Chapter IV

After some consideration, lots of perplexed gesturing, and some frustration, it seemed as if the world they thought they were investigating had gotten colder, and less viable.

“I won’t ask if you’ve repeated the test, because I’m sure you have.” Carnathan looked over at Dr. Ross, who was nodding with his hands folded under his chin.

“Your next five pages are the seven repeats of the test, administered by six different lab technicians. I even asked Palmer, from ‘sneaky tricks’ to come over and try the test. Bloke nearly crapped his pants, and those guys have seen it all.”

“Well,” Abbot offered to the now silent room. “I guess that’s curious, isn’t it?”

“Yup.”

“Gentlemen,” Pasquale said, speaking for the first time since they had begun the discussion. “We . . . please don’t let this get out. The people would make a mockery of this great man’s death. It would turn into some circus and end up on every tabloid in the world. Perhaps,” he implored, “there is some other explanation that we have overlooked.”

“Well, sir,” Dr. Ross returned, “we don’t have any explanation . . . at all”

He bit nervously at the side of his tongue. “That confuses me to the point that I just marked it as ’fun things to know and tell.′ I don’t think anyone would believe it unless they did the test themselves.”

Dr. Ross thought for a moment. He turned to Carnathan, “Do you think you could have the FBI run the same tests, without telling them our results? See what comes of it.”

“I’m on the phone the minute we leave this building.”

For the next twenty minutes Dr. Ross gave descriptions and passed around photographs of all of the various tests that had been performed, and their results. The next order of business was the evidence found on the bibles.

“Over here, are the four bibles that were delivered to us for study.

All of them leather bound, very nice. I’m not a believer myself, but as a collector of rare books I must admit that these are incredible.”

“How so?” Pasquale said as he approached the silicon box where the bibles were laid in a line, six or eight inches separating each one. You couldn’t touch them with your hands unless you used the hollow rubber arms that sat lifelessly waiting for human hands to operate. He got within inches of the Lexan, staring down at the bibles.

“Well,” Dr. Ross indicated. “They’re very rare. Though the pages look clean and fresh, they’re nearly two hundred years old. And it is odd to find them in that assortment.”

The others looked back at the doctor. “What I mean to say is that I wouldn’t have expected to find the variety of different bibles that we have here.”

Pasquale studied the man and then turned back to the bibles. Ritti squinted his eyes, trying to see something he must be missing. And there it was. Two of the bibles had some extra pages.

“I’m not a big religious nut,” Carnathan declared, “so somebody give this one to me in English.”

Ritti answered, feeling Pasquale’s eyes burning into the side of his head, “There are several different versions of the bible. Many of the versions include different, or extra scriptures and chapters. Two of these bibles are original King James, but the others have extra pages. And it seems that the dark green one on the far left probably contains the Apocrypha.”

“So?”

“Well, Roman Catholics don’t honor some scriptures, so it would be odd to find a bible containing scriptures of that nature in the chamber of an Archbishop. Like finding Muslims with copies of the Torah laying next to the Quran

“But other than that,” Pasquale said anxiously, “that’s it? Nothing else?”

Dr. Ross glanced over to Singleton briefly as he spoke. “Not really. We searched for Mitochondrial DNA on the books: pages and covers. Other than a few eye lashes, and some bread crumbs . . . nothing.” Ross avoided eye contact with anyone else in the room as he spoke. Just a busy scientist doing his thing.

Pasquale asked, “I would like to know if I can take the bibles back to the Vatican to be buried with the Archbishop?”

“I’ll have to check with the Home Office for that,” Singleton answered.

“But, once the investigation is finished,” he raised his palms outward. “I wouldn’t see any problem. Those were the Archbishop’s personal property.”

The room fell silent as the men studied the bibles in the see-through box.

“So, nothing conclusive?” Abbot pondered to nobody in particular. “Nothing at all,” Singleton answered. Perhaps a bit too fast.

Again, the lab was silent and considering; the men all alone in their thoughts.

