St. Peter The Conspiracy of the Century

By Gerald Duffy, Jr

Religion! Politics! Sex! Racism! The Four Forbidden Topics!
World renowned Theologist Professor Matthew Davenport is summoned to appear in Vatican City. He has been selected by the Roman Curia from a pool of elite archaeologists to lead a team in confirming the authenticity of the remains of Simon Peter, Jesus’ first disciple.
Prior to his trip, Professor Davenport finds himself persuaded by Josh Miller, one of Washington, D.C.’s Assistant United Stated Attorney to assist in sorting through the Roman Catholic Church’s bureaucracy. Miller is more than convinced that the church has hidden endless money trails expanding across the globe which has supported priests in eluding authorities and escaping prosecution for decades in the worst scandal of its two-thousand-year history.
Unbeknown to Davenport, Miller is further advanced in his mission than the Professor realizes. However, one major piece of the puzzle has slipped from under the nose of the District Attorney’s Office.
As the plot thickens surrounding the world’s largest religious institution, Davenport becomes entangled in a web of deception. What he discovered while at the Vatican makes him question the very foundation of Catholicism.
Will the Holy See continue to avoid the clutches of justice? Or will buried secrets finally come to light? What’s ultimately discovered inside the walls of Vatican City will alter history as you know it, change the way you view the Catholic Church forever, and could possibly cost Davenport his life!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gerald Duffy, Jr
• Release date: Nov 7, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370350469

Gerald Duffy, Jr

For all that preambles, this is not just a book that outlines my experiences and adventures in life, another dope-boy story, or even a lengthy prison saga. Instead, I’ve tried to make this book a learning and growing experience for anyone who might take the time to read it. “IT IS WHAT IT IS: SYSTEMATIC INCARCERATION / DISGUISED RACISM” is a movement for others to learn from the bad decisions I’ve made throughout my lifetime and specifically a wake-up call for all African-America youth. It’s time for us to wake up and see what is happening to our beautiful race of people. If at the end of the day this book helps one person, (African-American or otherwise) become a better person, and contribute to the solution, and not to the problem, then my mission for writing was accomplished. Thank you again for all who took the time to read this book, and as the old saying goes, “IT IS WHAT IT IS.” In closing, I would like to leave the reader with these few thoughts: My mother taught me how to love and keep positive plans; Universities and colleges taught my mind to expand; The streets taught me how to survive and live off the land; However, Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary changed me from a boy to a man. Gerald Hawthorne Duffy, Jr.

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PROLOGUE

Thursday, April 21, 2011

WASHINGTON, D.C.

4:46 A.M.

Black and white Metro police helicopters crisscrossed and glided through the patchy fog which loomed over the Potomac River. Skillful pilots equipped with night vision searched for anything suspicious below, as they maneuvered above the Tidal Basin. Blinding spotlights beneath the aircrafts illuminated the morning skies.

A full moon glowed off in the distance.

Within minutes of being on the scene, law enforcement had positioned and secured barricades. The Washington Monument, Roosevelt, Lincoln and Jefferson Memorials were no longer accessible to the public. The city was currently shut off vertically from 23rd to 14th, as well as horizontally from Independence Avenue to the Potomac River.

Trucks and vans with logos from the top three news channels in the country lined the side streets. Reporters stood on location. Each one wanted desperately to be the first to break the latest news. Fat Al, owner of Al’s Auto Salvage and Towing, yawned with his hands buried deep in the pockets of his overalls. It was evident to him that this wouldn’t be another routine pick-up. In the back of his mind, he wished he had never taken the call.

Canine crews had recently arrived. The dogs were already out barking and anxious to pick up a scent. Evidence technicians swiftly moved along the docks and sidewalks. They dusted for prints and snapped pictures. Rescue boats see-sawed in the waters of the Tidal Basin.

It was the morning after the Cherry Blossom Festival, an annual event that celebrates more than three-thousand Yoshino Cherry trees which line the basin. They had been given to the United States by the Mayor of Tokyo in 1912. The token symbolized the Japanese-American friendship which formed after World War I.

The grounds still showed an aftermath of a fireworks display. The smell of popcorn and cotton candy lingered in the air. The festivals had finally come to an end. Yet, the basin was still the center of attraction.

A white Lexus coupe belonging to Richard Riley, a prominent Assistance U.S. Attorney for the District of Columbia, had been found abandoned in the parking lot of the basin close to the paddle boat section. Riley had been missing for several days now. He disappeared on the eve of Palm Sunday.

