Carbon-14: The Shroud of Turin (An Amari Johnston Novel)

by Williams, R. A.

  He leaned closer and followed her fingernail across the screen as she pointed out the subtle differences. “Yeah, you’re right. I can see it now.”

  “When you work a loom, everything is in a straight line, up and down, left to right. You would have to go out of your way to cause this sort of misalignment. But it might be the best you could do if you were making a repair.”

  “Wonder why nobody noticed?”

  “Nobody would notice this unless they knew what they were looking for. I can see how they missed it.” She narrowed her eyes. “Unless, of course, they chose this spot on purpose,” she said in a suspicious tone. “Let me see that other picture, the ultraviolet one you told me about.”

  “Yes ma’am,” he said and typed in a few commands. The floppy drive did a rhythmic click, click, click, until the photo appeared. “This one isn’t so subtle. I’m surprised nobody noticed.”

  On the computer screen, an image of the lower left quadrant of the Shroud glowed brightly in varying shades of yellow, orange, and green. Some pinkish color could be seen toward the top.

  “This is called a blue quad mosaic,” he said. “Now, look here, down next to where they took the carbon date sample. Just to the left is a known repair. You can clearly see the stitching. Notice how it’s a bluish green color?”

  “So the newer cloth fluoresces differently in ultraviolet.”

  “Exactly. Now look just to the right, at the spot they took the carbon-14 sample from. See anything funny?”

  “It’s fuzzy green and blue. The edge is the greenest and it gradually turns orange. Kevin, you’re a genius! That proves my point. The newest fibers are on the outer edge, and they gradually get older. That’s because the newer fibers are woven into the old fibers.”

  “Well, now hold on, Amari. This is evidence, but it doesn’t prove anything. Not by scientific standards. You would need to look at it under a microscope and actually see the cotton fibers. Otherwise, we just have a photographic anomaly. It doesn’t prove anything.”

  She sank back into her seat. “You said they had to burn the piece of the Shroud to do the carbon date. That’s too bad. Otherwise, I could look at it myself. They’ve got this great scope over in the biology lab. You can even take Polaroid pictures with it. I don’t guess you know where we can find another piece of the Shroud?”

  He pointed down the hall. “Locked up in Rahal’s office, that’s where.”

  She sprang to her feet. “Are you serious?”

  “We didn’t burn it all up. We kept a little just in case we needed to repeat something.”

  “Then let me see it.”

  “You’ll have to ask Dr. Rahal.”

  She sat back down. “You mean Dr. Nay-all.”

  The door suddenly swished open. Rahal stood in the doorway. “Dr. Brenner, did I not make myself clear. I told you this woman wasn’t allowed in this lab anymore.”

  “Actually, you sort of said she couldn’t be here on company time. This is my lunch break. Still got fifteen minutes left,” he said and pointed at his watch.

  Dr. Rahal’s misaligned eyes flashed with rage. “You know well what I meant, Dr. Brenner. This is a secure facility. There is a reason we have a keypad on the door. It is to keep unauthorized visitors out.” Rahal noticed the computer screen. “What is this? What are you showing her?”

  “Oh, it’s just . . .”

  Dr. Rahal didn’t wait for an answer. He moved closer to the computer screen and peered down at a little black box in the lower left of the picture and read what it said. “Shroud of Turin Research Project, blue quad mosaic. Where did you get this?”

  “Oh, that just came from a friend of mine.”

  “Then why is it on a computer that belongs to the university? The Shroud of Turin project is over, Dr. Brenner. You have a new assignment. I don’t want to see anything in your office that doesn’t involve the work ahead, do you understand me? The university isn’t paying you to show souvenir photos to nosey undergrads. If I had my way they would never have hired you. I saw no need for an inexperienced post-doc but somebody else thought otherwise.”

  Amari clinched her jaw and she felt the burn of blood rushing to her cheeks. How dare he talk that way to him? This wasn’t Kevin’s fault. He was just trying to help her. She hadn’t felt that way since she was a kid on the school bus, when she’d stood up for the kids who were harassed by the neighborhood bully. She jumped to her feet and locked her gaze on what she assumed was Dr. Rahal’s good eye. “Dr. Brenner is helping me with a school project, and that is university business.”

