I stared down at the gospel before me and sighed relieved. Now I could go back to Pittsburgh, back to Frankie, back to my new life. The gospel I'd found would be safe in the hands of Petrocelli. The Church would never know of them, never would the Vatican hear word of their existence.

Petrocelli and I were to meet at a graveyard outside of Rome. I went carefully ensuring that no one followed me. When I got to the graveyard an old man sat on a stone bench. No one else was around. I sat beside him and stated, "lovely day."

He nodded staring up at the sky, "That it is."

Nonchalantly I passed the ancient scroll over to him, "Promise that this will never enter a church or be heard of by the Vatican. Give me you word, Petrocelli."

His eyes stared deeply into mine, "You have my word. I swear to Christ that I'll protect this gospel."

I nodded reassured then stood up, "I must go now."

Petrocelli grabbed my arm to get my attention, "Thank you." I knew I had done the right thing. The gospel was in the right hands it was safe.

My black coat flowed behind me as I walked away. I would never see him or the Gospel ever again. This meeting proved dangerous in itself. Another one would be stupidity. Now I had to get to the airport. I'd quit the Church. I learned I did not believe in their methods. My interests would still be base around religious science but never would I work for the Church again.