by Tom Haase
“Okay, Scott, have you been drinking? Why are you calling in the middle of the night? Come on, tell me the real reason, not some made-up story.”
“I'm not kidding. Here's what really happened.” He explained in detail all the events that transpired during his visit to New York. He mentioned the daughter didn't appear to be happy about the arrangement and didn't seem to know about it in advance. She projected a cold front to Scott, but kept it polite. He didn't think she even remembered him from the Smithsonian. The daughter and Schultz acted like everything rested in agreement. They gave him a check and he left. When Scott finished telling his tale, he waited.
Bridget's mind took in everything that he told her. It did not ring the truth bell in her head. There existed something more here than met the eye. She struggled to compose herself to figure out what Scott should have asked and didn't.
“Did you take the money?”
“I saw no way that we could do this without accepting his conditions. You even told me how much we would need. I have on me a check for $500,000. I hope your prediction on the cost is accurate. I probably should've asked for a million.”
“When do we leave for Jerusalem and is the daughter going with us?”
“I have already booked my ticket,” Scott said.” I called Schultz when I got back home to thank him, and his daughter answered. She told me her plans. Gertrude will meet us in Jerusalem the day after tomorrow. We can't afford to linger. You know others will find out about this no matter how much we try to keep it quiet. You need to get there, like now.”
“You've moved awfully fast. Do you see any catches?” Bridget stalled for time now to see if she could come up with a reason to worry about this whole venture, maybe to think of the various ramifications if it went wrong. Deep in her soul, she knew that if she had been in Scott's place and this offer the only way she could go, she, too, would've accepted the offer. It just pissed her off that he accomplished it with ease. Maybe that’s what bothered her. This seemed too easy.
“I'll be there. Put some money in my account tomorrow morning, please. Keep me informed by e-mail of your plans and hotel. From now on I'll be in various places—airports, cafés, the like—and I’ll be able to receive e-mails periodically. One last thing, did he say why he wanted this Bible for himself?”
They were starting off on a venture the likes of which she could never have imagined. She held no real proof that it even existed. They had no idea of the Bible's location—assuming it did exist—it's security, or even who possessed it. She needed to find out more about the Bishop of Jerusalem and where he worked, ministered, and resided. Now, however, excitement boiled in her life along with a new purpose and goal. That stay in the Amazon village turned out to be what she needed to kick-start her life again.
“He didn't say, but I'm already thinking about that, since I knew you would ask. Did I do good?”
Bridget realized that Scott accomplished something outstanding. This could be their road back from the abyss of nonentities in the academic world to the pinnacle of recognition. They now possessed the potential to achieve the greatness denied them in the last venture. He accomplished in less than twenty-four hours everything she thought they would need to go after this long lost artifact of Christendom. She now held a vision that would lead her to find the truth.
What held her back from believing the goal near at hand? Schultz seemed to good to be true, but the daughter certainly complicated things. She trusted Scott, she knew how he would react in a dangerous or compromising situation, but this unknown female could be a major hindrance.
“You did well. See you in Jerusalem. Get me all the info you can on this Mr. Schultz. I'll research the Israeli side of things on my way.”
“Will do. Have already started on that,” Scott said. “We need to know more, but right now we need to get moving before someone else does.”
Bridget agreed. “As the great detective often said—the game is afoot.”
Chapter 16
Vatican City
“Father,” he heard when he answered his personal cell phone. The woman spoke English. Must be a wrong number.
“You must have misdialed. This is Monsignor McGregor.”
“Jonathan, it's Bridget.”
He smiled as he recalled the beautiful redhead who seemed to always be in trouble, the kind that somehow always generated a problem. Their last venture consisted of him chasing her from Poland, to Spain, and finally to America in search of the Crown of Thorns. He carried out the pontiff's wish and paid them for their troubles. The Vatican believed it possessed all the evidence of all the copies of the relevant documents, but Miss Donavan somehow produced a secret copy. The powers in the Holy See refused to validate her claim when she made them public, and the last he heard, both of the Donavans had lost their credibility. A shame, but he remained powerless to vindicate them.
“How are you? Or perhaps more important, what are you up to now?” He let out a light laugh, and his Scottish accent barely noticeable.
“Sorry about what happened, are you?” she queried.
“Yes, but no one here wanted to hurt you or your brother. I sent you an e-mail to try and explain the position here at the Vatican. That can't—”
“Listen,” she interrupted. “Forget the past. We have a new problem. By the way, congratulations on becoming a monsignor. Are you still the secretary to the Holy Father?”
“Yes, and thank you. I’ll admit to you, I received this elevation last week, and this reward to me is because of your last venture. You should have waited to release those documents and all might have worked out. But what’s done is done. What can I do for you?”
“First of all, we didn't release them, but as you say done is done. I’ve firm evidence of the existence of one of the Bibles of Constantine. I know where it's located.”
“You're kidding. I'm no historian but I think I heard that they don't exist. Why should I believe you? What are you up to?”