  Rahal gasped in surprise. “What was your name again?”

  “Amari Johnston.”

  “And what is your major?”

  “I’m an art major. He’s helping me with a project.”

  “Miss Johnston, what sort of art project would require input from a physicist? The two subjects are totally unrelated.”

  Stay calm, she told herself. It wasn’t the school bus. “Are they? According to your lab, the Shroud of Turin is a forgery. That means it’s a work of art. That puts it into my territory, don’t you think?”

  Jeremy appeared in the doorway with an older gentleman. The elderly man’s hair was swept over in a vain attempt to cover his bald head. He wore square bifocal glasses and an amused smirk on his face. “I’m sorry to intrude,” the elderly man said, “but I couldn’t help overhearing. Is there a problem? Maybe I can help.”

  “Amari, this is Professor Weiss,” Kevin said. “Remember, I told you about him. Hey, Jerry.”

  “Hey, Dr. Brenner,” Jeremy replied.

  “Professor Weiss, this is a friend of mine,” Kevin said without the slightest apologetic tone to his voice.

  “Amari Johnston,” she said and extended her hand. Firm handshake, look him in the eye.

  The professor took her hand with an equally firm grip. “A pleasure to meet you. There seems to be a disagreement? Is there anything I can do to help resolve this?”

  “Actually, there is,” she said. “I have good reason to believe the carbon date you ran on the Shroud was actually done on a repair. I think it was a patch. And if that’s the case, then the work you’ve done here doesn’t count.”

  Rahal looked like he’d been punched in the stomach. “That’s preposterous! We utilize only the highest of scientific standards. How dare you accuse us of such carelessness?”

  “I’m not accusing anyone,” she said. “Unless you know what you’re looking for, this could be an honest mistake.”

  “Dr. Rahal, if I may,” Professor Weiss said. “Miss Johnston, you seem very convinced of what you are saying. Do you care to elaborate? Tell us why you believe this could be true.”

  “Because that corner the sample was taken from is the worst possible place. For two thousand years, they used that corner to stretch out the Shroud for everyone to see. It had to have damaged the corner, so it had to have been repaired.”

  “No, they handled it for around six hundred years,” Dr. Weiss corrected. “According to the results of the carbon date.”

  “Then your carbon date is wrong.”

  “Dr. Brenner,” Professor Weiss said. “What do you know about all this?”

  “She has a valid theory. We looked at some photos. Looks like it could have been repaired at some point.”

  “You are not being paid to call the results of this lab into question,” Dr. Rahal said. “Now I want this young lady out of here immediately.”

  Dr. Weiss placed his hand on Rahal’s shoulder. “Oh, calm down, Dr. Rahal. Don’t be such a stick in the mud. Just listen to what she has to say. It sounds very interesting to me.”

  “She claims to be an art major,” Dr. Rahal said. “She told me her interest in the Shroud is because it was a forgery. If it was a forgery, then it must be art. Now she is saying something completely different.”

  Dr. Weiss looked like he wanted an explanation.

  Amari offered one. “Okay, at first I wanted to figure out how it was forged. For
artistic reasons. But I did my research, and I honestly don’t see how it could be a forgery. I think it’s real.”

  “Then that is a matter of faith,” Dr. Weiss said. “I assume you are a Christian?”

  She stalled for a second, wondering what he was driving at. “Yes, I am a Christian. But that doesn’t change the facts.”

  “That explains it,” Dr. Rahal said. “She’s a fanatic. She’s just trying to stir up controversy. The carbon date damaged the credibility of her faith and now she’s striking back.”

  “Just because I’m a Christian doesn’t mean I’m wrong,” she said. “The truth is the truth and that is all I’m trying to prove.”

  “I agree, the truth is very important,” Professor Weiss said. “Tell me, Miss Johnston, what do you want from us? How can we help you see the truth?”

