The Gospel Truth - The Vatican Unearthed
About the Author - William Walker was born in the north of England, the son of a coal miner. He finished his formal education at age fifteen and left home at seventeen, after his mother's passing to make his way in the worlds. His journey took him to London, where he founded a computer distribution company. His life experiences and insatiable curiosity propelled him to commercial success in the U.K., culminating in moves to Belgium, Spain and Italy. He eventually moved to Beverly Hills, California and joined the Catholic faith. For years, he was a lay minister, volunteering to counsel patients at a large local hospital. He now resides in West Hollywood, but makes frequent trips to Europe for business interests and to visit his family. Though The Gospel Truth is a novel, it would be inaccurate to call it complete fiction. The experiences William gained on his journey through life equipped him with the knowledge and understanding, to weave together such a fascinating tale, blending imagination and reality in such a way that it is often left to the reader to determine which is which. The book raises many questions about the world we live in and the basis of faith. 'This is a must-read novel on many levels, from the first page to the final revelation,' William reveals, 'and as I writing it, there were times that I was convinced I was not the absolute source.' He enjoys traveling to experience different cultures, lying in the sun, working out, good movies and has a passion for European soccer. His favorite team is Chelsea. His hobbies include painting with oil paints and he has recently become an avid billiards player. He is currently working on his next thriller.
The Gospel Truth - The Vatican Unearthed
She wasn't sure where it came from but her psyche shifted. It consumed every cell in her body and tore at her lungs. It burst from her lips in a shriek of pain, scattering crows, who expressed their annoyance with loud cawing. Shuddering, Kate collapsed against her husband. He'd been expecting this and was amazed she'd hung on for so long.
"We're going to get through this baby." He whispered. "All you have to do is breathe, just breathe. I'll take care of everything."
His words were reassuring and calmed her. She looked up at his face, strong and comforting and a sense of control returned. She summoned the strength to once again, bring her attention to the small, open grave. The even smaller handmade casket with brass handles was still there. She tried again but couldn't shake the vision. In the casket at the bottom of the grave, lay the body of her only child, Stephen, barely twelve years old, who had committed suicide by drinking household bleach.
Father Brennan closed the Catholic Bible resting on his outstretched hands and the lone piper played "Amazing Grace." As the sun sank low on the horizon, the mourners approached the Jessaps to offer their condolences. Passing nods, handshakes, muttered words and uncomfortable hugs all went unnoticed. Their lives would never be the same; something had gone terribly wrong with the life they'd planned. A part of them was gone forever.
Almost too weak to stand, Clive ushered Kate toward the parked cars. They rode out of the old cemetery perched high in the Hollywood Hills, passing the gravedigger, who stood by the wrought iron gates, waiting until everyone departed, before locking up and returning to fill in the grave with the piled up soil.
As the limousine hummed toward Laurel Canyon, Clive wondered where they'd get answers. He knew they'd have to, regardless of what it took. He had to have justice for his son and his wife's sense of injustice was immeasurable; one of the reasons he'd fallen for her. Her alabaster skin, auburn hair and the freckles highlighting her cheekbones had gotten his attention. Her slender, curvaceous, five foot six frame helped keep it. But her character made him fall.
They met while she was a cub reporter, working for the L.A. Times, covering a human-interest story just after the Iraqi war. Her assignment was to interview Major Clive Jessap to get a picture of what it was like on the ground, so to speak, when no weapons of mass destruction were found. On her first trip to San Diego, she met him, a handsome Marine officer with an infectious smile that would dispel the thickest rain clouds. His assignment was maintaining the official military line on Iraq, "everything had gone as planned." The fact that they did not find any weapons did not mean that they were not there. Kate was not getting far with her line of questioning. She decided to switch tack.
"Major Jessap, tell me about some of your personal experiences, something my readers can appreciate."
The Major didn't skip a beat.
"Be glad to," he said, "for instance, the unit I was assigned to was behind enemy lines and we were operating without contact with the main attack force. You can imagine it was difficult."
"So what happened?" Kate prompted.
"Well, you wouldn't believe the problems we had, deciding who got to use the last bit of toilet paper. You would think that rank would count, but there are some situations where it just doesn't."
Kate had to laugh in spite of herself. The picture the Major painted was too funny. She realized she was facing a charm offensive aimed at conveying misinformation. But they got on well, maybe too well. Without thinking, she agreed to dinner the