retiring, though, he sat in the lobby with team members Roger Harris, Susan Chon, and Joshua Rosen, unwinding with a slowly stirred cup of coffee heavily laced with Irish cream liqueur. Decker entertained little thought of interviewing anyone. Over the past three days, he had begun to see himself much less as a reporter and much more as a member of the team. Habitually, though, he continued making mental notes.
One of his companions, Dr. Joshua Rosen, was a nuclear physicist from Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory working on laser and particle beam research for the Pentagon. Rosen was one of the four Jewish members of the team and Decker could not resist the opportunity to ask him about his feelings on examining a Christian relic.
Rosen smiled. 'If I weren't so tired I'd lead you on a bit,' he said. 'But if you really want an answer on that you'll have to ask one of the other Jewish members of the team.'
'You don't have an opinion?' Decker queried.
'I have an opinion, but I'm not qualified to answer your question.' Rosen paused and Decker's brow tightened in puzzlement.
'I'm Messianic,' Rosen added in response. Decker didn't catch his meaning. 'A Christian Jew,' Rosen explained.
'Oh,' said Decker. 'This isn't something that happened in the last few days, is it?'
Rosen laughed.
Roger Harris, too tired to even talk, barely managed to force down a mouthful of coffee as he began to laugh with Rosen. Decker's remark had not been that funny, but the pained look on Roger's face set Susan Chon to laughing and soon the four overtired, punch-drunk team members were laughing uncontrollably, with each member's inability to control himself fueling the others' laughter.
On the other side of the dining room, a woman had been sitting since before Decker and the others came in. On the table before her were the remnants of a long-finished cup of tea and a half-eaten hard roll. She held a red hotel napkin, pulling it in one direction and then the other. She had been watching Decker and the other team members as they talked, building up her courage to go over to their table. Their laughter made them seem somehow more approachable and human, while its infectious nature seemed to brighten her own dark mood. She rose from her seat and walked slowly but decisively toward them.
'You are Americans?' she asked when their laughter began to pass.
'Yes,' Joshua Rosen responded.
'You're with the scientists examining the Shroud?'
On the woman's face Decker saw lines of worry; in her eyes, the evidence of recently blotted tears.
'Yes,' he answered. 'We're working with the Shroud. Is there something we can we do for you?'
'My son – he's four – is very ill. The doctors say he may not live more than a few months. All that I ask is that you allow me to bring flowers to the Shroud as a gift to Jesus.'
No one at the table had gotten more than twelve hours sleep in the previous four days and it seemed to Decker that the tears of laughter were joined by tears of sympathy for the woman's plight and her modest request. All agreed to help but Rosen was the first to offer a plan. It would be impossible for the woman to bring flowers to the Shroud herself. However, Rosen told her that if she would bring the flowers to the palace the next day around one o'clock, he would bring them to the Shroud himself.
In his room, Decker fell quickly to sleep and felt totally rested when he awoke fourteen hours later, at noon the next day. When he arrived at the palace an hour later, Rosen was talking with the woman from the hotel. Decker noticed that the cloud of depression which had covered her the night before had been replaced by a peaceful look of hope. She smiled in recognition at Decker as she started to leave.
Rosen started up the stairs with the vase of cut flowers but, spotting Decker, turned and waited.
'Pretty neat, huh?' Rosen said.
'Pretty neat,' Decker responded. But to himself he wondered what would happen to the woman if her son died.
Chapter 3
Body of Christ
Ten years later – Knoxville, Tennessee
It was cold outside. The usual warm autumn weather of East Tennessee had given way to a cold snap that sent the local residents scurrying to their wood piles for added warmth and atmosphere. Decker and his wife Elizabeth lay a bit more than half asleep, snuggled together before a waning fire, dreaming to the sound of the crackling hardwood embers. The fire's warmth and glow offered more than enough reason for not getting up when the phone rang. One-year-old Hope Hawthorne lay sleeping soundly in her crib in the bedroom. Though he knew she wouldn't likely be awakened by it, on the third ring Decker finally lifted himself slowly from the floor and moved toward the offending instrument. On the eighth ring he answered.
'Hello.'
'Decker Hawthorne?' responded the voice from the other end of the phone.
'Yes,' Decker answered.
'This is Harry Goodman. I have something you'll want to see.' Goodman's voice was excited but controlled. 'It's a story for your newspaper. Can you come to Los Angeles right away?'
'Professor?' Decker said, a little dumbfounded and not yet fully awake. 'This is quite a surprise. It's been… ' Decker paused to count the years, 'seven or eight years. How are you?'
'I'm fine,' Goodman answered hastily, not the least bit interested in small talk. 'Can you come to Los Angeles?' he asked again, insistently.
'I don't know, Professor. What exactly is the story about?'
'If I tell you over the phone you'll think I'm crazy.'
'Maybe not. Try me.'
'I can't. Not over the phone. All I can say is it has to do with the Shroud.'
'The Shroud?' Decker asked in surprise. '… of Turin?'
''Of course, the Shroud of Turin.'
'Uh… Professor, I hate to bring this up, but I'm afraid the Shroud is old news. They did carbon 14 dating of the Shroud and found out it wasn't old enough to be the burial cloth of Christ. Didn't you read about it in the newspapers last month? It was on the front page of The New York Times. '7
'You think I live in a shell or something? I know all about the carbon 14 dating,' Goodman said, not pleased at having to explain himself.
'Well, so what more is there to say about it?'
'I really don't think I can talk about this on the phone. Decker, this may be the most important discovery since Columbus discovered the New World. Please, just trust me on this one. I promise you won't be disappointed.'
Decker knew that Goodman was not given to gross exaggeration. Obviously whatever it was must be something pretty important. He did a quick mental check of his schedule and agreed to fly to Los Angeles two days later.
'Who was that?' Elizabeth asked. 'Professor Goodman,' Decker answered. Elizabeth gave Decker a puzzled look. 'Goodman?' she asked. 'Henry Goodman, your old professor, the one you went with to Italy?'
7 Roberta Suro, 'Church Says Shroud of Turin Isn't Authentic.' The New York Times, October 14, 1988, section 1, p. 1.
'Yeah,' said Decker without much enthusiasm. 'Only it's Harry, not Henry. I'm afraid I'm going to have to skip the drive up to Cade's Cove on Saturday. I have to fly out to Los Angeles to see him about a story.'
Elizabeth's disappointment showed on her face but she didn't say anything.
That night Decker and Elizabeth lay in bed talking about what it could be that Goodman had found. Decker had
