Sinimbahanan Ruins, Tiwi Albay, 11:56pm
French missionary and church curator Father Valentin de Santa Clara shadowed to the darkness of an isolated place in the town of Tiwi wherein the ruins of a hundred-year-old church was still standing losing almost everything it contained except for some destroyed-by-a-war walls, the main altar made of a giant flat rock, and a relic of the Virgin Mary being vanished by time. Father Valentin dropped by outside the ruins, snatching his cellular phone and dialed a long set of numbers which is surely a foreign number. Before entering the call button, the curator surveyed the place assuring that no one is listening.
The place is dark and the houses surrounding the ruins were already closed; doors were locked and lights were turned off. The only noise he could hear is the bark of the dogs echoing in the place and the sound of crickets that are now starting to fade. Finally, Father Valentin entered the call button and let the phone rang.
As he waits, he suddenly heard a noise of leaves. He followed the track of the noise but was interrupted by a voice coming from the phone.
“Bonsoir. Monseur Valentin?” the man’s voice was hard using his French accent.
“Oui.” Father Valentin whispered. He knew that their talk was a bit important that he needs to assure no one is listening.
The man he called was the director of one of the most well-known bank in Paris. As usual, they were not talking about money-related matters. Whenever the curator calls him, they talk something about the secret they are protecting, and this night, he thought that their secret will be revealed soon.
“It is a surprise that you call today. You call me once every three months and it was always during Fridays. It is just Wednesday there. So why have you call so early?” the man’s English was hard and tensed.
Valentin realized that the man was right but tonight, he cannot follow his usual schedule. He knew that the secret they protect hundreds of years ago was in danger and he believes that passing the secret to a man in his brotherhood, disregarding the position, is the safest way to hid what should be hidden. “The commemoration of the deaths of our beloved pioneering founders is near. Our enemies should not know about it. I want you to be here as soon as possible and I’ll show you what you need to see, keep it, and pass it on your dying day.” the curator ordered. The man in the line was about to protest when suddenly, his phone was snatched by someone on his back. Valentin tried to fight back but something hard and cold metal was peering his head. The curator already knew it was the silencer of a gun.
“Do not move, Father, or I will make your brain explode in front of the fallen house of God.” the man’s voice was soft but it was full of hatred. “Just tell me where you hide it and I’ll set you free.” the man added.
The sixty-seven-year-old man could not believe it happening. He believed first that their secret was in danger, but he realized that his life was also in danger. “What are you talking about?” the curator doubtfully asked. “I didn’t steal anything from you, I believe. I guess, you’re the one who stole something from me.” Valentin remembered that his cell phone was snatched by his captor.
The man in his back pushed harder the gun in his head. “Do not test me! I can pull the trigger now. I’m afraid you’re the only person on earth who knew it, and failing to pass the secret will silence us all.” the man taunted.
Valentin tried to turn to his captor but he knew it will be the end of his brain. How could he possibly know all of these things? He knew that if I die, the secret will be lost forever, but if I told him everything, the secret will be destroyed. He thought.
Suddenly, another sound of the leaves interrupted both Valentin’s mind and the captor’s. Valentin realized this is now the time to defense himself and the secret. The curator rushed to turn to the kidnapper, grabbed the gun, and punched him in the face. He aimed the gun to the kidnapper, but the kidnapper charged him like a lion bringing him down to the ground losing his grip to his gun. The curator saw the kidnapper’s whole image. He was wearing a black monk’s robe having a dark skin. His brown eyes and a dark blue pupil darted the curator’s eyes with enraged stare showing his hate to the curator.
Upon seeing the kidnapper, the curator was covered with terror. No way! They can’t be here. The curator’s face felt a strong shot from the fist of his captor. His face peered the ground glancing at something he knew would help him. He snatched the phone and kicked the captor at his abdomen. He recoiled because of pain. The curator searched for a name from his contact and finally found it. I knew he’s worthy to know the secret. He thought and finally decided to press the call button, but a quiet gunshot busted and something hot peered through the curator’s abdomen. Valentin lay down on the ground like a dead man, but he is still alive. He hid the phone towards his black priest polo and decided not to move despite of the pain in his stomach.
The man who shot him slowly stood up holding in his abdomen after he was kicked by the curator. “Pain does not exist.” he said as he slides his gun at the back of his suite. “There’s no need of destroying your secret. The important thing here is that your secret will forever be buried in the ground...together with you.” the man added. Suddenly, his own phone rang. “Teacher.” He said. “My work here is done. The Grand Master is dead.” the man told the caller everything that happened and finally end the call. He glanced at the body of the curator and spoke his last words very carefully. “I guess my work here isn’t over yet. I still need to find this person who knew you a lot that even if you’re dead, he can still locate your secret. You can still pass it even if you’re a ghost already. I need to kill him immediately.” the man said and finally he was gone.
Valentin heard everything and he realized that the man who shot him was a member of the secret Catholic Sect summoned by the Vatican to destroy their order’s gravest secret. “Philip is in trouble and I need to pass the secret to him as soon as possible. The monk is right. This person can still discover the secret even if I’m dead.” he whispered.
The poison of the bullet is now scattering in his stomach and the blood is flowing continuously. “I guess this is now the end of the secret.” he said. The curator slowly staggered to the ruined church where he might be able to die inside the house of God. “Father, unto thy hands, I commend my spirit.” he declared when the man of who kidnapped him a while ago returned.
