"That's amazing," Michelle said. "You've carried this extraordinary history with you for all these years."
"It's part of my family's story. We have a unique relationship to that church."
"Indeed you do." Jack carefully shifted the weight of his heavy arm cast around. "How does this mesh with what happened to the ending of Mark's Gospel?"
"When the story started in the first century, my family were not Christians. Apparently, with time, this changed. They came to treasure the fragment in their possession without realizing how priceless it was. Only after several centuries did they fully recognize what they had. By then, political intrigue had entered the church and touched its leadership. Revealing what they had kept hidden might have had dangerous repercussions for my ancestors. Consequently, they concealed the parchment in an unusual place and told no one except family members."
"Only your family knew?" Michelle asked.
"Only the inner circle of our family. It became our guarded secret carefully handed down from generation to generation through the centuries."
"And now you have brought this information to us," Jack said.
"I have come to the conclusion that it is time to release this treasure to the world. From all that I have learned about the two of you, I believe you will deal with this revelation in a manner that honors our family and its diligence through the many centuries."
"We are profoundly honored," Jack said. "Can you tell us now where this fragment can be found?"
Guido shook his head. "If for some reason we are wire tapped or someone overheard what we have just said, all chaos would break loose. We must take this journey a step at a time. Only as I know each piece in the puzzle is safe will I reveal where the next piece can be found. This will protect you as well. No one can come after you because you won't know."
"My, my," Michelle said. "We're in on a mystery scavenger hunt."
"I'm afraid so," Guido said. "I don't see any other way to keep us safe."
"I guess that puts you in the driver's seat," Jack said. "I'm still on the lame side, but Michelle is already back at work."
"They've moved our offices inside Santa Maria Church in a back room," Michelle said. "The new priest was gracious enough to allow us to work inside. We had a significant amount of material destroyed in the blast, but the books and papers that remained have been stacked in the new offices. I am still trying to get everything back in order, and it'll take a while to do so."
"OK," Guido said. "I will start work in those offices."
Michelle smiled. "You bet. We're ready for that next big step."
36
The Townsends' apartment had stairs leading up from the street, making it a challenge for Jack to come and go easily. Small, the flat had one bedroom with a kitchen, living room, and dinning room almost comprising the entire area. On a side wall, books sat on a large brown shelf piled up nearly to the ceiling. Most of the flat looked pedestrian and only functional. The bedroom barely accommodated a bed and a chest of drawers. Jack's heavy cast still required some assistance to get him out of bed and this morning wasn't any different. Holding him tightly, Michelle eased Jack through the bedroom door and onto the couch in the living room.
"You don't need to hold me like a china cup," Jack said. "I'm doing much better, and my memory is improving.
"Remember anything more about Dov Sharon?"
"What a funny, brilliant guy he was, but none of the other details are there. I just know he worked for us and you said he had been killed."
"You don't remember any aspects of the search for The Prologue of James?
"Sorry dear. It's just not come back yet."
Michelle sat down across from him. "We could certainly use any hints about where it's hidden. The Prologue would be an extraordinary find."
"Right now I'm walking again and that's big time for me. I'm not to worry about our projects yet. Lying in that bed on my back for days didn't help my stamina, but a little physical therapy put the punch back in me. I just hate having to lug this cast around day and night."
"Won't be long until you get those lovely biceps out of the box again."
"Lovely nothing. I'll be shriveled into diminished flab. Don't kid me. It must have been a bad break."
"Jack, the conference table saved your life. If it hadn't hit your arm so hard, the blast would undoubtedly have killed you. We're talking serious stuff here."
"I know." Jack shrugged. "Nothing of that day remains in my head, and my memories of Dov are only fleeting. Let's pray the rest of the story filters back in."
"Absolutely." Michelle stood up. "Let me fix you a cup of coffee. A little java might offer some encouragement."
"Good idea."
A knock sounded from the door.
"Who in the world could that be?" Michelle said. "Only a few people know our address."
"Beats me. Take a look."
Michelle opened the door. "Buongiorno."
"Buongiorno, indeed!" Father Donald Blake said.
"Why, it's our American compatriot and foremost male chauvinist," Michelle said.
"Ah, you women are all alike. Never let a poor man off the hook. Are you going to let me in or make me shout at your husband from out here in the hall?"
"You old fraud," Michelle jabbed back. "Come in before we call the police on you for disturbing the peace."
Father Blake walked briskly into the small living room with his overcoat hanging heavily from his shoulders. "Jack, my boy! How are you?"
"I'm still struggling to get my memory back. Forgive me, but I don't recognize you."
Blake sat down slowly. "I'm an American priest in Rome. I went to the hospital with your wife the day of the bombing and stayed with her most of the day when she was unconscious. We've been friends for some time."
Jack smiled. "Please forgive me. Pieces of my memory were simply blown away, but much has come back. I hope the Father Blake portion returns quickly."
"We've missed you," Michelle said. "You've been gone awhile."
