Shroud of the Healer

by Christopher Wright

  "A joke? Yes, of course, a joke." Dr. Kappa took Bernetti by the arm and they both laughed quietly. "We're only concerned for your welfare, Mr. Michener. Get back into bed for a rest."

  "Sure, doc; just excuse me, that's all. It gets quiet here all alone. My girlfriend's flying over to see me early next week. Sex might be good for..." He held up his hands. "Hey, and that's a joke too."

  Dr. Kappa was still laughing but perhaps not very heartily. "Humor can sometimes be as therapeutic as sex, Mr. Michener. If you want my opinion you'll stick to humor for the next four weeks. But I'm afraid we're postponing all visits for the next week, except by close family."

  "You are?"

  "Security. You must know how it is." Dr. Kappa shook his head. "All the patients here are VIPs -- yourself included of course. But just once in a while we get someone so important they present an increased security risk."

  "Like a head of state you mean?"

  "Exactly, Mr. Michener. Like a head of state."

  "Hey, that's great. Anyone famous?"

  Dr. Kappa frowned slightly. "I guess all heads of state are famous, to their own people."

  "Oh sure, sure." Steve Michener felt cautiously at the large bandage that fitted round his head like some sort of winter helmet. "Didn't mean to poke my nose in. Does a current girlfriend count as family?"

  Dr. Kappa nodded. "If she's glamorous."

  "Hey, Doc, don't start me off. It's lonely here in bed at night. You guys want me to go blind or something?"

  Dr. Kappa had finished smiling. "When she arrives we'll just need you to confirm who she is. It would be easy for someone from the press to claim they were family."

  "Sure, I'll do that for you." He ran his hands carefully over the bandage. "I feel like Tutankhamun. So when does this lot come off?"

  Dr. Bernetti stepped forward, speaking again in his heavy-going English. "Your consultant in Los Angeles, he pleased with the records we send him. Eccellente! We give you another scan this morning. You rest in bed for the next hour, and then we wheel you down to radiology."

  Bernetti clipped two large sheets of film onto the wall-mounted lightbox by the side of the bed and motioned to Kappa to join him.

  Michener stared in fascination as the two doctors peered shoulder to shoulder at the blue, shadowy images. "And that's the inside of my head?" he asked in amazement.

  "It certainly is, Mr. Michener." Dr. Kappa added something as he pointed at the light patch just above the top of the spine, but his words were muted and only the Italian heard them.

  "Not bad news I hope." Michener tried to make the comment sound casual.

  Dr. Kappa turned and smiled. "No, it's very good news indeed, Mr. Michener."

  He began to relax now. "Would you guys look at that. See that tooth at the back? I chipped that one last month. I'm getting it capped," he explained proudly. "Like the front ones. Hey, and would you look there! You can see the front caps. It's weird. Just as well the public can't watch me on film like this!"

  "Scans are very revealing." Again Kappa pointed out something to his colleague. Then, "Looking good, Mr. Michener."

  "Can I sit up and read while I'm waiting for the next bundle of tests?"

  Dr. Kappa unclipped the films from the light box. "No, Mr. Michener, I want you to lie down now."

  He broke off as Bernetti said something quietly to him, and the two medical men spoke together in hushed tones with practiced ease.

  "Dr. Bernetti thinks it would be advisable if we administered a sedative to help you relax. Something to make you feel sleepy for the rest of the morning. I'll get nurse to give you a small injection." He smiled reassuringly. "We'll see you later. Don't worry, Mr. Michener, everything is working out just fine."

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Clinic of the Little Sisters of Tourvillon

  THE INTERIOR of the main building seemed to be a clever combination of worldly luxury and spiritual austerity. Even to Matt's cynical eye the overall effect gave out a message that this clinic provided Healing with a capital "H."

  "This is Mr. Clarkson's office," said Maurice the guard. "Mr. Clarkson is the chief of the Medical Board. I'll find him for you."

  As soon as they were alone, Zoé grabbed Matt by the arm. "Quick, put one of the little bugs in here," she whispered urgently.

  Matt shook his head, regretting that he had ever made contact with Ken. "Someone from security might be watching with a hidden camera. Anyway, we don't even know if the bugs work."

