Shroud of the Healer

by Christopher Wright

  Kappa was the first to get a grip on his temper. "I'm sure we can come to some sensible agreement."

  Bernetti hit out in fury. "You apologize to me -- or I tell the truth. And then where will your precious Knights be?"

  Kappa went to the door. "I'm going to my room," he said quietly. It was as though nothing had happened. But he turned and snatched the folder from the table. He banged it with his open hand, making Matt jump. "And I'm taking this. Go on, Bernetti, close this clinic with your lies. You talk about evidence. There's plenty of evidence all right. You don't really want an inquiry."

  As the door slammed, Bernetti turned to Archbishop Valdieri. "That man, he is evil."

  "Go after him and talk to him, Mario."

  "Me? No, he bad. He bad for the Holy Father. I leave him alone." The Italian's voice shook. "Tomorrow, I operate on the Holy Father."

  The Archbishop raised his hands. "We'll see, Mario, we'll see."

  As Bernetti left the room Matt stayed with his back to the wall.

  "I'm sorry," said the Archbishop as he ran his troubled fingers through his hair again. "You must think the surgeons here are the strangest doctors you've ever met."

  "They certainly scare me." Matt sat on the arm of the chair Bernetti had been using. "Dr. Kappa has been doing tests on my girlfriend, and now he wants to operate on her brain."

  "The French woman." Valdieri said the words vacantly, with no substance to the voice.

  "The French woman is my girlfriend," Matt protested. The Archbishop looked a pale yellow. "Are you all right?"

  "I suddenly feel unsteady, Mr. Rider. So tired. I must have eaten something disagreeable."

  "You're not going to let either of those men near the Pope, are you?"

  Valdieri lay back in the armchair. "The Holy Father is asleep." He pointed at the ceiling. "See, his room is directly above mine. If he knocks on the floor I will hear him. I guess I should go up and have another look. There ought to be a nurse sitting with him, but he won't permit it at night. Most unfortunate. If the doctors are not to be trusted, who can I go to for medical assistance?"

  "The Sisters?" suggested Matt.

  For a moment life seemed to return to Valdieri's ashen face. "You're right. If one is ever in need of urgent help, one can always throw oneself on the mercy of a mother superior. Unfortunately, there's no phone link with the Convent."

  "I'll ask one of the guards fetch her."

  Valdieri shook his head. "Can we trust even the guards if this clinic is in the hands of corrupt men?" He paused to swallow hard. "I'm sorry, but I feel terrible. If I'd known what I know now, I would never have allowed the Holy..."

  Matt looked on in alarm as the Archbishop seemed to be fighting off a bout of nausea.

  "Don't tell the GIGN about our worries, Mr. Rider. They're a powerful force, and it isn't wise to trust anyone. But the Little Sisters are trained in nursing duties. They'll know what medicine I need."

  Matt looked closely into the Archbishop's eyes. "Have you been poisoned?" It was a sudden thought.

  "It's possible, yes. I don't know. Can you make your way to the Mother Superior's rooms and bring her back quickly without anyone knowing?"

  "Unlikely," said Matt.

  "Listen to me, Mr. Rider. If Dr. Bernetti is right and Dr. Kappa wants to harm the Holy Father, just how deep does such a plot go? Deeper than Dr. Kappa, that's for sure."

  "It sounds as though Dr. Bernetti wants to expose them."

  "Mario Bernetti is..." Valdieri retched, and rose to his feet to be violently sick over the carpet. Too late he put a large handkerchief to his mouth. "Make sure the Holy Father is safe." It was all he could say before he fell heavily to the ground.

  Matt knelt down and turned the Archbishop onto his front, an elementary first aid move to prevent the casualty choking on his own vomit. He felt for a pulse. If there was one it was too faint to detect. Quickly he rolled Valdieri over and applied artificial mouth-to-mouth respiration. The vomit from the Archbishop's lips tasted bitter in his mouth. He spat it out. If this was poison, it must be fast acting. And the man's only thoughts had been for the Pope in the room directly above.

  Matt went to the washbasin to rinse his mouth. The stench of vomit filled the room. He could still go to the Mother Superior for help. She might have enough clout to rescue Zoé from Dr. Kappa. This time he must be open about it. The security team hadn't prevented Sister Colette coming across to the clinic, so they wouldn't challenge the Archbishop going in the other direction.

