Intervention sam-9

by Robin Cook

  mother?”

  “Precisely. Shawn is an extremely credible witness and can prove that this ossuary has not seen the light of day since the time it was interred almost two thousand years ago.

  He found it nestled next to the tomb of Saint Peter. Furthermore, the ossuary is sealed.

  All other ossuarys as far as I know have not been sealed.”

  “Wasn’t Mary a common name back then? Why does he believe it’s the Mary who was Jesus’ mother?”

  “Because Shawn has discovered an authentic second-century letter that claims the ossuary contains the bones of Jesus’ mother. And it was the letter that led Shawn to the bones.”

  Jack raised his eyebrows. “I see your point. But what about the letter? Couldn’t that be fake?”

  “Although it is somewhat tautological, finding the ossuary where the letter says it will be proves the authenticity of the letter, and vice versa. Both are such extraordinary finds that that fact alone will convince people that the bones in the ossuary are the Holy Mother’s.”

  Jack thought about the issue while using a pair of silver tongs to help himself to some of the raw vegetables that had been waiting on the table. He could see James’s point. But then he had another idea. “Did you see the letter?”

  “I did. I saw it yesterday.”

  “Who wrote it?”

  “A bishop of Antioch called Saturninus.”

  “I never heard of him.”

  “He’s a known figure, not very well known, but he was a real person.”

  “Who did he write to?”

  “Another bishop, a bishop of Alexandria, named Basilides.”

  “I never heard of him, either.”

  “Do you know anything about Gnosticism?”

  “Can’t say I do. It’s a subject that doesn’t come up often at the morgue.”

  “I’m sure not,” James said with a laugh. “It was a serious heresy in the early Christian church, and Basilides was an early leader.”

  “Would Saturninus have had any reason to lie to Basilides?”

  “Clever idea,” James said, “but unfortunately no.”

  “Does Saturninus take responsibility for actually burying the ossuary?”

  “Most definitely.”

  “Does he say how he came to have the relics or who gave them to him?”

  “He does, and you are cleverly enough coming to what I think is the weakest point in the chain of custody, so to speak. Do you know who Simon Magus was?”

  “You have me there, too. Never heard of him.”

  “He is the archvillain of the Bible’s New Testament, a true scoundrel who tried to buy Saint Peter’s healing powers. From him we get the word simony.” Jack smiled inwardly when he realized that Jesus Christ was the most famous provider of alternative medicine, and Saint Peter was the second.

  “Simon Magus is also considered by some to be one of the earliest Gnostics,” James continued. “And Saturninus, who was much younger, worked for him, helping him with his magic. So to prove whether the bones in the ossuary are the Holy Mother’s, which they certainly are not, it all depends on Simon Magus, perhaps the most notoriously poor witness of all.”

  “There’s another way,” Jack said. “A particularly straightforward way.”

  “Which is?” James asked eagerly.

  “Have an anthropologist check the bones, if there are bones, and first make sure they are human. If they are human, then make sure they are female, and if they are female, check whether or not the woman had given birth. We know Mary had at least one child.”

  “An anthropologist can tell those things?”

  “A definite yes on the first two points: whether or not the bones are human and whether or not they are female. It is a little less certain on whether one can tell if the woman was parous or not. If the changes one looks for are present, the woman definitely had children, and generally, the more prominent, the more children. However, if they are not there, you cannot say with certainty the woman didn’t have, perhaps, one child.”

  “Fascinating,” James said. “Especially with the idea the bones could be male. If they are, the nightmare would be over.”

  “Have you seen the bones?” Jack asked.

  “No. Shawn and his wife were only interested in making sure the ossuary had not been broken during transit. They did not want to open the ossuary itself, since it is sealed with wax. Both are concerned, as you might imagine, with the state of the contents after two thousand years, and didn’t want to expose them to air and moisture without having laboratory facilities available. Have you met Shawn’s wife?”

