Shroud of the Healer

by Christopher Wright

"Dr. Kappa is giving the woman some sort of brain scan." Major Louviers hardly sounded interested.

  Matt was on his feet. "He wants to kill her." He was too angry to care what he said. "Dr. Kappa killed Leanne Corbin. He even wants to kill the Pope. You've got to stop him."

  "You think so?" Louviers thought for a moment then reached for the phone and dialed the operating room. He turned to Matt. "I'm going to put a stop to this."

  Matt breathed out heavily. At last someone was listening. Pray God they were in time.

  "Dr. Kappa?" Louviers glanced at Matt. "Monsieur Rider is still with me. He's in an extremely agitated state and I'm not going to get anything sensible out of him tonight. I'm worried for his health ... You've already arranged for a sedative? What sort of sedative?" He nodded. "Yes, that sounds like an excellent idea. The sooner he's out of the way the better."

  A nurse came into the room and stood waiting for instructions.

  Louviers flicked his fingers at Matt. "You try to break into this site, and by your own admission you know the Pope is here. Hardly the actions of an innocent man, monsieur."

  Matt sat down again. "I want to see my girlfriend and I want to see a priest."

  "Keep quiet." Louviers sounded as though his patience was exhausted. "Roll up your sleeve."

  Jokes about Masonic rituals seemed remarkably inappropriate. As Matt struggled, he realized the nurse was Mazie Meyran, Leanne's friend from New Mexico, they had met briefly at Alain Corbin's house. She didn't return any sign of acknowledgement.

  She held the syringe with the tip of the needle pointing upwards. "It's only a sedative, Mr. Rider, prescribed by Dr. Kappa."

  "How's Zoé?" There was no sign of recognition.

  "You mean the woman who had the accident? Dr. Kappa will be operating on her again soon."

  "She's my girlfriend," said Matt. "You know she is." He began to get to his feet. "I have to see her. Dr. Kappa killed Leanne Corbin. Now he's going to kill Zoé."

  Just for a moment Matt thought he detected something approaching humanity in Mazie's eyes. Then she said, "I have to do this."

  And he fought, frantic, determined not to get injected. The armed guard put a knee in his chest and ripped at his sleeve until he'd exposed the whole upper arm. Matt watched Mazie lean forward. She pressed down with her whole body as she raised the syringe and brought the needle against his arm.

  There was no sensation of the needle breaking the skin. No sensation at all.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Clinic of the Little Sisters of Tourvillon

  ARCHBISHOP VALDIERI folded the daily paper carefully so as not to disturb the Pope where he lay in the large bed, partly covered by a white linen sheet. Even when asleep the tiredness around the Holy Father's eyes was distressing. Over the past few weeks the Pontiff had gone from reasonable health to near death. He was still insisting he wanted to see the Italian Sister. The look on the normally vibrant face was too painful for any of the Sisters to witness. Idle chatter among the women might get to the outside world.

  The Holy Father's New Testament with the white leather binding lay on the large walnut table. It would be more appropriate on the bedside cabinet. As he walked softly over the smooth carpet, Valdieri listened. There had been a disturbance a few minutes ago from one of the floors below. There were other patients in the clinic of course, especially as this visit had been arranged so hurriedly, but surely a little more respect was called for.

  Outside in the corridor he heard unexpectedly loud voices. The guard should make sure that noise was kept to a minimum. Was it too much to hope that the clinic had ceased to function for the night? Someone knocked on the door, a discreet knock. Folding the Holy Father's reading glasses and placing them in the blue leather case, Valdieri finished tidying the personal items on the cabinet before going to the door.

  "Your Excellency." One of the nurses, an American, stood there with a medicine trolley. "Your Excellency, I have to check on the patient."

  The patient. It seemed such an unfriendly term. For security reasons, the staff were required to play a game of not using a personal title for the Holy Father. He nodded to the guard standing by the side of the door, who moved to one side to allow the nurse and trolley to pass.

  The nurse seemed anxious. It was not until the door was closed that she left her trolley of medicines and measures. "I'm Nurse Meyran, Your Excellency." She bowed respectfully as she spoke. "I'm worried for the safety of the visitor." She glanced towards the bed and crossed herself as she did so.