  “I understand you still have a piece of the Shroud. I want to look at it under a microscope and see if I can find cotton fibers. The Shroud was made of linen. If cotton fibers are there, then I can assume it was repaired. If it was repaired, then the new cloth is mixed with old. Then the carbon date is invalid.”

  Every eye turned to Dr. Rahal as if asking permission.

  “Absolutely not,” Rahal replied. “I will not have this pushy undergrad march in here and accuse us of incompetence.”

  “Oh, come now, Dr. Rahal, what would be the harm?” Dr. Weiss said. “She won’t find anything. Then her curiosity will be satisfied. I admire her determination.”

  “She is not as determined as me. No, I will not allow it.”

  “No wonder they call you Dr. Nay-all behind your back,” Professor Weiss said with a grin. Jeremy snickered and quickly caught himself before Dr. Rahal saw him.

  Amari bit her lip and tried not to laugh.

  Anger raged all the more in Rahal’s face. “I’m going to call security,” Dr. Rahal said and rushed down the hall.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Professor Weiss said. “He can’t do anything the board of directors won’t allow him to do, and I happen to sit on the board. Dr. Brenner, I do suggest, however, that you walk your friend to the door. Dr. Rahal is, after all, in the right. Miss Johnston is not supposed to be back here.”

  Amari’s anger subsided and she measured her words carefully. Professor Weiss was a man of reason and perhaps he could be reasoned with. “Thank you, Professor Weiss. I really didn’t mean to cause any trouble, but getting to the truth is sort of in my blood. My dad is a detective. His job is finding the truth. And to be honest, I was only a full-time art major for a semester. Before that I was in criminal justice. I’m changing my major back to criminal justice.”

  “Yes, I can see you as a detective. But if your concern is for the rule of law, then you should know that if you are not an employee of the lab, nor have official business with the lab, then you really must go. And you wouldn’t want to get Dr. Brenner in trouble, would you?”

  “Hey, I’m sorry, Dr. Weiss,” Kevin said. “I didn’t see this coming. I promise I won’t let her back here again.”

  “I know you won’t. Even a brilliant physicist has an occasional miscalculation.”

  Just then, a campus police officer walked over to the door. Professor Weiss gripped the young officer on the shoulder. “That won’t be necessary. She was just leaving.”

  Chapter 17

  Amari had learned that sometimes you attract more flies with honey than vinegar. She tended to let her anger get the better of her. It got her in trouble at school all the time. But she was an adult now. It was time she took her mother’s advice: quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger. She needed to take a gentler approach with Dr. Rahal. She should flatter him rather than anger him. Perhaps that would change his mind. It was worth a try.

  On Friday afternoon Amari stepped up to the receptionist desk. The elderly woman put a bookmark in her romance novel and met her gaze. “Back for more, I see? I have been instructed not to let you in under any circumstances.”

  “I may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” Amari said apologetically and extended an envelope. “I wanted to give this to Dr. Rahal. It’s an apology letter and a gift certificate to Applebee’s. Just to show I’m sorry.”

  The woman glanced down the hall and lowered her head to see over her reading glasses. “There comes Dr. Rahal now. You can tell him yourself.”

  “What is this?” Rahal huffed. “I told you not to come near this lab again.”

  “Dr. Rahal, I just came to apologize. I know sometimes I cross the line. I wanted to tell you I’m sorry and give you this.” She handed him the envelope.

  He promptly handed it back. Jeremy stepped into the hall and hesitated, looking awkward, not sure what to do.

  “I don’t want your apologies,” Rahal continued. “I want you off this property.”

  “Dr. Rahal, all I want to do is look at your piece of shroud under a microscope. I promise, you can have it right back.”

  “Absolutely not! I told you that already.”

  She fought to push down her anger, but he wasn’t helping. More honey, less vinegar. Get on his good side. “Please, Dr. Rahal, I know you’re a very intelligent man. You have to see that something doesn’t feel right about this. I think somebody in Italy made a mistake. It may be an honest mistake, but it needs to be investigated.”

  The security guard walked into the foyer. “Is there a problem?”