  He glanced up at the ceiling. He'd never pass for the Archbishop himself -- but he knew a man who could.

  He slipped out into the quiet corridor. Facing him were two doors, with glass panels above each one. The first door was locked, but the second opened easily to show an unused bedroom. On a chair by the door he noticed a pile of towels and two white hospital workers' jackets. With one of these and a clipboard he could pass for a doctor. Did the GIGN know all the hospital staff by sight? Unlikely. The first jacket fitted well enough. He flicked on the light and checked out the remainder of the room. No, he wouldn't pretend to be a doctor. He could see a large cardboard box marked Dressings. He tipped half the contents onto the bed and straightened his jacket in the mirror. Good, white would show up really well in the dark.

  He returned to the Archbishop's room.

  "I'm sorry." He had to say something to the body as he pulled at the black cassock which was fastened just below the neck. Underneath the cassock the Archbishop wore a black suit. Matt slipped the large wooden cross over the balding head. The purple cap had already fallen to the floor. It seemed an obscene act, stripping the body of the Archbishop to his briefs.

  He folded the clothing into the box and took one last look at the Archbishop before dropping a sheet over the body. He was in this too heavily to back out now. The corridor above was a duplicate of the one below except for the pictures lining the walls. Five doors. Matt counted them, the box high on his shoulder. He took care not to hide his face and look suspicious. The guard outside the door blocked the way in.

  "What do you want?"

  "I have some towels." Matt managed to sound confident.

  "Leave them here."

  Matt held the box high to keep the Archbishop's clothes out of sight. "I've been told to take them into the room."

  "On whose authority?"

  "Mine."

  Matt turned at the sound of a woman's voice. Mazie Meyran was coming down the corridor in her white uniform. She sounded out of breath. "I told him to bring them up for me. Open the door quickly." Her voice was one of command.

  The guard turned the knob and stood to one side.

  "You're late," she said to Matt in a tone of disapproval.

  Matt knew he had to play along with the make-believe. "Blame the laundry, not me," he snapped. "You nurses are always impatient."

  Mazie closed the door. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

  Matt looked across at the bed. The figure beneath the sheet moved slightly, disturbed by the voices. "The Pope's life is in danger. I'm taking him to the Mother Superior."

  Mazie seemed hesitant. "Who said you could?"

  "The Archbishop. You'd better get down to his room and see what you can do, but I think he's dead. Poisoned. Don't alert anyone in the clinic -- not even the medical staff. The Archbishop said I have to trust no one, but the Mother Superior is the only person who's able to stop Dr. Kappa operating on Zoé."

  "You'll never get away with it. The guards will recognize the Holy Father."

  Matt shook his head and threw Valdieri's black cassock onto the bed. "Not if we dress him in this."

  Mazie gave a small gasp of disbelief. "This is the Pope you're talking about, Matt."

  "Then help me get him out of here. It's our only hope. Rescue the Pope -- and we rescue Zoé."

  "You're dippy, Matt Rider." Mazie walked to the bed. "Holy Father," she said pulling at the sheet, "are you awake?"

  The Pope turned onto his side and
blinked in the light. "Get me the Archbishop."

  Matt bent over the bed. The Pope looked unexpectedly old from so close up. "Archbishop Valdieri is dead, Your..." What was the right form of address for a pope? Zoé would know. She'd been brought up a Catholic. He looked at the pale man in the bed and wondered how best to show reverence to the head of a Church with over a billion members. But the pomp and ceremony would have to wait. "Someone's poisoned the Archbishop. I'm taking you to the Convent for safety."

  The Pope tried to pull himself upright and seemed reassured by Mazie's white uniform. "Can I really trust you?"

  "You must," said Matt. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to demote you. You're the same build as Archbishop Valdieri. If we dress you in his clothes we can walk over to the Covent without being stopped."

  Was it a sense of amusement? Of wanting to play games? The pallor changed to redness and the eyes became alive. "Yes, I, too, have been aware that things are not right at this clinic."

  "Not right?" said Matt. "They're all killers. And I think you're their next victim."

  "You would not tell me lies, young man?"

