Intervention

by Robin Cook

“You wouldn’t do that,” Shawn said, but without much confidence. After all, had he been caught in a web similar to James’s, he might very well do the same thing. For as much as the ossuary affair was a win-win for him, for James it was clearly a lose-lose.

  “I’m going to contact the Pontifical Commission for Sacred Archaeology today, let them know how you abused their original courtesy to you, and let them contact their counterparts in both the Italian and Egyptian governments, who will not take kindly to your antics, and who will demand you be arrested, and you, too, Sana. Whether there will be an extradition, I don’t know, but surely the ossuary and its contents will immediately be returned, as will the codex and Saturninus’s letter.”

  “You’re extorting me!” Shawn cried.

  “How would you characterize what you are doing to me?”

  “This is outrageous,” Shawn continued.

  “What is the caveat you spoke of?” Sana questioned.

  “Thankfully, we have one sensible individual as part of the conspiracy,” James said. “The caveat is very simple and quite innocuous. I have found a charming, even radiant, young man who has in effect devoted his life to Mary and has been living in a Marian monastery for nearly the last eight years. I want you to hear from him and to feel his passion, and I want you to do it not as two ships passing in the night, which would enable you to close your ears to him and wall up your heart. I want you to spend quality time with him. Being realistic, how much longer do you two think you will need to study the ossuary’s contents?”

  Shawn looked up at Sana, who responded, “My input in this affair, as I mentioned, is going extremely well. Provided there are no surprises, a total of about a week at most.”

  “It’s harder for me to say,” Shawn admitted. “It’s all up to how long the unrolling is going to take. My guess and hope is that after one or two more three-hundred-sixty-degree cycles, it will become one hundred percent easier. It’s been my experience that the original moisture caused more of a problem with the pages closest to the scroll’s surface. With that variable in mind, I’d say anywhere from one week to two months.”

  “All right, then,” James said. “I’ll accept you people inviting Luke Hester as a houseguest for one week. But this must be, as I said, quality time. You must engage him and be interested in his life story, which has not been the easiest. The man has suffered but with the help of the Blessed Virgin has overcome his travail and torments. In other words, you must be hospitable to him as a true guest, like the child of one of your closest friends.”

  “What’s being hospitable?” Shawn asked warily. In some ways, this caveat seemed too easy. In other ways, he thought it capable of driving him crazy. Shawn had never been good at small talk, except with attractive women in bars with the aid of alcoholic lubricant.

  “I believe that is intuitive,” James said.

  “How old is this man?” Sana said.

  “I’ll leave that up to you to determine,” James said. “There is a disconnect between his age and his appearance. I found him very easy to speak with, and he is, as I said, quite charming and intelligent. Of course he might have some psychological scars from his difficult childhood, but they were not apparent at all when I interviewed him.”

  “I hope you’re not sticking us with some young, proselytizing born-again Christian,” Shawn said. “I’m not sure I could take a week of that.”

  “I mentioned he is charming,” James said. “I meant it. I’ve also told him the whole story about the ossuary, so you will have plenty to talk about. Now, what I’d like to know is whether we have a clear understanding of what the deal is here. I’m going to give him a mobile phone so he can call me. If he calls and complains that either of you is not engaging him appropriately, the deal is off. Is that understood?” James looked at both Shawn and Sana in turn, making sure he got clear acquiescence from both. The very last thing he wanted was for one of them, after the fact, to claim that they didn’t understand the deal. With a threat, the problem was that you had to be willing to carry it out.

  “When is this guest week going to begin?” Sana questioned.

  “What time will you be getting home tonight?” James asked.

  “About five would be my guess,” Sana said.

  “He’ll be waiting at your door,” James said.

  “Wait a second,” Shawn said. He looked at Sana. “We’re planning on going out to dinner tonight, as Sana had enough of the kitchen last night.”

  “That’s not a problem,” James said. “He’s eminently presentable. It will be a good way for you all to get acquainted on neutral ground.”

  “We’ve got to take this stranger out to dinner?” Shawn complained.

