“It does indeed. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but my last professional publication was called
“I didn’t get a chance to read it,” Jack commented. “I thought I’d wait for the movie.”
“Okay, wise guy!” Shawn laughed. “It wasn’t meant to be a bestseller, but it was meant to be the definitive work on a very complicated structure that had been under almost continual renovation for two millennia. Currently I’m probably the most knowledgeable person on the complexities of Saint Peter’s tomb. From Saturninus’s letter, I had a good idea of where the ossuary would be in relation to one of the tunnels dug during the tomb’s last excavations.
“So, the tunnel was reasonably accessible?”
“Very much so. I knew the tunnel had not been filled in from my work at the site. My only mistake was that the ossuary was in the wall and not in the ceiling.”
“It’s an amazing story,” Jack said. “Is it your intention to open the ossuary tomorrow?”
“You bet your life! Thanks to your arranging access to a modern lab facility.”
“Would you mind if I stuck around to watch after I get you and your wife settled in the lab?”
“Not at all. We’d love to have you. In fact, if we find what we hope to find, we’ll have to have a celebration tomorrow night at our house in the West Village, and you’ll be invited. We’ll even pressure His Holiness into joining us. It will be the Three Musketeers all over again.”
“If you find what you want to find, I’m not sure James will be in the mood to celebrate,” Jack said, shaking Shawn’s hand in preparation of leaving.
“I think we’ll be able to twist his arm,” Shawn said, walking Jack to the office door.
“See you tomorrow for what should turn out to be a remarkable unveiling.”
“Looking forward to it,” Jack said. Remembering a question he’d been meaning to ask, he added, “If there are bones in the ossuary, would you want the OCME anthropologist to look at them? He’s an expert on old bones, and can probably tell you some interesting things about them.”
“Why not, provided there’s no mention of whose bones they are. ‘The more information we can get, the better’ has always been my motto.”
19
5:05 P.M., FRIDAY, DECEMBER 5, 2008
NEW YORK CITY
Jack took the elevator down to the museum’s first floor in anticipatory excitement.
Although the lobby was still as crowded as it had been earlier, Jack hardly noticed the people. Instead, he thought about how good it had been to see two of his best friends from a time in his life he’d so enjoyed, especially catching up with them as this mesmerizing narrative unfolded. Jack could not remember another occasion when he’d been more eager for time to pass and questions to be answered. The only dubious element was the history of his two friends’ propensity to clash. Jack had the disturbing feeling that he’d again be called to referee a serious conflict between the two men, as he’d done in college, each steadfastly convinced of the validity of his position. Little did Jack know how prophetic and deadly his intuition would prove to be.
Jack didn’t waste time riding home, thanks to the cold air. Pushing himself to generate as much body heat as possible, he rode uptown at breakneck speed. Within fifteen minutes he’d traversed the park and reached 106th Street, heading for his house, a fourth-floor walk-up that he and Laurie had recently renovated. Directly across the street was the playground Jack had refurbished at his own expense. As he glided to a stop, he eyed the basketball court he’d had illuminated. It was covered with shiny black pools of rainwater, meaning there would be no games that night.
Hoisting his bike onto his shoulder, he climbed the eight front steps of the stoop and stepped inside. He glanced at the console table and the mirror directly above it. There was no note waiting for him to let him know if Laurie and the baby were asleep.
Jack couldn’t decide if he preferred a note or not. When there was a note, he’d instantly feel lonely. When there wasn’t, he’d have to gird himself from getting too emotional hearing about the invariable bad day.
“We’re up here,” Laurie shouted from the kitchen.
Jack felt a bit of relief, as Laurie’s voice sounded less strained than usual. Perhaps it had been a good day. When it had been a bad day, Jack could always hear it in her tone.
After stashing his bike in a custom-sized front-hall closet and hanging up his leather jacket, he slipped off his shoes, put on his slippers, and climbed upstairs. As he had expected, Laurie and JJ were in the kitchen. On the surface, it looked like a normal domestic scene. JJ was on his back in the playpen, reaching for the mobile suspended above him. Except for his slightly bulging eyes and the dark circles below them, he looked like any baby. Laurie was at the sink, preparing artichokes for their evening meal. Except for her pale skin and the dark circles under her eyes that rivaled JJ’s, she looked terrific. Her lustrous brown hair glinted with auburn highlights.
Noticing Jack’s gaze, she said, “JJ let me take a shower! He’s had a better day today than any other day this week. I feel like I’ve been on vacation.”
“That’s fabulous,” Jack said.
Laurie rinsed her hands and dried them on her apron as she walked over to Jack and enveloped him in her arms. For a full minute, the husband and wife embraced, speaking volumes without words. Laurie was the first to pull back to give Jack a peck on the lips.
Then she went back to the sink and the artichokes.
“How was your day?” she asked. “How’s your crusade going?” Jack thought for a moment about what to say. The day had been irritating and exhilarating. He’d gone from squabbling with Lou and Vinnie to lunching with the archbishop and meeting Shawn at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
“Cat got your tongue?”
“It’s been a full day,” Jack said, but he didn’t know where to go from there. His promise to James not to tell Laurie about the ossuary put him in a fix, because it was the only thing he wanted to tell her. He didn’t want to revisit his embarrassing behavior with Lou and Vinnie, and if he mentioned Shawn and the museum, he’d have to bring up the ossuary.
“Well, was it good full or bad full?”
“A little of both.”
Laurie leaned her hands on the edge of the sink. “So I guess you don’t want to talk about your day.”
“Sort of,” Jack said evasively. He felt penned in. “I’ve kinda given up on the crusade idea.”
“Why?”
“No one wants to hear criticism about alternative medicine, at least none of the people who use it, and there are a lot of people who use it. The only way I might influence their opinion is by having lots and lots of cases, which I’m not going to be able to find. I’m sure there are hundreds of cases locked up inside the OCME records, but there’s no way to get at them. I’m kind of spinning my wheels. The biggest problem is that the crusade is not keeping me from obsessing about you-know-who.”
“I guess I can understand, but it sounded like such a good idea when you told me about it Monday night. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, it’s not your fault.”
“I know, but I’m still sorry. I know you need a diversion. I could use one myself.” Jack winced at Laurie’s comment, exacerbating his omnipresent guilt of not sharing the burden of JJ’s illness. “I can well imagine you could use one,” he said. “Do you want to rethink the nurse idea so you could come back to work, maybe on a half-time basis?”
“Absolutely not!” Laurie said with an edge to her voice. “I didn’t mention the issue to bring it up for discussion.”
“Okay, okay,” Jack repeated, getting the message loud and clear.
“Anyone say anything about JJ since you spoke to Bingham and Calvin yesterday?”
“No one except Bingham himself.”
“That’s good. Maybe they’ll honor their word and respect our privacy.” Jack walked over to the playpen and looked down at his son. He longed to bend down and pick him up and hold him against his chest to feel his heart beat, to feel his warmth and smell his sweet smell, but he didn’t dare.
There was also a more practical reason he was reluctant to pick him up—because he’d probably start to cry. Jack thought JJ’s extensive bone tumors caused him tremendous pain, which seemed to be aggravated when he