  “Maybe,” Jack said. “The last time I saw him was two years ago, and considering the speed with which he goes through wives, I don’t know if I’m current. I’ve seen Shawn only twice in the fourteen years I’ve been here in the city. In that time I know he’s been married and divorced at least twice.”

  “Totally shameless,” James remarked. ”But not totally out of character. Remember how many girlfriends he had in college?”

  “Do I ever,” Jack said. “I remember one weekend when two showed up. One was supposed to be for Friday night and the other for Saturday, but the Saturday one mistakenly thought it was for the whole weekend. Fortunately, I was able to help out. I ended up entertaining the Friday-night choice, and we hit it off.”

  “Shawn’s current wife is named Sana.”

  “Oh, yes,” Jack said, remembering. “I have met her. She was very shy and retiring. All she did was cling to his arm and dreamily stare into his face. It was a little embarrassing.”

  “She’s changed. She’s a molecular biologist who has gained a lot of notice in her field.

  She’s now a scientist at the medical school up at Columbia University. I think she’s really blossomed since they first met. I have a sense that the marriage won’t last too long, given Shawn’s preference for adoring, docile women. Socially, he’s never going to be content. I’m no expert, but I don’t think he’s capable of being faithful.”

  “Maybe so,” Jack said. He’d never admired Shawn’s behavior in regard to women, but he’d never commented on it. But it had always been a bone of contention between James and Shawn.

  “How is your relationship with Shawn?” James asked.

  Jack shrugged. “As I mentioned, I’ve seen him only twice since I moved here to New York City. He was nice enough to invite me to his home for dinner on those two occasions. I suppose I should have returned the gesture, but I’ve become a bit of a hermit these days.”

  ”You alluded to that on the phone,” James said. “Would you care to explain?”

  “No. Maybe some other time,” Jack said, trying to avoid thinking about his first family or his second. “Why don’t you tell me how I can help you? I assume it involves the box downstairs.”

  James took a deep breath to steel himself. “You are right, of course,” James began. “It does involve the box downstairs. What do you think would happen if a significant percentage of people came to believe, even briefly, that the ossuary downstairs actually contained the bones of Mary, the Mother of God?”

  “I suppose it would disappoint a lot of people,” Jack said.

  “That’s a lot more diplomatic than I would have expected.”

  “And less sarcastic than I’ve been of late.”

  “Does that have anything to do with me being a cardinal?”

  “Obviously,” Jack said.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way. Old friends should feel able to be themselves.”

  “Maybe if such meetings became a habit. For now, why don’t you tell me what you think would happen?”

  “It would be a disaster for the Church, at a time it can least afford it. We are still suffering from the damage caused by the priest molestation scandal. It has been a true tragedy for the people involved, and for the Church itself. So too would the belief that the Blessed Virgin Mary had not been assumed body and soul into heaven as promulgated ex cathedra by Pope Pius the Twelfth wi
th his Munificentissimus Deus in 1950. This promulgation has been the only use of the solemn declaration of papal infallibility declared by Vatican One on July eighteenth, 1870. Shawn’s claim that he has found the bones of the Most Holy Mother of God would seriously threaten and undermine the authority of the Church. It would be a disaster bar none.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” Jack said, watching James’s face turn increasingly red.

  “I’m being very serious,” James declared, afraid Jack wasn’t really getting the message.

  “As a direct religious descendant from Saint Peter himself, when the pope speaks ex cathedra on faith or morals he is making divine revelation as the Holy Spirit works in the body of the Church as sensus fidelium.”

  “Okay, okay,” Jack conceded. “I understand how Shawn claiming Mary did not rise up to heaven when the Church has declared she had would be a serious blow to the Catholic faith.”

  “It would be an equally disastrous blow to those who venerate Mary almost as they do Jesus Christ. You have no idea of her position among the Catholic faithful, who would be cast adrift if Shawn has his way.”

  “I can see that, too,” Jack said, sensing that James was working himself into a minor frenzy.

  “I can’t let that happen!” James snapped, slapping his palm on the table hard enough to cause the dishes to rattle. “I can’t let that happen, both for the Church’s sake and my own!”

