Book of Dreams

by Bunn, Davis

  The sight of uniformed officers and a BBC cameraman silenced the pub. Elena felt the weight of eyes follow them up the stairs and down the side hall. Outside a pair of gilded oak doors stood a pair of suited bodyguards. One of them raised his wrist to his mouth at their approach, but Nigel moved swiftly. He gripped the man’s arm, twisted him about, and planted him against the wall.

  Mehan cut off his protest by placing his badge next to the man’s eyes. “You are not under arrest. Yet.” He turned to the nearest police officer. “Restrain him.”

  “Sir.”

  Mehan turned to the other guard and said, “Open the doors.”

  The second guard fished a key from his pocket and turned the lock.

  A voice from within said, “I expressly ordered you not to permit any …”

  The familiar voice died away. Easton Grey rose slowly to his feet as they filed in. His gaze flickered back and forth, growing more astonished with each new discovery. Lawrence. Antonio. Sandra. Elena. A newscaster he had last seen at the BBC studios. Cameraman. Sound tech. Nigel. Shirley. Janine. And the police.

  Easton said, “What on earth …”

  Sandra glared at the man seated by the side wall. “We meet at last.”

  Cyril Price stared at them in utter horror.

  When Detective Mehan started forward, Andrew Kerr planted a firm hand on his arm. “Forgive me, sir, but might I first have a moment?”

  “Be swift about it.” Mehan said to the nearest officer, “Bar that other door.”

  “Most kind.” Kerr turned to the two men who had entered behind the detective. “Mr. Ambassador, Mr. d’Alba, could you tell me what you see here?”

  “Get out of here,” Easton demanded.

  Lawrence said, “This is a gathering of the forces of doom.”

  Antonio said, “The people seated to either side of Easton Grey are none other than the chairmen of two of Britain’s largest insurance companies. And that gentleman at the table’s far end is the chief of derivatives of France’s second largest bank.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Absolutely.” Antonio smiled at the man. “I fired him five years ago.”

  Lawrence continued, “And these two gentlemen head up Luxembourg-based companies used to hide certain activities of major Wall Street banks. They are actually owned by board members. One of their major shareholders is the gentleman you see here at the head of the table.”

  “Easton Grey.”

  “None other.”

  Grey stormed, “This is a private meeting!”

  Kerr smiled at the gentleman. He then asked Lawrence, “So what do you suppose is the basis for this meeting?”

  Antonio said, “You heard Teddy Wainwright’s warning. The banks intend to siphon off cash from the world’s insurance companies and feed it to their derivatives traders. They will also bundle the risk and use it to develop what are known as sophisticated debt instruments. What you see here is another global meltdown in the making.”

  Kerr said, “All this done with the approval and direct participation of the man supposedly responsible for overseeing America’s banks.”

  “This is outrageous!” Easton Grey’s voice shook as violently as his hands. “I will have you arrested for slander!”

  “You are certainly free to level whatever charges you wish, sir.”

  Mehan took that as his cue. “In the meantime, Cyril Price, you are hereby rendered into custody on suspicion of colluding in the assault on Antonio d’Alba, Lawrence Harwood, and Dr. Elena Burroughs. Officer, you may search and cuff the gentleman.”

  49

  THE FOLLOWING FRIDAY

  They were unable to leave England for another week. The furor surrounding the events continued to mount. Confronted with the photographs linking him to the female assailant, Cyril Price cracked like a chubby nut. In exchange for leniency, he spilled and spilled and spilled some more.

  Easton Grey’s home office contained a safe. Despite his lawyer’s most valiant efforts, a writ was served and the safe opened. In it was Elena’s missing book of dreams.

  As Elena walked through Heathrow’s Terminal Five, headlines shouted at her from every newsstand they passed. Easton Grey had been fired from both his Washington position and his Wall Street boards. He was free on bail of fifty million dollars, while Brussels argued with London and Washington over who could try him first.

  When they were settled into the BA flight for Rome, a flight attendant offered them a Financial Times. Lawrence and Sandra Harwood’s photograph dominated the front page, as the President of the United States formally welcomed Lawrence back to the same post he had been fired from.

  In exchange for accepting the appointment a second time, Lawrence had insisted on veto power over every other member of the commission. In the newspaper interview, Lawrence stated that he was not after allies. Dissenting voices were essential to good governance. What he wanted was honesty and a focus on the people and the nation they had been appointed to serve.

  Antonio said, “Thank you for making this trip with me.”

  “I’m the one who should be thanking you,” Elena said.

  The book of dreams had been too large to be treated as simple carry-on luggage, so Antonio had bought a third seat. The book was belted into the seat next to Elena, bound inside a blanket and this inside a wide valise of parachute silk. Because of the gold on the pages, they had been required to open it for the airport security detail. Elena touched the case as the plane powered down the runway. She shivered.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Everything’s fine.”

  “Your shoulder is hurting?”

  “No. It’s not that.” She hesitated, then confessed, “I feel like there’s an energy pulsating from the book. Like I’m being drawn toward another event.”

  Antonio gave a genuine moan. “Please, not yet.”

  “I completely agree.” She looked at the case. “Maybe we should have left this for another time.”

  “I asked, they said yes, they said now. It’s best to move while they are interested, no?”

  Antonio had spoken with allies within the Vatican, who had said they would be delighted to have their finest artists in calligraphy help to duplicate the book. Recovery of the stolen book did not change the need to have a newer version that could be used on a daily basis. The Vatican specialists had begged for a chance to see the book and meet the person into whose care the book had been given.

  Antonio said, “Brussels called.”

  “When?”

  “Last night. They have offered me the position of chairman. Again.”