  "Attend to the patient, nurse. You must not allow reverence to stand in the way of professional duty."

  "I have to talk to you, Your Excellency. The Holy Father's life is in danger."

  Valdieri found his mind racing ahead. Just mentioning the identity of the Holy Father was a violation of common sense, but there was more to it than that. Much more. The nurse's warning came as a premonition.

  "You must not burden yourself with the patient's health, nurse. Just dispense whatever medicine is on the list."

  "A nurse died here a few days ago, Your Excellency."

  Valdieri shook his head, aware of how lightly the Holy Father slept. He raised a finger to his lips.

  "It was my friend who died, Your Excellency." Nurse Meyran held onto her trolley of medicines and began to shake. "Two of her friends have been trying to investigate her death." She paused in an attempt to regain her composure. "One of them is downstairs in intensive care, and I'm not sure I can trust Dr. Kappa." Then she began to cry loudly.

  As Valdieri led her to the window he noticed the Holy Father turn in his bed. "You must be careful what you say, Nurse Meyran. Dr. Kappa is a most respected surgeon. This clinic is most highly regarded."

  "Dr. Kappa told me to inject the Englishman with a sedative."

  Valdieri looked at the trolley of pills and liquids. The nurse seemed in need of a sedative herself. "Don't you think Dr. Kappa knows best?"

  "The Englishman believes Dr. Kappa killed my friend Leanne in intensive care." She hesitated as she put a small hanky to her mouth. "It's a dreadful thing to say."

  "Dreadful. But you must take no notice. The Englishman must be greatly confused."

  "But he says the Holy Father is in danger."

  Again the panic shot through Valdieri. But this was only foolish babbling, like the childish words of Sister Angela. "You see, the man is confused. That will be why Dr. Kappa prescribed the sedative. In the meantime, I shall pray for the woman."

  He noticed another movement from the bed. The Holy Father was starting to wake.

  The nurse returned to the trolley. With trembling hands she attempted to pour a measure of pale pink liquid into a small glass, but it spilled over the side. "I didn't give the injection. I just pretended."

  Valdieri put his hand out to take the medicine glass. The nurse's behavior was bizarre. She might easily have picked up the wrong bottle for the Holy Father, or be dispensing too much medication. He moved to the phone on the walnut table.

  "Please wait here, Nurse Meyran." Valdieri held the glass to the light. "I need to check the prescription with Dr. Kappa." He smiled hesitantly. "Just to be on the safe side."

  *

  MATT LAY on the small couch, conscious of the presence of Major Louviers. He seemed to be conscious of everything -- especially the lack of sensation from the needle in his arm.

  He tried not to move, or he would alert Louviers. His reactions seemed to be heightened, probably more by fear than anything the nurse had done. The Major had been speaking on the radio and now got up to leave the room, instructing the guard to stand on duty outside the door.

  "Lock it," said Louviers as he went out. "The man is asleep, but he may have inside help. Lock the door and stay alert."

  Matt raised his head warily, saw he was alone, and slipped his feet over the side of the couch. Imagination was a powerful force and it would be easy to think that his head was light and his legs unsteady. But at least he was standing. He touched his arm
where the nurse had plunged the hypodermic, and he felt no soreness, just a sense of wet skin. The window was closed but not locked. Louviers must have a lot of faith in the nursing staff's ability to give an injection. Mazie Meyran had let him go free. Mazie and Leanne had been good friends, so it seemed that he and Zoé weren't alone in finding the sudden fatality suspicious. He had to get to the Mother Superior. He banged his hand against the window in frustration.

  The window opened slightly.

  Fresh air, cool evening air of Provence, blew in through the gap. He was two floors up. A small ledge ran below the window towards the corner of the building. The thick creeper in the corner would be easy to climb down -- if he could get that far. The building was white. He looked down at his dark clothing. Out there, clinging to the wall, he'd make an easy target.