“Last time you didn't believe us either. I know it exists. I'm going after it. I just want you to help us by researching the Vatican to find out why it is so important. Someone’s gone to great effort to ensure the document is not made public. All of the original copies but one have disappeared. There has to be something in it that Holy Mother Church would get indigestion from if it surfaced. Find out for me what that is. You owe me.”
“I don't think there is any reason the church would try to suppress such a holy book. I know what happened last time you met with the church hierarchy, but this is different. So please keep an open mind. I'll look into it for you. No promises. That's the least I can do. Try not to get kidnapped, shot at, nor engage in intelligence operations in whatever you're doing this time.”
He copied her phone number and bid her goodbye.
Jonathan McGregor replaced the cell phone into his black cassock with fuchsia piping and buttons along with a matching colored sash signifying a monsignor. He furrowed his freckled forehead and ran his fingers through his sandy hair. After a few seconds, he stood up, stretched his tall frame, and walked with a slight limp into the room designated for the Prefect of the Papal Office. His limp from an old Iraqi war wound barely slowed his pace in his haste to find an answer to Bridget's question. If she could indeed find a missing Bible from the ones that Constantine commissioned in the third century, its value could be immense to the Christian world. It could be an independent confirmation of the books in the current bible. It could add to or clarify ecclesiastical and theological questions and maybe even lead to the eventual reunification of all Christendom.
He needed to do research. The first thing on the agenda required permission from his boss. If he asked for access to the archives, then a reasonable explanation of why the secretary to the pontiff needed such access would be required. He thought he had that under control. He felt sure there wouldn't be anything the church would attempt to conceal in the Bible of Constantine. The real question that burned—knowing the Donavans and their tenacity
to uncover whatever they went after—flashed paramount in his mind.
What could be in that Bible that wasn't already revealed?
He knew the answer.
Nothing.
Chapter 17
Israel
Bridget gave her brother a hug on arrival in his hotel room. She dropped her backpack onto the floor, went to the room refrigerator, and pulled out a bottle of water. She chugged most of it down as she took a seat in the chair beside the small desk.
“God, you look like hell,” Scott said. “That trip up in the Amazon must've taken a bunch out of you.”
“It's great to see you, too,” Bridget said and then emptied the rest of the bottle. “What's the latest?”
“I checked to see if Gertrude Schultz is going to be here soon. She 's scheduled to arrive within the hour. I think they expect us to know where we're going to start this quest. We do know, don't we?” Scott gave her a pleading look and waited for the answer.
“Sure, we know exactly where we're going to go. We're going to go to the bishop's house and get the Bible. There's only one small problem that I've identified.”
“What's that?”
“In my research at the airports while waiting on planes, I learned that there are three Bishops of Jerusalem. I have no idea which one has the Bible.”
“Oh shit,” Scott said as he flopped down on the bed.
“When I entered the hotel I looked at the English newspaper which contained a picture of an archbishop who was murdered a few days ago here in Jerusalem. He's the Bishop of Galilee, the Catholic bishop. I found out all these guys are bishops, but some of them have the title of Archbishop. Does anything come to your mind?”
Scott stared at her and shook his head. He looked down and then up as if in a state of confusion. He plumped the pillow behind his head and answered, “No.”
“I think we need to start with this dead bishop and see if he's the one who had the Bible. We need to find out where he resided. My guess is that if he owned the Bible it will be where he lived. He wouldn't leave this unguarded in a church were too many people have access to various areas within a holy place. His residence would be the location I would pick.”
“What are you proposing?”
“I don't think we can walk up to the front door, knock, and ask them if they have the Bible of Constantine. So we're going to have to do it the old-fashioned way like we do in archaeology. We're going to have to go dig it up.”
“What do you mean?” Scott said.
“Wouldn't you think if the archbishop is dead that no one would be at his residence? We go there and see if we can find the Bible. Simple plan, huh?”
“You mean we break in and try to steal it?” Scott sat up in bed. He shook his head indicating he didn't like the idea.
“The man paid us to get the Bible. We’ve got to go get it. I called Jonathan McGregor at the Vatican when I arrived at the airport here to ask him to look into why anyone would suppress the Bible of Constantine. He didn't think they would but promised to ask in Rome. By the way, our last venture caused him to be elevated to monsignor.”
A knock at the door, Scott got off the bed and opened it. Gertrude Shultz walked in.
“Hi, I'm Gerti” she said, extending her hand to Bridget.
“Pleased to meet you. I want to thank you and your father for helping us out,” Bridget said.
“I'm here to make sure that you get the Bible. What's your plan? I want to know all the details.” Her voice contained no warmth. She stood there like she expected to be briefed on what they were to do next.
“We thought we would go over and take the Bible out of the bishop's house tonight,” Bridget said as she turned away from her.
“That's your plan?” Gertrude said.
“Do you have a better one?” Bridget shot back at her.
