Alicia squeezed his hand and spoke up. “There is this, too,” she said. “I was a virgin when Luke and I married. He is the best man I have ever known and the only man I’ve known in an intimate sense. For however many years God gives us together, I know that I won’t be comparing my husband to all the other lovers I have ever had. He will always be my first and my best!”
Martens blushed. “Unfortunately, I cannot say that,” he said. “My first wife, God rest her soul, was a very special woman, and I will always love her memory. But my love for Alicia is something new and different, and so far she has not minded sharing me with the memory of the woman I lost. God put us together for a reason—even if, so far, she’s managed to nearly kill me on more than one occasion!”
Alicia swatted his shoulder gently. “Don’t blame me if you can’t handle the bunny slopes, old man!” she said with a laugh.
Josh was amused. Dr. Martens had seemed rather stiff and formal when they first met, but Alicia had brought him out of his shell and turned him into a fun-loving, adventurous soul who was a joy to be around. Now that Josh knew them both better, he realized that Luke had still been grieving his first wife’s death when Josh had met him. It had taken Alicia’s warm, adventure-loving heart to give the archeologist a reason to emerge from his shell again. Looking across the table at them, he was happy for them both. The fifteen-year age difference seemed a little smaller and less troublesome every time he saw them together.
“So are you going to come visit the States when all this is over with?” asked Alicia. “I’d love to take you diving with me sometime!”
“That sounds wonderful!” said Isabella. “I don’t know what my future plans are right now, but I hope that we can do that. I have enjoyed getting to know you so much! Italian archeology is pretty much a boy’s club, and I get so tired of having to constantly prove myself to these silly jocks with degrees. It is nice to spend time with another woman my age!”
They passed that Tuesday evening in great happiness, the grief of the double funerals ebbing from them as they enjoyed good food and good company. The shock of the ordeal they had been through that awful Friday was still in the back of their minds, and both of them missed their lost friends, but the healing process had begun. Luke and Alicia Martens, Josh realized, had become an important part of that process. He had come to regard the American professor as more than a professional mentor in the last week, instead seeing him as a close friend, perhaps even an older brother. Alicia and he had been chums since college, although he had never had any romantic feelings for her—in fact, he had been shocked to find out that she had once been interested in him! But that, too, had worked out for the best. Luke needed her far worse than he had, and Josh had found the love of his life in Isabella.
That was the other thing that their terrible ordeal had cemented into place. When he first saw Isabella, he had found her charming and irresistible, an exotic stranger with a face that made his heart skip. Certainly that physical fascination was still there, but something else had grown alongside it—a realization that this was the woman he had waited for all these years. Isabella felt it too, he knew. Their conversations were no longer centered on whether or not they could overcome their differing backgrounds and beliefs about God, but rather how long that process would take. He had quit pushing Isabella on the subject of faith, instead trusting that God would draw her to Himself when the time was right.
After a big meal and an hour-long conversation over glasses of wine and iced tea—Josh had no problem with drinking in moderation, but he honestly found most wines to be nasty-tasting—the two couples separated. Josh walked Isabella down to the lobby, holding her hand and enjoying her company.
“Your friends are such good people,” she said. “When I look at them, I see what I hope you and I can be someday.”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” he said.
“Excuse me, Dr. Parker, Dr. Sforza,” said a familiar voice. They turned to see Drew Eastwood, the reporter from Chicago.
“Well, hello there!” Josh said, holding out his hand. “You know, I wanted to congratulate you on the article you did about our interview. It was one of the most straightforward pieces I have read about our work since this whole thing started.”
Eastwood grinned. “You guys made it pretty easy,” he said. “You are ideal interview subjects! But I am glad you liked it, because I wanted to ask you a small favor.”
“By all means,” said Isabella. “You have earned our trust by the honesty with which you covered our story. So what can we do for you?”
