“You’re going to feel some tingling,” she whispered, stroking his arm.
Epilogue
******
Belfast
Charlotte ambled beside Father Donovan, her hiking shoes swishing through Milltown Cemetery’s dewy grass. A chilly breeze rustled some yellow-tinted leaves off an oak tree’s branches, portending autumn’s early arrival. The sloping hillside provided a dramatic panorama of the city, just beyond the A501 motorway bordering the property. Lively jazz music echoed up from the Cathedral Quarter, where the Belfast Music Festival was kicking off its second day.
Donovan was wrapping up a very important call that he’d received on his mobile just as they’d gotten out of the car. Smiling, he slipped his cell phone into his pocket, then glanced over at her and flicked his eyebrows.
“So?” She swept her red curls back from her face. A bulky Blarney
Woollen Mills sweater kept her warm.
“The Swiss Guard apprehended him last night as he tried to leave Vati
can City.”
“What will happen to him?”
“Nothing good, that’s for sure. Father Martin falsified documentation
to allow those two men in . . . the deskman was killed, you were abducted—”
“And you were left for dead.”
“That too,” he humbly replied. “Being an accomplice to these things . . .”
He shook his head gravely. “Some serious charges. The
me there’ll be a trial in a few weeks. We’ll both need to testify, of course.” “Of course.”
“And when will you be returning to Israel?”
“A few days, maybe. Told them I’m still recuperating.”
“But you will do it?” he asked with insistent eyes.
She sighed. “I’d be a fool not to. Besides, they seem to be having trouble
opening it. And when they found out I have the magic touch . . .” A playful shrug.
He smiled. “I must admit I’m quite envious. To be able to study the
Ark of the Covenant?” It was difficult for him to grasp the profundity of
the story she’d told him about the events following her abduction from
Vatican City. But the very notion that she’d likely touched the Bible’s
most legendary relic? He shook his head in disbelief. “An incredible opportunity.”
“You know, if I agree to this, I will be needing some help—theologically
and otherwise. I’ve already made a couple friends in Israel—an archaeologist and an Egyptologist. I recruited them for the project. But I was thinking, if you have some time, maybe you can accompany me . . . lend some
support?”
Beaming, Donovan eagerly replied, “You think the Israelis will allow
it? I mean, I don’t suppose they’ll fancy me being a Catholic priest and
all.”
“As I see it, if they want these puppies to open that box”—she splayed
out all her fingers and wiggled them—“they won’t have much choice now,
will they?”
Donovan chuckled. “I suppose you’re right. Well then, I am honored
and you can count on me.”
“I knew I could.”
He led her through a maze of gravestones and monuments dominated
by tall crucifixes—traditional and Celtic alike—crafted from marble and
granite.
“I don’t remember much after I hit the floor,” Donovan explained to
Charlotte. “But I had a strange vision of this place right before I went
unconscious.”
“It’s beautiful,” Charlotte said, looking out to the distant rolling hills. It wasn’t the view he was referring to. “There’s a quarter million
souls buried beneath us,” he said. “Barely any space left for newcomers.
But luckily, some years back, my mother convinced my father to buy
