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The three figures stepped silently, quickly through the midnight blackness of Rome. One wore a cloche, another a baseball cap, the other a newsboy cap. Their faces were drawn, intense. Each carried a weighted canvas bag. When they reached the heavy wooden door at the far end of Vatican City, the shorter, wiry figure, wearing a baseball cap moved to the front. He used a hidden latchstring to remove a bar blocking the door. He pulled the door open and slipped through.
The person wearing a cloche followed. The one wearing the newsboy’s cap took up the rear. The door was re-barred. Each took a flashlight from a bag, and lit it. The man with the baseball cap led the way down the stone stairs.
In total silence they followed their lights through maze of passageways for some distance. At one point the leader stopped in front of a door, pointed to it, and whispered that at one time it was a computer room.
They stop again at a fork where the first man pointed, and indicated that it is the path to the aedicule.
There, the first and last figures switch places putting the taller man in the lead. He checked his location, and took the walled path in the direction to where the Basilica would be above them. As he led, he flashed his light into the many niches they passed. He wracked his memory. He started, stopped, and changed direction several times.
He slowed, flashed his light into a niche to light up a Crucified Christ on the wall. The niche also contained a wrapped statue; ancient burned down votary candles, and a bench.
He indicated that this was the niche for which he’d been looking. He pointed to the far end of the bench.
The figure wearing the cloche assembled a video camera and a bar light. When the bar light was snapped on, it filled the niche with light as the camera rolled.
Two of them lifted the bench and moved it out of the niche. Then, one took out and assembled a metal detector, while another removed short shovels and a pick from another canvas bag.
The man with the metal detector operator put on earphones, and turned it on. He passed it over the area covered by the bench. Almost instantly he tore off the headphones. He nodded emphatically. There was metal not too far below the surface in one particular spot.
He put the detector aside and helped the other man remove a wide area of stones on the floor so they could dig.
The digging went slowly in the cramped area. The camera operator put in a fresh tape as needed. The metal detector was employed again. Within moments, the operator nodded his head violently up and down. He removed the earphones, put down the detector and indicated that they must now remove dirt carefully not to damage whatever may be buried in the ground.
Within a half-hour, the light shined on a disintegrated animal skin and what may have been hair.
The man in the suit stopped shoveling. He got on his hands and knees and removed dirt with his hands. When an area about a foot square was cleared, he put in both rubber-gloved hands to grasp both ends of the skin. He lifted it out and placed it on a sheet of plastic. The skin fell away. The lights shined on what might have been a rug of some fashion. A corner of it disintegrated. There, glittering in an area the size of a small coin, was the corner of a small gold box. Shaking his head back and forth slowly, the man blew gently on the box to clear the detritus. It was about eight inches long, two inches wide, and one inch deep.
The kneeling figure paused. He took time to look into the faces of the others. They stared at each other for a long time. Finally, the man touching the gold box pursed his lips and shrugged, questioning the others. The other two shrugged, and nodded.
Gingerly, the latch on the box was lifted.
Then, holding the bottom of the box carefully, the gloved hand slowly opened the top of the box.
The camera recorded the action.
Inside, on top of a dried, bloodstained piece of dirty cloth were what looked like a soiled coiled leather collar surrounding a badly bent, hand-forged nail with dried, crusty blood, and what seemed a bit of mummified flesh attached to it. They read engraved inside the cover of the lid: “I, Marius of Rome, forged and used this nail, one of four, to crucify Jesus of Jerusalem, then took and buried Ille Clavus Quartus in Rome on which his edifice shall be built.”
“Roberto,” Diura said. “On this journey? How did you know you were not alone?”
“Because when I looked around I saw only a single set of tracks.”
“Then, you were alone.”
“No. I was being carried.”
Epilogue
Roberto wore the traditional chef’s toque and an apron while he manned the grill by the large tent set up on the lawn. All seventy-six children in the first grades at Chestnut Hill Private School were involved in some party activity or other.
Music came from a piano, bass, and electric guitar. A clown in full regalia had a table of partygoers giggling at his antics. Also popular was the woman clown making animals out of balloons. A magician held another group of children fascinated with disappearing scarves, appearing flower bouquets, and pigeons popping out of a top hat. There were three Shetland ponies for rides. Games included bean bags, balloons and darts, and ring-a-bottle.