She shook her head. “Get real. You probably know there are three bishops of the Christian religions in this city. If one is dead, why not talk to the others to find out what they might know? At least they can talk back to you. You can't get answers from a corpse.”
“I suggest you be quiet, as you're here to make sure we get the Bible not to tell us how to do it or to give orders. We'll conduct our search for the Bible just the way we think best to get the objective accomplished. Got that?”
The woman looked like she had never been spoken to in such a manner in her life. Her face moved as if she started to say something, but she stopped. She turned and headed for the door. On reaching it, she swirled to face Bridget.
“Make sure you get it or I'll make your life a living hell.”
Bridget laughed. “You'll have to stand in line.”
The door slammed behind her.
Chapter 18
Vatican City
Three hours passed since a Swiss guard escorted Jonathan from his office to the conference room. He patiently waited, hoping that someone would come in and tell him what was going on. All he did entailed asking about this book Constantine ordered from the monks of Jerusalem. He couldn't understand why they now confined him in this room.
The door at the other end of the chamber opened. Two cardinals entered followed by a man in a simple black cassock. The cardinals were not in the traditional garb for ceremonial occasions. They wore black suits with the crosses slung on chains around their necks. Jonathan recognized all three. The most senior man, Cardinal Sanso, presided over the Congregation of the Faithful. His job entailed keeping the doctrine of the church clean and pure. He, unfortunately, had a severe stoop in his walk and normally kept his head drooping far forward. His height and slender body accentuated the C-shape of his posture. His face could have been a portrait taken from the Sistine Chapel from one of Michelangelo's angels on the front wall.
The second cardinal, Cardinal Ho Chan, a native of the People's Republic of China was recently appointed as the new secretary of state. He replaced the previous holder of that office, Cardinal Puglisi, after his untimely death near St. Augustine, Florida. The new Secretary exuded confidence and held his head in a regal manner. He sported a full crop of silver hair on a lean and compact body.
The last to enter the room held the position of superior general of the Society of Jesus, the Jesuits, the frontline defenders of the Roman Catholic religion. He projected the demeanor of a bulldog after a bone. His short rotund body and protruding belly stretched his cassock—and often prevented one from seeing the massive intellect contained in the man's head. His IQ not on any chart and his reasoning process left a computer chip at the starting line in any race.
Jonathan remained amazed at this assembly. But now his dread began to surface. What had he done wrong? He obviously asked the wrong question. He stood up in respect as they took their seats at the other end of the table.
“Monsignor, we are here to clarify some points that have arisen from your query about the existence of a Bible of Constantine,” Cardinal Ho Chan said. Jonathan knew him, but the cardinal did not smile or give him any form of recognition.
“Yes, Eminence, I will be glad to provide you with any information that I have.” Jonathan looked directly at the man.
“Where did you get the information this Bible, the book commissioned by Constantine, is still in existence?” asked the superior general.
“In a conversation this morning with Bridget Donavan. I was informed that she holds positive evidence that the Bible exist.” He took a long pause, and before he could continue Cardinal Sanso indicated he wanted to speak.
“You mean that woman who published the Gospel of St. Peter when we paid her not to?” asked Cardinal Sanso.
“Yes, that is the person with whom I spoke. She informed me that she knows of its existence and where it is possibly located. She is now planning to go and retrieve the book.” He decided not to correct the facts, since the Donavans had not been paid to not publish.
“That must not be allowed,” intoned the cardinal from the Congregation of the Faithful. His head sprang up from his bent-over posit
ion, and he continued in bellicose tones. “We must have that book. This must be stopped.”
Jonathan looked at the man in amazement. What set him off? The cardinal made little attempt to conceal his consternation. Jonathan garnered no clue as to what could have caused his explosion.
“Monsignor McGregor, where did she say this book is located?” asked the superior general. The man's brain seemed to be racing to some point undiscerned by Jonathan.
He sat astonished, not knowing where this could go. It all seemed so simple to him when he asked a nonthreatening question in the papal office and requested access to the archives. With the level of interest that it generated here at the Vatican there definitely must be more to this than simply finding one ancient manuscript. These men appeared upset. No, more than upset, they were conducting an inquisition.
And he was the one tied to the stake.
“Miss Donavan did not reveal the document's location. May I ask why there is such interest in this ancient manuscript?” Jonathan waited.
“Are you able to get in contact with Miss Donavan?” asked the superior general.
“Yes, I have her telephone number.”
The three looked at one another and held a sub voce conference that Jonathan could not hear. They deliberately avoided answering his question. Jonathan realized that to get this type of questioning by three of the highest members of the Vatican State provided a reason for him to be wary. They were after something or they knew something they were keeping from him.
“Monsignor, I'm well aware of your exploits with the Donavans last year. You handled that in a professional manner and saved the Church much embarrassment. I believe we have to ask you to help once more.” The Cardinal Secretary of State stood up after speaking and walked toward Jonathan.