“I’ve got to go back to Washington,” Carnathan said, breaking the silence.

“I need to get the lab to do a bunch of other tests.”

“And we really can’t afford to spend anymore time chasing ghosts,” the Papal Nuncio said, sounding almost like an apology. “We must take the Archbishop’s body and return to the Vatican.” He looked over at Ritti, who backed away from the box and turned.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “we have to go.”

Singleton then led them back to the dressing area where they stripped off their lab coveralls and gathered up their personal belongings. He explained that Ritti and Pasquale would be given every courtesy in delivering the Archbishop’s body through customs and to their private plane.

Singleton pulled Carnathan aside to trade sheets of medical documents as they started towards the parking lot.

“Nothing else on those bibles, huh?” Carnathan asked quietly as he handed Singleton a thin folder.

Singleton checked the periphery. With a salesman’s smile he said through his teeth, “We found microdots.”

“In the book pages?”

“Buried in the book cover of one of them. There was a small corner that was coming unglued. Several dots were found under a small paper flap.”

“They have images?” Carnathan said between pleasant party laughs. The others paid them little attention. Well, accept for the Papal Nuncio, who occasionally glanced in their direction.

“Clear as day,” Singleton said. “You’ll find complete copies in the notes I’ve just handed you.” He looked at the group, now getting a bit antsy. “Let’s go . . . we’ll be in touch. Have your lab do what they do.”

Carnathan nodded, and then said, “Well, I’ll have our boys repeat all of these tests,” just loud enough so that the others could ease drop.

“Very good, mate. Cheers,” Singleton said like a saucy Londoner might . . . in a movie. Carnathan gave him a mocking glare and they walked towards the others.

As the van started making its way through the various checkpoints, there

was the tired silence of contemplation. Ritti was unsure of everything he had just been informed of, but one thing was certain: Something is crooked in the Vatican. He had made a quick call to Peter, back in Rome, and was informed that they were tracing all sorts of strange money transactions in and out of certain discretionary (black) banks that the Swiss Guard had come to know about over the years. Somebody was making all manner of strange deposits.

Peter and Donnie had split their investigation into two parts. The first was the search for the strange monies being moved around. The second was the true identity of the newly deceased Archbishop.

Peter then outlined what they knew about the recent ‘suicide’ of Cardinal Silva in Brazil, a couple of days ago. It was no coincidence that it had occurred in the proximity of the Pope. The question was . . . why?

It was one of those conversations where Peter was usually doing the talking, and Ritti was usually doing the silent nodding. With an occasionally pleasant smile to the others in the van, he listened. “Ok, my friend,” he said to Peter, “we’ll be back tonight.”

He nodded a couple more times and then disconnected the call. He placed his cellphone into the front of his jacket pocket. He placed his curiosity into the front of his thoughts.

Abbot leaned to him, “Hey, uh, Don’ s going back to Washington, but I still have a couple days before I have to be back in San Antonio.”

Ritti sat back in the squishy fabric seat, feeling every crack and bump in the road. Arid in London, there were many. “You ever taken the Vatican Tour?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Some of the most impressive artwork in the world. Perhaps a greater collection even than the Louvre, in Paris.”

“You think you could get me a free ticket?” “Promise to keep your clothes on?” Ritti asked.

“Sure,” Abbot said as he lifted both of his hands to display his crossed fingers on each. “Cross my heart.”

Ritti giggled. “I don’t see any problem.”

Pasquale leaned forward. He had been sitting in the very back of the van. “Mr. Abbot.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you a Roman Catholic?”

“Well,” he answered. “I’ve never really been the religious type. Not that I’m opposed to the idea of a creator and whatnot. Just never had the time to study it. Been looking at dead bodies for so many years . . . you know.”

The Nuncio leaned his head between Ritti· .and Abbot. “But, could you believe, or are you open to the possibility?”

Abbot nodded. “Sure. I’m open to anything.”

“Well now. That’s a start,” Pasquale said as he sat back. “That’s a good place to start.”