Dr. Wickens answered the cardinal’s question—“Who is your teacher?”—with a faint, knowing smile.

“I believe you know him. He thought the same way you do—meaning, he didn’t believe in the Trinity.”

The cardinal shook his head slowly.

“There are far more opponents of the Trinity than the fingers on my two hands. I can’t be expected to know them all.”

He had understood that Wickens wished to keep his master’s identity hidden. The cardinal realized that if he pressed too hard, he might provoke the man and push him in the opposite direction. So he softened his tone and spoke with conciliatory warmth:

“My friend…” he began.

“I only know you from the questions you asked when you came to the cathedral, yet even then I understood you were a man of sound mind. It is precisely because I trust your reason that I have come here—to help you, and to help your teacher.”

He then recounted what he had heard from his intelligence colleague Samuel: the details of the bloody rituals, the plans of the mystical order, and finally how the Deputy Governor Samiri had come in person, demanding that the cardinal himself publicly condemn Wickens—calling for him to be stoned, lynched, made an example—under the authority of the Church.

The cardinal continued:

“He even claimed that you had met with the devil in that tower of yours in the Alps. At first, I assumed he meant the usual spirit-summoning séances people whisper about. But apparently the insider who reported it heard certain things quite clearly—voices speaking through a tube behind a curtain—despite no one being there except you.”

After listening to the cardinal, Dr. Wickens slowly nodded, as if fitting pieces of a puzzle together. His eyes drifted into the distance. Seeing no reason to mistrust the man before him, he finally spoke:

“Now I understand,” he said.

“The watchman of that tower… one day he simply didn’t show up. The next day he returned with a scowl on his face, holding a cross in his hand. Before I could even ask why he was absent, he splashed water over me and thrust the cross toward my chest. ‘Filthy demon, leave this place at once!’ he shouted. Then the priest beside him began muttering something in a language I didn’t recognize—they were praying, I suppose. In their eyes I was the devil himself, and that water must have been holy water.”

He paused, the memory clearly unsettling.

“They performed some kind of exorcism ritual. Fearing more would follow, I packed my things and left for London immediately. But… there is something else.”

The cardinal sensed that Dr. Wickens was hesitating, caught between revealing the truth and holding it back. So he gently urged him on.

“You know as well as I do,” the cardinal said, “that this won’t end with a simple exorcism ritual.”

Dr. Wickens drew in a slow breath.

“A moment ago you spoke of a mystical order and their sinister activities. I assumed you were simply trying to pry something out of me, so I didn’t take it seriously.” He exhaled heavily, as if setting down a burden.

“Five or six months ago, I went to my master’s house without informing him. I believed he wasn’t home, so I stepped inside. In his study, I found him in the midst of a heated argument with several men I had never seen before. They were debating the doctrine of the Trinity. Embarrassed, I apologized and left at once. He scolded me later for entering without permission, but after that… he said a few things. Normally he tells me nothing—our talks are always confined to work. Yet that day, angered by those men, he let his frustration slip.”

“So he muttered rather than explained,” the cardinal said.

“Exactly. He didn’t intend to tell me anything—his words simply escaped in a moment of honesty.”

“What did he say?”

“They had the audacity to lecture me on how religions hinder scientific progress, yet today they came telling me to believe in the Trinity, insisting that I bear countless similarities to the Messiah and that everyone should think of me as a devout Christian. I told them I already love Jesus, but no—according to them I’m different from everyone else. Just yesterday we were criticizing those religious figures who see themselves as exalted, and now they want me to become just like them. What nonsense,” he said.
“After that, I asked who these men were, and he became angry. He said I had no right to ask anything outside our secret work and that he had no need for my opinion.
The truth is, my teacher is a good man—humble, even. But I believe these men—whoever they are—have changed him.”

The cardinal gave him a troubled look.
“These men can harm not only you but your master as well, whoever he is. We should warn him too. Fine, I understand—you don’t want to give me his name. Then you find him and warn him!”

“He’s closed up his house. If he wishes, he’ll find me. Even if we did find him, as I said, he wouldn’t listen. He’s not like he used to be—he’s stubborn now, convinced he alone knows the truth.”

“What is this business about the ‘demon’? What is the purpose of that tower? What kind of research are you doing?”

Wickens shook his head.

“I can’t speak of this work, nor of his other research on life itself. Yes, part of it is because of the promise I made him, but the real reason is to keep you—or anyone else—out of danger. Let me only say this: these will be the two most valuable discoveries in the entire history of humanity. Even if we fail to reach the final result, what we’ve already achieved is priceless.
What troubles us is this: we don’t know whether what we discover will be used for good or for evil.”

“I don’t know what kind of discovery it is,” the cardinal said, his eyes full of curiosity, “but why would it be used for evil?”

“Here’s a simple example. A knife is indispensable in the kitchen, essential for preparing food. But the very same tool can be used to kill. Let me give you a hint—but don’t ask more. If we complete the research involving the tower, an invincible army could be created anywhere in the world. And as for the second discovery—if everyone uses it, the earth will no longer be big enough for us. We would have to find ourselves a new planet. But we still have much work to do. Of course, these are the dangers—its benefits are countless. Let me say just one thing: with it, there will be no such thing as separation or loss ever again.”

