by Tom Haase
“All right, tell me everything about what's really going on. Why are we going after this Bible?”
Now he needed to cajole her into doing his will.
Gertrude listened as he told her all of the details that Scott conveyed to him before his return to Washington. When Schultz finished, she sat in silence, deep in thought with her eyes darting back and forth. She wiggled her cheeks in a sign that Schultz knew signaled the final stage before she accepted his bidding. There would, however, be a price for him to pay.
“So we're going to be the backers sponsoring the ones to go on the mission to find this book. Then we get the Bible. Do I have it right? We pay for the expedition, the risk is ours, they have nothing to lose, everything to gain, and we get the book. Is that it? What are we going to do with it? Is there something in it that makes it different from our bibles today? Something that changes the Christian religion?”
“When you bring it back here, I'll tell you.” He gave her a smile.
“What's in it for me? For us?” she asked with a coquettish smile that indicated that she had given in but wanted something.
“For you, there will be that BMW Z9 Cabriolet,” he said, embracing her in a hug.
“And for us?” she pressed.
He had her. She would do it now. He needed her to be there at all times to know what Bridget did. Once they got the book, he would order Kesi into action on both Donavans. No loose ends on this venture. The money for the Bible exceeded anything he had ever accomplished in the past and his daughter would take the credit for the discovery if it ever became public knowledge. He planned to conduct his business on this matter in private.
“I have already contacted two of the most discrete buyers I know about this. If we can produce an authentic and documented Bible of Constantine, the initial return on our five hundred thousand should be at least fifty million when the bidding starts.”
Schultz realized that his daughter would soon be ready to take over the business. This trip should mold her into the perfect successor to his empire. She needed to bring back the Bible without anyone left behind who might know about it.
“That money goes into my dowry chest. I'll go pack.”
15
Belem, Brazil
Bridget roused herself from a deep sleep. Her phone clanged like an old-fashioned fire alarm bell. What did she expect in this inexpensive hotel, tinkling chimes? As she sat up in bed, she took stock of the time on her wristwatch, after midnight.
“Bridget wake up. We have to talk.” Scott's voice boomed in her ear.
“This had better be good. You interrupted the first good night's sleep I've had in weeks,” Bridget said while propping the pillows up under her back.
“Listen, I just got back from New York. Mr. Schultz sent his private jet down to pick me up, took me to New York to have a conversation, and then flew me back to Reagan National.”
Bridget jumped out of the bed and pulled the phone off the nightstand forgetting that it wasn’t a mobile phone. It fell to the floor with a loud clatter. She picked it up and set it back on the nightstand and flopped back onto the bed. She had overreacted for sure. He must be joking.
“Okay, Scott, have you been drinking? Why are you calling in the middle of the night? Come on, tell me the real reason, not some made-up story.”
“I'm not kidding. Here's what really happened.” He explained in detail all the events that transpired during his visit to New York. He mentioned the daughter didn't appear to be happy about the arrangement and didn't seem to know about it in advance. She projected a cold front to Scott, but kept it polite. He didn't think she even remembered him from the Smithsonian. The daughter and Schultz acted like everything they did was in mutual agreement. They gave him a check and he left. When Scott finished telling his tale, he waited.
Bridget's mind took in everything that he related. It did not reverberate the truth bell in her head. There must exist something more here than met the eye. She struggled to compose herself to figure out what Scott should have asked and didn't.
“Did you take the money?”
“I saw no way that we could do this without accepting his conditions. You even told me how much we would need. I have on me a check for $500,000. I hope your prediction on the cost is accurate. I probably should've asked for a million.”
“When do we leave for Jerusalem and is the daughter going with us?”
“I have already booked my ticket,” Scott said. “I called Schultz when I got back home to thank him, and his daughter answered. She told me her plans. Gertrude will meet us in Jerusalem the day after tomorrow. We can't afford to linger. You know others will find out about this no matter how much we try to keep it quiet. You need to get there, like now.”
“You've moved awfully fast. Do you see any catches?” Bridget stalled for time now to see if she could come up with a reason to worry about this whole venture, maybe to think of the various ramifications if it went wrong. Deep in her soul, she knew that if she had been in Scott's place and this offer the only way she could go, she would've accepted the offer. It just pissed her off that he accomplished it with ease. Maybe that’s what bothered her. This seemed too easy.
“I'll be there. Put some money in my account tomorrow morning, please. Keep me informed by e-mail of your plans and hotel. From now on I'll be in various places—airports, cafés, the like—and I’ll be able to receive e-mails periodically. One last thing, did he say why he wanted this Bible for himself?”
They were starting off on a venture the likes of which she could never have imagined. She held no real proof that it even existed. They had no idea of the Bible's location—assuming it did exist—it's security, or even who possessed it. She needed to find out more about the Bishop of Jerusalem and where he worked, ministered, and resided. Now, however, excitement boiled in her life along with a new purpose and goal. That stay in the Amazon village turned out to be what she needed to kick-start her life again.
