Intervention (26 page)

“Does that have anything to do with me being a cardinal?”

“Obviously,” Jack said.

“I’m sorry you feel that way. Old friends should feel able to be themselves.”

“Maybe if such meetings became a habit. For now, why don’t you tell me what you think would happen?”

“It would be a disaster for the Church, at a time it can least afford it. We are still suffering from the damage caused by the priest molestation scandal. It has been a true tragedy for the people involved, and for the Church itself. So too would the belief that the Blessed Virgin Mary had not been assumed body and soul into heaven as promulgated ex cathedra by Pope Pius the Twelfth with his
Munificentissimus Deus
in 1950. This promulgation has been the only use of the solemn declaration of papal infallibility declared by Vatican One on July eighteenth, 1870. Shawn’s claim that he has found the bones of the Most Holy Mother of God would seriously threaten and undermine the authority of the Church. It would be a disaster bar none.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Jack said, watching James’s face turn increasingly red.

“I’m being very serious,” James declared, afraid Jack wasn’t really getting the message.

“As a direct religious descendant from Saint Peter himself, when the pope speaks ex cathedra on faith or morals he is making divine revelation as the Holy Spirit works in the body of the Church as
sensus fidelium.”

“Okay, okay,” Jack conceded. “I understand how Shawn claiming Mary did not rise up to heaven when the Church has declared she had would be a serious blow to the Catholic faith.”

“It would be an equally disastrous blow to those who venerate Mary almost as they do Jesus Christ. You have no idea of her position among the Catholic faithful, who would be cast adrift if Shawn has his way.”

“I can see that, too,” Jack said, sensing that James was working himself into a minor frenzy.

“I can’t let that happen!” James snapped, slapping his palm on the table hard enough to cause the dishes to rattle. “I can’t let that happen, both for the Church’s sake and my own!”

Jack raised his eyebrows. Suddenly, he saw his friend as he was back in college, sensing James’s beneficence and concern about the bones in the basement was based on more than the Church’s well-being. James was also a skilled politician. Though Jack had doubted his chances, James ran for class president in college. Jack had underestimated James: With an innate sense of people’s inner needs, fears, and sensitivities, plus his ability to flatter, James was a natural. He was also driven, pragmatic, and shrewd.

Everyone liked him, and to Jack and Shawn’s amazement, he won the election. Jack had every reason to believe it was these same qualities that helped James rise to the exalted level of cardinal.

“An added problem,” James continued, “is that that clever Shawn has me by the balls.”

Jack’s head snapped back as if he’d been slapped. Such language coming from a Roman Catholic cardinal was completely unexpected. Of course, he’d heard this all the time in their college days.

Catching Jack’s reaction, James guffawed. “Oh! Sorry!” he said. He then purposefully echoed Jack by following up with “Pardon my French.”

Jack laughed, realizing he had been guilty of stereotyping his old friend, who, despite outward appearances, was still the same person he’d been. “Touché,” he said, still smiling.

“Let me put it this way,” James continued. “By sending the ossuary from the Vatican to me with my name as the sender, he avoided customs
and
took advantage of my covetousness, since I was so quick to imagine it was a birthday present. By accepting the crate and signing for it, I have become, if you will, an accessory. I should have refused the carton so that it would have ended up back at the Vatican. As it is, whatever havoc it will evoke, I will be personally implicated, since it was my involvement that got him access to Peter’s tomb in the first place. I am in this hook, line, and sinker.”

“Why don’t you just call the media and confess right off the bat that you had no idea what you were signing for?”

“Because the damage is done. I am, as I said, an accessory. Besides, Shawn would go to the media himself and accuse me and the Church of trying to prevent the object from reaching the light of day, saying we’ve denied him the chance to examine the contents.

That would sound like a conspiracy, which to many people would be akin to proving the object’s authenticity. No, I cannot do that! I have to let Shawn do whatever he is going to do, which he believes will take a month if there are no documents to deal with, or up to three months if there are documents in with the bones, if there are bones. I hope there aren’t. That would make everything easier.”

