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

by Williams, R. A.

  “No, seriously, we’re just friends.”

  “That’s what I said about my husband—at first. We’ve been married for fifty-two years.”

  “I’m pretty sure Kevin doesn’t see me that way.”

  Ms. Embry held up her romance novel and fanned the pages. “I’ve read hundreds of these trashy things. You’re talking to an expert, honey.”

  Amari hoped Ms. Embry was right, but she hadn’t come there to discuss her love life. “Okay, whatever you say. So you have no idea when Dr. Rahal will be back?”

  “It’s hard to say. He’s been gone for a while already. What’s in that envelope you’re holding? Another Applebee’s gift certificate?”

  “It’s a petition, signed by a hundred and twenty-eight people who think Dr. Rahal should let me see his sample of the Shroud.”

  “So this is round two?”

  “It’s actually round three. Four if you include the dean. Round five is tomorrow if he doesn’t give in.”

  “Well, put up your dukes, here he comes now,” she said and pointed to the front door.

  Dr. Rahal stepped into the foyer and stood unmoving for a moment as he watched Amari. Maybe he was trying to decide what to do, whether he wanted another round with her, or maybe he would just escape while he could and go in the back door. Finally, he threw up his hands in exasperation and stalked toward her. “Have I not made myself clear? You are not welcome here. Now leave before I call security again.”

  Amari squinted her eyes defiantly. “I am not in your lab, Dr. Rahal. This is not a restricted area.”

  “Miss Embry, call security.”

  Amari handed him an envelope. “There are two petitions in that envelope. A hundred and twenty-eight other people demand you let me inspect your sample of the Shroud. A copy of those two petitions was delivered to the Dean of Science, and copies were also sent to the president of the university. If you don’t want any trouble, you better stop hiding the truth and let me see your sample.”

  Dr. Rahal tore the envelope in two and tossed it into Miss Embry’s garbage. “You have wasted the time of one hundred and twenty-eight people. Miss Embry, security.”

  “She’s right, you know,” Ms. Embry said. “This is not a secure area. She has a right to be here.”

  His misaligned eyes bulged. “She is causing a disturbance!”

  “You’re the one yelling,” Ms. Embry replied. “Not her.”

  Dr. Rahal huffed and spun around toward his office. “I will have you expelled,” he spat back at her.

  “For what?” she yelled after him. “The first amendment says I can do this! You try to expel me and I’ll slap a lawsuit on you so fast—” The door slammed shut and stopped her sentence short. Dr. Rahal had retreated back into the safety of his secured laboratory.

  “Bite me,” she said under her breath as she headed for the door.

  ****

  Dan Rather wore an amused expression as a still shot of a campus protest was superimposed over his left shoulder, a blue-gray map of the world as the backdrop. “Apparently not everyone is taking the news about the Shroud of Turin’s carbon date lying down,” Dan said. “A student at the University of Arizona has organized a protest against the way the carbon date was handled. She insists that the results are invalid. We go now to our Tucson affiliate.”

  ****

  Sandra Davis stood on the court between the University of Arizona library and the long grass lawn that led up to Old Main. Crowds of students encircled the protest with curious grins on their faces. A young woman with sweat beaded on her face, her hair long and braided in a ponytail, shouted defiantly into a megaphone as several other students in red T-shirts held signs and chanted around her. Sandra’s crew pointed the camera at her, taking in the protest behind her as well. The ornate, arched red brick front of the Bear Down Gym was in the background.

  “The world deserves to know all of the truth!” the young woman shouted into a megaphone in one hand, while shaking a poster-board sign with a wooden post in the other. The sign read The Shroud of Turin belongs to the world. The World Deserves the Truth. “The WMS lab is holding a piece of the Shroud captive! There is evidence on that piece of Shroud that could prove the carbon date is wrong! Tell them to let me see the sample! The world deserves the truth!”

  Ten other students wearing red Campus Crusade for Christ T-shirts hoisted similar signs and shouted, “If you have nothing to hide, then let us see the sample!” Others shouted, “Jesus did not die for a lie!”

