‘It’s been a while, Mr Smith.’
Venti simmered under the influence of drugs, the portals to his mind bombarded by an array of chemicals, giving him an unflappable sense of divinity.
‘Eminence, for a time I believed we would never again have the pleasure of each other’s company.’
With no physical greeting, the cold divide between them remained frozen. From under his red vestments Venti produced the cube and sat it on his lap.
‘Well done, Mr Smith, your reward will be both in heaven and on Earth.’
Venti was delusional; convinced he possessed authority to decide the fate of men in this world and the next. His pleasant tone digressed to a threatening lilt.
‘Now, Mr Smith, all that remains is to extract the contents of the cube to reveal the details of the manifest bound at its heart. I may even release you from the shackle which binds you to me. What does the priest know?’
‘He knows nothing of our arrangement but he holds significant information against you. Do not provoke him.’
For Venti, the thought of being perceived as anything less than rational, ate at him like acid. He hid the cube under his garments, closed his eyes, and after a discomforting minute he spoke.
‘127 Marinola Drive, tomorrow at 10 a.m. sharp.’
Venti pressed his palms together in prayer. In quietness, he sought divine intervention. Zachary walked away. Venti’s expression turned dark as the fading footsteps echoed to nothing. He was alone; unaware the Spirit had deserted him.
42
A bright red laser-beam cleaved fillets of glass off each side of the cube. The glow of the super-hot beam reflected in the mirrored lenses of the three goggled observers. A woman slid her hand from a glove, pushing her goggles up onto her forehead. With a sharp scalpel, she gently prodded the yellowed substance encompassing the inner cube, finding it sticky as fresh toffee. As the room filled with the scent of raw pine, Venti closed his eyes, wandering back to his childhood, recalling the cool of the forest.
‘Definitely tree resin’, the woman said. ‘Spectral analysis will pinpoint its origin and age.’
‘How long will it take?’ Venti said.
‘By this evening,’ the woman said.
‘What about the spider?’ Venti said, hoping the woman could tell him everything he wanted to know.
‘I know little about spiders, Eminence.’
‘We want to see what’s at the cube’s centre,’ Venti said.
The woman pushed the scalpel tip into the resin as it cooled.
‘I’ll shave some more off the cube.’
The three pulled their goggles back over their eyes and the woman nimbly rotated the cube in the laser-beam. Venti eyed the prize, its secret creeping closer. With the flick of a switch the beam evaporated. Venti picked up the cube. Warm to the touch, he deemed the gentle heat to be a sacred energy pulsing into his soul. He closed his eyes but the woman interrupted his dream.
‘With your permission, Eminence, I can remove the remaining resin and x-ray the cube now. It will only take a few minutes.’
‘How is that possible? The resin must be thoroughly imbedded after all these years,’ Zachary said.
‘Technology, Mr Smith.’
The woman handed him a thick operating manual that Zachary quickly scanned.
‘Follow me,’ she said.
She led them into a smaller room where the walls, ceiling and floor were painted black. Under a soft blue light sat a microwave-sized grey box on a square stainless-steel table next to a keyboard and a flat screen monitor.
‘May I?’ The woman extended her hand toward Venti.
He placed the cube on her palm, draining him of energy. The door of the grey box sprung open at the push of a button and the woman placed the cube inside on a raised platform. She turned her attention to the computer, typing quickly so the screen filled with an array of windows containing formulae and numbers neither Venti nor Zachary could interpret. The woman hit a last key and ushered the men out.
A deep whirr emanated from within the closed room. The woman stared up at a dome-covered light bulb above the door, the two men also drawn to it, not knowing what to expect. The whirr subsided. A chime pinged and the light above the door flashed police-car blue.
‘Wait here,’ the woman said.
She re-entered the room, leaving Venti and Zachary standing together in uneasy silence. After an interminably long minute the woman backed through the doorway and turned to face the men, her white coat, tied back hair and safety glasses no veil to her obvious beauty. In a gloved hand, she held the wooden cube, free of resin. Perched on top, the giant spider, every hair bristling erect, appeared so alive the Cardinal feared it might leap onto his face and drive its fangs deep into his nose. He imagined the mysterious machine in the room had magical powers to restore life, a thought only made possible by the soup of drugs swimming in his head.