From the very beginning, the ordeal had the making of a perfect scandal. As the days slowly passed, the story intensified by the seconds. Grave concerns had quickly developed. Word had begun spreading amongst the elite. In secret, they worried if an incident of this magnitude could happen to someone with such political clout, it could easily have happened to any one of them.

Flashing red and blue headlights from a speeding Suburban suddenly divided the crowd. A tall slender guy jumped out on the passenger’s side leaving the door open. His boots appeared to have touched the asphalt before the truck came to a complete stop.

Agent! Agent! aggressive reporters simultaneously yelled. They pushed and shoved while leaning over barricades with extended microphones.

Paying no attention to reporters, the tall agent briefly spoke with two officers who stood post. He then rushed back and jumped inside the truck. The SUV quickly sped off.

Within seconds, the vehicle arrived at yellow caution tape surrounding the parking area where the car had been found. The slender agent jumped out once again, now accompanied by two other men.

Once on the other side of the tape, the three were met by a short older man who wore Khakis, a navy blue windbreaker, and a Washington National’s baseball cap that fitted perfectly around the contour of his head and shadowed his pudgy face. The cap did nothing to hide his irritation. Can I help you men? he asked as he approached the three. I’m Chief St. Clair.

Supervising Special Agent Loraine. I’m from the Bureau, the tall agent said. This here is Agent Davis and Gaffney.

Both men stood completely still. Neither one said a word. You in command? Loraine asked, glancing over the Chief’s shoulder at the Lexus.

You know I’m in control, the chief replied, as he held his ground and looked around.

That’s good to know. But I’ll be taking over from here.

Just wait one damn minute! This is my jurisdiction!

Loraine reached in his pocket and pulled out the papers verifying his orders.

The Chief snatched and skimmed them. Once seeing the signature midway down the second page he realized that he had no win. If you got a problem take it up with the Attorney General, Loraine said, Riley is one of ours.

Chief St. Chair immediately grabbed his walkie-talkie. He informed his team that it was time to pack up and ship out.

Davis, Loraine called.

Sir.

Make sure the Chief finds his way out of here.

Yes Sir, Davis replied, as he hurried to catch up with him.

Loraine planned to ensure this investigation was done precisely by the books. If anything went wrong he knew politicians would immediately start pointing fingers. He would be the first one on the hot seat. Prior incidents had shown him how easy it was for a tragedy to turn to into a theme song for re-election.

At this point, he couldn’t afford the added pressure of being questioned by special committees for the Bureau’s inability to resolve such a high profile disappearance. Loraine understood it all too well. It was just the way things operated inside the nation’s capital. The world was now watching; the clock was constantly ticking.

Loraine headed towards the Lexus. In route, he spoke to several Crime Scene Investigators (CSI). He noticed one circling the vehicle and videotaping. Another held a clipboard and jotted notes. He raised his head as the SSA approached.

What we got? Loraine asked as he leaned in closer. He strained to hear over the passing copters.

We think a struggle took place inside the car.

A struggle?

Yeah, the CSI said, by looking at the way the driver’s seat is pushed back... it’s jammed. We found a Blackberry lodged between the seat and console. Adapter to a laptop was found plugged into the lighter. But no laptop.

So we’re starting at ground level with this? Loraine asked.

Not exactly. I got something you need to see for yourself.

What is it?

It’s over here. Inside the car, the CSI said, come around to the other side so you can get a better look.

In doing so, the SSA leaned inside the vehicle and rested his hands on his knees. He was immediately startled. The distinctive color stood out against the tan leather interior.

Is that blood? Loraine asked, staring at the dashboard. God tell me it’s not!

The luminal test was positive, he replied, it’s definitely blood. We just don’t know right now if it’s Riley’s. A comparison will be done back at the lab.

Loraine stayed focused on the dashboard, Can you make out what it says? he managed to ask.

I’ve tried, the CSI said, I’ve looked at it from several different angles.

He pointed to the top of the dashboard where he thought the writing had started, and guided Loraine through the formation of the letters. ‘‘Looking at it from this angle, the CSI said, it seems like it says L-U-K-E 8:17."

What is LUKE 8:17? Loraine asked.

I don’t know right off. I haven’t had a chance to pull it up.

Make that your priority. I need to know what it says, IMMEDIATELY.

Yes Sir.

Hey! And don’t speak to anyone about this. You hear me, Loraine said.

Yes Sir.

No leaks. We don’t need the media close to this. You understand?

Yes Sir, the tech replied, easing out the car.