“I’ve been contacted by one of the major news networks,” he said. “They want me to conduct an exclusive interview with you two on film, to be aired as an hour-long special on a major American network! They’d like it to include a tour of the chamber on Capri and a look at the lab where the scroll is being analyzed. We’d like to have a peek at the other artifacts that have survived the blast, and do an in-depth analysis of the story from the beginning. I won’t lie to you; this could be a huge break in my career—a move from the print media to television is something reporters dream about! But I hope you know that I am not planning any kind of ambush. I would just like to actually walk the cameras through every stage of the excavation and analysis thus far, so the world can see how careful and thorough you have been.”
Josh and Isabella looked at one another. Finally she spoke. “I can’t give a final OK to something this big,” she said, “but I do think it is a good idea. I will recommend to Dr. Castolfo and Dr. Sinisi that we go ahead with it. It will be good publicity for the museum, and for Italy, and I believe that you will do it properly and with a due respect to our friends. When could you be ready?”
Eastwood laughed. “They already flew a film crew over,” he said. “I didn’t exactly promise them you would agree to it, but I strongly hinted that you might.”
Josh laughed. “Initiative is a good thing,” he said. “What if we had said no?”
Drew smiled. “Well, you would have gotten to see my impressive begging skills up close and personal!” he said. “I have got the puppy dog eyes down pat!” He shot them a sad, woebegone look with his eyebrows drooping and his lower lip quivering that set them both laughing out loud.
“Well,” said Isabella, “I am glad we did not force you to break out your heavy artillery! Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, it is late and tomorrow will be a full day. I will call my superiors when I get home, Mr. Eastwood, and I may have a reply for you tonight or first thing in the morning, so be ready!” She leaned up and gave Josh a kiss on the cheek, then walked out the door and into the night. He placed his hand where her lips had touched and stared after her a moment, and then turned and found Eastwood watching him with some amusement.
“What are you looking at?” he demanded in mock anger.
“If I am not mistaken, a man who is in love!” the reporter replied.
Josh rolled his eyes. “You got that right,” he said. “Are you staying here?” He nodded at the hotel around them.
“Just moved in yesterday,” said Eastwood. “These network folks spare no expense!”
“I’m going to swim some laps before bedtime,” Josh told him. “Feel free to grab a pair of trunks and join me!”
* * *
The next morning, Isabella met Josh at the door of the museum. Father MacDonald was with her, looking tired but relieved, no doubt, to have two very difficult funerals over and done with.
“Castolfo wants to see us about the Eastwood interview,” she said. “I think we are going to get a green light.”
“Excellent!” said Josh. “I think that Mr. Eastwood is the best and brightest member of the press I have met. He would be preferable to any of the talking heads we have met in the last two weeks.”
“I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him, other than taking his questions at our press conference,” said MacDonald, “But I must say his writing is first rate.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” said
Vincent Sinisi as he rounded the corner. “His prose is excellent, and he believes in the authenticity of your discovery, but he does not let that interfere with his journalistic objectivity. I was a bit curious as to why you singled him out for your exclusive interview, but his article was so impressive, I think you made an excellent choice. Come, my intrepid scholars, the board is waiting!”
They walked up to the boardroom, where Castolfo and Guioccini were standing and talking. The entire board was not present, but Cardinal Raphael and Doctors Stefani and Castellani were there. They all stood as Josh, Father MacDonald, and Isabella entered the room, and then Castolfo invited them all to sit around the conference table together.
“This is strictly an informal session,” said Castolfo, “but I wanted to have a quorum here because we may need to officially decide some things before we adjourn from this ad hoc session. Signor Gandolfo cannot be here in person, as he has been meeting with the Prime Minister in Rome, but has asked that we call him and give the details of our decisions to him. Dr. Parker, Dr. MacDonald, both of you may consider yourselves as honorary members of this board for the remainder of your time in Italy. Your services and sacrifice have earned you the right to deliberate at this table as equals, not as hired consultants.”