“He didn't say, but I'm already thinking about that, since I knew you would ask. Did I do good?”
Bridget realized that Scott accomplished something outstanding. This could be their road back from the abyss of nonentities in the academic world to the pinnacle of recognition. They now possessed the potential to achieve the greatness denied them in the last venture. He accomplished in less than twenty-four hours everything she thought they would need to go after this long lost artifact of Christendom. She now held a vision that would lead her to find the truth.
What held her back from believing the goal near at hand? Schultz seemed to good to be true, but the daughter certainly complicated things. She trusted Scott, she knew how he would react in a dangerous or compromising situation, but this unknown female could be a major hindrance.
“You did well. See you in Jerusalem. Get me all the info you can on this Mr. Schultz. I'll research the Israeli side of things on my way.”
“Will do. Have already started on that,” Scott said. “We need to know more, but right now we need to get moving before someone else does.”
Bridget agreed. “As the great detective often said—the game is afoot.”
16
Vatican City
“Father,” he heard when he answered his personal cell phone. The woman spoke English. Must be a wrong number.
“You must have misdialed. This is Monsignor McGregor.”
“Jonathan, it's Bridget.”
He smiled as he recalled the beautiful redhead who seemed to always be in trouble, the kind that somehow always generated a problem. Their last venture consisted of him chasing her from Poland, to Spain, and finally to America in search of the Crown of Thorns. He carried out the pontiff's wish and paid them for their troubles. The Vatican believed it possessed all the evidence of all the copies of the relevant documents, but Miss Donavan somehow produced a secret copy. The powers in the Holy See refused to validate her claim when she made them public, and the last he heard, both of the Donavans had lost their credibility. A sham
e, but he remained powerless to vindicate them.
“How are you? Or perhaps more important, what are you up to now?” He let out a light laugh, and his Scottish accent barely noticeable.
“Sorry about what happened, are you?” she queried.
“Yes, but no one here wanted to hurt you or your brother. I sent you an e-mail to try and explain the position here at the Vatican. That can't—”
“Listen,” she interrupted. “Forget the past. We have a new problem. By the way, congratulations on becoming a monsignor. Are you still the secretary to the Holy Father?”
“Yes, and thank you. I’ll admit to you, I received this elevation last week, and this reward to me is because of your last venture. You should have waited to release those documents and all might have worked out. But what’s done is done. What can I do for you?”
“First of all, we didn't release them, but as you say, done is done. I’ve firm evidence of the existence of one of the Bibles of Constantine. I know where it's located.”
“You're kidding. I'm no historian but I think I heard that they don't exist. Why should I believe you? What are you up to?”
“Last time you didn't believe us either. I know it exists. I'm going after it. I just want you to help us by researching the Vatican to find out why it is so important. Someone’s gone to great effort to ensure the document is not made public. All of the original copies but one have disappeared. There has to be something in it that Holy Mother Church would get indigestion from if it surfaced. Find out for me what that is. You owe me.”
“I don't think there is any reason the church would try to suppress such a holy book. I know what happened last time you met with the church hierarchy, but this is different. So please keep an open mind. I'll look into it for you. No promises. That's the least I can do. Try not to get kidnapped, shot at, nor engage in intelligence operations in whatever you're doing this time.”
He copied her phone number and bid her goodbye.
Jonathan McGregor replaced the cell phone into his black cassock with fuchsia piping and buttons along with a matching colored sash signifying a monsignor. He furrowed his freckled forehead and ran his fingers through his sandy hair. After a few seconds, he stood up, stretched his tall frame, and walked with a slight limp into the room designated for the Prefect of the Papal Office. His limp from an old Iraqi war wound barely slowed his pace in his haste to find an answer to Bridget's question. If she could indeed find a missing Bible from the ones that Constantine commissioned in the third century, its value could be immense to the Christian world. It could be an independent confirmation of the books in the current bible. It could add to or clarify ecclesiastical and theological questions and maybe even lead to the eventual reunification of all Christendom.
He needed to do research. The first thing on the agenda required permission from his boss. If he asked for access to the archives, then a reasonable explanation of why the secretary to the pontiff needed such access would be required. He thought he had that under control. He felt sure there wouldn't be anything the church would attempt to conceal in the Bible of Constantine. The real question that burned—knowing the Donavans and their tenacity to uncover whatever they went after—flashed paramount in his mind.
What could be in that Bible that wasn't already revealed?
He knew the answer.
Nothing.
17
Israel
Bridget gave her brother a hug on arrival in his hotel room. She dropped her backpack onto the floor, went to the room refrigerator, and pulled out a bottle of water. She chugged most of it down as she took a seat in the chair beside the small desk.