“Are there usually documents in ossuaries?” Jack asked. He found his interest in the contents growing.

“Usually not, but according to the letter from Saturninus to Basilides, this ossuary contains the only known copy of a Gospel of Simon Magus, along with the bones.”

“Now, that would be an interesting manuscript, from what you’ve mentioned of the guy,” Jack said. “Bad guys are always more interesting than the good guys.”

“I will have to contest that.”

“Okay, so, what are you going to do and what is my role?”

“Shawn and Sana want to keep the ossuary secret until they complete their work. And I forgot to mention this, but Sana intends to try to salvage some DNA.”

“I suppose that’s possible. Biologists were able to extract DNA from the much more ancient ice man found in the Alps in 1991. It’s been estimated that mummy was more than five thousand years old.”

“Well, to keep their respective labs ignorant of what they are doing, they need someplace to work where they can keep their work a secret. It’s an idea I’m in full agreement with. I suggested the OCME’s new forensic DNA facility. I thought of it because I’d gone to its grand opening along with the mayor and a few other city officials. Do you think that is possible, and could you arrange it?”

Jack gave the idea some thought. The building had been built with more space than was currently needed, a rare incidence of foresight on the side of city planners. Jack knew that the chief had supported other research projects from NYU and Bellevue Hospital, so why not this one? It would also be good public relations, which would please Bingham to no end. “I think it is definitely possible,” he said, “and I’ll talk with the chief as soon as I get back to the OCME. But is that all you want me to do?”

“No, I’d like you to help me try to change Shawn and Sana’s opinion on publishing their work. I want to make them realize how much harm will come from it by appealing to their better judgment. I know Shawn is a good man, even if he’s somewhat vain and self-indulgent.”

Jack shook his head. “If what I remember about Shawn’s desire for fame and fortune is still true, it’s going to be a tough sell. Changing his mind is going to be nearly impossible. This is the kind of story that will take him out of the dry archaeological journals and catapult him into
Newsweek, Time,
and
People.”

“I know it will be difficult, but we must do it. We must try.”

Although Jack wasn’t optimistic about changing Shawn’s mind, which he imagined was set in stone, he had no idea about Sana.

“There’s one other thing,” James added. “Whether or not you’re willing to help, I must ask you to keep this in the strictest confidence. You cannot tell a soul, not even your wife. At the moment, the only people who know of the ossuary’s supposed contents are the Daughtrys, me, and you. It must stay that way. Can I have your word on that?”

“Of course,” said Jack, though he knew he would have a difficult time not telling Laurie.

It was a truly fascinating story.

“Oh, dear God,” James voiced after glancing at his watch. “I must leave at once for Gracie Mansion.”

They stood, and James enveloped Jack in a rapid hug. As Jack returned the gesture, he could feel how plump his friend had become. Jack vowed to take him to task at a more opportune moment. Jack could also hear a slight wheeze when James breathed.

“So, you are willing to help in this most unfortunate episode?” James asked, as he snapped up his skullcap that he’d put on the chair to his left and returned it to his head.

“Of course,” Jack said, “but can I have permission to tell my wife? She’s the soul of discretion.”

James stopped abruptly. “Absolutely not,” he said, staring into Jack’s eyes. “I don’t know your wife, although I do hope to meet her. But I’m sure she has a friend whom she trusts as much as you trust your wife. I must insist you not breathe a word of this to her or anyone. Can you promise me that?”

“You have my word,” Jack responded quickly. He felt impaled by James’s glare.

“Good,” James responded simply. He turned and continued out of the room.

As if by magic, Father Maloney appeared near the foyer and handed His Eminence his coat and a stack of phone messages. While James struggled into his coat, Jack mentioned that his bomber jacket was in the study. Without a word, the priest quickly disappeared.

“I’ll hear from you soon?” James asked Jack.

“I’ll talk to the chief as soon as I get back to the OCME,” Jack assured him.

“Excellent! Here are the numbers for my cell and my private line here at the residence,”

James said, handing Jack his personal business card. “Either call or e-mail as soon as you have Dr. Bingham’s response. I’ll be happy to talk with him directly, as need be.”