Josh swallowed hard. An honorary member of Italy’s Bureau of Antiquities! That was a development he never would have anticipated!
“First of all,” said Castolfo, “Isabella and Bernardo have relayed to the board your desire to grant a televised interview to the American journalist named Eastwood. His writing about the discoveries has been first-rate, and we are inclined to grant the request—on one condition. This is an Italian discovery, after all, made on Italian soil. So we wish for an Italian journalist to film this interview as well, so that the broadcast may be made in both nations simultaneously. Dr. Sinisi has been on the phone with Eastwood’s network, and they are willing to agree to this stipulation. Is there any Italian journalist you would prefer?”
Josh looked at Isabella. His Italian was getting a little better each day, but he could not distinguish good Italian journalism from bad. She shot him a quick smile and spoke up.
“I imagine that it will be hard to avoid offering the assignment to Antonio Ginovese,” she said. “He is the most respected journalist in Italy, but he is also territorial—if we cut him out, he will do all he can to sabotage the project from the outside.”
Sinisi nodded. “I couldn’t have said it better,” he said. “I’ll contact them both and you can begin filming the interviews on Capri this afternoon. I imagine they will want all three surviving members of the original team available, so I will ask all of you to meet the TV crews. Dr. Martens and Bernardo can hold the fort down here. Is everyone agreed?” He looked up and down the table, and the board members nodded.
Guioccini now spoke up. “That brings us to the primary reason for this meeting,” he said. “On Friday the Testimonium will be carbon dated at the National Archeological Laboratory in Rome by Dr. Henderson of the Smithsonian. Obviously, that means that the scroll will have to be transported to Rome. There has already been one attack made by jihadists attempting to destroy the scroll. The Naples Police and the National Security Forces are convinced that another attempt will be made during the move. Transporting it by air would be highly dangerous—a single rocket launcher could destroy an airplane, along with everyone aboard and whatever cargo it was carrying. So it has been decided that we will move the scroll in a heavily armed convoy. We will be escorted by a helicopter gunship, several APCs full of elite Italian Army Special Forces, and the scroll itself will be in an armored car to protect it from any potential attack. We will set out under cover of darkness Thursday evening and cover the distance from Naples to Rome as quickly as possible. Hopefully the massive show of force will deter an attack, but if they do come after us, there will be enough firepower in the motorcade to hold them off until reinforcements arrive. There will be over one thousand military and law enforcement officers on call if we need them. My hope is that none of them will be needed, but after last Friday, we cannot afford to take chances.”
Josh spoke up. “I must admit, I am nervous about having a two-thousand-year-old scroll in the middle of a potential firefight. Even if we manage to defeat these terrorists and get through to Rome, I am afraid that the Testimonium could be damaged or destroyed in an attack.”
Guioccini answered his concern. “We share the same apprehension,” he said. “We have designed a carrying case for the scroll that is made to be bulletproof and fireproof. The scroll will arrive in Rome intact!”
Cardinal Raphael spoke up, his voice shaking with age. The events of the previous week, especially the death of his friend Cardinal Klein, had taken a heavy toll on the old man. “Let us beware the sin of hubris,” he said. “What our friends found on Capri is a unique treasure, an affirmation of the dogmas the Church has taught for two thousand years. Such a spiritually significant find should be handled with profound reverence, and yet it has been rushed to the limelight in a most perfunctory and improper fashion. I am not sure but that we may have offended God by trumpeting this find to the world before we verified it. Please do not mistake me—I understand the reasons why you thought it was necessary to reveal the scroll so quickly—but events have made me nervous, and when you speak with such callous certainty, I am afraid.”
Everyone listened to the ancient churchman with profound respect—his decades of scholarship were legend in Italy, and his personal piety had seen him survive the darkest days of the German occupation as a teen, hiding Jews and dissidents in his parents’ barns and outbuildings.