"I had to go back to the United States. It was a personal matter, but I'm back again and making my rounds of my parishioners on the street. Always fascinating to have my many friends share with me."
"Interesting," Jack said. "We appreciate your dropping by."
"I didn't know you had our address," Michelle said.
"Oh, I have my ways of coming up with whatever I need. I'm simply pleased to see both of you doing so well. I see that you're out of that ball of bandages they had around your head, Michelle."
"They've even taken the staples out of my skull. A little on the ouch side, but I'm glad to be nearly healed. It was quite a blow that hit me when some part of the house flew by and knocked me to the ground."
"Indeed! I was there not long after it occurred. The bomb proved to be a highly nasty event. Jack, you probably don't remember me warning you that Americans could be the target of such explosions."
"He doesn't, but I do. I overheard your confidential conversation. Unfortunately, we didn't take you seriously enough."
"Exactly," Father Blake said. "I hope you'll take what I'm about to tell you far more earnestly this time."
Michelle stiffened. "Don't tell me you have more bad news."
"Afraid so." Father Blake stood up and reached into the pockets of his overcoat. "I know good Christians don't believe in violence and that you practice peaceful responses. I'm hoping you'll listen to me and also practice a little self-protection." He pulled two pistols from each pocket and lay them on the coffee table.
"Guns!" Michelle gasped.
"Hear me out," Blake insisted. "Jack has a broken arm and is still recovering. No condescension intended, but you are a woman, Michelle. Brilliant, beautiful, a scholar, but a frail creation if you had to fight off an attacker. The two of you are completely vulnerable to another attack. Whoever set off that bomb isn't through. Finishing you off could well be their next line of attack. You need a gun."
Michelle felt the inner throbbing
that usually preceded an emotional attack. Light-headedness settled in, and for a moment she felt as if a tsunami was about to land on her. Gripping the chair tightly, she swallowed hard and fought to stop the assault.
"Believe me, you need to be armed," Blake said.
Jack stirred nervously in his seat. "I've never kept a gun. We've always believed that Providence provided our security. "I-I don't know what we'd do with a weapon."
"You're talking to a priest. I'm surely not casting any aspersions on divine guidance, but that didn't stop the bomb from nearly killing both of you, and you're sitting there with a broken arm. When Father Raffello was stabbed, the heavenly hand didn't shelter him from the knife. I'm concerned that neither of you end up lying on the lawn with another blade in you. Remember that God helps those who help themselves. It's not in the Bible, but it should be. Understand me?"
"You're walking on the edge of heresy," Jack said.
Michelle's heart kept beating faster, but the attack had stopped before her memories went wild. Breathing more heavily, she kept trying to push the surging wave of emotion back.
"Exactly what are you suggesting?" Jack asked.
"I've brought two pistols with me and the papers that allow you to carry them legally. Jack, I thought a Browning double action 9mm would fit you well. It's a heavy enough pistol to stop an attacker dead in his tracks. For Michelle, I came up with a Walther PPK that's lighter. It only carries seven rounds but is more easily concealed. I want both of you to start carrying these weapons."
Michelle took another deep breath. "I-I don't know if I could."
"You most certainly can," Blake demanded. "Your life may well depend on it. Put these weapons in your briefcases or a purse. If the bad boys come sneaking around again, at least you're armed. Surely, you get the significance of what I'm saying."
"Yes," Jack said slowly. "It's a little hard for a couple of biblical scholars to imagine running around with guns like we're James Bond. That's not even close to our world. I don't know. We'll have to think about it."
"Think hard," Blake pushed. "This problem is far from over, and I can assure you more trouble is coming."
"Jack," Michelle said slowly with a reserved tone in her voice. "I didn't tell you this earlier because I didn't know if you'd remember the name, but there is an important piece of this puzzle you should know about. Remember Dr. Albert Stein?"
"Stein! Good heavens, I couldn't forget him. Yes, of course. I remember Stein."
The morning after the explosion Guido caught Stein walking through the ruins. I didn't know the significance of this fact, but the man could be dangerous."
Jack stared at her for several moments. "I trust God has strongly as I ever have, but I recognize the peril Father Blake is talking about. Yes, we could be in jeopardy. That's a fact we can't ignore. Leave the guns."
Albert Stein leaned next to the curtains and looked out the window. From the corner of his eye, he kept observing Klaus Burchel, sitting like a statue across the room and staring straight ahead with a frown across his face.
Stein turned around. "Something eating at you, Burchel?"
Klaus blinked several times and ran his tongue over his teeth. "I've been in on a few police chases and I've had my share of run-ins with authorities. You know I've been high on coke and smoked pot. Yeah, I was even forced to listen to the denazification indoctrination at school." He shrugged and turned nervously in his chair. "Sure. I was running from the police on this last trip to Munich. I've already told you that I panicked. But when I realized how much the Americans ruined my family's way of life, which led to my grandfather's death, it really flipped me out. Torched me." He looked up at Stein with a hard, stern stare. "Yeah, it bothered me a lot."
