“Where would we find such a person?”
In his excitement, James had little patience for what he interpreted as negativity on his secretaries’ part. He rolled his eyes at Father Maloney’s ridiculous question. “I ask you,” James said with uncamouflaged frustration, “where ultra-devoted followers of Mary, the Mother of God, might be found?”
“I suppose as members of Roman Catholic Marian movements and societies.”
“Very good, Father Maloney,” James said with a touch of sarcasm, acting as if he was teaching a Sunday- morning catechism class to preteens. “Starting at the crack of dawn, I want you to begin calling such institutions and talk to their abbots, mother superiors, or bishops, to let them know that I have called this an archdiocesan emergency to find the right person. Let them know it is a serious affair, as this individual will for a week or so work directly under me on a mission of high importance concerning the Blessed Virgin and the Church in general. And make it clear that this is not an award for someone’s past labors. It is for the here and now. I’m not looking for an old, distinguished Marian scholar. Actually, I’m looking for a young person filled with youthful zealous-ness who is mystically capable of expressing his or her zeal to others. Do I have full understanding here?”
Both Father Maloney and Father Karlin quickly nodded. They had never seen their usually in-control boss quite so fervid.
“Now, I would participate myself, but I have Mass to celebrate in the morning with a sermon, which I have yet to outline. I need to trust that you two will not fail me. When I return here to the residence around noon, I want there to be at least one and hopefully several candidates for me to interview. How you get them here, I do not care, nor is cost an issue. As the weather is supposed to be good, a helicopter might be necessary. Again I ask, are both of you on the same page here, or what?”
“You have not told us what this person will be actually doing,” Father Maloney said,
“and you have specifically said that you would not. But I can see that question coming up from the abbots, mother superiors, and bishops. What should we answer?”
“Answer that it is my judgment that no one, except of course the individual selected, should know the problem the archdiocese is facing.”
“Very good,” Father Maloney said as he got to his feet and clasped his robe more tightly about his bony slenderness. Father Karlin stood as well.
“That will be all,” James said. “And I pray you will be successful.”
“Thank you, Your Eminence,” Father Maloney said, bowing slighting at the waist before following Father Karlin by backing out the door.
As the two priests climbed the flight of stairs from the second floor to the third, Father Karlin, who was in the lead, called down to Father Maloney, who was just starting up,
“This might be the strangest task I’ve been charged with since my arrival here five years ago.”
“I guess I’d have to agree,” Father Maloney said.
At the base of the stair run up to the fourth floor, Father Karlin hesitated and waited for his colleague. “How are we going to get the phone numbers of these Marian societies?”
“There are plenty of ways,” Father Maloney said, “especially now, with the Internet.
Besides, it was clear that the cardinal wants a particularly extreme individual. For that we go to the most radical organization. Maybe, if we’re lucky, one call may do the trick.”
“Are you aware of the most fanatical organization?”
“I believe I am,” Father Maloney said. “A friend of my family contacted me several years ago to try to get their child out of an organization called the Brotherhood of the Slaves of Mary. I had never heard of it, and it’s not that far away, literally up in the Catskill Mountains, although figuratively it’s on another planet. Apparently, it’s a modern revival of a seventeenth-century fanatical European Marian society, which the then Pope Clement the Tenth felt compelled to outlaw some of the practices of.”
“Good grief,” Father Karlin voiced. “What kind of practices?”
“Using chains and other enslavement instruments for penance for mankind’s sins.”
“Dear God,” Father Karlin added. “Did you manage to get the child out?”
“I didn’t. Multiple phone calls and even a visit were for naught. He apparently loved the place, as it was what he needed. I don’t know if he’s still there or not. I haven’t been in contact with the family, as they were disappointed in my efforts.”
“Do you still have the contact numbers?”
“I do. I’ll call first thing. Of course, if the cardinal knew the society existed and he visited it, he’d probably close it down.”
“That is an irony, especially if we find someone there who fulfills the cardinal’s needs.” 25
12:04 P.M., SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7, 2008
NEW YORK CITY
James enjoyed a heady sensation as he left the cathedral redolent with incense to make his way back to the residence. The cathedral had been packed for the High Mass, with people standing along the aisles and not a single seat available in the entire nave. The choir had done an excellent job with nary a mistake, and his sermon had gone well and had been well received. The previous evening, after the secretaries had left to return to their gabled rooms, James had decided to preach that morning about the role of Mary in the modern Church, both because it was appropriate for the feast day coming up the next day and because it had been dominating his mind for several days.
Now, with the stress of the High Mass out of the way, James was eager to get back to the Shawn, Sana, and the ossuary issue. He knew that the upcoming week was going to be critical, and he prayed that his secretaries had made some progress. As he came up the stair, the first thing he saw was that the wooden bench just outside his office was occupied by what looked like a fifteen- to sixteen-year-old towheaded boy with such a beauteous face, beatific smile, and lustrous, shoulder-length, golden hair that James did a double take, believing he could be having a vision of the Angel Gabriel. The boy was dressed in a black habit with a hood, cinched with a medium-blue cord.
Gathering his wits with some difficulty, James broke off eye contact with the youth and passed into his office. Quickly, he slipped behind his massive oak desk to catch his breath, knowing that Father Maloney would undoubtedly momentarily materialize. The big question in James’s mind was whether or not the boy was someone chosen as the possible interventionist. If so, James’s immediate impact was off the charts, which was something he was hoping for. Yet as positive as that was, there was a problem. The individual was too young, a mere boy, and James asked himself if he could possibly entrust someone so immature with such an important task.
As James expected, the door opened after a sharp knock, and in stepped the secretary.
Carrying a folder, Father Maloney quickly crossed to the desk and handed it to James.
“His name is Luke Hester, and yes, he was definitely named after the evangelist Luke.”
“He is striking,” James said. “I have to commend you on that, but isn’t he too young for a theological emergency? There is going to be a need for some innate psychology.”
“If you check the rapid biography I’ve thrown together, you will learn that he is older and therefore hopefully wiser than his youthful, angelic looks suggest. He is twenty-five years old, about to be twenty-six in a matter of months.”
“My word,” James exclaimed. He placed the folder on his desk and opened the cover and stared at the date of birth. “I never would have guessed.”
“There was a kind of mild hormonal problem that had never been investigated,” Father Maloney stated. “But that problem has been attended to and his hormones are now in the normal range. The brothers where he lives had him evaluated and treated a few years ago here in the city.”
“I see,” James said, rapidly glancing through the biography and learning that Luke was an only child of a devout Catholic mother and lapsed Catholic father. The boy had run away from home to join a Marian society called the Brotherhood of the Slaves of Mary when he turned eighteen.
“Have you spoken with him?”
“I have. I believe he comes the closest to the individual you described last night than anyone I’ve ever met.
“Is he committed to the Virgin Mary?”
“Totally, heart and soul. He is a walking, talking homily to the Blessed Virgin.”
“Thank you, Father Maloney. Why don’t you have him come in.” A half-hour later, James
