk. Damn the Soviets! Damn their bumbling incompetence! His secret, behind-the-scenes work had weakened their regimes and hastened the downfall of worldwide communism. But they fell too quickly.

He avoided looking at the portrait of the pontiff that hung behind the desk. Looking at it made him angrier. The portrait should have borne his image. But when communism imploded, sucked inward by the black hole of its own intellectual vacuum, the attention he had enjoyed turned elsewhere as did the unanimity that he would be the next Pope because only he could stand up to international communism.

Braun turned his back to the portrait and pulled the chair from the desk’s kneehole. Oh, he had never let the anger show! Not even to his closest allies on the Curia had he been anything but magnanimous in defeat. He was a young man, his supporters said. There would come another time, another day, another vote.

As he sat behind his desk, Braun cursed silently as he thought of his defeat. Time was too short! Every day the faithful suffered more and more all around the world. The nonbelievers gained ground every day; the church lost it every day. The present church had lost its backbone, abandoned the discipline and ruthlessness that had made it the world’s brightest light for the faithful. They were more concerned with apologia for the past than a vision for future greatness.

No one realized it. Not the present Pope, not the College of Cardinals. None of them knew how little time they really had. Only the cardinal archbishop from Vienna knew. And even the little time they had would evaporate if the unbelievers got their hands on Sophia’s Shroud. Something had to be done, and Braun knew that, once again, he was the only man who could do it