  The ledge was probably wide enough for a toehold. If Mazie had given a shot of something with a delayed action, the sooner he was down at ground level the better. He put both legs outside and felt cautiously for the ledge with his feet. It was just within reach. He held tightly to the frame as he lowered himself.

  No sound came from the gardens. The next sill was too far away to grab without letting go of his own window frame. There would have to be a fraction of a second, just a brief instant, when he let go, keeping flat against the wall while reaching for the next handhold.

  He didn't want to think about it for too long. He made sure his feet were steady, pressed his stomach to the wall ... and released his hold. As his balance became unsteady, the next sill was there. Two more windows and he would be at the corner, ready for the creeper.

  *

  THE NURSE watched Dr. Kappa study the computer printouts from the PET scan, the colored outlines showing sections of the brain. He turned to her. "Check the saline drip. It seems rather slow."

  "Shall I get Dr. Bernetti?" she asked.

  Dr. Kappa sounded angry. "What the hell do I need Mario Bernetti for? I'm doing this one on my own."

  She turned away from the saline drip and went towards the door. Dr. Kappa's attitude surprised her. Perhaps it was having the Pope on site that made everyone edgy. The famous "patient". Did the management really think the staff wouldn't find out who he was?

  "Nurse! Where the hell are you going?"

  "Sorry, Dr. Kappa." She returned to the drip.

  "I'm taking a break. Tell Major Louviers I want one of his men outside the operating room to make sure that no one, and that includes Mario Bernetti, comes in to disturb me. And make sure that drip's working properly."

  She felt herself going bright red at the suggestion of incompetence. Dr. Bernetti would have been a wiser choice for a major operation on a brain injury. For some reason, Dr. Kappa was desperate to do this one on his own.

  She bit her lip. Professional jealousy was horrid when it stood in the way of healing.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Convent of the Little Sisters of Tourvillon

  CLIMBING DOWN the creeper had been the easy part. Matt realized he now had to find a way to invade the nunnery. Even if he could get to the Mother Superior she might not be any help. A visit to the Convent could be a waste of vital minutes, and finding the way across a strange garden guarded by security forces was not part of his police training. It was probably impossible, and the bitch of it was he could think of no other way to save Zoé.

  At the corner of the building he stopped and listened. A guard might be doing the same, waiting for a movement, but somehow it seemed unlikely. The security forces would surely be close to the perimeter fence. They wouldn't have let him get this far if they'd been watching. He'd made an easy target while getting ready to drop to the ground.

  Laser sights, that's what they used! He looked down, almost expecting to see a bright red dot crawling across his shirt, searching for his heart.

  If the guards had hi-tech vision systems, an infrared imager would pick him out as a glowing shape. But if he wanted to help Zoé he'd have to take the risk. Maybe get caught -- or shot.

  Slowly he edged his way into the rows of lavender to crawl on hands and knees to the building where Sister Angela would no doubt be fast asleep. The soil felt dry and gritty, but there was sufficient room to allow good progress. Within five minutes he emerged from the shelter of the plants. No one had challenged him. The site seemed deserted. The perimeter protection must be so good that the GIGN were confident they could detect intruders before they attempted entry.

  His confidence was growing by the minute. He stood up and walked to the heavy wooden door of the Convent. It was locked. He should have anticipated such an obvious barrier to finding the Mother Superior. There had been enough fuss over opening the door in daylight. After dark probably the Pope would be refused entry, even with a ticket signed by Saint Peter.

  A woman's voice from the small stone building opposite made him jump.

  "Monsieur."

  He turned and saw Sister Angela looking down at him from a window at head level. He put a finger to his lips. A raised voice in the stillness of the night would bring goodness knows who.

  "Monsieur, the Pope is in great danger. I believe now that the Lady gave me a warning about the Holy Father. She wanted me to save his life. Why else am I still here?"

  Matt stood close to the window and spoke softly. "Tell me what you know."

  "I know there are bad people here, monsieur."

  This was getting nowhere. He raised his voice from a whisper. "Do you remember me? My girlfriend spoke to you two days ago. We came to your room with Leanne Corbin's husband." It was as well to be sure; the nun didn't seem too bright.

  "Of course I remember."