  “Why not? It’s a good way to start the relationship. I imagine it’s been a long time since he’s been taken out to dinner, if he’s ever been taken out to dinner. Think of the excitement you’ll be adding to this man’s life.”

  “Who’s going to pay?” Shawn asked.

  “I don’t believe you,” James said, “but I should. You are as cheap as you were in college.”

  “That’s for sure,” Jack said, speaking up for the first time.

  “If I have to endure it, I don’t think I should have to pay for it,” Shawn said, defending himself.

  “The archdiocese will cover Mr. Hester’s meal tonight, but not yours, big spender. Keep accurate records and receipts if you expect to be reimbursed.”

  “No problem,” Shawn said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to work.”

  26

  5:05 P.M., SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7, 2008

  NEW YORK CITY

  Luke Hester had never felt quite so vulnerable as he did standing at the front door to the Daughtrys’ wooden house beneath the cone of light from a downward-directed spotlight. He’d just used the door knocker to announce himself, and the harshness and loudness of the clang had surprised him and fanned the fires of his nervousness. Turning, he eyed the vehicle in which he’d been driven down to the Village with the archbishop sitting at the wheel. Self-consciously, he waved. The archbishop waved back and gave him a thumbs-up sign. Luke did the same back, wishing he felt half as confident as the archbishop professed to feel that he, Luke, was going to be successful talking the husband-and-wife team out of publishing articles detrimental to the Blessed Virgin and the Church. What had caused him the most pause was the cardinal’s assertion that Dr. Daughtry has the help and attention of Satan. As a consequence, Luke was terrified to face whoever was about to open the door.

  Perhaps the biggest reason Luke had not allowed himself to leave the monastery on his own since he’d fled there eight years ago was the fear that he would have to confront Satan, and here he was doing just that. And although he’d been forced during his teenage years to deal with Satan on a daily basis through his godless father, Luke conceded that he was still probably the least capable person to deal with the Prince of Darkness on any level.

  Adding to his unease and vulnerability was Luke’s apparel. It had been James’s idea that wearing his Brotherhood of the Slaves of Mary habit would be too much for Shawn, so Fathers Maloney and Karlin had between the two of them come up with a very casual wardrobe of jeans and shirts, some of which he was wearing at that moment and the rest of which he had stashed in a small roll-on suitcase at his side. Also in the suitcase were toiletries that the two priests had gone out to buy, as Luke had brought nothing of the kind with him from the monastery. Besides clothes and toiletries, the suitcase contained a cell phone, some cash, and a new Rosary blessed by the Holy Father himself as a special gift from the cardinal. If he needed anything, Luke was supposed to call Father Maloney or His Eminence.

  Suddenly, the Daughtrys’ door was pulled open to its full extent, and Sana and Luke confronted each other. Both froze in total surprise, as neither person came close to matching the other’s expectation. Sana was the most surprised, instantly overwhelmed, as James had been, by both Luke’s angelic, youthful appearance and virtuous aura but
mostly by his soft, imploring eyes that looked to her like bottomless crystal-blue pools and his pouty, vulnerable lips. For his part, Luke had expected an unattractive, threatening male figure like an allegorical image of the devil in a medieval painting.

  “Luke?” Sana questioned, as if she was experiencing a vision.

  “Mrs. Daughtry?” Luke questioned, as if perhaps he was at the wrong house.

  Sana looked around Luke’s thin but shapely body and caught sight of James, who had his vehicle’s interior light on. She waved to let him know that Luke was safe. James responded with a wave of his own, and then turned the vehicle’s interior light off in preparation of leaving.

  “Please come in!” Sana said, with an uncertain voice. She was weak-kneed and astounded by Luke’s luminosity, particularly the color and shine of his shoulder-length white-blond hair and the perfection of his skin as he passed by her. “Shawn!” she called out. “Our guest’s here.”

  Shawn appeared from the kitchen with a scotch on the rocks in his right hand. With a surprised reaction similar to Sana’s, he pulled himself up short and gazed openmouthed at Luke. “Good Lord, boy, how old are you?”