Loraine stared at the dashboard a little longer before his eyes roamed the rest of the vehicle.

Seconds later, he stopped on the floorboard. He focused on a unique object, then went in the pocket of his windbreaker and pulled out a pair of latex gloves. He slid them on and picked up an arm to a broken pair of glasses.

He examined and noticed the letters CAD engraved on it. He thought hard. The initials didn’t ring a bell. He couldn’t link it with a designer brand. He replayed the letters in his head as he laid the arm back on the floorboard and removed the gloves. As he stood he covered his face with both hands. He took a deep breath while running his fingers through his hair. What’s next? he asked, basically mumbling to himself.

Someone had sent a strong message and Loraine had taken it personally. Guys, he shouted into the night, listen up!

The agents immediately came closer as Loraine continued, I want this vehicle secured and transported to Quantico. No one sleeps until I know what in the hell is going on around here!

CHAPTER 1

A G550 Gulfstream swiftly glided above the Atlantic Ocean. Its destination was London, the financial capitol of the world.

Two pilots and a passenger were the only ones on board. The passenger relaxed in the plane’s conference room. His hard bottom loafers rested on top of the mahogany table. He was enroute to an event which held more global importance than the Bilderberg, Davos, and Bohemian Grove combined.

As he leaned back in his soft leather chair, he carefully listened to the other party across the speaker phone while gazing at the seven flat screens which lined the back wall. A representative from each continent filled the screens.

They had joined the conference call via satellite. Everyone present was privileged and among the few in the world who had knowledge of the Great Secret.

Silence had recently engulfed the conference room for several seconds before the man finally responded, We have work to do, he said as he constantly twirled a pair of chrome therapeutic balls. The intensity in his voice didn’t go unnoticed, let’s start with North America.

CHAPTER 2

Matthew Davenport stood on stage behind a lectern on the third floor inside the auditorium of Healy Hall, one of the largest academic and administration buildings on campus at the oldest Catholic and Jesuit university in America - Georgetown.

This building was named after Patrick Francis Healy, previous president of the university. Originally born a slave by law, Healy became the first black to preside over a predominantly white university in America.

Davenport was currently absorbed in his lecture. The topic dealt with the history of Christianity. His rostrum was completely empty. Having taught Theology for more than nineteen years, his notes were obsolete. The Professor was extremely fluent with the subject.

At that time, Jesus tells Peter, Davenport said as he paused and looked out into the crowd, upon this rock I will build my church. And from that one statement the Roman Catholic Church formulated its foundation. The first pope became Simon Peter.

Davenport stood upright. His customary full length white smock gave him a sense of prestige, as if he really needed it. However, it wasn’t long before everyone in the Roman Empire realized that Christianity wasn’t a new concept after all.

The Professor had the room’s undivided attention. It was the same belief system that had been taught for thousands of years before Jesus about the Sun God, Mithra.

Professor, a student called out, You telling us Christianity stole someone’s belief? Everyone looked around curious to know who had asked the question.

More or less, Davenport replied.

Why haven’t I ever heard that before? the young man asked.

Because you haven’t done any research. You haven’t studied history, the Professor answered, receiving light chuckles from some of the students.

So who was Mithra? another student toward the back asked.

Mithra was a Roman Sun God, Davenport replied, and before Christianity he was worshipped in the temples of Rome on Sundays. The same day the Christians now worship Jesus.

The knowledge being shared wasn’t the ordinary information possessed by society. Davenport knew any controversial issues brought to the surface concerning Jesus would cause a backlash, especially amongst Christians. Regardless of the fact, the Professor still moved forward. If you know the history of Jesus, then you know the history of Mithra. Both were born of virgins on December 25. Both had come to save the world of its sin. Both had been crucified and rose from the dead on the third day.

As Davenport lectured, he could sense one student on the front row found it hard to believe what he had said. The young man’s facial expression told it all. The information was new to him.

The Professor singled him out. He pointed and asked him did he have a question.

If Mithra really existed, then where are all the relics and temples to prove it? the student asked.

Great question, Davenport said as he paused to formulate his answer, It goes back to the beginning of the Roman Catholic Church. All Mithra’s temples were turned into Christian churches. Vatican City in Rome use to be sacred to Mithra the same way it’s sacred to St. Peter now.

Professor Davenport moved from behind the lectern with his hands in his pockets. He stared down as he paced in front of a packed house. It was standing room only this morning. Students lined the sides and back wall.