“God, you look like hell,” Scott said. “That trip up in the Amazon must've taken a bunch out of you.”
“It's great to see you, too,” Bridget said and then emptied the rest of the bottle. “What's the latest?”
“I checked to see if Gertrude Schultz is going to be here soon. She 's scheduled to arrive within the hour. I think they expect us to know where we're going to start this quest. We do know, don't we?” Scott gave her a pleading look and waited for the answer.
“Sure, we know exactly where we're going to go. We're going to go to the bishop's house and get the Bible. There's only one small problem that I've identified.”
“What's that?”
“In my research at the airports while waiting on planes, I learned that there are three Bishops of Jerusalem. I have no idea which one has the Bible.”
“Oh shit,” Scott said as he flopped down on the bed.
“When I entered the hotel I looked at the English newspaper which contained a picture of an archbishop who was murdered a few days ago here in Jerusalem. He's the Bishop of Galilee, the Catholic bishop. I found out all these guys are bishops, but some of them have the title of Archbishop. Does anything come to your mind?”
Scott stared at her and shook his head. He looked down and then up as if in a state of confusion. He plumped the pillow behind his head and answered, “No.”
“I think we need to start with this dead bishop and see if he's the one who had the Bible. We need to find out where he resided. My guess is that if he owned the Bible it will be where he lived. He wouldn't leave this unguarded in a church were too many people have access to various areas within a holy place. His residence would be the location I would pick.”
“What are you proposing?”
“I don't think we can walk up to the front door, knock, and ask them if they have the Bible of Constantine. So we're going to have to do it the old-fashioned way like we do in archaeology. We're going to have to go dig it up.”
“What do you mean?” Scott said.
“Wouldn't you think if the archbishop is dead that no one would be at his residence? We go there and see if we can find the Bible. Simple plan, huh?”
“You mean we break in and try to steal it?” Scott sat up in bed. He shook his head indicating he didn't like the idea.
“The man paid us to get the Bible. We’ve got to go get it. I called Jonathan McGregor at the Vatican when I arrived at the airport here to ask him to look into why anyone would suppress the Bible of Constantine. He didn't think they would but promised to ask in Rome. By the way, our last venture caused him to be elevated to monsignor.”
A knock at the door, Scott got off the bed and opened it. Gertrude Shultz walked in.
“Hi, I'm Gerti” she said, extending her hand to Bridget.
“Pleased to meet you. I want to thank you and your father for helping us out,” Bridget said.
“I'm here to make sure that you get the Bible. What's your plan? I want to know all the details.” Her voice contained no warmth. She stood there like she expected to be briefed on what they were to do next.
“We thought we would go over and take the Bible out of the bishop's house tonight,” Bridget said as she turned away from her.
“That's your plan?” Gertrude said.
“Do you have a better one?” Bridget shot back at her.
She shook her head. “Get real. You probably know there are three bishops of the Christian religions in this city. If one is dead, why not talk to the others to find out what they might know? At least they can talk back to you. You can't get answers from a corpse.”
“I suggest you be quiet, as you're here to make sure we get the Bible not to tell us how to do it or to give orders. We'll conduct our search for the Bible just the way we think best to get the objective accomplished. Got that?”
The woman looked like she had never been spoken to in such a manner in her life. Her face moved as if she started to say something, but she stopped. She turned and headed for the door. On reaching it, she swirled to face Bridget.
“Make sure you get it or I'll make your life a living hell.”
Bridget laughed. “You'll have to stand in line.”
The door slammed behind her.
18
Vatican City
Three hours passed since a Swiss guard escorted Jonathan from
his office to the conference room. He patiently waited, hoping that someone would come in and tell him what was going on. All he did was ask about this bible Constantine ordered from the monks of Jerusalem. He couldn't understand why they now confined him in this room.
The door at the other end of the chamber opened. Two cardinals entered followed by a man in a simple black cassock. The cardinals were not in the traditional garb for ceremonial occasions. They wore black suits with the crosses slung on chains around their necks. Jonathan recognized all three. The most senior man, Cardinal Sanso, presided over the Congregation of the Faithful. His job entailed keeping the doctrine of the church clean and pure. He, unfortunately, had a severe stoop in his walk and normally kept his head drooping far forward. His height and slender body accentuated the C-shape of his posture. His face could have been a portrait taken from the Sistine Chapel from one of Michelangelo's angels on the front wall.
The second cardinal, Cardinal Ho Chan, a native of the People's Republic of China was recently appointed as the new secretary of state. He replaced the previous holder of that office, Cardinal Puglisi, after his untimely death near St. Augustine, Florida. The new Secretary exuded confidence and held his head in a regal manner. He sported a full crop of silver hair on a lean and compact body.