  Sandra got the cue from the cameraman. She raised the microphone to her mouth and began. “I’m here in front of the library at the University of Arizona where one of the students seems to be less than satisfied with the results of the carbon date performed on the Shroud of Turin, which some believe bears the image of the crucified Jesus Christ. You can see the zeal in this young lady’s eye. She’s not playing around. She claims to have evidence that there was a mistake made during the sampling of the Shroud, a mistake that makes the Shroud appear much younger than it really is.”

  The crew stopped filming for a moment. Sandra stepped over to the young lady as the camera crew followed. The girl noticed Sandra and silenced her megaphone. The camera rolled again and Sandra continued as she stood next to the girl. “So tell me, why are you making such a fuss over a medieval forgery?”

  The young protester wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. “I think they made a mistake when they took the sample for the carbon date,” she said, catching her breath. “Dr. Rahal at the WMS laboratory has a piece of the Shroud used for the carbon date. All I want to do is look at it under a microscope. It’s no big deal,” she said and caught her breath again. “They can have it right back. But he absolutely refuses to let me see it. Why? I think it’s because they’re hiding something.”

  “That’s a serious claim,” Sandra said. “Do you have any proof?”

  “I have evidence, but I need more to prove my case. I’ve tried reason, I’ve tried a petition, and now I’m trying this.”

  “And if this doesn’t work? What will you do then?”

  “I won’t give up, I can tell you that. I’ll keep raising public awareness until he caves. I may even have to file a lawsuit. If I have to, I will.”

  Sandra turned back to the Camera. “Well, there you have it. I’m Sandra Davis, WKLD News.”

  ****

  Ernesto Galliano sat behind his antique mahogany pedestal desk. A TV played from the bookcase on the opposite wall. He stroked his beard as he sat engrossed with the CBS Evening News. When the Tucson news reporter finished and Dan Rather came back to the screen, he slid open his desk drawer, removed the remote control, and clicked the TV off. The pendulum of an antique grandfather clock sounded a steady tick, tock as he deliberated his next move. Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock. He sat unmoving until the clock chimed seven times. He reached for the phone and punched in the numbers. He pressed the receiver to his ear and waited.

  “Hello,” a voice sounded from the earpiece.

  “Bonelli, I have a job for you and Parker. I saw something very interesting on the news. There’s a student in Tucson, Arizona who claims she has evidence that discredits the carbon date on the Shroud.”

  “A college student in Arizona? How could a college student know so much about the Shroud?”

  “That’s what I’d like you and Parker to find out. Head down there and find out who she is and what she knows. Find out everything you can, but don’t approach her. Just sniff around and get back to me.”

  Chapter 22

  “I can’t believe it, Kevin, I was on the news!” Amari said into the phone. “The lady from WKLD was there. You should have seen it! I think I did pretty good.”

  “I just saw it. Dan Rather had it on the national news too.”

  “Dan Rather! The CBS News? Are you serious? The whole world’s going to know now!”

  “Looks that way. Hey, I wanted to come watch you, but Rahal might have found out I was there. I was on the clo
ck.”

  “So does he know? What did he say?”

  “He hit the roof.”

  “Good, maybe now he’ll listen. Hey, it’s still early. Have you eaten?”

  “I was just looking in my fridge when you called.”

  “Then take me to dinner. I want to celebrate.”

  “See you in thirty?”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  Steam puffed from the iron and Jenny rotated a skirt around the ironing board. “Are you and Kevin going on a date?”

  “It’s just dinner. It’s not a date, date. We eat together all the time.”

  “Mind if I come along then?”

  “Oh . . . I guess that would be okay. I mean, he’s your cousin. I don’t think he would mind.”

  “But you would.”

  “No, why would you say that?”

  “I think you have feelings for Kevin.”

  Amari felt her cheeks flush. “What? No. Kevin? Be serious.”

  “He’s cute. He’s a sweet guy.”

  “Yeah, but he doesn’t . . . I mean . . . has he ever even had a girlfriend?”

  “Not that I know of.” She sat the iron on its end and pulled the skirt free from the ironing board and clipped it to a hanger. “Don’t take this the wrong way. I could be wrong. But I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Why would I get hurt? We’re just friends. It’s no big deal.”

