The Lost Pope

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Copyright © 2023 by Lascaux Media LLC Cover design by Ben Denzer. Cover images: Saint Mary Magdalene, c.1524 (oil on panel) Luini, Bernardino (c.1480-1532) from Bridgeman Images; Vatican and background texture from Getty Images. Cover copyright © 2023 by Hachette Book Group, Inc. Hachette Book Group supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights. Grand Central Publishing Hachette Book Group 1290 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10104grandcentralpublishing.comtwitter.com/grandcentralpub First Edition: June 2023 Grand Central Publishing is a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc. The Grand Central Publishing name and logo is a trademark of Hachette Book Group, Inc. The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher. The Hachette Speakers Bureau provides a wide range of authors for speaking events. To find out more, go to www.hachettespeakersbureau.com or call (866) 376-6591. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Cooper, Glenn, 1953- author. Title: The lost pope / Glenn Cooper. Description: First edition. | New York : Grand Central Publishing, 2023. Identifiers: LCCN 2022053121 | ISBN 9781538721261 (trade paperback) | ISBN 9781538721278 (ebook) Subjects: LCGFT: Thrillers (Fiction) | Novels. Classification: LCC PS3603.O582627 L67 2023 | DDC 813/.6--dc23/eng/20221115 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022053121 ISBNs: 9781538721261 (trade pbk.), 9781538721278 (ebook) E3-20230406-NF-DA-ORI Table of Contents Cover Title Page Copyright 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 Discover More About the Author Also by Glenn Cooper Acclaim for Glenn Cooper Navigation Table of Contents Explore book giveaways, sneak peeks, deals, and more. Tap here to learn more. 1 Northern Oasis, Egypt, 67 CE Brown was her color and the color of this place. Her eyes were brown, and though her hair was graying, it still showed streaks of its original bronze. When she was young, her skin was light enough to go pink as a newborn mouse at the blush of love, but the sun had been baking it for over fifty years, rendering it the shade of tiger nuts. Her old linen robe, her second skin, was the same nut-brown even after she washed and beat the cloth. Her coloration matched the arid land, for it too was brown beyond the green fertility of the oasis. Near to the oasis, the soil was dark as cedar bark, but as one moved away from its spring, the terrain lightened from copper to mustard to the bleached tan of the desert sands. The cluster of houses she came upon were companions of the earth, rising organically from the desert floor, their walls of limestone blocks, rough and tawny. She arrived by mule when the sun was burning near the horizon and northerly winds were whipping fine sand into the air. One of her fellow travelers knocked on the rough door and stepped aside for her. An old man showed himself and, in Aramaic, asked who she was. The woman responded, “I am Mary.” The man, Isaiah, looked at her hard and said, “My hearing is poor. Did you say Mary?” She lowered her hood, revealing sunken eyes and cracked lips, and said, “Yes, I am Mary. Mary of Magdala. I seek sanctuary.” Old eyes widened. “From whom do you flee, My Lady?” “All of them,” she said. “Christians, Jews, Romans, all wish me dead. I am told this is the house of Leah.” Isaiah escorted Mary and her three male companions to the largest house and asked them to wait in a dimly lit room of generous proportions. The floor was hard-packed dirt. Wooden bowls were stacked on a long dining table. The shutters had been closed to keep the swirling sands at bay, but fine yellow grit penetrated the gaps, coating the table and benches, and the gusting wind set the candles dancing and flashing. A woman rushed in from an adjoining room. Mary thought she must have been sleeping because her blinking, foggy eyes searched the chamber before settling on her. This woman was younger than Mary, taller, with finely chiseled, patrician features. She had the look of a lady who once might have draped herself in mantles of silk, but here and now she wore a coarse gown that brushed the tops of bare feet. Mary’s days of vanity were long gone, but this woman, with her unlined, lovely face, made her bitterly feel her years. The woman bowed deeply and said, “I am Leah. Is it true you are Mary Magdalene?” “I am.” Leah cried, “The Blessed Matriarch!” and tears moistened her cheeks. “I have traveled long and far to meet the deacon Leah,” Mary said, using the honorific Greek word, diakonos. “You are known to the Christian world.” Leah dropped to the ground and kissed Mary’s feet. “Blessed Lady, your presence in my house is a gift from the Lord.” Mary pulled her up by the shoulders and gazed tenderly at her face. “Tell me, why have you come to my house?” Leah asked. “I am old, and I am weary of running for my life. The Lord knows my days are numbered. I want my story told before I die. I would have you tell it.” Hearing of visitors, the community of some twenty souls spilled from their houses and peered through the cracks in the shutters until Leah invited them inside. Then, one by