The woman put the cube on the table.
‘Please excuse me. I’ll be in my office. Call me when you are ready to leave.’ A staccato feed of paper spat from a nearby printer.
‘I almost forgot.’ The woman examined then placed two sheets of paper side by side on the table for the men to see. ‘These are inverted negatives of the x-rays. Your wooden cube is hollow with a shallow compartment at the bottom and tubular shadows inside. There’s also an irregular hairline seam running around the exterior of the cube.’
The woman sensed the thrill coursing through both men as she left them.
‘Remove the spider, Mr Smith,’ Venti said.
Zachary did not hesitate, reaching down, gently pinching the plump abdomen between his thumb and fore finger and setting the spider down on the bench.
Venti paid little attention to the hairy creature, picking up the cube, the raw artefact firing his neurons to ever greater heights of invincibility. Invigorated by his morning drug cocktail he felt at one with God. He wanted to hold the moment forever, beautifully immersed in the universe. For a fleeting moment, Venti dared to assume the mantle of Saviour for himself.
Zachary was bewildered by the behaviour of a man he now considered on the brink of insanity.
Out loud, Venti counted the tiny fish covering the cube. Several times he stopped, starting again from one. His compulsive nature did not let him rest until he was certain he’d counted correctly. He uttered the number two hundred and forty-six, noting there were forty-one fish randomly arranged on each face. Venti smelled the cube then surprisingly relinquished the relic to Zachary.
‘How do we open it, Mr Smith?’
Zachary shook the cube. The x-ray had showed something inside. He took a magnifying glass from the bench, finding the single fine line that ran around the cube. He tried pulling the cube apart.
The woman observed the men, amused by their attempts to solve the puzzle.
Venti’s pills were wearing off. ‘There must be a hammer somewhere, Mr Smith.’
‘The cube has waited two thousand years and you want to smash it and risk destroying its secret? I’m sure we can find a better way.’
Venti’s irrationality of withdrawal raged against any logic. He stiffened, commencing a mental spiral requiring medication. Zachary suggested a coffee break. A spark crossed Venti’s eyes at the opportunity to relieve his symptoms. They abandoned the cube and left the room. The Cardinal excused himself to the bathroom, leaving Zachary alone with the woman.
‘I know how to open it,’ she said.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘The cube, I know how to open it. Coffee first?
Zachary was distracted by the woman’s claim. He nodded in agreement, helping her make the beverages.
‘And please, call me Rachel.’
They re-entered the laboratory, lining up the steaming drinks on the table beside the spider and the innocuous looking cube.
Rachel sipped her coffee.
‘There’s another feature of the x-ray, Zachary. See these shad...’
Venti burst through th
e door, not in anger but at the thought of missing something, wide eyed, expectant, refuelled and ready to contemplate the cube once more.
‘Yours is the red mug, Eminence,’ Rachel said, momentarily turning the Cardinal from his primary mission.
‘As I was explaining, Zachary...’
Zachary gave Rachel a quick, almost imperceptible shake of his head, unseen by Venti. She continued. ‘...it is a marvellous piece of new technology greatly aiding our work here at the institute.’
Venti picked up the cube, inhaling its sandalwood scent.
‘Thank you for your help this morning, Rachel. Mr Smith and I are most grateful. We will show ourselves out.’ Venti left his cooling coffee untouched. Zachary discreetly raised his eyebrows at Rachel and she understood they needed to talk further.
As the two men reached the sidewalk, Zachary told Venti to wait while he dashed back to the laboratory to collect his sunglasses. He knocked on the door of Rachel’s office.
‘Back so soon,’ Rachel said.
‘Meet me at the Trevi Fountain at 6 p.m.’
He left hurriedly, patting the glasses in his pocket the whole time.