  “Steven, get this woman out of here,” Rahal demanded.

  Steven moved toward her.

  “Steven, I’ll leave in just a minute.”

  He reached for her arm. “You have to leave now.”

  Amari held up her finger as a warning. “Don’t you touch me.”

  “Please, don’t make me do this the hard way.”

  “All right! But this isn’t over. I promise you that.” She stuffed the envelope in her pocket and slammed through the double doors. She went out into the sun and tried to stay calm, to steady her breath as she pressed toward her car. That wasn’t just some territorial jerk in there. He was hiding something, she could feel it. He was up to something illegal. That lab was a crime scene—and she was determined to prove it.

  ****

  Amari walked into her home, wet from perspiration. She went to the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face, and looked up into the mirror to meet her own gaze. She could see her mother in her cheeks, but her dad’s eyes stared back at her. She splashed more cold water on her face and dried it with a towel. There was no way she was going to crack this case on her own. She stared at herself in the mirror for several seconds and made the hard decision. Even her great, great grandfather Manuelito eventually surrendered. Maybe it was time to call a truce.

  She went to her bed, sat on the corner, her eyes fixed on Jesus’ crucified image on the Shroud hanging on her wall. What agonizing pain he must have suffered so willingly for her—and for her dad. Yet, somehow, there was serenity on his face, and it seemed to radiate to her. Anger melted into an odd sense of peace. She felt an urge to forgive, to let go, to surrender. Her dad had repented of his sin. He had apologized to her the best way he knew how. It was a sincere apology. Nobody had suffered more than him. The guilt clung like a film over his eyes. But she knew he wouldn’t grovel. If she lost him forever, it was her own fault.

  She cupped her hands over her face. She was so tired of being mad, so tired of pushing her dad away, pretending she wanted nothing to do with him. She missed the old days. They were so close back then. She wanted so badly to have that back again. And now that things had changed, she didn’t just want him back, she needed him back. But she didn’t kid herself. She was still mad at him, still had not completely forgiven him, but she was getting closer.

  She pulled her hands away and looked back at the peaceful face of Jesus. She knew what she had to do. If things were ever going to be right with her dad again, she had to take the first step. She would use the case with Dr. Rahal as an excuse, just so he wouldn’t think she’d forgotten what he did. But it was a
n important first step. She went to the phone before she changed her mind.

  Chapter 18

  It was Sunday and Amari stepped into the rapidly filling church and scanned for an empty pew. Jenny hadn’t come with her. Instead, she’d gone to church with a guy she met at Campus Crusade for Christ.

  Amari moved closer to the front. Should she squeeze by old Mr. Haun with his bad knee or move up a little more? Then she smelled it—that cologne. Memories flooded her mind. Good memories.

  “You always liked sitting up front as a kid.”

  She turned to see her dad in the aisle, standing in the same Sunday suit he always wore and smelling of Old Spice, the same aftershave she would give him every Christmas. “It’s about time you came back to church.”

  He raised his thick eyebrows, deepening the worry lines on his forehead, just under his gray-streaked Army crew cut. “It’s been too long. It’s time I got right with God.”

  “Well, come on, it’s about to start.”

  They sat in the front row just like they used to. She sat next to him in silence, not sure what to say around the scrutiny of congregational ears. As the preacher preached, and the choir sang, she felt her defenses wane. She was so tired of being angry, pretending she didn’t love her dad anymore. Nothing could be further from the truth.

  Toward the end of the service, the congregation always joined hands in prayer. When Reverend Davis signaled the prayer, her dad hesitated, testing the water, and then opened his hand to her. She hesitated too, but finally took it and held it firm. She looked up into his regretful eyes and her heart played out its final beat of anger. Then forgiveness came, like a cool rain from the hot desert sky.

  After the service, she walked her dad to his car and looked him square in the eye. She felt emotion’s tug and wanted to hug him, but he was a man’s man who typically shied away from public displays of affection.

  “Amari,” he said, “I’m so sorry about what I did to you and your mother. If there was any way I could take it all back, I would, you know that, don’t you?”