  Matt shook his head. "We have to be quick. If you call out, my girlfriend will die."

  "Then God be with us. I will try to walk."

  "My, oh my, it's high noon." Mazie loosened the top of her nurse's blouse. "I'll distract the guard, then I'll run downstairs and see if I can do anything for the Archbishop."

  Two minutes later, holding the box on one shoulder, Matt opened the door. The guard was busy joking with Mazie and must have assumed it was Archbishop Valdieri in the black cassock and purple skullcap.

  They used the elevator and reached the outside door to begin the long walk across to the gardens. Matt tried to fool himself into feeling confident. He was a hospital worker with goods for the Convent. Never mind how unlikely it was at this time of the night, the Sisters at the Convent had asked for this delivery. There was no reason for anyone to stop them. The guards would know the Archbishop more by his clothing than his face, and a man in a white jacket clearly belonged to the clinic.

  *

  MAJOR LOUVIERS pressed the radio to his ear.

  Jacques in the tower was insistent. "He's walking like he owns the place, Major. White coat, the lot. The Archbishop is with him. The man in the white coat is the one we can't recognize. They took a wrong turning by the archway but they're nearly at the Convent now."

  "Is he staff, Jacques?"

  "Not enough detail on the screen, Major. They seem to be talking together. There might be God knows what in that box. Want me to pick them up?"

  Louviers stared into the darkness from the window of the old tower. "I'll get over there and take care of it. I don't want routine surveillance suffering for this one."

  "Major." It was Jacques again. "Major, I have a clear view. The man in the white jacket is ringing the Convent bell. The Archbishop is still with him. There's no sign of life in the building. He's going to the window where ... The randy old sod, he's after the nuns! And all with the Archbishop's approval. Perhaps Valdieri wants one for himself."

  "Cut the humor, Jacques."

  "Sorry, Major. Wait, they've heard something. They're going back to the main door."

  Louviers hurried across the garden to get in line of sight of the Convent. A light came on in the hallway, the yellow bulb shining through the glass above the door. It showed their target standing in his white jacket, saying something into the grille. Archbishop Valdieri stood by his side.

  "Can you hear what's going on, Jacques?"

  "Negative, Major. The Mother Superior is talking to them. Now she's gone back. The hatch behind the grille is still open."

  "We'll wait." Louviers crouched in the shelter of a fig tree growing up the old stone wall. The Sisters must know the man in white or the Mother Superior would hardly have left the grille open.

  Jacques was on the radio again. "She's back, and there's another Sister with her. There's a lot of bowing and scraping going on. Now Archbishop Valdieri's gone inside. The Mother Superior is carrying something."

  "What?"

  "Some sort of bag, Major. She's coming your way. Be with you any second."

  Louviers kept himself pressed against the fig tree.

  "Major Louviers?"

  Louviers groaned. His hiding place in the blackness had not been secure. "Is there a problem, Reverend Mother?" He moved into the open.

  The woman sounded breathless. "Major Louviers, I don't know what you're doing here in the bushes, but you're to come with us." She lowered her voice as though taking part in a conspiracy.

  Louviers breathed out. Was this some sort of charade? "One of my men will go with you, Reverend Mother."

  "Don't stand there like that, Major. And you can take that scowl off your face. I can see very well in the dark."

  "So it seems, Reverend Mother."

  "We have to go to the clinic."

  Louviers recognized the man in the white jacket. He drew his 357 Magnum. "This man should be drugged to the eyeballs. He's a suspected terrorist."

  "Nonsense, Major."

  Louviers backed away in surprise. The ecclesiastical authority shown over women seemed to be equally effective over men.

  The Mother Superior pushed Matt towards the GIGN captain. "This is Monsieur Rider and he is here to help us. He has just rescued the Holy Father. We must be quick. It seems the Archbishop may be dead, and a young woman is certainly in great danger."

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Clinic of the Little Sisters of Tourvillon

  THE MOTHER superior struck Matt as an efficient old bird. He watched in amazement as she pumped away at Valdieri's chest. The fact that the Archbishop was only in his underwear seemed immaterial to the woman.

  "Thank God you've come," Mazie Meyran said anxiously. "I think there's a sign of life."

  The Mother Superior looked up sharply. "Nurse, I want you to run down to the duty area for assistance."