Zachary caught up with Venti who was stoned and watching the traffic. The Cardinal risked unwanted attention in his bright vestments, especially while the Golgotha Sword remained a headache for the Holy See.
Zachary hailed a taxi and bundled Venti into the back seat where they sat wordlessly. Under a veil of mind-altering chemicals, the Cardinal was resolute, and with the cube he was untouchable.
The taxi dropped the men in Saint Peter’s Square. Venti repeatedly tossed the cube into the air. Each time, Zachary’s heart rose into his mouth, and Venti delighted in the unease it was causing.
‘I will solve the riddle of the cube by morning, Michael.’
Venti glared at Zachary. ‘Address me appropriately.’
‘Meet me at dawn on the left bank, Michael, near the old Caesar Bridge.’
Venti walked away. To spite Zachary, he continued to toss the cube, before disappearing behind the statue of a seventh-century saint.
43
Rachel wore a blue dress and her hair out. A warm afternoon breeze came across the piazza as she lobbed a silver coin into the fountain.
‘Been waiting long?’
Rachel turned at Zachary’s voice. She had been at the fountain since 5:30.
‘A couple of minutes,’ she said. Her calm demeanour barely hid her excitement, acutely aware of his history including his recent disappearance and subsequent rescue from Sudan.
‘Ice-cream?’ Zachary said.
‘On me,’ she said.
They ordered from a gelato cart on the edge of the piazza.
On a bench in the sun, they started on their icy treats, racing against the heat.
‘Tell me about the x-rays, Rachel?’
‘Four internal locks.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Four simple wooden locks inside the cube to prevent it pulling apart.’
‘Why didn’t you say something at the lab?’
‘I sensed animosity between you and Cardinal Venti and it was fun watching two intelligent men try to figure it out for themselves.’
‘A mundane social life?’ Zachary said.
‘Each to their own, Mr Smith.’
‘So how do you open it?’ Zachary said.
‘Obviously, the locks can’t be picked from the inside so something on the cube’s surface is the key. There must be a moving part and it’s likely those little fish hold the answer, a release mechanism or a button of some sort. What do you expect to find inside?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Zachary crunched the tip of his cone, devouring the last mouthful of ice-cream.
‘Danger, Will Robinson!’ Rachel pointed across the piazza to a pick pocket deftly relieving a tourist of his wallet.
‘You’re a fan?’ Zachary said.
‘Of what?’
‘Lost in Space.’
‘Unabashed, seen every episode at least four times,’ Rachel said with renewed enthusiasm.
‘That explains it.’
‘What?’
‘Your dismal social life.’
‘Hardly, Mr Smith.’
‘We could rekindle some of your childhood memories in front of the television with some takeout, or dine at a quaint little restaurant I know near the Colosseum?’
Rachel put a finger to her chin in mock dilemma. ‘Since I hardly know you it seems proper to dine out and save the space adventures for another time.’
‘Shame, I have the complete series on disc.’
‘Talk about my sheltered life.’ Rachel took Zachary’s hand. ‘I want to show you one more thing.’
She led him past the fountain as the eyes of Neptune followed them. A distant seismic event rumbled toward Rome. By the time it rolled deep beneath the city its amplitude diminished, and people in their homes and on the street sensed nothing. In the bowels of the observatory, a tiny bump registered on the seismograph.
44
An orange dawn pierced the mist above the river. Venti leant against a light-pole near the bridge, vaporous in the fog, nonchalantly spinning the cube into the air. Zachary feared Venti would fumble and drop it the longer he persisted.
Zachary made sure Venti saw him walk to a bench beside a footpath busy with joggers.
He came and sat by Zachary. ‘Do you have the answer?’
‘Show me the cube.’
Venti handed it to Zachary who took a rubber-tipped pencil from his pocket.
‘The fish are the key.’
Zachary prodded the fish one by one. A woman, walking past, recognised Cardinal Venti, bidding him good morning. Zachary felt a spot on the surface of the cube give, and continued probing as if nothing had happened. Venti turned to him.
‘No luck?’
‘Not yet, Eminence.’