  Elena started to ask why he had waited this long to tell her. But his forehead was creased in the manner that signaled genuine distress. “What’s the matter?”

  “I am afraid.”

  She reached over and took his hand.

  “To believe we can actually defy such powerful and entrenched forces, I fear it is a triumph of optimism over reality.”

  Elena thought of all he had gone through. The murder of his beloved wife, so they could publicly cripple this good man. The pleasure they had taken from watching him retreat into obscurity. She said, “I know what Francesca would say.”

  Antonio’s head turned slowly toward her.

  “I know because I share her love for a truly wonderful man.” Elena smiled. “She would say it is time to stand and defy them. It is time to bring them down.”

  A trio of dark-suited guards met them planeside and ushered them into a private chamber where a customs officer stamped their passports and officially welcomed them to Rome. They were taken directly to a sedan with little Vatican flags fluttering from the hood. When their luggage was stowed in the trunk, the car lumbered away, made heavy by its bulletproof shielding. Elena observed the Italian countryside through overthick glass and wondered if she would ever grow accustomed to the trappings of modern power.

  The Vatican glowed in the sunset like an empire beyond the reach of time. They were ushe
red through a pair of massive gates manned by Swiss guards in full regalia. More guards snapped to attention as they were greeted by berobed officials. One of them, wearing the crimson robes of power, was Cardinal Carlo Brindisi. “My dear Dr. Burroughs, what a delight it is to meet with you again.” He turned his benevolent smile on Antonio. “And to find you in such wonderful company. I cannot tell you how happy this makes me.”

  “Hello, old friend,” Antonio said.

  “Come, come. My specialists are so excited that they have not slept or eaten for days.”

  Brindisi led them into a main audience hall. A cluster of seven monks, identified as Aramaic historians and calligraphers, oohed and aahed over the book. They asked questions until Antonio finally declared that the rest would have to wait until the next day.

  But as they were readying to depart, Brindisi’s phone rang. He turned away, murmured a few words, then turned back and said, “Dr. Burroughs, there is someone who would very much like to have a word.”

  “Can it wait?”

  “Unfortunately, this official is scheduled to depart for South America tomorrow.”

  “I really am very tired.”

  Antonio said, “She is still recovering from a serious accident.”

  “I am well aware of the recent attack on Dr. Burroughs.” Brindisi carried himself with calm authority. “I would not ask this of you if it were not rather important.”

  “Oh, all right.”

  “Thank you. This way.” But when Antonio started to follow, the church official held up his hand. “I’m sorry, my friend. Only Dr. Burroughs. You may wait here with the book, if you please.”

  Brindisi led her up a flight of stairs and down an impossibly long hallway. She would have complained about the trek, but her attention was captured by the artwork and the ancient surroundings. She followed him across an interior courtyard filled with evening light and birdsong and blooming trees, then back into yet another chamber, this one peaked like a chapel and over a hundred paces long. Then down another hallway, which ended at a narrow oaken door of impossible age.

  Brindisi smiled as he opened the door and said, “I shall await you here.”

  It was only when she passed through the doorway did she realize she was inside the Sistine Chapel.

  She gawked at the ceiling she had before only seen in photographs. Directly overhead, the hand of God reached forward, offering the brilliant touch of life to Adam. The wings of angels holding Adam aloft seemed to beat softly in the flickering candlelight.

  Then she saw that she was not alone.

  Seated upon a bench midway down the chapel’s side wall was a man. He was not so much old as cloaked in two thousand years of heritage and authority. He smiled at her approach, but he neither rose nor spoke until she settled into the seat beside him.

  In softly accented English, the man said, “I am having the most terrible dreams.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Davis Bunn is the author of numerous national bestsellers in genres spanning historical sagas, contemporary thrillers, and inspirational gift books. He has received widespread critical acclaim, including three Christy Awards for excellence in fiction, and his books have sold more than six million copies in sixteen languages. He and his wife, Isabella, are affiliated with the University of Oxford, where Davis serves as writer in residence at Regent’s Park College. He lectures internationally on the craft of writing.

  READING GROUP GUIDE

  Discussion Questions

  1. Elena’s experiences suggest that following God’s lead takes her in a very different direction from what she had expected. Do you see God’s lead as offering an easier road?

  2. Do you hold certain assumptions about receiving a spiritual gift? Are these images based on a desire to do God’s will, or your own desire to receive acclaim and ease?

  3. Elena realizes that she may have had a hand in holding herself back from true healing. She comes to see that her present perspective, how she defines herself, is based in part on her sorrow. To give this up and accept full healing means losing a connection to her deceased husband. And yet, until she relinquishes this hold, she cannot accept a vision of what future God might have in store. Can you find a parallel in your own life, where holding on to some less than positive or healing perspective might be keeping you from what you say you want, or what God wants for you?

  4. In this story, several characters experience what at the time appear to be monumental setbacks. And yet these same events prove to be great leaps forward, both for them personally and for their causes. Can you recall a time when what first seemed to be a defeat actually became a lifetime triumph? Can you look back now and see God’s hand at work in these experiences?

  5. In her encounter group, Elena urges the participants to write down the request they are asking of God. One member of the group confesses later that this proved vital. Otherwise he would have risked forgetting the problem and its solution by simply moving on to the next unresolved issue. Have you ever asked. God for aid, then neglected to recognize his hand at work in your life? Have you failed to thank him for a gift like this? Why do you think this happened? Do you find it hard to acknowledge God’s power at work in your life?

  6. The basis for Elena’s gift is a series of meditations on the Lord’s Prayer. Have you ever spent time examining this prayer? If not, do you feel this might be an enriching experience, one you should take on? If so, have you experienced any particular gift of the Spirit that you would like to share?

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