  "Nonsense." Zoé reached across into his shirt pocket and pulled out a miniature black box. "I will pretend to look through my purse on the table and slip the bug behind the books. How do you turn it on?"

  Matt breathed in deeply. The idea of planting a surveillance device in this room without planning was preposterous, but it held a powerful fascination. He had to make an immediate decision.

  "There's a sliding switch on the side. But you're mad." There was only one way to stop Zoé messing things up. He pulled out the second bug. "Stay where you are. I'll use this one. I've already seen a good place."

  An ornamental palm filled half the window, the plant looking much too large for its pot. Playing with his car keys Matt walked over to admire the view. As he passed the plant the keys dropped from his hand. He bent down to recover them.

  "You'd better put these in your purse in case I lose them," he called out as he stood up, and tossed them to Zoé.

  "You have done it!" she whispered. "Brilliant."

  "Don't say any more." Then more loudly: "Come and see this view of Avignon. You can even pick out where we're staying. There, beyond the straight bit of road."

  But Zoé stayed put, tapping the keys of the office computer. Matt went across, but his hopes of seeing something interesting were quickly dashed. The screen displayed a list of medical supplies.

  "MedicStat," Zoé said.

  "What's MedicStat?"

  "It is a medical records program. It does everything, from keeping patient records to keeping an eye on hospital supplies. See, it has flagged up a shortage of paper swabs. They should not have left it running."

  "Why's that?"

  "It is very secure, but if you leave it on like this, a user unauthorized could get into the whole system."

  "Could you?"

  Zoé pressed a few keys and the screen graphics changed to a menu. "Not every terminal has access to everything. Patient records are private, but this is the office of a manager." She put a hand to her mouth. "I think it is the same as the MedicStat program they use at my hospital."

  "Is that good?" asked Matt.

  "I know how to get into the records of the patients. Someone has already used their password to log on. They are not, I think, very security conscious."

  Matt felt the adrenaline flow. "Alain, stand by the door. Go on, Zoé, look for Leanne's name."

  Zoé typed a short command and waited while the screen flashed. Another longer command, and then an alphabetical index appeared. "It is working," she said, a shaking excitement in her voice. "Corbin. Here it is. Leanne Corbin."

  Alain was saying something. The door opened. Two men in dark suits came into the room.

  "Good morning, I'm Dr. Kappa." The taller of the two spoke in English, and sounded American.

  Matt walked forward with as much noise and commotion as possible, catching his foot in the large Indian rug in the center of the floor. The two men hurried forward to stop his fall, ignoring Zoé.

  "I'm so sorry," Matt said. "We were waiting for Mr. Clarkson."

  "Mr. Corbin?"

  Alain came forward and shook hands. "I am Monsieur Corbin," he said in halting English.

  "I'm Jim Kappa the senior surgeon, and this is my senior colleague here at the clinic: Dr. Mario Bernetti." Kappa paused, his eyes now on Zoé who was still at the computer. Matt could not divert attention from her any longer. "Zoé, come and meet Dr. Kappa."

  Zoé stayed where she was, pointing at the monitor. "This is very clever."

  K
appa hurried across. "I hope there's nothing confidential on there."

  "Confidential?" Zoé sounded shocked at the thought. "Oh no, I am sure there is not. Some sort of medical equipment list. I am a nurse in England. I would love to know how to work one of these, but I always think computers are so frightening."

  "A nurse?" Kappa looked at her closely before reading the screen. Matt noticed that once again it said that paper swabs were in short supply. "I'm afraid there's no work for you here at our clinic."

  "I have come with Alain Corbin," Zoé explained. "Computers are all the nonsense to me." She smiled. "I do not think they will ever replace the nurse for a good bedside manner."

  Matt felt life was worth living in spite of everything. Even Ken would be proud of Zoé's performance. A third man joined them and introduced himself as Bill Clarkson, the head of the Medical Board. He spoke to Alain in perfect French.

  "Monsieur Corbin, you have my deepest sympathy for your tragic loss. Believe me, we are all grieving here at the clinic of the Little Sisters of Tourvillon. Such a wonderful nurse, your wife -- so the surgeons and nursing staff tell me. You have come to collect her things, I believe?"