  Jack raised his eyebrows. Suddenly, he saw his friend as he was back in college, sensing James’s beneficence and concern about the bones in the basement was based on more than the Church’s well-being. James was also a skilled politician. Though Jack had doubted his chances, James ran for class president in college. Jack had underestimated James: With an innate sense of people’s inner needs, fears, and sensitivities, plus his ability to flatter, James was a natural. He was also driven, pragmatic, and shrewd.

  Everyone liked him, and to Jack and Shawn’s amazement, he won the election. Jack had every reason to believe it was these same qualities that helped James rise to the exalted level of cardinal.

  “An added problem,” James continued, “is that that clever Shawn has me by the balls.” Jack’s head snapped back as if he’d been slapped. Such language coming from a Roman Catholic cardinal was completely unexpected. Of course, he’d heard this all the time in their college days.

  Catching Jack’s reaction, James guffawed. “Oh! Sorry!” he said. He then purposefully echoed Jack by following up with “Pardon my French.” Jack laughed, realizing he had been guilty of stereotyping his old friend, who, despite outward appearances, was still the same person he’d been. “Touché,” he said, still smiling.

  “Let me put it this way,” James continued. “By sending the ossuary from the Vatican to me with my name as the sender, he avoided customs and took advantage of my covetousness, since I was so quick to imagine it was a birthday present. By accepting the crate and signing for it, I have become, if you will, an accessory. I should have refused the carton so that it would have ended up back at the Vatican. As it is, whatever havoc it will evoke, I will be personally implicated, since it was my involvement that got him access to Peter’s tomb in the first place. I am in this hook, line, and sinker.”

  “Why don’t you just call the media and confess right off the bat that you had no idea what you were signing for?”

  “Because the damage is done. I am, as I said, an accessory. Besides, Shawn would go to the media himself and accuse me and the Church of trying to prevent the object from reaching the light of day, saying we’ve denied him the chance to examine the contents.

  That would sound like a conspiracy, which to many people would be akin to proving the object’s authenticity. No, I cannot do that! I have to let Shawn do whatever he is going to do, which he believes will take a month if there are no documents to deal with, or up to three months if there are documents in with the bones, if there are bones. I hope there aren’t. That would make everything easier.”

  “Are there usually documents in ossuaries?” Jack asked. He found his interest in the contents growing.

  “Usually not, but according to the letter from Saturninus to Basilides, this ossuary contains the only known copy of a Gospel of Simon Magus, along with the bones.”

  “Now, that would be an interesting manuscript, from what you’ve mentioned of the guy,” Jack said. “Bad guys are always more interesting than the good guys.”

  “I will have to contest that.”

  “Okay, so, what are you going to do and what is my role?”

  “Shawn and Sana want to keep the ossuary secret until they complete their work. And I forgot to mention this, but Sana intends to try to salvage some DNA.”

  “I suppose that’s possible. Biologists were able to extract DNA from the much more ancient ice man found in the Alps in 1991. It’s been estimated that mummy was more than five thousand years old.”

  “Well, to keep their respective labs ignorant of what they are doing, they need someplace to work where they can keep their work a secret. It’s an idea I’m in full agreement with. I suggested the OCME’s new forensic DNA facility. I thought of it because I’d gone to its grand opening along with the mayor and a few other city officials. Do you think that is possible, and could you arrange it?” Jack gave the idea some thought. The building had been built with more space than was currently needed, a rare incidence of foresight on the side of city planners. Jack knew that the chief had supported other research projects from NYU and Bellevue Hospital, so why not this one? It would also be good public relations, which would please Bingham to no end. “I think it is definitely possible,” he said, “and I’ll talk with the chief as soon as I get back to the OCME. But is that all you want me to do?”

  “No, I’d like you to help me try to change Shawn and Sana’s opinion on publishing their work. I want to make them realize how much harm will come from it by appealing to their better judgment. I know Shawn is a good man, even if he’s somewhat vain and self-indulgent.”

