The Brotherhood Of The Holy Shroud (24 page)

"Heavens, I thought we were the early birds, but you see, Charles, that our friends have risen even earlier than we have."

"Early birds indeed, out to get the worm. No doubt taking advantage of the morning to talk business," huffed the husband.

The French gentleman assured them that they wanted nothing more than to get started. More guests continued to drift into the dining room, until at last there were thirty people standing or milling about. There was a good deal of animated conversation.

The elderly man looked at them resignedly. He hated hunting, as did his colleague-brethren, but he could not stand off from such a very English diversion. The members of the royal family adored this sport, and they had asked him, as on so many occasions in the past, to organize an event on his splendid estate. And there they were.

Sofia had spent most of the morning with the cardinal. She hadn't seen Padre Yves; another priest had showed her into His Eminence's office.

The prelate was happy with the finished repair work and remodeling. He had special praise for Umberto D'Alaqua, who had personally interceded to increase the number of workers on the job, at no additional cost to the cathedral, and to ensure that the work was completed sooner than estimated.

Under the supervision of Dr. Bolard, the shroud had been returned to the Guarini Chapel, to its silver display-case. But neither Sofia nor Marco had called the cardinal to update him on the progress of their investigation, and he subtly let her know he was not pleased. Sofia apologized, and she managed to win her way back into his good graces by giving him a broad, undetailed outline of where they were with their work. On Marco's instruction, she gently urged him to take even greater safety precautions than usual now that the shroud was back in the cathedral and she advised him of Marco's search for possible entry points from the tunnels beneath the city.

"You say that Signor Valoni is looking for an underground tunnel that leads to the cathedral? But that's absurd. Your team asked Padre Yves to review our archives, and I believe he sent you a detailed report on the history of the cathedral. Nowhere does it indicate that there is a tunnel or secret passage."

"But that doesn't mean there isn't one."

"Or that there is. Don't believe all the fantastic stories written about cathedrals."

"Your Eminence, I'm a historian. I don't generally deal in fantastic stories."

"I know, I know, dottoressa; I apologize. I admire and respect the work you and your team do. It was not my intention to offend you, I assure you."

"I'm sure of that, Your Eminence, but I want to assure you, too, that history is not just what's written down. We don't know everything that happened in the past, much less the intentions of the people who lived in it."

When Sofia returned to the hotel she ran into Ana Jimenez in the lobby. She had the feeling the reporter had been waiting for her.

"Dottoressa Galloni…"

"How are you?"

"Fine, thank you. Do you remember me?"

"Of course. You're our friend Santiago Jimenez's sister."

"Do you know what I'm doing in Turin?"

"Investigating the fires in the cathedral."

"I know your boss isn't too happy about that."

"That's only natural, don't you think? You wouldn't like it much if the police started meddling in your work"

"No, I wouldn't, and I'd try my best to give them the slip. But this is different. I know I may seem naive, but I really believe I can help you, and I want you to know you can trust me. My brother is everything to me-I'd never do anything to get him in trouble, or even give him a headache, for that matter. It's true that I'd like to write a story on this-I'm dying to cover it. But I won't. I swear to you I won't write a line until you and your team have closed the investigation, until the case has been solved."

'Ana, this isn't about trusting you or not. You have to understand that the department can't let you into its investigative team just because'-because you're honest and trustworthy and have an interest in the case. Surely you understand that?" Sofia responded.

"But we can work in parallel. I can tell you what I'm finding out, and you do the same with me."

'Ana, this is an official investigation."

"I know, I know…"

Sofia was struck by the urgency in the young woman's expression. "Why is this so important to you?" she asked.

"I don't know if I can explain. The truth is, I never cared about the shroud at all or paid any attention to any of the things that happened in the cathedral. But my brother took me to dinner at your boss's house under the impression it was just another dinner-a few friends over, that sort of thing-and it turned out that Signor Valoni wanted Santiago and another man, John Barry, to give him their opinion of the fire. They talked all night, speculating, you know, and I was hooked. There's so much there-layers and layers of history, intrigue-"

"What have you found out?" Sofia interrupted her.

"Shall we get some coffee?"

Sofia hesitated, then said, "Sure," instantly regretting her decision when Ana beamed with relief.

She liked this young woman, even thought she could trust her, but Marco was right-why should they? What was the point?

'All right, tell me what you've found out so far," Sofia said when they'd found a table.

"I've read several versions of the history of the shroud-it's fascinating."

"Yes, it is."

"In my opinion, someone wants the shroud, just as Signor Valoni speculated that first night. The fires are a smoke screen, if you'll excuse the expression, to throw the police off. Or maybe there's some other factor linking the incursions with accidents. Either way, the objective is to steal the shroud. But we need to look in the past. It's not just a question of
stealing
the shroud- someone wants to get it
back,"
Ana half whispered intensely. "Someone with some tie to the past, the shroud's past."

'And how have you reached that conclusion?"

The reporter shook her head and shrugged. "I don't know. It's just a feeling I have when I think about the long road it's traveled, the hands it's passed through, the passion it has always inspired. I have a hundred theories, each one crazier than the last, but-"

"Yes, I read your e-mail."

"So what do you think?"

"I think you've got a great imagination, no doubt about that, and maybe you're even right."

Ana abruptly changed course. "I think Padre Yves knows more than he's saying about the shroud."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because he's too perfect, too correct, too innocent, and too transparent-it makes me think he's hiding something. And handsome-I mean, he's really hot, you know? Don't you think so?"

"He's a very attractive man, he certainly is. How did you meet him?"

"I called the bishop's office, explained that I was a journalist and wanted to write a story about the shroud. There's an older lady there, a former reporter, who's in charge of press relations. We met for two hours, and she basically repeated what the tourist brochures say about the shroud, although she also gave me a history lesson on the House of Savoy.

