The elderly informant had clearly heard certain statements during the ritual held that night. The man he believed to be the leader of the mystic order was issuing orders to the members using code names. The man who commanded John Wickens’s execution wanted the matter handled using “the old methods.” From the wicked grin on his face, it wasn’t hard to understand that by “old methods,” he meant something akin to a lynching—and that they intended to use the Cardinal, the highest Catholic authority in London, to carry it out.

When morning came, the informant quietly climbed out of the barrel and waited for Samuel’s visit. Since Samuel was an intelligence officer, no one knew his true identity, and because he posed as the old man’s son, no one questioned these meetings. After recounting everything he had heard, the informant added:

“I couldn’t make out some of the phrases clearly. But as far as I understood, the upcoming ritual is supposed to be very different from the previous ones. They said something like ‘the sacrifices are ready.’ And they mentioned the number forty-seven. But I couldn’t understand what it meant.”

Samuel realized at once that the missing novitiate nuns were connected to this mystic group. He began researching the meaning of the number forty-seven and sought help from several historians. They explained that the blood-soaked rituals of Europe had their roots in the Sumerian civilization of Mesopotamia. When Samuel reached a historian who had taken part in excavations on the Sumerians, he finally understood what the number forty-seven signified—and why so many people were to be sacrificed.

The highest-ranking Cardinal in London was his childhood friend. Samuel hoped that by preventing the murder of John Wickens, he would not only save his life but also uncover the whereabouts of the missing novitiates. But he failed.

It was as though the mystic order had sunk its claws into the very top of the intelligence service. The highest official was one of them. They had built a chain-like structure: before the director retired, he would groom a successor from among the order’s members. And every candidate for this position was part of the organization. Secrecy was so paramount that even the candidates groomed to succeed the director did not know each other. To prove themselves worthy of this rank before the king, they received excellent training and carried out successful operations. Meanwhile, the officers outside the order knew nothing of this shadow hierarchy—most of them had their minds fixed only on money and women.

The mystic order did not forbid wine or other pleasures outright, for it possessed its own ideology and long-term purpose; yet it demanded that its members never exceed certain limits. While the other officers were blinded by their hunger for wealth and women, the mystic order worked relentlessly.

Through the treachery of the intelligence chief, the organization learned of Samuel—and soon uncovered the elderly informant as well, carrying out his execution. Believing that all obstacles had now been removed, the mystic order assumed everything was back on track, that their rituals could proceed smoothly, with no need for delay. Had they known that the cardinal they thought they understood was actually one of those devoted to the creed of Divine Unity—men who, throughout history, had stood in their path, unable to stop them entirely but always slowing them—they would have realized that the true struggle was only beginning.

The cardinal had dedicated himself to preserving the trusts of Jesus, and with the wisdom inherited from the devoted ones of his age and ages before, he would never abandon the pursuit of this shadowy order. Even though the order knew little about him personally, their suspicion that Samuel had revealed to him the details of the bloody rituals and their purpose was reason enough for them to kill him. For them, secrecy was everything.

The cardinal, aided by his lieutenant, learned the location of Wickens’s home. He recalled that the man would remain in London only for a brief time before returning to the Alps. With recent events leaving the mystic order unsettled, he was certain they would not delay his execution. “I must reach this scientist—and his master—before they do,” he murmured to his aide.

When he warned him that they were setting out on a long road from which they might never return, the loyal aide understood at once that the Angel of Death—whom they had long regarded as an old companion—was circling near. Seeing both sorrow and resolve in the young man’s eyes, the cardinal spoke gently:

“Let us take every measure we can. Let us strive to keep our word until our final breath. What comes after—God alone knows.”

Then he added, with a faint, wry smile:
“It is not as though we can bargain with God like merchants. His judgment is always the best.”

With that, the cardinal and his aide slipped out through the church’s back door and set off toward Dr. Wickens’s home.

In London, there were only two kinds of people who truly lived: those whose suffering sprang from the heart—like the cardinal, burdened by the troubles of his people—and those tormented by the mind, whose knowledge, inventions, and observations tore down falsehoods and laid bare the truth.When the cardinal looked through the window, he saw that Dr. Wickens was exactly as he had suspected—utterly alone.

“We’ve found the right man,” he said. “He is as solitary as we are.”

Then he knocked on the door.

Dr. Wickens, recognizing the cardinal, welcomed him in with respectful courtesy, certain that no harm could come from such a man of God.

“You must leave this place,” the cardinal warned. “There are people who intend to kill you.”

But Dr. Wickens, recalling the questions he had once asked this clergyman, assumed the cardinal was trying to lighten the mood with a joke. He waved the warning aside.

“Well, then what can we say, Your Eminence? If this is where the road ends, so be it. I may not be a particularly virtuous man, but I have tried to contribute something useful to humanity. Didn’t you once tell me that God rewards that? As long as we know Him rightly, that should be enough.”

The cardinal knew he couldn’t simply drag the man out by force. He would have to speak to him first, calm his fears, and ease him toward the truth.Turning to his aide, he instructed quietly,

“Keep watch outside. If you see anyone unfamiliar entering from the end of the street, come and tell me at once.”

The aide’s eyes flashed with recognition—as if to say I know the look of those wretches—and he slipped away.

After offering his guest something to drink, Dr. Wickens said:

“Why do you always speak in riddles? You’re not like the other clergymen. They go straight to the conclusion. You, on the other hand, tell the truth piece by piece and expect me to arrive at the verdict myself.”

The cardinal smiled faintly.