MacDonald was the one who answered him. “Your Eminence,” he said kindly, “perhaps we should say that, God willing, we shall get this scroll safely to Rome. It was God who saw it preserved miraculously for twenty centuries, and it was God who revealed it on Easter Sunday morning. I believe that this scroll was discovered for a reason, and if God wants its authenticity verified, then no power on earth can stop it. If He does not, then no power on earth can get it to that lab safely. So it is up to us all to be the best stewards of this precious find that we can be, and that means careful planning and the best security we can provide.”
The old Cardinal nodded. “I pray that you are right, Brother. But the events of the last week have left me sad and tired. I too want this scroll to be confirmed as authentic, so that the whole world may know that what we have taught for all these years is the truth. But a voice within whispers: ‘If truth can be proven, what need is there of faith?’ And that fills me with foreboding.”
There was some desultory conversation after that, but with the issue of transporting the scroll on the table, and the old Cardinal’s warning echoing in their ear, no one was in the mood for small talk. Once the meeting broke up, Josh, Isabella, and Father MacDonald joined Luke Martens and Alicia down in the lab. She was staring at the Testimonium with great interest. They greeted one another and sat down for a few moments.
Josh looked across the table at Duncan MacDonald. “One thing that I am curious about, Father,” he said. “How big is this bulletproof case? I mean, the scroll is six feet long, and you have unrolled it and stiffened it in that open position. Can it be rolled up again without damage? Or are we going to be carrying a very large case around for the next few days?”
The Scottish antiquarian laughed. “I’ve made a refinement to my stabilizing formula since I last wrote about it, laddie,” he said. “Essentially, my formula uses a stiff, wax-like polymer that adheres to the exterior of the papyrus and holds it in position. Unlike the stabilizing element, this polymer does not penetrate; it coats the outside in a very thin and rigid layer that also helps protect the papyrus from UV light. However, I recently came up with a compound that causes the polymer to unbind and evaporate on contact. When I spray the Testimonium with my unbinding compound, it will turn as supple as the day it was made. We have already designed an acrylic tube that will hold the entire papyrus, and then sl
ide neatly inside this heavily armored carrying case. When we get to Rome, we can open it, unroll it, hit it with another layer of my original formula, and it will stay open for as long as we want it to. The beauty of it is that the unbinding compound causes the exterior polymer to evaporate completely, so you can use the process on ancient documents as many times as you need to without damaging them!”
“That is truly amazing!” said Josh. “You must have gotten a chemistry set as a kid and never quit playing with it!”
MacDonald laughed. “My parents were too poor for that sort of thing,” he said. “But I did manage to blow up the science lab at my parochial school—twice!” He launched into an involved tale involving homemade gunpowder, white phosphorous, and an attempt to create fireworks for his classmates that ended up with the lab in flames and his teacher’s eyebrows singed off. For some reason, Isabella found the story particularly hilarious, laughing so hard that tears streamed down her cheeks. Josh wasn’t too far behind her—the Scottish priest was an excellent storyteller, and his account of the punishment meted out by the angry nuns was incredibly comical.
“So,” the priest concluded, “we never were quite able to extinguish the phosphorus—it had burned through the lab table, through the floor tiles, and was eating through the building’s foundation! We quickly spackled over the hole, once the fires in the lab were put out. But if a volcano ever erupts under the site of St. Matthew’s Parochial School in Edinburgh, well—I did that!”
That story led Josh to share an account of a prank he had pulled on a high school classmate, and for the next half hour the team swapped stories around the table, chuckling and giggling together. For the first time since the horrible blast had shattered their world the previous Friday, the three survivors felt like a complete team again. Dr. Martens and Alicia fit in naturally, each bringing their own personalities and talents to the table. It was a pleasant interlude after the grim note the board meeting had ended on, and when the original team members left the lab, their hearts were light once more. The memory of sorrow still lingered among them, but it was losing its power.
The Testimonium Page 44