  "He's dead," said Matt. "And he told me to trust no one." The look he got from the Mother Superior was enough to make him wish he'd kept quiet.

  "He is not dead, young man. And we can trust anyone as long as I am here."

  Matt felt his face going pale. He'd told Mazie not to summon help because he was sure the Archbishop was dead. It was Valdieri's own fault: he'd said not to trust anyone on the staff. He looked over at Major Louviers who was using his radio. Archbishop Valdieri had also said not to trust the GIGN.

  "An emergency team is on its way," announced Louviers as he put his radio down. "Any hope?"

  The Mother Superior looked up from her pumping. "There is always hope, Major. There is always hope in this dark world."

  "If you'll excuse me, Reverend Mother." Louviers coughed politely. It sounded as though he had been brought up in the proximity of Catholic Sisters and knew his place. "I've arranged for two men to remain outside the Convent to keep an eye on ... our special guest."

  The Mother Superior snorted indignantly. With her curved nose she appeared to be almost regal. "The Pope. Say his name, Major. Say: His Holiness the Pope."

  Louviers glanced uneasily at Matt. "It's supposed to be a secret, Reverend Mother."

  "Monsieur Rider knows all about the Holy Father being here. You seem to forget that he has just led him to safety. Monsieur Rider is a good man; you ought to listen to him."

  Matt felt awkward. "All I want is for my girlfriend to recover."

  Two nurses flung the door open and hurried into the room with a wheeled stretcher. A doctor, not known to Matt, came behind them. He bent down and pulled at the Archbishop's eyelids.

  "I have just given him a shot of this." The Mother Superior showed the doctor a syringe and a small glass bottle.

  The doctor nodded. "A deep coma. It's not his heart. A toxin perhaps. We will empty his stomach and see what we can do." He opened Valdieri's mouth and peered inside. "Definitely a poison."

  Matt shook his head. "It was all so sudden. He was talking..."


  Maxwell Wilcox, the head of security, stumbled in from the corridor. He had a startled look on his face when he saw the medical staff leaning over the body of the Archbishop. "Oh, my God. Is he dead, too?"

  It was enough to bring Louviers to an immediate state of alert. "Who else is dead, Wilcox?"

  "It's Jim Kappa. He's..." Wilcox looked at the floor as he took Louviers by the arm. "Perhaps not in front of the Sisters."

  Matt maneuvered himself to be close to Louviers so he could catch what was being said.

  "What's happened to Kappa?" Louviers' eyes darted from the Archbishop to Wilcox. "Where is he?"

  Wilcox spoke in a whisper. Matt had to lean over to hear. "In his room. I went there to ask him when he intended to operate and I found him ... It's horrible. He's cut his throat. God, man, Jim Kappa has killed himself."

  Louviers was already on his way through the door. Matt followed closely as the two men ran up the stairs to the executive suites on the top floor. A GIGN man stood outside the door to Kappa's rooms. He came smartly to attention.

  "Nothing has been touched, Major. Monsieur Wilcox made so much noise when he found the body that I came immediately. He was trying to clear up the papers from the floor as I came in."

  Matt stood in the doorway of the luxuriously furnished room, but it was not the decorations or the thick pile carpet that caught his attention. He'd imagined that the GIGN man would have covered the body by now. Kappa, his white face stained with blood, lay across the table in a large red pool, his hand clutching a medical scalpel.

  On the carpet, sheets of paper had spilt from a blue folder. Blood still dripped onto them from the edge of the table. "Nothing's been touched," repeated the guard. "He was obviously dead."

  This was not the first time Matt had seen violent death at first hand. It was certainly not the first suicide. He went forward and bent down to look at the papers.

  "And what are you doing, Monsieur Rider?" snapped Louviers. "I want you out of here."

  "These papers," said Matt. "They're something to do with K7."

  *

  MATT SAT exhausted in the preparation room. He looked up to see Bernetti's face lit with a ghostly blue from the lightbox on the wall.

  "Can you do anything?" He spoke in English, as he had only a tourist's grasp of Italian.

  Bernetti shook his head slowly over the scans before replying. "The patient, she stabilized now, but there is much damaged tissue." He pointed to a mass of lines that looked like scratches on the dark film. "These are the veins and arteries."