  “Twenty-five, sir,” Luke said. “About to be twenty-six.” He was relieved to a degree. Shawn didn’t look quite as formidable or devilish as he had feared.

  “You appear much younger,” Shawn commented. The boy had such enviably perfect skin, and teeth as white as new fallen snow.

  “Many people have said as much,” Luke responded.

  “You are to be our houseguest for a week,” Shawn continued. “Welcome.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Luke responsed. “And I was told you have been openly informed why I am here.”

  “You have been retained to talk me out of publishing my work.”

  “Only if it deals with the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of the Church, Mother of Christ, Mother of God, my personal savior, who has brought me to Christ, Mary of the Immaculate Conception, Mary Queen of Heaven, Queen of Peace, Stella Maris, and Mother of All Sorrows. It is to her I am devoted and have already begun to pray that you will not denigrate her by suggesting she was not assumed into heaven to reside with God: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”

  “My word,” Shawn commented, taken aback by this man-child, whom he already found incomprehensible. “Such an amazing litany. I understand you live in a monastery.”

  “That is correct. I am a novice with the Brotherhood of the Slaves of Mary.”

  “Is it true you haven’t left for eight years?”

  “Almost eight, at least not on my own. I did come here to the city with some of the brothers to have some medical tests a number of years ago, but this is the first time on my own.”

  Shawn shook his head. “It’s hard for me to believe a young person like yourself would be willing to deny your own freedom.”

  “My freedom I gladly sacrifice to the Holy Mother. Staying within the walls of the monastery gives me more time to pray for her intervention and the peace it brings.”

  “Intervention for what?”

  “To keep me from sin. To keep me close to Christ. To help the brothers in their mission.”

  “Come on!” Sana said to Luke. “Let’s take you up to your guest room.”

  Luke studied Shawn’s face for a moment, then followed Sana up the stairway leading to the upper floors. They passed the second floor, where Sana said Shawn was sleeping, and the third floor, where Sana said she was sleeping, to the fourth floor. It was a room with dormer windows that faced the front of the building.

  “Here’s where you will be staying,” Sana said, standing to the side, letting Luke step into the room dominated by a queen-size, four-poster bed. “Does it look like your room at the monastery?”

  “Hardly,” Luke said, taking a peek into the bathroom the guest room shared with the second guest room on the floor. He then returned to the roll-on suitcase and unzipped its cover. The first thing he pulled out was a small plastic statue of the Virgin Mary, which he placed on the side table. The second thing was a small, doll-like statue of the infant Jesus, dressed in an elaborate robe and wearing a crown. With tender care he placed the doll next to the Blessed Virgin.

  “What’s that?” Sana questioned.

  “The Infant of Prague,” Luke explained. “It was one of my mother’s favorite possessions before she passed away.”

  Next, Luke pulled out his black habit and hung it in the closet.

  “Is that your usual attire?” Sana questioned.

  “It is,” Luke answered, “but the cardinal thought it better that I wear more typical clothes that belong to his secretaries. Luckily, one of the men is close to my size.”

  “You wear what you like,” Sana said. “We will be going out to dinner in a half-hour or so. You do have time to take a shower if you so please. I am about to do so. Otherwise, we’ll meet you downstairs in the living room.”

  Shawn, Sana, and Luke arrived back at the Daughtrys’ home in a taxi just before nine-thirty p.m. The dinner at Cipriani Downtown had gone pleasantly enough until Luke had tried to turn the conversation over to his mission. Shawn, with almost as much alcohol on board as he’d had the night before, had used the opportunity to inform Luke that he was facing an impossible task, and the sooner he faced the reality, the better for them all. When Luke persisted, Shawn had gotten angry, and then the atmosphere had steadily disintegrated to where Shawn had refused to talk to Luke, whom he persisted on calling derogatorily “boy.”

  “Are you retiring for the night?” Shawn asked Sana, avoiding talking with Luke.

  “I think I’ll stay up for a little while with Luke,” Sana whispered. “I don’t want to have Luke report back to James that he’s not being received hospitably.”