Davenport wasn’t any ordinary professor. He stood out from the rest. His style of teaching was both unique and iconoclastic. He challenged his students to think outside the box. He had an impeccable reputation for being a critical thinker. On days when he lectured, students not even enrolled in his class would stop in just to hear him speak.

Unfortunately, teaching had always been secondary in his life. His first true love, beside his wife, was exploring ancient religion sites and studying past religion cultures. Davenport was a world renown archaeologist and one of the best in his field.

Glancing up, Davenport looked out into the crowd. Long fluorescent lights brightly shined throughout the auditorium. Banners decorated walls with quotes from the greatest philosophers to ever walk the face of the Earth: Aristotle, Pathagoras, Plato, Descartes, and Epicurus along with many others: As a man thinks, so is he, by the great Socrates, was mounted in a frame in front of Davenport’s lectern.

In the early years of Christianity, the Professor continued, the religion was slow to take off. It wasn’t ‘til Emperor Constantine came into power when the movement ignited and spread throughout Europe like wildfire. Would anyone care to share with us the action Constantine took?

Only a few hands went up. It was always the same students. Overall, the whole group was quite intelligent. Yet, everyone knew Davenport’s knowledge on the subject far exceeded their own.

No one wanted to answer a trick question.

Davenport acknowledged a young woman who sat on the third row.

Constantine legalized Christianity, she said.

And exactly how did he do that? Davenport asked.

He legalized the practice in his Edict of Milan.

That’s exactly correct, Davenport replied, most people don’t realize that before Constantine’s edict it was considered a crime punishable by death to even practice Christianity.

The Professor described Constantine as one of the greatest Roman emperors to ever live. He reigned between 312-327 A.D. during Rome’s final years of dominance after ruling the majority of Europe for nearly a thousand years.

Christian legend has it that during one of Constantine’s most fierce battles for Roman leadership along the Milvian Bridge near Rome, he supposedly saw a vision in the sky with the words By This Conquer. The next night he supposedly received a vision from Jesus telling him to put the cross on the flag to guarantee victory.

You must also understand that Constantine’s reason for legalizing Christianity was more political than religious, Davenport continued, as he looked out into the crowd, And it was a great political move. The Professor stopped and rubbed his head, Can anyone tell us who were the Paulines and who were the Arians?

A young lady to the far right raised her hand. Yes, Davenport said, as he signaled in her direction.

Two of the most popular early Christian groups, she said.

Correct, Davenport said, as he stopped in the center of the stage I can see someone has been doing some reading. In order for Constantine to hold a deteriorating Roman empire together, he needed to find a way to unite the two groups. Davenport adjusted his glasses before he continued, It wasn’t an easy task. The two groups had totally different beliefs about the role of Jesus.

Davenport explained that Paulines believed Jesus was actually the Son of God, while the Arians believed he had been an ordinary man. Previous encounters between the two groups had ended badly. The meeting that Constantine had scheduled between the two at the Council of Milan was no different. Fights broke out; many were brutally killed during the gathering. Blood was actually shed to decide whether Jesus would be the Father, Son, or the Holy Spirit.

Eventually the Paulines won the battle, Davenport said, and church leaders compromised and created the Nicene Creed. It was a creed in which the Catholics placed the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit as one.

A young man in the front raised his hand. Davenport nodded in his direction.

That’s how we get the Trinity? he asked.

You would think so, the Professor replied, but that’s not the case. Actually, the belief in the Trinity was first used by ancient Egyptians long before Christianity. Egyptians believed that the Sun God Osiris and his son Horus were as one, with Horus’ mother Isis completing the trio as the Holy Spirit.

Professor Davenport explained that in this present time and era not many knew Constantine’s mother, Helena, was the one who had actually handpicked the exact location where Jesus’ crucifixion had taken place. Today, one of Christianity most sacred sites, the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, sits on that location.

Helena had also pin-pointed the exact areas where the birth of Jesus had supposedly taken place, where his tomb had rested, and even where he had ascended into heaven more than three-hundred years after these events had supposedly taken place. Not a single Christian relic had ever been placed in Jerusalem prior to Helena making her proclamations.

Davenport arrived back behind his lectern, For the next three-hundred years after Constantine’s reign came to an end, Christianity went virtually unchallenged until 612 A.D. The Professor took a swig of water from a bottle under his lectern before continuing, A man appeared named Muhammad from the city of Mecca in Saudi Arabia. Muhammad formed the religion we know of today as Islam. He claimed to have received a vision from Archangel Gabriel, the same angel who had supposedly warned Jesus’ mother that she would bare a son who would be the Messiah. Muhammad said that when he awoke from his dream, a message was inscribed upon his heart. That message became known as the Koran.

