Blood Relics (A James Acton Thriller, #12) (38 page)

“Odd.”

“According
to their Wikipedia entry, tax incentives.”

Leroux’s
fingers were also busy searching for images related to the company. “There!” He
pointed at his screen, a photo of some ribbon cutting dated almost twenty years
ago showing the President of the company with a large group of dignitaries
opening the new plant in France.

And
standing beside the man were his wife and young son.

“Could
that be young Dietrich?”

“Must
be.” Leroux isolated the boy’s face, sending it over to an aging program that
quickly began its work. As the image slowly morphed in front of them, Therrien
rose from his seat, leaning in closer and closer.

“My God,
it’s got to be him.”

The
machine beeped, the final image displayed.

And if
it weren’t for the different hairstyle, it would be a near spitting image of
the man in the photo provided by Mai Trinh, and the surveillance footage from
Vienna.

“We’ve
got him.”

Church of Santa Maria del Gradaro, Mantua, Italy

Acton’s back was breaking, sweat soaking through his shirt, the
chill in the late afternoon air making its presence felt every time he paused
to take a break. As they dug deeper and deeper Father Ricardo revealed that
according to legend the graves and their markers had been discovered when the
original church had been built centuries before, and placed on the surface in
the exact spots they had been found.

We
might be just digging a hole to China.

Acton
kept his thoughts to himself, not wanting to dampen the spirits of Terrence and
half a dozen volunteers, mostly altar boys, who were eagerly shoveling away at
the dirt, the excitement of possible discovery fueling them.

The
distinctive sound of a shovel hitting stone caused everyone to stop.

“Did you
find something?” asked Jenny, frustrated at not being allowed to dig, her
husband wisely putting his foot down, the risk of the hole, now almost ten feet
deep, collapsing in on itself genuine.

Acton
looked up at her. “Give us a minute.” He looked at the two altar boys who were
in the hole with them. “Let’s take it easy now. Hands and buckets only.” They
began scooping handfuls of dirt into buckets that were then pulled out of the
hole, it too deep to throw it out with the shovel. Within minutes they had
revealed the outer edge of a stone sarcophagus, Terrence and Acton exchanging
excited grins as the brushes appeared, every speck of soil quickly cleared off
the top.

Revealing
nothing.

“Odd,”
observed Acton. “No engravings, nothing.”

“Maybe
on the sides?” suggested Terrence.

“Could
be, but that’s going to take a lot more digging. Let’s get this top off first
and see what’s inside.”

Crowbars
were handed down along with several two-by-fours. Acton and Terrence each
jammed their crowbar into the seam as all six altar boys lifted the one edge
with all their might.

Acton’s
bar slid in. “Got it! Now let’s get that board wedged in there.” He pushed down
on the bar, the top lifting slightly, two of the boys pushing the board into
the opening. “Not too far! Watch your hands!”

They quickly
let go of the board and Acton let up on the crowbar, the heavy lid biting into
the wood, a musty smell of more than a millennia of rot escaping.

He loved
that smell.

It meant
untouched ancient wonders, unplundered by thieves, unspoiled by mother nature.

It meant
hope.

They
made quick work of propping up the other end, then the other side, heavy ropes
slid through either side, the ends tied off and handed to those standing above.

“Okay,
everyone out except for Terrence. I don’t want to risk this thing slipping on
anyone. Terrence, stay at the far end, watch your feet. We’re going to let
those on the ropes do the heavy lifting, then when they’ve got the one side up,
we’ll push it over so that it rests against the dirt. Be careful, it might come
sliding back at us and this thing is heavy enough to do some serious damage.”

“Be
careful, Terrence!”

“I will,
love, I will.” He lowered his voice. “If
I
get hurt, I’ll never hear the
end of it. ‘You should have let me do it, you’re the clumsy one!’.”

Acton
chuckled, the Jenny impression spot on.

“I heard
that!”

“Of
course you did, love!”

Acton
looked up at those on the ropes. “Okay, we need to do this together, evenly. On
the count of three, I want you all to heave. If anyone thinks they’re going to
lose their grip, speak up right away, and everyone gently ease off and let the
lid lower again. We don’t want any sudden drops. Understood?”

Giasson
was translating and a chorus of si’s responded.

“Okay,
one, two, three, heave!”

The
ropes became taught as a chorus of grunts erupted from above, the heavy stone
slab not moving at first, then finally, ever so slightly, it rose an inch, then
another, Acton shoving several more boards in the gap just in case it had to
come back down.

But it
didn’t.

The long
edge closest him rose in a jerking motion, tilting toward the opposite side,
and in less than a minute was past the 45 degree mark. “Okay, now,” he said to
Terrence, both of them taking a hold of the lid and shoving toward the other
side. It tipped quickly now, the extra bit of manpower sending it sliding over
the lip and falling against the earthen wall of the hole with a thud. “Okay,
that’s enough!” He surveyed the walls towering above them, making sure nothing
was going to cave in on them, when Terrence cried out.

“Professor!”

Acton
looked down at the now open casket, his mouth agape, his heart slamming in his
chest with excitement at the sight before them. A man, wrapped from head to toe
just like Tiberius had been, was laid out in the sarcophagus, his left hand
clasped over his chest with the distinctive outline of a stone tablet
underneath.

And
tucked into the sarcophagus on his left side was an earthenware jar, a wax seal
on the top, the legends suggesting that if this were indeed Longinus, then this
container may very well hold the sponge he helped clean the body of Christ
with.