Stein nodded. "The Americans put the sharp blade in all Germans." He uncharacteristically softened his usual arrogant voice. "My family came out of the war better than yours," he said in an unusual thoughtful reflection. "We were lucky that the Americans needed what we could produce. Didn't stop me from hating them though." He cursed violently.
"Twice they brought Germany down," Klaus continued. "Those dog-faced Yanks pushed our heads underwater. Makes me want to put a gun in Townsend's face and blow his head off."
37
Pushing with her elbow, Michelle pried open the front door of Santa Maria Church and struggled through the entrance with her arms filled with books. The reverent sound of an organ playing signaled that worship was unfolding in the sanctuary and people would still be on their kneelers. Down the marble floor to her left, the door was already open to the offices the new priest had given them. Her steps echoed down the hall as she hurried toward their nook in the large church. She found Guido already hunched over a desk, studying some document.
"Buongiorno," Guido said politely and returned to the material in front of him.
She set the books down on the edge of the desk. Two desks had been pushed together to make room for a third now sitting against the wall. One empty file cabinet stood near the door. Paint had started to peel from the wall, and the color had faded long ago. An old statue of some saint stood in one corner as if watching over everything that might happen in the room and keeping an eye on a dilapidated fireplace in the center of the room. Someone had hauled in a small table placed in another corner with a coffeepot and cups ready for use. Recovered books from the wreckage had been stacked on the floor next to the wall and Michelle's desk was piled high with papers that Guido and the workmen had gathered up after the explosion. One look told her it would be days before the mess was completely straightened out. Not an encouraging thought.
"Looks like we've got our work cut out for us today," Michelle said.
Guido took off a pair of reading glasses and settled back in his chair. "I had no idea where to put what we picked up so I left the loose papers in a stack on your desk. I hope that is acceptable."
"More than acceptable. Jack and I appreciate all of your efforts while we were out of commission. Acquiring this room from the church officials helped infinitely more than I can say. Our apartment is simply too small to accommodate the research we are doing."
Guido held up the manuscript he had been reading. "This morning I took a long look at the Sarajevo Haggadah Dov had been working on. He must have found something fascinating in there that he never told any of us about."
"He probably did. Jack first met Dov while researching in the Armenian Library in Jerusalem. We quickly realized that Dov had an unusual ability to work with languages. From there, one thing led to another until he was part of our work here."
"Yes," Guido said. "I found him to be a thorough scholar. "We cannot make up for his absence."
Michelle whispered to Guido. "I think he stumbled on to where The Prologue of James might have been hidden if only Jack could remember what he said. We can only hope we will eventually recover that information.
Guido nodded. "Are we sure this room is electronically clear?"
Michelle shook her head and mouthed a no.
"As I suspected, we must be cautious."
"Unfortunately," Michelle said.
Guido got up and came around to sit on the edge of her desk. "We must not discuss any sensitive matters in this room. It is one of the reasons that I haven't told you and Jack about the next step in our search. If you knew where we are going, you'd be subject to attack and search. Not knowing allows you to stand above the chase. When the right moment comes, I'll tell you what comes next."
"I understand. You are a thoughtful man, Guido. I know you will reveal this crucial and strategic portion of our pursuit at the right time. Jack and I are both comfortable with this arrangement."
"For the moment, we must allow matters to settle and make sure the police really are on top of the pursuit of the criminals. As soon as we get some sense of where it's all going, we'll be ready to move."
"Super."
Guido pointed at the old fireplace with one hand and cupped the other over his mouth. "When you push the top of the irons
in the fireplace, it opens a secret door that allows you to walk down to the crypts below. Apparently it was a little escape mechanism that Cardinal Antonio Barberini built in here back in the 1600s. The Capuchin monks apparently were surrounded with considerable danger back in those days."
"Back in those days?" Michelle laughed. "I bet no one ever put a bomb under their bed."
"Good point. Today's world isn't a hair safer than theirs."
"I suppose I should get this office straightened up first thing," she said. We want to be able to move the moment you're ready to tell us where we're going."
Guido smiled and went back to the Haggadah.
Late afternoon shadows had already fallen by the time Michelle got the last of the papers off her desk and in order. The file cabinet no longer stood empty and many of their reference books had been placed in order. The complete collection of the works of The Ante-Nicene Fathers and The Post-Nicene Fathers had been stacked together for a quick grab. She knew well they contained all the writing of the earliest Christians during the first couple of centuries. Next to them, she had arranged other books that they used frequently.
"I can give you a ride home although I'm not sure it will be any faster than the subway," Guido said.
Michelle laughed. "This time of day it's a madhouse out there on the streets."
"I think that tomorrow we will be able to accomplish more," Guido said. "You have done a great deal today."
"We're getting there." Michelle slipped her topcoat on. "I guess we can go out the front door."
Shrouded In Silence Page 17