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. “Touche,” 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
“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
“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