  Matt watched Kappa and Bernetti closely. They no longer seemed concerned at finding Zoé at the computer. Kappa took Alain by the arm but spoke to Clarkson in English.

  "Tell Mr. Corbin he must keep his visit brief. We've already packed the contents of his wife's locker. He'll find everything at the front desk." He turned to Matt, still speaking in English. "I'm afraid my French is very deficient. We're having a security exercise and all visitors must be off site by midday. Nothing special, just the usual fun and games that go with running a private hospital."

  "We're not staying long," said Matt. "But Alain Corbin wants to see Sister Angela before we go."

  Kappa pursed his lips. "I don't normally encourage visitors to the Convent, but on this occasion I'm making an exception."

  Matt translated for Alain. Dr. Kappa seemed keen to protect Sister Angela from visitors.

  Kappa nodded. "You must excuse me. I have an exploratory to attend to."

  Clarkson led the way from the air-conditioned clinic into the summer heat of the gardens. He explained to Alain in faultless French that it was only a short walk across to the Convent building. As Matt left the room he glanced back. Kappa and Bernetti had gone to the computer and were now looking closely at the screen.

  He took hold of Zoé's arm. "Did you get it back as it was?"

  She nodded. "Almost."

  "What does that mean?"

  "There is a previous screen key. If they try it, it will take them back to Leanne's records, and they will know we have been looking." Zoé shrugged. "Leanne was not ill." She dropped behind with Matt, allowing the senior executive and Alain to lead the way along the stone path. She pointed to the lavender beds. "What a fantastic color. And the smell."

  "You'd better explain," insisted Matt. "Was Leanne killed?"

  Clarkson turned to look over his shoulder and Zoé hurried to catch up. "She did not have a ruptured blood vessel in the brain," she whispered. "One of those surgeons, he is lying. But I need longer with the computer."

  "What about those CDs we sent to Ken? Would they work in there?"

  Zoé shook her head. "It is part of the site network. It is not possible for anyone to put their own discs in. I will have another look later."

  "You're not going back," said Matt tersely. "And don't try to bug the Convent."

  "Quelle bonne idée." Zoé was serious, he could tell.

  Matt looked up at the forbidding gray stone walls and gray roof tiles of the Convent of the Little Sisters. The builders of the religious order had avoided the warm colored stone of the local houses. Surely this was not meant to represent the builder's idea of a peek at Heaven. He shook his head and glanced back at the palatial clinic. Life certainly had its contrasts.

  Clarkson was talking to Alain as they came to the heavy wooden door. He looked at his watch before pulling the long cord to ring the brass bell. A Sister appeared at the metal grille, her face partially obscured by an enormous white wimple.

  "Reverend Mother is expecting us," Clarkson announced loudly.

  The nun adjusted her linen headdress to get a better look. Clarkson studied his watch again.

  "I will open the door," she said after a brief deliberation.

  They were allowed into the cool hallway but no further. The Mother Superior walked imposingly towards them from the living quarters and solemnly shook Alain's hand. Matt knew it would be difficult for someone in her position to throw her arms passionately around a young man, but a bit more tenderness would surely have been in order.

  "You may go upstairs and see Sister Angela," she told Alain. "Nurse Leanne was a great comfort to her."

  Matt nudged Zoé. "Did you notice? Over in the clinic it was Nurse Corbin; over here it's Nurse Leanne." Kappa's desire for formality obviously carried no weight this side of the heavy door that sealed the Sisters from the world.

  "I hear the Convent was damaged in the war," said Matt in French as they reached the second floor. They were being led up a flight of narrow stone stairs in the semicircular tower on the side of the house.

  The Mother Superior stopped and turned. The whole party halted. "Please do not discuss those events with Sister Angela. She was here when the Nazi troops shelled the Convent, and it still distresses her." They began to move upwards again. "The main building was destroyed. We are a much smaller number now."