  "Then you have to help me. I want to see your Mother Superior."

  "Please," she said. "You must learn to say please."

  What a time for a lesson in manners. "You have to help me. Please."

  "I will come out to talk with you, monsieur." Sister Angela looked back into the room. "The other Sisters are asleep. Be ready to catch hold of my feet, monsieur."

  To be caught helping a nun climb from a convent window in her underwear must be some sort of heinous crime in any country, maybe especially so in France. "You have to be quiet," he warned. It was all he could think to say.

  Relieved to discover that the Sister was fully dressed in her white habit, he caught hold of the small black shoes as the feet came through the opening. Gently he lowered Sister Angela to the ground. She weighed so little.

  "Merci, monsieur."

  "Can you wake the Mother Superior for me?"

  "There are soldiers around here, monsieur. Good soldiers. Angels. They have come to guard our important visitor."

  Matt could imagine her facial expression. In the light her eyes would surely be sparkling like a child's.

  "The Holy Father has come from Rome to see us, monsieur. Isn't it wonderful?"

  It would be even more wonderful if this Sister could do something practical. "Why did you say the Pope is in danger?"

  "The surgeon is not to be trusted, monsieur."

  "So what did you hear, Sister? Someone talking?"

  "Sometimes I manage to get to the clinic to talk to the patients. You are a good man, monsieur, and I will tell you. I heard the surgeon talking on the phone. He said that the Holy Father is investigating his secrets."

  "And you listened?"

  "I ... I could not help it. He was speaking in his own language."

  "Have you heard of the Knights of the Holy Succession?"

  There was a pause. "They do good work, monsieur. Good work here at the clinic."

  "But you think someone wants to kill the Pope?"

  Again a prolonged silence. "I heard the surgeon say he is prepared to kill the Holy Father, to halt an investigation." Sister Angela seemed to be talking to herself. She turned to Matt and caught his arm in a fierce grip. "We must stop him!"

  "I'm with you there -- he's going to kill my girlfriend. Can we trust the Mother Superior?"

  "Ah, monsieur, Mother
Superior can be very cross with me, so we will not wake her. But I think Archbishop Valdieri is a kind man."

  "An Archbishop?"

  "He is staying here in the clinic. He has come from Rome."

  "Can we see him?"

  "Perhaps, but he may not believe what I have to say. People have not always believed me."

  Matt stood back slightly but the grip on his arm increased. Great. People didn't believe anything this old nun said. In fact they'd never believed her: not since 1934. This old Sister was probably well-known in Tourvillon for being a pathological liar. It was going to one hell of a night.

  "Is there a telephone? A private phone?"

  "There is the telephone the nurses use for their personal calls. I do not know much about the telephone system, but I believe you need something called a télécarte."

  "I have one. Where is the phone?"

  "In the hallway outside the nurses' day room. We must go carefully, monsieur. There are soldiers keeping guard, but not here. I know where they are hiding." Sister Angela must surely be smiling. "I have been walking around in the dark. The soldiers they talk to me, but they do not think I will remember where they are. Regardez, monsieur, you see the old bell tower?"

  He could see the outline against the lights from the clinic.

  "There are two men in there, monsieur. They have special radios and televisions. There is another man, just the other side of that wall, keeping watch on the little gateway through to the clinic. We will not go that way, I think."

  "I don't think so, either." Perhaps this woman did have something useful to contribute. She'd already taken the part of a good surveillance operative, checking out the opposition while pretending to be an innocent passer-by. "You go in front and lead the way, Sister Angela." He hesitated. "Please."

  The phone on the wall was exactly as the Sister had described. A direct line to the outside world taking a standard French phone card. Matt could see a light in the nurses' day room but could hear no one inside. Ken was at home. He sounded surprised to hear Matt. "Isn't it a bit late for a friendly phone call? Are you in trouble, kiddo?"

  "This has to be a quick one, Ken. Have you found what's on those CDs?"

  "You enjoying yourselves down there in France?"

  "Ken, you're wasting time. What's on those discs?"

  Ken seemed to catch on to the need for haste. "I had my work cut out, I can tell you."