  Jenny held the palms of her hands together and rested her lips on her fingertips as she thought. Finally, she lowered her hands and spoke. “Some guys just aren’t the relationship type. They have trouble connecting with the opposite sex. It’s not that Kevin is gay, he really isn’t. It’s just that he’s already married.”

  “What?”

  “No, not like that. To his work. He’s married to his work. He has a compulsive personality. His compulsion is physics. Guys like that are very single-minded and they just can’t devote enough neurons to a relationship. I’m not sure you can compete. His brain just isn’t wired like other guys.”

  “So? I like the way his brain is wired. Besides, it doesn’t matter, because we’re just friends.”

  “If you say so,” Jenny said and pulled another skirt onto the ironing board. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all.”

  ****

  Amari rode the elevator to the seventh floor of the administrative tower, toward the office of the president. She had gotten a call to be there at noon. The elevator’s door opened and she went down the hall and met the secretary. When she noticed Amari, she stopped typing. “Hello, Miss Johnston. I recognize you from the news. I hope you’re ready for this. Everybody’s in there waiting for you. Say a quick prayer and go on in.”

  Amari closed her eyes and prayed silently. Father, if it is your will. She opened her eyes and pushed through the door.

  President Boling sat behind his desk. Plaques and awards decorated the wall behind him. The top of his head was completely bare, with two tufts of gray-white hair over his ears. He had kind looking, half-moon eyes that seemed to say she wasn’t going to be expelled on his watch.

  Dr. Schmidt, the Dean of Science who’d booted Amari from her office the other day, sat scowling next to a tense-faced Dr. Rahal.

  Dr. Eastman from the microbiology department sat next to the window, eased back in his seat rubbing his hands slowly together as if he were rubbing lotion into them. His fifty-something face had wide cheek bones and his skin was leathery and sun-beaten. Amari met Dr. Eastman’s eyes. He widened his tight smile and gave a slow, easy nod of approval.

  Professor Wiess sat next to Dr. Eastman. He sat with an amused look on his face, one leg crossed over the other the way a woman does, rather than the usual wide leg position most men took, his laced fingers resting on his knee.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Johnston,” the president said. “I believe you know Dr. Rahal, Professor Weiss, and Dr. Schmitt. And I believe you’ve also met Dr. Eastman, professor of microbiology. I’m Henry Boling, the residing president of this university. Have a seat,” he said and motioned to a chair.

  Amari sat and smiled at Professor Weiss. He winked back at her. She didn’t look at Drs. Rahal or Schmitt, but her sensitive cheeks could almost feel their anger radiating out to her.

  “Miss Johnston, you’ve caused quite a stir over the past few days,” Dr. Boling said. “My phone has been ringing off the hook. If this doesn’t stop, we may have to change the number.”

  “Woops,” Amari said, her eyes flashing around the room. “Sorry about that. I had no idea the news would show up.”

  “Yes, well, they did show up, and I’ve been taking a lot of heat. There are some that want you expelled. I believe Drs. Schmitt and Rahal might agree.”

  Amari glanced over at their glare. Yes, they agreed.

  “Fortunately for you, not all the calls have been complaints. One of our wealthy alumni supports your cause and was very insistent that we let you see the sample.”

  “Is that what this has come down to?” Dr. Schmitt asked. “Money? Let me guess. He threatened to stop his donations. Is that why we’re here today?”

  “He’s a very generous donor,” Dr. Boling said. “Donors like him help pay your salary.”

  “I suppose money talks then, doesn’t it,” Dr. Schmidt bit back.

  “He wasn’t the only donor who called, I assure you. Besides, Drs. Weiss and Eastman have a right to be heard too. They don’t share your opinion.”

  “He’s right, Judy,” Dr. Eastman said and scooted forward in his seat. “I have my own theory as to why the carbon date is wrong.” He spoke slow and easy with a confident swagger, reminding Amari of an old John Wayne movie. “If Dr. Rahal and the College of Science would be so obliged, I’d like to get a gander of that Shroud myself. Why not make this easy and let us both see it at the same time?”

