The Power of Five Oblivion

on them. A five-pointed star.”
    The woman turned excitedly to her son and spoke quickly to him in Italian. He listened to her for a moment, then held up a hand for silence. It seemed strange to Pedro and somehow wrong that she should do what her son told her, rather than the other way round.
    Silvio turned back to Pedro. “I will tell you what I know,” he began. “I know who you are. I have read some of the pages from the diary of Joseph of Cordoba. There was a copy made many years ago and it is kept locked up in the Vatican. It is a forbidden text … and with good reason. What this man writes is impossible. It is blasphemy.
    “He writes about the Old Ones. This is the name that he gives to creatures … what shall we call them, demons? … who have come into the world simply to cause evil, to destroy mankind.”
    “They are here now,” Pedro said.
    “I do not believe that is true.”
    Pedro stared at the priest. “Of course they are here. They kept me prisoner in Naples. They took my friend Scott and made him bad. They caused the volcano to erupt…”
    “All these things may have happened. But have you seen the Old Ones?”
    “They tried to kill me twice. The first time it was condors that came out of the sky in the desert. And then they sent people who were dead, who came out of the grave.”
    “I asked you if you had seen the Old Ones themselves.”
    “No.” Pedro couldn’t lie. “But we have to fight them,” he went on. “The five of us must be together. That’s why I have to find my friends.”
    “Now you are talking about the Gatekeepers. Is that what you mean?”
    “Yes. Matteo, Scarlett, Scott and Jamie. And me.” Pedro was ignoring his tea, which was getting cold in front of him. “Why is nobody allowed into St Peter’s Basilica?” he asked.
    Silvio spread his hands. “There are too many people in Rome,” he explained. “The authorities are afraid that it will become overrun. A few pilgrims are still allowed in and out but they have to have special permission and must show their identity papers first.”
    “Is it because there is a door inside? Is it because they want to stop me?”
    Silvio looked as if he was about to deny what Pedro had just said but before he could speak, his mother leant forward and there was an excitement in her eyes that he had not seen before. “There is a door,” she said.
    Silvio glowered at his mother but she wasn’t backing down. He shrugged. “It is true that there is a door such as the one you describe,” he admitted. “It is beneath the tabernacle, in the grotto. But I have opened and closed it myself. It leads nowhere: a short corridor and a solid brick wall.”
    “It only works for us,” Pedro said. For the first time in many weeks he felt a surge of hope. “If you can get me inside the church, I can leave Rome. I can go anywhere I like.”
    “We can do that for you, Pedro,” Carla said. She continued quickly, before her son could interrupt. “There is a secret passage that runs from the Vatican to St Peter’s. Very few people know it is there. You are right when you say they are waiting for you. The basilica has never been closed but now there are soldiers, twenty-four hours a day. Silvio may not agree with me but I am certain they are only there to stop you.”
    “I do not believe in this door!” Silvio brought his fist crashing onto the table. He turned angrily on his mother. “St Peter’s is at the very centre of our faith. It has existed in one form or another since the fourth century and today it is unquestionably the greatest church in Christendom. Saint Peter himself is buried beneath the altar. Are you going to tell me that it also houses a magic trick … a door that opens into a Buddhist temple in Hong Kong or a ruin in Cuzco?” He forced himself to calm down, then turned back to Pedro. “I am sorry,” he said. “I am sure you have been through many troubles. You are not alone. Sometimes even I find it hard to understand what has happened in the world. But I find the answer in my prayers. It is not the Old Ones who cause volcanoes to erupt, Pedro. It is part of a greater purpose, a testing time for humanity, but in the end, if we have faith, we will be better and stronger. That, I believe with all my heart.”
    “But you don’t believe what I say,” Pedro muttered. “You don’t care who I am or why I’m here.”
    The priest fell silent and looked away.
    “What is wrong with Maria?” Pedro asked.
    At