At a little past midnight on January 9, 2014, a four door Mercedes gradually reduced its speed and nestled onto the shoulder of a rural byway. With its headlights instantly turned off, the vehicle became parked about one mile from the villa where Cardinal Baptista was held prisoner. A male figure furtively left the driver’s seat of the passengerless car, carrying a long, heavy object in his right hand. In the secrecy of night, this man sneaked slowly and silently towards the entrance of the estate. Guardedly approaching the chained gates attached to a ten foot stone wall which encircled the entire compound, the motorist speedily cut through thick copper links with powerful metal clippers. Hiding the tool beneath the dirt behind the leafless shrubbery that bordered the wall, he slightly opened and squeezed between the iron portals, gently re-closing them. The trespasser crept along the side of a narrow dirt road, partially concealed by the shadows from the lofty and barren trees. Upon anxiously reaching the clearing where the imposing residence was situated, the long-limbed, sturdily built person carefully scanned the windows to make certain that none were illuminated. Then, ever so quietly, the prowler gingerly headed for the threshold door, and within a few seconds, soundlessly picked its lock. Carefully opening and shutting the front door of the villa, the intruder inaudibly entered, tip-toed up the stairs to the third floor and warily continued down one side of the corridor to the tower. Alert as a Doberman, he deftly removed the iron bar from the entranceway and laid it lightly on the carpeted floor. Once again using a fine-tuned instrument, the lock’s mechanism was inaudibly sprung and the metal door cautiously opened. The steel spiral staircase leading to the tower room was immediately in front of him. With utmost dexterity, the interloper softly closed the heavy door and on rubber-soled shoes made his way up the steps. Upon setting foot on the landing, Cardinal Baptista awoke with a start, turned on the bed-lamp in haste and defensively jumped off the cot. ‘’Who in Heaven’s name are you?’’ His Eminence exclaimed, as bewilderment took a firm hold of him. The unknown person fixedly stared at the Cardinal and did not answer. ‘’What are you doing here?’’ His voice echoed uneasiness, while he maintained the distance between them. Staying at the head of the stairwell, the stranger did not say a word, but still kept his eyes intensely riveted onto the prisoner. ‘’Have you come to kill me?’’ A fatalistic grin distorted his mouth as he shifted his feet nervously. The tall and robust individual continued to study Cardinal Baptista, while refusing to speak. ‘’ I don’t fear death,’’ he asserted, taking in a quick breath and jutting out the point of his bony chin, stretching taller than his height of five-feet-one. The mysterious figure looming in front of him remained stationary and mum. ‘’If you’re not here to kill me, have you come in the middle of the night to move me to some other place?’’ His Eminence grimaced with confusion. Persisting in his silence, the towering newcomer listened attentively, still steadily glaring at the Cardinal. ‘’Don’t tell me,’’ his puzzlement increased, as he smirked incredulity, ‘’that you’re my liberator-- that you have come here to set me free.?’’ Casually dressed in grey slacks, white turtle-neck sweater and black blazer, the unidentified man just kept scrutinizing him. ‘’Anyway, what good would my freedom be in a world both blind and deaf to the truth?’’ A distressful look of despair blanketed His scrawny face. Finally, the auslander spoke with a slight German accent. ‘’Your Eminence, I am here for only one purpose-- to converse with you-- simply that.’’ ‘’About what?’’ Cardinal Baptista skeptically queried, putting on a tattered robe. ‘’At this ungodly hour? Do you usually break into the households of people you don’t know in the middle of the night, just to chat with them?’’ ‘’Please, let’s be realistic. Considering your unique situation, was there any other way for me to visit with you? Nobody knows I’m here. I’ve come only for our mutual benefit. Trust me!’’ His tone was calm and deliberate, as he slowly took a step into the tower. His Eminence still remained suspicious. He quickly moved back against the wall. ‘’Why do you want to talk with me? Are you a journalist?’’ Advancing no further, he responded with a teutonic inflection. ‘’No, I’m not. The reason I initially was verbally unresponsive is that I first had to observe you for awhile, even if it were for a relatively short time. Having done that, I don’t believe you’re insane, as has been reported by the news media. We’ll definitely be able to communicate with each other.’’ Nodding his conviction with a full head of auburn hair, his facial expression revealed that he was genuinely relieved. ‘’Well, thank you for that, but what is it that you want to discuss with me?’’ Cardinal Baptista was still mistrustful. ‘’It concerns Pope David!’’ ‘’The Pontiff?’’ The diminutive Cardinal asked, grabbing his Bible from the desk. ‘’He’s the seabeast-- the antichrist. Do you understand what that means? If you do, what more need be said?’’ ‘’So, that was the sole reason you tried to… well, um… you know…’’ ‘’Yes, indeed I know! May the Lord forgive me for my murderous heart.’’ His Eminence interjected without hesitation. Then shaking his head and tightening his mouth he glumly added ‘’But because of the Pope’s miraculous recovery, I have paradoxically and inadvertently been responsible for making him a hero, a miracle worker, a saint, even a demigod.’’ ‘’Tell me, what do you actually know about the genealogical background of your Pope? Who actually were his parents? Where and under what circumstances was he born?’’ He snickered, as if being privy to some confidential knowledge. ‘’Please, he is not my Pope. And, I already have the answers to your questions,’’ was the Cardinal’s impatient response. ‘’Anyway, that Pope David exists is enough for me. Where, when, why and how he precisely came to be can’t change what is or will be because of his true identity as the seabeast-- the antichrist!’’ ‘’Your Eminence, you think you have the answers, but you most certainly don’t,’’ he replied, emphatically shaking his head. ‘’Come now, a person of your intellect has to be interested in learning the bizarre, but true origins of this man-- this diabolical seabeast-- this sacrilegious antichrist-- this godless person who is your—uh, I mean, the Pope?’’ The Cardinal’s fear of some physical harm to himself appreciably lessened, as his curiosity and interest were being aroused. Drawing nearer, he asked, ‘’Look, first of all, why not tell me who you are? You certainly know who I am! Just who are you?’’ ‘’My name is Hanz Heinrick. I am a retired German obstetrician.’’ ‘’Well, its nice to make your acquaintance, Doctor,’’ wearily extending his right hand. ‘’Please, enlighten me as to the background of the Pope.’’ ‘’First I must go back in time to relate a strange chain of events. So, kindly bear with me.’’ A slight smile creased Cardinal Baptista’s lips, while he was becoming more and more at ease and less and less apprehensive. He offered the doctor his limited hospitality. ‘’Make yourself as comfortable as possible on the one and only chair provided by my jailor. But be careful, its not very stable. I’ll sit on this so-called bed.’’
The diversified education, employment and governmental service of Paul P. Rao Jr. have provided him with a broad range of experience and knowledge, which has shaped his personality and convictions. The list includes: Loyola Military Academy, Georgetown University, Brooklyn Law School, Assistant District Attorney, Army Serviceman, N.Y.C. Tax Commissioner and Special Envoy to two presidents. However, translating the Bible from Greek and Latin into English, immeasurably affected him. < /b>