In the center of the tent on a large table were two massive birthday cakes. Each held six candles and one for good luck. The name on one was Teresa, and on the other, Oscar.
Stella came out of the library door, and slowly made her way toward the tent. When she spotted Diura, she waved to her. She nodded, and moved quickly to Stella’s side.
“International registered mail I had to sign for,” Stella said.
The two women stared at each other for long moments. Diura said, “I’d better get Roberto.”
When they returned to Stella, their faces were drawn, Diura chewing on the inside of her cheek, Roberto fumbling with his glasses.
“Let’s open it,” he said. “It’s from Rome. We know what this is. We’ve been expecting it.”
He opened the large cardboard envelope using the pull tab and slid out a single page. Roberto looked into Diura’s eyes, then Stella’s. He read:
“My dear, precious friends,
“I would rather be there at the birthday party than where I am now. Most regrettably I have a prior engagement.
“I’m sure the double celebration will be splendiferous.
“We three have accomplished a magnificent chore in the wisest way possible. Thank you for trusting me. I am honored to have been part of it.
“This will confirm that the crypt has been sealed off. The entrance has been camouflaged to look as part of the wall. ICQ should remain as and where it was intended to be for at least another two-thousand years.
“Your manuscript of The Marius Diary has been secured. It has been put under lock and key in the vault with the Restricted Specifics and Antiquities in the Vatican Library.
“Come visit me when you’re in Italy. I am in Bari, where I will be resting with other members of my family.
“A hug and kiss and grande birthday wishes to my Godchildren, Teresa and Oscar.
“A gentle, affectionate hug to Stella.
“A warm, loving embrace to you both.
“My love and blessings to all of you,
“Father Oscar”
Smiling, Roberto glanced at Diura and Stella. “Bless you, Father Oscar. I’ll grill this message. Let us return joyously to the party, to the celebration of the greatest gift to all of us on Earth, to life and living.”
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Ministering hands have touched this novel lifting it to heights beyond my humble offerings, starting from its very beginnings, Gina Wachtel, Jonna McElrath; my bride, Vera; daughters Lisa and Mona; Bob Boland; Cathy Clark; God-child Joanne Maehr-Engelhardt; Bill Gibson; Paul and Mo Hickey; Marilyn Hunter; Charlie Wilkinson, cousin Mary Martin, and its champion, Brooke Walker.
I am especially indebted to Andrew Wilson, Ph.D., Latin Scholar.
The author accepts total responsibility for anything and everything erroneous in this nov
el.
The Author
Paul Argentini is a Random House best-selling author and prize-winning playwright. He and his bride, Vera, live in Florida. They have two grown daughters, Lisa and Mona.
Table of Contents
Prologue
New York City, July 13, 1977, A.D.
The Vatican, 2000 A.D.
Antiquity. To Roberto, the Vatican Library had the look, smell, and atmosphere of antiquity. After just getting off a 21st Century jet it was a marked pejorative sensation.
Psychically Diura said, “This place breeds musty negative ions.”
An hour later, Father Oscar led Roberto and Diura to stand before the aedicula, or “little temple,” in the lowest depths of the Basilica near the burial site of St. Peter. Roberto found himself trembling with excitement. Something was about to happen to him over which he had no control. The anticipation made him breathe rapidly. Meanwhile, Roberto could sense the anticipation of immortality popes had when they knew this would be their final resting place. Starting from the first Basilica constructed in the fourth century, their names, carved on marble sarcophagi, would be read by visitors through the ages. Now, in the present moment of the second Millennium, the anachronism was underlined for Roberto. Contrasting with the ancient inscriptions were their modern-day throwaway plastic protective coats, cell phones, pagers, and lanterns.
On his mind’s screen, Roberto could see tourists of the fourth century standing where they were, seeing the same sights, almost thinking the same thoughts. This was as close as Man could come, he thought, along with the pyramids and such, in his reach for immortality.
The Fourth Nail: An Historical Novel Page 21