The cardinal moved his lower jaw from side to side, thinking, yet no concrete explanation came to mind. Inwardly he murmured, “May God grant us a good end. If it is good for humanity, let it be so; if not, may it never be.”

Then he asked:

“Is there truly no one else involved in discoveries of such importance?”

“There is someone,” he said, “but not in our time.”
This only deepened the cardinal’s curiosity.

“You must have heard of the alchemists—how some of them were captured, tortured, and killed on the grounds that they were followers of the Devil. Sixteen centuries ago, three alchemist friends somehow obtained access to the two great studies mentioned by their predecessors. In one of these studies, they came remarkably close to the final result.
But at that time a tyrant king arose, and like many others, they were forced to flee by sea. A storm scattered the ships, and the vessel carrying two of the alchemists was driven to some unknown land.

The third alchemist reached Rome alive, but the essential knowledge concerning the discovery about life remained with the other two. Although the remaining alchemists made no progress on the second discovery, they advanced the first one significantly. They simply never found a safe environment to test it in practice—perhaps out of fear of being treated, as I was, like someone who converses with demons.

Through a strict master–disciple tradition, the knowledge was passed down. It wasn’t merely spoken; the formulas were written on papyri and handed down like sacred inheritance. When my master’s master finally entrusted them to him, my master decided to test the first discovery—the one involving the tower—in practice. The towers in the Alps, and the one not far from here, were built using that knowledge.”

Wickens paused, his eyes suddenly filled with fear.

The cardinal asked,
“What is it? Why did you stop?”

“You shouldn’t be worrying about my master’s life,” Wickens said, his voice trembling. “You should be worrying about the innocent islanders who know nothing of the outside world. That guard must have learned their location as well. I’m certain he told those wicked men the whereabouts of that island—calling it the Devil’s stronghold.”

The cardinal was about to ask, “What island? And who are these innocent people?” when his aide burst into the room.

“We have to go—those brutes are heading this way!”

The cardinal turned to Wickens.
“I trust you believe me now. Once you see those men break into your home like common bandits, you’ll understand.”

Moments later, Wickens and the cardinal were hidden among the branches of a wooded area, watching the house from between the leaves. They saw the men smash the door, ravage the garden, scatter the papyri across the floor in a frantic search, and the bald leader strike his right fist into his left palm in fury. It was clear—they had no good intentions.

Dr. Wickens cast the cardinal an apologetic look.
“So… what do we do now?”

The cardinal knew there was nowhere the reach of this mystical order did not extend. They would not leave them in peace—of that he was certain. But at least they might find safety in a land where the order’s influence was weak, where rulers were not under its shadow.

He tried to think of such a place—a state whose leaders had not yet been ensnared. Eventually, he found one. But he hesitated. If he named it, Wickens might suspect him of espionage—or worse, of belonging to a different faith altogether.

He weighed his words in uneasy silence.

“There is no branch left for us to cling to in Europe. We must seek refuge with a power that, though afflicted, is still strong. Don’t misunderstand me—but it is clear their sense of justice surpasses ours. Strong yet ailing, no longer in its former glory, and yet still commanding weight and ruling with fairness… Only one state fits that description. The Ottoman Empire—İstanbul. They do not even call themselves an empire, but the State Aliyye, the Exalted State. I see no other option. For centuries, peoples of different nations and faiths have lived in peace under their rule.”

Sensing Dr. Wickens’s suspicious gaze, the cardinal continued:

“I am no spy, no traitor. I speak only of what I have witnessed and heard.”

In truth, Dr. Wickens had met with Ottoman scholars several times before. Had the Church learned of this? Was the cardinal praising the Ottomans merely to test him? he wondered. The monotheistic teachings the scholars had spoken of sounded remarkably similar to what the cardinal had just described. Was the cardinal trying to draw him out? he could not help thinking. Moreover, he knew well that the story of Moses the cardinal had mentioned was not found in the Holy Scripture, but in another divine source. Though the cardinal and Dr. Wickens trusted one another, the fear of being accused of espionage lingered between them like a shadow.

Dr. Wickens gathered the entrusted possessions of his master. If anything were to happen to him, İstanbul seemed the most fitting place to fulfill his master’s last will. The two comrades in fate reached the city by ship. The cardinal soon reconnected with old acquaintances and also approached the Orthodox Church there. Before long, news arrived: the renowned scholar Newton had died.

Convinced beyond doubt that he had been murdered, Wickens turned to the cardinal and said,
“You were right about everything.”
Then, in a whisper:
“I will tell you everything—and we must also reveal the secrets my master entrusted to me to someone worthy. But you must be the one to decide whom we can trust.”

The cardinal, startled, asked,
“I thought you promised your master never to speak of this to anyone?”

“My promise was until the day he died. And, in truth, he wanted these secrets to be shared with a suitable Muslim scholar.”

The cardinal could not decide which shocked him more: that Wickens’s master had been Newton… or that Newton wished his hidden secrets to be entrusted to a Muslim sage.