And on
the other side, gripped tightly in his wrapped right hand was the shaft of a
spear, and near the head of the former soldier, the metal spearhead, still
intact.

The
Spear of Destiny!

He grabbed
Terrence by the shoulder, shaking him several times, saying nothing. He pulled
a pair of scissors from his pocket and carefully cut the wrappings as everyone
above lay down on the ground, their heads hanging over the edge as they watched
history unfold, the lights set up earlier supplemented now by the flashes from
cellphones as the young boys documented the experience.

The
tablet revealed, he gently removed it from the two thousand year old grip,
brushing the dust from it, making sure his eyes didn’t focus on the writing, he
wanting to preserve the moment of discovery for when it could be completely
read.

He held
it up so Terrence could see it as well and translated the Latin loudly so all
above could hear.

“Here
lies Longinus, Christian martyr, witness to the crucifixion of our Lord, healed
by the blood of our savior, and friend to my father Tiberius. May God forgive
our deception.”

Cheers
erupted from above, hands clapped and Acton put his arm around Terrence,
squeezing him sideways, it the best hug he could give. He placed the tablet in
a bucket and it was gently pulled up, then the jar which he left unopened.

Leaning
over, he carefully cut through the bandages holding the spear in the right
hand, then with a silent prayer of forgiveness, opened the fingers, one by one,
until the spear could be slid free. He felt an electricity flowing through him,
an overwhelming rush of faith renewed as he held in his hands what had until
moments ago been mere myth, legend, a single-line reference in a text written almost
two millennia ago, an oral tradition not written down for centuries now proven
true.

He was
overwhelmed, and for a moment forgot why he was here, what had driven him to
this discovery.

Instead,
he was lost in the excitement, and it wasn’t until he turned to Terrence and
realized it wasn’t Laura, that the excitement was pushed aside and the
resignation set in that this incredible discovery was about to be handed over to
a madman in exchange for the life of his wife.

But did
he have that right?

As he handed
the spear up to Giasson, who handled it with equal reverence, he realized that
this was a piece of history, a piece of history important to billions of people
around the world, something that might be a direct link to the Son of God. He
had little doubt this was the Longinus of legend. Carbon dating would help
resolve some of the questions, at least confirming he was from the right era,
and mineral testing of his bones might be able to show he was in Judea for an
extended period of time, and when the wrappings were removed, it would
definitely reveal whether or not he had been beheaded.

The
question that would remain was whether or not Longinus was actually there on
that fateful day, though at this moment Acton had little doubt. If the carbon
dating confirmed he was from the first century AD, then the tablet would
predate any written reference to him, meaning it couldn’t be based upon any
lore created centuries later.

And it
would be one of the earliest references referring to the crucifixion.

But now
wasn’t the time to debate what this discovery meant. He climbed up the ladder
and into the fading sunlight, hands clapping him on the back as the
celebrations continued, a group of people having already dropped to their
knees, their hands clasped in prayer at the miraculous proof of their faith.
Acton desperately wished Laura was here to take part, this something she would
have loved, and the fact she wasn’t cast a pall over the entire proceedings as
his internal debate raged on whether or not he had the right to give this spear
to a madman who might destroy it.

“We
found it!” cried Terrence, hugging Jenny as he climbed out of the hole.

“Yes you
have.”

Acton
spun toward the voice, the German accent immediately recognizable. Two men
stood not ten feet away, weapons raised, the man from the security footage in
Vienna standing between them with a smile on his face.

“Congratulation,
Professor Acton. I have to admit, I never thought you would succeed, but it
would appear that with the proper motivation, anything is possible.”

“What is
this?” asked Father Ricardo. “Who are you?”

“Who I
am is unimportant. What you have there, is.” He held out his hand, beckoning.
“Hand it over.”

Giasson
looked at the spear then Acton, it clear he too was torn. Acton nodded
slightly, there no choice now, his self-doubt at his right to decide the
destiny of this spear solved for him at the point of a gun.

Giasson
stepped forward with the spear when Father Ricardo jumped in front of him. “No!
You can’t do this! This belongs to the church, to Christians everywhere! It is
a direct link to our Lord Jesus Christ, proof that He existed! It has the power
to unite all those who have ever doubted His existence and bring peace to this
world divided by competing beliefs.” He pointed at the spear. “
This
has
the power to unite the divided, to save thousands of lives. Imagine what
tomorrow will be like when the world learns of our discovery here today. If you
give this sacred relic, this Blood Relic, to these men, nobody will believe
what we found here, all that could be gained will be lost and evil will have
triumphed once again.”

The
German began to clap, slowly, deliberately, an amused smile on his face. “I’ve
never been described as ‘evil’ before. And though I admire your faith, I doubt
this one spear will change the world.” His smile disappeared. “But it just
might change mine.” He pulled his own weapon, aiming it at the priest, looking
at Giasson. “If you want him to live, hand it over, now.”

“I’m
sorry, Father.” Giasson put a hand on the man’s shoulder, looking him in the
eyes for a moment, Father Ricardo’s shoulders slumping in defeat as he stepped
aside. Giasson held the spear out in front of him and the man stepped forward,
taking it carefully then handing it to one of his men who immediately placed it
into a case, sealing it inside.

At
least they seem to be treating it with care.

“What
about my wife?” he asked, stepping forward. “You promised me you’d free her if
I found the spear.”

“I will,
once we’ve confirmed that this is indeed the genuine spear.”

“But how
will you do that?” asked Acton, exasperation entering his voice. “How can you
possibly know?”