  Jack shook his head. “If what I remember about Shawn’s desire for fame and fortune is still true, it’s going to be a tough sell. Changing his mind is going to be nearly impossible. This is the kind of story that will take him out of the dry archaeological journals and catapult him into Newsweek, Time, and People.”

  “I know it will be difficult, but we must do it. We must try.” Although Jack wasn’t optimistic about changing Shawn’s mind, which he imagined was set in stone, he had no idea about Sana.

  “There’s one other thing,” James added. “Whether or not you’re willing to help, I must ask you to keep this in the strictest confidence. You cannot tell a soul, not even your wife. At the moment, the only people who know of the ossuary’s supposed contents are the Daughtrys, me, and you. It must stay that way. Can I have your word on that?”

  “Of course,” said Jack, though he knew he would have a difficult time not telling Laurie.

  It was a truly fascinating story.

  “Oh, dear God,” James voiced after glancing at his watch. “I must leave at once for Gracie Mansion.”

  They stood, and James enveloped Jack in a rapid hug. As Jack returned the gesture, he could feel how plump his friend had become. Jack vowed to take him to task at a more opportune moment. Jack could also hear a slight wheeze when James breathed.

  “So, you are willing to help in this most unfortunate episode?” James asked, as he snapped up his skullcap that he’d put on the chair to his left and returned it to his head.

  “Of course,” Jack said, “but can I have permission to tell my wife? She’s the soul of discretion.”

  James stopped abruptly. “Absolutely not,” he said, staring into Jack’s eyes. “I don’t know your wife, although I do hope to meet her. But I’m sure she has a friend whom she trusts as much as you trust your wife. I must insist you not breathe a word of this to her or anyone. Can you promise me that?”

  “You have my word,” Jack responded quickly. He felt impaled by
James’s glare.

  “Good,” James responded simply. He turned and continued out of the room.

  As if by magic, Father Maloney appeared near the foyer and handed His Eminence his coat and a stack of phone messages. While James struggled into his coat, Jack mentioned that his bomber jacket was in the study. Without a word, the priest quickly disappeared.

  “I’ll hear from you soon?” James asked Jack.

  “I’ll talk to the chief as soon as I get back to the OCME,” Jack assured him.

  “Excellent! Here are the numbers for my cell and my private line here at the residence,” James said, handing Jack his personal business card. “Either call or e-mail as soon as you have Dr. Bingham’s response. I’ll be happy to talk with him directly, as need be.” He gripped Jack’s forearm and gave what Jack felt was a pathetic squeeze.

  Father Maloney returned with Jack’s coat, bowing as Jack thanked him.

  The next moment they were out the door. A shiny black limousine idled on the street, the liveried driver holding open the rear door. The archbishop climbed in, and the door was shut behind him. The car pulled away into the uptown traffic.

  The next thing Jack heard over the sound of traffic was the slamming of the formidable residence’s door and the metallic and final click of its brass hardware. Jack looked back.

  Father Maloney was gone. Jack returned the glance at the quickly disappearing limo and wondered what life would be like being the archbishop and having a bevy of assistants to fulfill his every need. At first it sounded tempting, as it would certainly make life more efficient, but then he quickly realized he wouldn’t want to feel responsible for the emotional and spiritual well-being of millions of people, as he had a difficult enough time with one.

  17

  1:36 P.M., FRIDAY, DECEMBER 5, 2008

  NEW YORK CITY

  Jack unlocked his bike and tried to beat the rain as he headed downtown. He almost did, but just before he was about to pull into one of the OCME loading bays, the heavens opened and drenched him.

  Jack hung his damp jacket in his office and descended to the first floor to stand like a penitent in front of Mrs. Sanford’s desk. When employees showed up uninvited, she usually ignored them, as if she was so busy she couldn’t even look up. Jack imagined it was her way of demanding respect, which she thought she deserved, since she’d been there guarding Bingham since before the flood. There was no sense trying to fight her.