  “Good idea,” Shawn said, reaching out to steady himself with the banister leading up the front stairs. “What time do you want to leave here in the morning to get to the OCME DNA building?”

  “How about after nine?” Sana said. “That will give me time to make breakfast for our guest so we get a good report.”

  “Another good idea,” Shawn said, slurring his words. “See you in the morning.”

  As Shawn slowly rose and disappeared up the stairs, Sana turned toward Luke. “How about a fire in the fireplace?” she suggested.

  Luke shrugged. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d experienced the pleasure of a fire. In some ways, he was nervous about enjoying himself too much after the disappointing evening, as he was depressed about his chances of overcoming Satan.

  “Come on!” Sana said encouragingly. “Let’s build the fire together.”

  Fifteen minutes later the two were sitting on the couch, mesmerized by the crackling fire that was beginning to spread upward from the kindling into the piled logs. Sana had a glass of wine, while Luke had a Coke. It was Sana who broke the silence. “The archbishop told us you’ve not had an easy life. Do you mind sharing with me your story?”

  “Not at all,” Luke said. “It is not a secret. I share it with those who will listen, as it is a tribute to the Blessed Virgin.”

  “We were told you had run away from home at age eighteen to join the monastery. Can I ask why?”

  “The immediate cause was my mother’s death,” Luke explained, “but the long-term cause was a very difficult childhood dominated by a godless father. In sharp contrast with my father, who was an abuser of alcohol and a wife beater, my mother was a very religious person who sincerely believed that she was at fault for my father’s behavior and not he. She believed, like Eve, that she had turned away from God by marrying my father and was a sinner to the point that she had convinced me that I was a child born in sin. She was so convinced that she told me that if I expected to salvage my eternal soul, I had to pray to the Virgin and consecrate my life to her, Christ, and the Church.”

  “My goodness,” Sana voiced, feeling strong compassion about Luke’s story. Although hardly the same, she had always felt she’d suffered from her father’s premat
ure death when she was only eight, even to the point of now wondering if one of the reasons she’d married Shawn was because when she first met him he was, to a large degree, a father figure that she’d missed. “Did focusing on the Church help?” she asked.

  Luke gave a short, contemptuous laugh. “Hardly,” he said. “One of the priests clearly perceived me as a troubled child and, being troubled himself, proceeded to take advantage of me for over a year.”

  “Oh, good Lord, no!” Sana said, feeling even more compassion for Luke. She was so taken aback that she had to actively suppress a strong urge to envelope him in her arms for fear of what his reaction might be. He might misinterpret her gesture as being more than empathy. He was, after all, not a child but a man. Besides, there was something rote about Luke’s delivery.

  “At first I thought it was relatively normal behavior,” Luke said wistfully, “as I thought I loved the individual. But as I grew older I came to recognize it was wrong. Not knowing what to do, since the priest was one of the more popular in the parish, I worked up the courage to tell my mother.”

  “Was she sympathetic?” Sana asked, with concern about where the story was headed, considering what Luke had already said about his mother.

  “Absolutely the opposite. Just like with her mixed-up belief she was at fault in regard to my father’s abuse, she was totally insistent that I had seduced the priest rather than vice versa, especially when she had asked me why it had lasted for so long and I had admitted that I had liked it, at least in the beginning. It’s been only in the last few years that the brothers at the monastery have finally gotten me to understand what really happened, and that I wasn’t responsible either for the inappropriate relationship with the priest or for my mother’s suicide.”

  “Oh, good Lord in heaven!” Sana said, as overwhelming compassion lessened her restraint and dissolved any questions about Luke’s story being rote, as if a memorized script. Without forethought she enveloped Luke in a sympathetic embrace, at least until she perceived his stiff resistance, at which point she quickly let go. “What a tragic story,” she added, with deep sympathy. She gazed at him with tenderness, wishing somehow to help the burden she imagined he suffered in relation to his mother, no matter what he said about the brothers helping him. She also felt distinct anger at the Church for having abused him, which suddenly gave her a better understanding of Shawn’s current mind-set.