“That’s right. I can see you use your mind. But tell me—do you think reason alone is enough to answer the questions that trouble us?”

“Of course not,” Dr. Wickens replied, then added:

“You’re talking about God, prophets, matters that cannot be tested or demonstrated. A person must already have some grounding, some prior knowledge, before reason can lead them to the right conclusion. Reason alone cannot do it. That knowledge may come from an illiterate villager… or from a cardinal such as yourself.”

“Most likely, what I explained last confused you a little,” the cardinal said gently.

“Let me repeat it, and this time you reach the conclusion yourself. If a man had no eyes, speaking to him of sight would mean nothing. If he had no ears, he could never grasp what hearing is. If there were no birds around us, we would not even be able to imagine flying. God grants human beings a small portion of the endless seeing, hearing, soaring, and the countless attributes that belong to Him alone—so that He may make Himself known to His servants.”

Dr. Wickens smiled knowingly.

“So you’re saying that possessing a few of the Creator’s qualities does not mean a human being can become divine. And at the same time, by implying that birth, eating, reproduction—such things cannot apply to God—you are hinting at a deeper truth, though in your usual veiled manner.”

“The order and harmony of all things in the universe,” the cardinal replied, “show that the power behind them possesses will. That is why we call Him Allah, or God.
A mindless thing like nature or a star cannot be the Creator. But neither can a being who is weak, limited, and constrained—like a human—be called God.”

“How is it,” Dr. Wickens asked, “that no other priest has ever expressed such a view?”

“In our time, as in the ages before us,” the cardinal replied, “there have always been those who devoted their hearts to the teachings of Jesus and affirmed them inwardly. Yet they refrained from declaring certain truths openly, knowing how easily the common folk could be roused against them by the provocations of darker orders.
Such truths, if spoken aloud, could spark chaos—misleading the masses, dragging matters into dangerously irrelevant directions, and causing countless innocent people to suffer.”

Wickens nodded, acknowledging the point.

“When I think about it,” he said, “for centuries the Orthodox and the Catholics have clashed. Entire cities were burned and plundered, thousands died—Constantinople is only one of many examples. And even in our own day, the conflicts and tensions we witnessed with the Protestants were far from minor; blood was shed, cruelty was committed.
Considering all this history… I must admit, you’re right.”

“In Christianity, calling this a new denomination would be entirely misleading. Even if no blood were ever spilled over it, presenting such an understanding as a new sect would still be a mistake. Besides, in all three major branches of the faith, there are many who think as I do.
In Matthew, chapter five, verses 44 and 45: ‘But I say unto you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven.’

The meaning is clear: if a servant relinquishes his claim, abandons conflict for the sake of God’s command, and strives to do good—material or spiritual—without regard to race or creed, then he becomes a son of God. Surely in that age, the one who embodied this most perfectly was the Messiah. That is why he was called the Son of God, and thus the doctrine of the Trinity emerged. The term ‘Son of God,’ originally metaphorical, was either deliberately twisted for subversive purposes or misunderstood literally without intent. There are many who do not accept the Trinity, who believe God is One, who neither begets nor is begotten.”

Dr. Wickens gave a faint, slightly mocking smile.

“I think you’re exaggerating,” he said. “I’ve visited churches in many cities, yet I have never met a priest who thinks the way you do.”

The cardinal shook his head slowly.
“Truth is spoken only to those who seek it—and only when they give the impression that they can bear it. According to the Church’s old understanding, the universe revolved around the Earth. I still cannot comprehend why the Church involved itself in such matters. What difference does it make whether the universe turns around the Earth or the Sun? Through stubbornness over something so trivial, neither is God proven nor disproven.
If some attempt to use science to argue that God does not exist, then of course the Church may oppose that. But dragging the Church into issues that have nothing to do with creation only weakened faith itself.”

He paused, as if recalling the point he truly wished to make.

“Contrary to the Church’s centuries-old claim, in the sixteenth century Nicolaus Copernicus demonstrated that the heavens move around the Sun. Many scholars supported him, yet the Vatican still refuses to accept it. In truth, the Vatican does value knowledge; as science advances, the infinity of God’s knowledge and the impossibility of coincidence become even clearer. I believe this mystical order has been misleading the Pope through its infiltrators.”

“So you’re saying certain truths may reveal themselves in time,” Dr. Wickens interjected, “but the doctrine of the Trinity is not a scientific issue like the Sun and the Earth.”

“As a tradition, the phrase ‘God the Father’ eventually became accepted as a religious concept. But as I said, many of my colleagues use it merely as an expression of reverence. Of course, there are also those who genuinely believe that when they say ‘God the Father,’ Christ is literally God. In fact, I would say most do. I pray that God forgives them as well.”

“So… does that make them unbelievers?”

“Let us remember the words of the Messiah in the Gospel of Matthew: ‘You shut the door of the Kingdom of Heaven in men’s faces.’ (23:13) To be honest, I’m not like the religious leaders whom the Messiah criticized. I explain right and wrong according to divine revelation, but I cannot pass judgment on individuals. God has given me no list declaring who is a believer and who is a disbeliever—so how could I know?”

Dr. Wickens understood the subtlety in the response, and felt both embarrassed and amused.

The cardinal’s true goal was to get Wickens out of the house. He kept wondering how he might persuade him, and that was why he frequently mentioned the mystical order and the ruthlessness of its deeds—to frighten him into leaving. Seeing that the sun was already dipping toward the horizon, he realized they had little time left. With a last glimmer of hope, he asked:

“Who is your master?”