He gripped Jack’s forearm and gave what Jack felt was a pathetic squeeze.

Father Maloney returned with Jack’s coat, bowing as Jack thanked him.

The next moment they were out the door. A shiny black limousine idled on the street, the liveried driver holding open the rear door. The archbishop climbed in, and the door was shut behind him. The car pulled away into the uptown traffic.

The next thing Jack heard over the sound of traffic was the slamming of the formidable residence’s door and the metallic and final click of its brass hardware. Jack looked back.

Father Maloney was gone. Jack returned the glance at the quickly disappearing limo and wondered what life would be like being the archbishop and having a bevy of assistants to fulfill his every need. At first it sounded tempting, as it would certainly make life more efficient, but then he quickly realized he wouldn’t want to feel responsible for the emotional and spiritual well-being of millions of people, as he had a difficult enough time with one.

17

1:36 P.M., FRIDAY, DECEMBER 5, 2008

NEW YORK CITY

J
ack unlocked his bike and tried to beat the rain as he headed downtown. He almost did, but just before he was about to pull into one of the OCME loading bays, the heavens opened and drenched him.

Jack hung his damp jacket in his office and descended to the first floor to stand like a penitent in front of Mrs. Sanford’s desk. When employees showed up uninvited, she usually ignored them, as if she was so busy she couldn’t even look up. Jack imagined it was her way of demanding respect, which she thought she deserved, since she’d been there guarding Bingham since before the flood. There was no sense trying to fight her.

She wouldn’t even let Bingham know that you were there until she felt like it.

After several minutes, she finally glanced up at Jack and did a fake mild double take.

“I need to see the chief,” Jack said, not fooled in the slightest.

“What about?”

“It’s personal,” Jack said, with a slight smile of satisfaction. He wouldn’t be intimidated by her nosiness. “Is the chief in?”

“He is, but he’s on the phone and has a call waiting,” she said with satisfaction. She tilted her head toward her phone, where a light blinked insistently. “I’ll let him know you are waiting.”

“That’s all I can ask,” Jack said, continuing the game.

Jack took a seat on a bench directly across from Mrs. Sanford’s desk. It reminded him of all the times he had to wait to see the principal in middle school. He’d been labeled an incessant talker.

While he waited, Jack mulled over the unexpected conversation with James and found himself intensely curious about what was in the ossuary, and if there were bones and some sort of manuscript, how the episode would play out. Even though he initially was sure James wouldn’t be able to convince Shawn not to publish his findings, Jack remembered he’d misjudged James in the past. And Shawn had been raised a Catholic by two very devout parents, both of whom served in lay societies and who had even tried to talk Shawn into the priesthood. Though no longer a practicing Catholic; Shawn was very knowledgeable about the Catholic Church, and might be more respectful of the potential problems he might cause by denigrating the concept of papal infallibility and, to a degree, the reputation of the Virgin Mary herself. He certainly knew more than Jack.

So Jack was no longer sure what the final outcome was going to be.

“Dr. Bingham is ready to see you now,” Mrs. Sanford said, interrupting Jack’s thoughts.

“Have you changed your mind about wanting to take a leave of absence?” Bingham asked when Jack entered his office and before Jack had a chance to speak. He peered at Jack over the tops of his wire-rimmed glasses. “If so, the answer is yes. Please take care of that child of yours! I’ve been worried sick since you told us about him.”

“Thank you for your concern. But he is in excellent hands with Laurie in charge, I can assure you. In comparison to her, I’m a basket case.”

“Somehow I find that hard to believe, but I’ll take your word for it.”

How wrong you are,
Jack thought to himself. Out loud he said, “I know you are busy, but the archbishop requests a favor.”

Bingham sat back in his chair, gazing at Jack in shock. “You really went to the archbishop’s for lunch?”

“Yeah, why not?” Jack asked. Having known the man for so long, visiting him didn’t seem so special.

“‘Why not?’” Bingham questioned. “He’s one of the most powerful and important people in the city. Why the hell did he invite you to lunch? Was it something to do with your boy?”