"I left knowing no more than I'd come with. She wasn't exactly the right person to expect a lead from. So I called again and asked to speak to the cardinal; they asked me who I was and what I wanted, and I explained I was a journalist investigating the fires and other accidents that had happened in the cathedral. They sent me back to the nice press lady, who this time was a bit huffy with me. I pressed her to get me an appointment with the cardinal. No go. Finally I played my last card-I told her they were hiding something and that I was going to publish what I suspected, plus certain things I'd found out.

"So then Padre Yves called me. He told me he's the cardinal's secretary and that the cardinal couldn't see me but that he'd asked Yves to 'put himself at my disposal,' which I took to be a good thing. So we met, and we talked for a long time. He seemed pretty straightforward when he told me what had happened this last time, and he went with me to visit the cathedral-then we went for coffee. We agreed to talk again. When I called for an appointment yesterday, he told me he was going to be busy all day but said if I didn't mind we could have dinner. And that's it."

"He's a very odd priest," allowed Sofia, thinking out loud.

"I imagine when he says Mass the cathedral is full to the rafters, eh?" laughed Ana. "If he weren't a priest^ I'd…"

Sofia was surprised at how uninhibited Ana Jimenez was. She'd never have told a stranger that she found a young priest sexy. But younger women were that way. Ana couldn't be more than twenty-five, and she belonged to a generation that was used to screwing when they felt like it, without hypocrisy or complications, although the fact that Padre Yves was a priest did seem to slow her down a bit, at least for the moment.

"You know, Ana, I find Padre Yves intriguing, too, but we've looked into him and there's just nothing that would indicate there's anything but what meets the eye. Sometimes people are like that-clean, transparent. So, what are you planning to do next?"

"If you could cut me some slack, we could share information…"

"No, I can't."

"No one would find out."

"Don't misread me, Ana. I don't do anything behind anyone's back, much less the people I trust, the people I work with. I like you, but I've got my work and you've got yours. If Marco should decide at some point that we should let you into the loop, then I'll be delighted to share information with you, and if he doesn't, then honestly, it's all the same to me."

"If someone wants to steal or destroy the shroud, the public has a right to know that."

"I'm sure you're right. But you're the one making those claims. We're investigating the cause or causes of the fires. When we've concluded our investigation we'll send our report to our superiors, and they will make it public if they believe what we've found is of public interest."

"I'm not asking you to betray your boss."

'Ana, I understand what you're asking me, and the answer is no. I'm sorry."

Ana bit her lip in disappointment and got up from the table without finishing her cappuccino.

"Well, what're you gonna do?" She shrugged, then smiled. 'Anyway, if I discover something, is it all right if I call you?"

"Sure, call whenever you like."

The young woman smiled again and strode purposefully from the hotel cafe. Sofia wondered where she was headed. Her cell phone rang, and when she heard the voice of Padre Yves she almost laughed out loud.

"We were just talking about you," she said.

"Who?"

'Ana Jimenez and I."

"Oh! The reporter. She's charming, and very sharp, eh? She's investigating the fires in the cathedral, just like you, it seems. She told me that your boss, Marco, is a friend of her brother, Spain's representative to Europol in Italy."

"That's right. Santiago Jimenez is a friend of Marco and all of us. He's a good person and a total professional."

"Yes, yes, so it appears. But the reason for my call, Dottoressa Galloni, is that the cardinal asked me to phone you. He'd like to invite you and Signor Valoni to a reception."

'A reception?"

"Yes, for a committee of Catholic scientists that comes to Turin periodically to examine the shroud. They make sure it's maintained in good condition. Dr. Bolard is their chairman. Whenever they come, the cardinal has a reception for them-not too many people, thirty or forty at the most-and he'd like you to come. Signor Valoni had mentioned that he'd like to meet these scientists, and now the opportunity has presented itself."

"And I'm invited too?"

"Yes, of course, dottoressa, His Eminence expressly asked that you be invited. Day after tomorrow, at the cardinal's residence, at seven. We are also expecting a number of businessmen who work with us in maintaining the cathedral, the mayor, representatives of the regional government, and perhaps Monsignor Aubry, aide to the interim Vatican Under-Secretary of State, and His Eminence Cardinal Visier, in charge of Vatican finance."

'All right, padre. Thank you very much for the invitation."

"Our pleasure, Dottoressa Galloni."

Marco was in a foul mood. He'd spent most of the day in the tunnels under Turin. The archaeological logs showed that some of them had been made in the first centuries a.d. Many of them dated back to the sixteenth century, others to the eighteenth, and there were even some that Mussolini had widened along certain stretches. Going through them was hard, treacherous work. There was a whole other Turin under the ground-in fact, several Turins: the old territory of the city-state conquered by Rome; the Turin besieged by Hannibal; the Turin invaded by the Lombards; and then finally the city that came under the rule of the House of Savoy. It was a place in which history and fantasy intermingled constantly, at every footstep.

Comandante Colombaria had been patient and helpful-to a point. That point came when Marco tried to persuade him to venture down a tunnel in bad condition or to tear down part of a wall to see whether there was a passage hidden behind it that led in some other direction.

"My orders are to guide you through the tunnels, Signor Valoni, and I won't endanger your life or my men's unnecessarily by going down tunnels that aren't on the maps or that could collapse. And I'm not authorized to break through the walls. I'm sorry," the comandante said stiffly.

But the one who was sorry was Marco, who by the end of the day had the feeling he'd made the trip through the underground tunnels of Turin for nothing.

Giuseppe tried to provide some perspective, without much success. "Oh, come on, get over it, Marco. Comandante Colombaria was right. He was just following orders. It would've been crazy to start hammering away at the walls like coal miners, for God's sake."