Venti seemed pleased by the formal address.
Zachary stood, stretched his legs and arms as a signal and sat back down to work on the cube.
A young girl raced along the footpath, puffing loudly, face flushed red. Out of breath, she stopped where the men were sitting and reached out, clutching the cuff of Venti’s shirt-sleeve.
‘Help me, I’ve lost my mummy.’
She tugged on Venti’s sleeve and he could not resist her desperate plea or the neurons firing through his brain in an overwhelming rush. No chemical or prospect of the greatest secret could distract him. He broke into a run, the girl leading him by the hand. He threw Zachary an evil glance. There were others watching. The girl would be safe.
Zachary focused on the cube, found the promising fish, leant on it with the rubber tip of the pencil and heard a click. The seam split apart rending the cube into uneven halves. He poked inside the empty space with a finger. The floor of one half appeared shallower than the other, the wood a different shade. When Zachary pushed down a corner the false floor tilted, exposing a cavity. He pinched the thin square of wood between two fingers, and pulled it free.
He glanced toward the river. No sign of Venti. The cavity held two tightly-rolled scrolls. Zachary took two silver tubes from his jacket, unspun the lids and slipped a scroll in each. Gently he edged the false bottom back into the cube, pushing it downwards, unable to get it to sit evenly. He removed it, putting it hurriedly in his trouser pocket.
On the banks of the Tiber, Venti stood with the girl.
‘What was mummy doing near the water?’
‘I don’t know. Blinky slipped her lead and ran off, now I can’t find them.’
‘Blinky?’
‘Our rabbit.’
Venti scanned the softly-eddying river. He was torn. He saw nothing except a pair of teal ducks but would have been blind to a raft of bodies drifting past. He trembled with excitement. Then, when he turned away from the river, the little girl was gone. Venti spun in a circle, gasping for air, pacing desperately along the bank searching for her. In a darkening mood, he headed toward Zachary. He summoned
all his powers to mask his emotions, pushing the rage to the deepest vault of his being.
‘Find her?’ Zachary said.
‘All’s well that ends well,’ Venti said. ‘Her mother was searching just as frantically past the bridge, questioning passers-by. We found the dog too.’ Venti added, fishing for Zachary’s part in it all. ‘Hand me the cube.’
‘I still haven’t...’
‘Give it to me.’ Venti snatched it.
In black, Venti walked away like a shadow. Zachary patted his jacket pocket, removed his cell phone and made a call.
‘Steve, I have it.’
Venti amused himself playing games with his personas. Firstly, he explored the state of surprise. He poked the fish, splitting the cube in half, placing a hand over his mouth to stifle his squeal of amazement. Next, he pretended to explore the inside of the cube. Finding nothing he invoked the second state, being anger. He slammed the cube onto the desk, his hand taking the brunt of the impact. Venti paused, stared at his reflection in the computer screen and burst into dark laughter, invoking the third state. He expected the cube to be empty so he played out the fourth state in his mind. With perfect timing and the meeting in two days, Venti perceived his narrow path to immortality slowly widening.
45
Zachary answered the doorbell. Father Stephen stood on the doorstep, raising a smile.
‘I knew you’d succeed, Zach. I prayed for you.’
‘Come in, Steve. No bugs, and that’s the truth. Venti will never know what takes place here.’
Zachary led Father Stephen to his modern office and the glorious view over the sleepy Tiber. On a table rested a pair of silver vials.
‘Steve, you be the first to unfurl the scrolls. Go ahead.’
Father Stephen broke into an involuntary sweat, picked up a vial and unscrewed the lid. He tipped the first papyrus scroll out onto the table.
The men pushed their clammy hands into white silk gloves.
Father Stephen pinned the scroll to the table with a finger. The papyrus was pristine, with tension still in the coil of the ancient paper. The glass cube had sealed it beautifully from the elements, perfectly suspending it in time. With a silky palm, Father Stephen unfurled the papyrus across the table like a supermarket docket, as Zachary read the inscription.
The Jesus Germ Page 20