  The Mother Superior signaled to them to stop when they reached an old door of black oak, open just enough for Matt to glimpse the stark room inside. An elderly woman in a spotless white habit sat on a wooden stool, her lined face set deep within her starched wimple. She rose quickly to meet her visitors. Her habit, though old, looked freshly laundered and her wimple almost too straight to be true. Sister Angela bowed submissively.

  Matt stared. A stool, a metal-framed bed, some old books at the back of a small wooden table. On one wall he could see a brightly colored picture of Jesus Christ, a stylized painting with the Savior's heart visible to indicate God's love. On the opposite wall another painting showed a woman, eyes turned skywards, being consumed by long orange flames. A cross of dark wood hung starkly on the whitewashed plaster behind the bed. The elderly Sister could have come as a time traveler from the past, bringing her furnishings with her. It was eerie.

  "Monsieur Corbin would like to talk to you, Sister," said the Mother Superior in a rather condescending voice. "We all want to assure him that his wife was a good Catholic. A caring Christian woman. You came to love her over the past few weeks."

  The leading statement made Sister Angela cry gently. "She was so kind to me, monsieur. I do not think I have known such kindness."

  A bit of an indictment on the other Sisters, thought Matt, but he could understand something of the care with which Leanne would have attended to this old nun. Leanne would probably have put herself out for anybody. As Alain and Sister Angela talked, Matt noticed that the Mother Superior was having an inhibiting effect on their conversation. He took the tall woman to join Zoé at the high window.

  "Black kites," said Zoé, pointing to the sky.

  The Mother Superior nodded. "The kites have always been here. They nest in the large rock below the clinic."

  Zoé turned to Matt. "One night I will take a flashlight and climb the rocks to see the nest. They will not fly away so easily in the dark."

  "You'll frighten them," Matt warned.

  Zoé tutted. "They are not scared of people. They live in towns in the Auvergne where I come from."

  Matt turned to the Mother Superior, speaking French. "Where did Sister Angela have the visions?" he asked quietly, while Alain continued talking to Sister Angela in the background.

  "You are a Catholic, monsieur?"

  Matt shook his head. "I'm prepared to listen. I've come across all sorts of strange experiences."

  The Mother Superior gave him a look as though
to ask what interest could a mere visitor have in such things. "Strange experiences? That is a rather odd expression, monsieur."

  Zoé had gone to the small table to look at the books. She now returned to the window. Matt put his arm round her shoulder. Such a physical gesture might cause a scandal in these hallowed surroundings, but he was doing it out of affection, not making a point. "I gather not everyone has believed Sister Angela."

  The Mother Superior shook her head. "It was a long time ago."

  "Nearly seventy years," said Zoé. "But surely the first two messages came true?"

  "So it would appear."

  Matt had to ask the question. "So why do you still have doubts?"

  The Mother Superior glanced at Sister Angela who was still deep in conversation with Alain. "You are a perceptive man, Monsieur Rider, but you are in danger of misunderstanding my beliefs."

  There was no censorship. The woman appeared to be thawing. Matt decided that it must be his candor more than his faith.

  "You see, monsieur," the Mother Superior continued, "a thirteen-year-old girl may well see things that are denied to us older children of God."

  "Or imagine them." Matt wondered if this observation was a wise move. He waited for disapproval from Zoé. She said nothing.

  The Mother Superior thought for a moment. "Yes, monsieur, I might be inclined to put it down to imagination, if a thirteen-year-old girl came running in today with such a tale. But if after many years she still persisted with her account, and if she showed signs of God's grace in her life, it would be hard to deny the possibility." She lowered her voice, and both Matt and Zoé had to lean forward to hear. "I did once accuse Sister Angela of untruthfulness, but that was before I came to know her as I do now. The visions are important to the Medical Board."

  "But she only spoke about two messages."

  "Ah, monsieur, that is so. But now Sister Angela claims that she has somehow been made aware that the third message may be coming to pass at this very moment."

  "Here, at the clinic?" Matt hardly had the courage to interrupt. "It seemed Leanne was the first person Sister Angela had ever confided in."

  "It is something she thinks she heard. Or perhaps I should say, something she thinks she overheard. It is probably of no consequence, and I very much doubt it has any bearing on the purpose of the original visions."