Islam, which means to submit or surrender, teaches that the value of their Holy Book, the Koran, is found in the recitation of the words, not the actual understanding and practicing of its contents. Three-fourths of the world’s 1.6 billion Muslims are non-Arabic speakers, yet they pray five times a day and faithfully recite in a language that most don’t even understand.

Muslims also believe that Abraham was the one who had built the Kaaba - the sacred shrine in Mecca which each Muslim is required to visit at least once in a lifetime. Not many Muslims realize the Kaaba had originally been a sacred Pagan temple for the Goddess Semiramis which was known back then as the sacred ‘Black Stone.’

Davenport pointed to a student who had his hand raised in the center row, Do you have a question? the Professor asked.

Yes, the guy replied, what is the difference between Christianity and Islam?

Good question, Davenport said, other than the fact that Christians traced their descendant through Abraham’s son, Isaac, by his wife Sarah, and Islam traces their roots through Abraham’s younger son, Ishmael, by his servant Hagar, there really is no difference in the two religions.

Davenport’s razor sharp mentality, philosophies, and ideologies put him in a class of his own. Over the course of the years, he had occasionally been honored with the Professor of the Year award. He had even chaired on various archaeological teams, some of which have made huge discoveries. One of his greatest and most significant achievements was his recent report which involved making a crucial determination in regards to the authenticity of the Dead Sea and Copper Scrolls.

Within the report, Davenport confirmed the Dead Sea and Copper Scrolls were authentic. Also, the Book of Isaiah, which was also found with the scrolls, had been written centuries before the one in the Bible. It was another amazing discovery which had brought the authenticity of the Bible under even more scrutiny, yet it did nothing to deter Davenport in his belief of a Creator.

Nevertheless, all of his accomplishments now seem so vague, a distance memory.

As of recently, he had not been the same since the tragedy occurred in his life.

Davenport glanced at his watch. It was only minutes before his class was schedule to end. It was now Holy Week, the most sacred time of the year on the Christian’s calendar. Tomorrow would be Good Friday, and Easter was less than four days away.

CHAPTER 3

Elevator doors on the third floor inside the E. Barrett Prettyman Federal Courthouse slowly slid open. Josh Miller, one of nine federal prosecutors for the District of Columbia stepped onto the marble floor of the oversize corridor. He was accompanied by several more individuals.

Miller was the man of the hour. A guilty verdict had been handed down the previous day in the long awaited trial of Michael Sanders, manager of the investment advisory division of AMG Finances. Sanders had been charged in a twenty-eight count indictment. It listed him as the mastermind behind a multi-billion dollar Ponzi scheme. His indictment derived from a five year investigation which had detailed swindling seventeen to twenty billion dollars from investors, financial firms, retirees, and charities. Sanders had stood behind the reputations of AMG and gained the trust of potential victims.

The scheme went virtually undetected for more than two decades. Financial problems triggered an audit by accounting giant, KGMD, along with a Washington based office of the Security of Exchange Commission (SEC). Day old stock data had been used to manipulate accounts which in return misled clients in regards to their financial standings. At times throughout trial, the government had begun speculating that the best case scenario would probably be to seek a hung jury and preserve all rights to try the case again. However, once Miller delivered his closing arguments the jury deliberated less than two days and sealed Sander’s fate. The mastermind was found guilty on all counts. He now faced more than fifty years inside federal prison.

After shaking a few hands, Miller sauntered down the hallway of the oldest building in the Judiciary Square and Municipal Complex. President Harry S. Truman had personally laid the cornerstone which began its construction in June of 1950.

This eight floor complex which faced south towards the Mall on Constitution Avenue had been renamed in 1997 to honor Chief Judge E. Prettyman who sat on the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia.

Once arriving at his office, Miller stepped inside. He sat his briefcase down, closed the door, and leaned against it. He took several deep breaths as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. The young prosecutor stood with his mouth agape before finding his way to his desk.

After graduating in the top percentage from Princeton’s Law School and taking a position in the U.S. Attorney’s Office eight years earlier, Miller was now mentally drained. His extensive case load had taken its toll along with the tragedy that surrounded the office. Richard Riley was his co-worker and best friend. Riley’s car had been found earlier, but no sign of him.

The two prosecutors had worked together on numerous occasions. They had become a one-two punch when assigned to the same case. Their work