  “And neither of you will find a shred of evidence that disproves the carbon date,” Professor Weiss said. “All of this is silliness in my opinion and I can’t understand Dr. Rahal’s objection to a little further scrutiny. In the name of science, Dr. Rahal, just let these two have their look. They will find nothing and we can all move on.”

  “Every eye turned to Dr. Rahal.”

  “Very well. Take it. I’m sick and tired of arguing. If Miss Johnston had taken a more official, civil approach, I might have agreed sooner. However, if Dr. Eastman, a real scientist, rather than a disrespectful, Christian fanatic, had asked to examine the Shroud, I would have responded differently. But this young woman barged into my lab and used her looks to seduce one of my scientists into cooperating with her.”

  Amari sat up in her chair. “Seduced?”

  Professor Weiss chuckled and clapped his hands in glee. “That is priceless. Is she a Christian or a succubus? I can’t see how she could be both.”

  “Dr. Brenner is my roommate’s cousin,” Amari responded. “He did me a favor by answering a few questions—because his cousin asked him to, not because I seduced him.”

  “Knowing Dr. Brenner, I doubt he even noticed she was female,” Professor Weiss said. “He is one of the most brilliant minds I’ve ever encountered. He is single-mindedly focused on science, not upon frolics with the opposite sex. You don’t give him enough credit, Dr. Rahal.”

  “Okay, okay, fellas,” Dr. Boling said. “Let’s keep this civil. Now here’s what I want to see happen. Dr. Rahal, take the piece of the Shroud you have locked in your office and deliver it to the biology lab so that Dr. Eastman and Miss Johnston can do their examinations. If it makes you feel better, you may take campus security with you.”

  “That scope in Dr. Kelley’s lab won’t cut it for me,” Dr. Eastman said. “I need something more powerful. I might even have to cut off a sample for more tests.”

  “Testing of what kind?” Dr. Rahal asked.

  “Staining. Biochemical testing,” Dr. Eastman said.

  “That is out of the question,” Dr. Rahal said. “We may need that sample for further testing.”


  “Dr. Rahal, do you personally own that sample?” Dr. Boling asked. “Was it deeded to you by the Vatican?”

  “Of course not,” Dr. Rahal said.

  “Then you have no cause to claim it for physics alone. We will discuss what Dr. Eastman has in mind later. But for now, let’s satisfy Miss Johnston’s curiosity before she goes on 60 Minutes. The three of you agree on a time and get this done. Am I clear?”

  Dr. Eastman locked his eyes with one of Dr. Rahal’s misaligned eyes. “I’ll look at the lab schedule and let you know a good time,” he said and stretched his lips into a tight smile again.

  Dr. Rahal stood and snapped his navy blazer taught. “If we’re finished here, I have legitimate scientific business to attend to.”

  Chapter 23

  Dr. Kelley fiddled with the scope as he worked to hook up the Polaroid camera. It attached to a tube that descended into the body of the gray colored microscope. Amari brought her own film so nobody could say the pictures did not belong to her.

  Dr. Eastman opened the door and held it as Dr. Rahal entered the biology lab, followed by two campus security officers in their khaki brown uniforms.

  “Did you really think we were going to steal this?” Dr. Kelley asked. “I think the campus police have better things to do, don’t you Dr. Rahal?”

  “I wouldn’t put anything past her,” Dr. Rahal said as he jabbed a finger toward Amari. “Now let’s get this over with. My time is valuable.”

  Dr. Kelley held out his hand. “The sample?”

  Dr. Rahal pulled a small, transparent plastic case from his pocket. Inside was a square piece of tan fabric, about a half inch in width. Amari eyed the fabric with awe. To think, she was in the same room with part of the cloth that covered the historical Jesus. And she was about to examine it under a microscope. She felt unworthy of the task, but somebody had to do this.

  The two campus police stood off to the side, watching with their thumbs hanging on their belts. Dr. Eastman stood patiently with his hands in his back pockets. Dr. Kelley took the sample and set it by the scope. He turned his attention to Amari and said, “Now, from what I understand, you would like to inspect the fibers to see if there are cotton fibers mixed in with the linen.”