Zeb sat back in her chair, held her head in her hands and gave a nervous laugh. 'Fuck. The Garden of God in the Voynich is the womb of Gaia, the cradle of all life on Earth. Fuck, Ross, that's one hell of a hypothesis. No wonder that priest's got his panties in a twist.'
He laughed with her. 'We've still got to prove the hypothesis.'
'There's one way to do that,' Zeb said, reaching for Orlando Falcon's notebook. 'Find the garden.'
Ross thought of Lauren and the baby and his excitement evaporated. 'I can't leave Lauren to go on a wild- goose chase. Not when she needs me most.'
'It's not a wild-goose chase,' said a voice behind them.
Ross swivelled round. 'How long have you been there?'
'Long enough to hear your theory.'
'You must be Sister Chantal,' said Zeb, standing up. 'Hello, I'm Zeb Quinn. I worked with Lauren on the manuscript.'
Sister Chantal walked across the room and clasped Zeb's hand in both of hers, then picked up Falcon's notebook from the desk and clutched it to her chest. 'Are you both coming with me to find the garden?'
'You can count me in,' said Zeb.
'Whoa, not so fast,' said Ross. He pointed to the notebook. 'Even if the garden does exist – and it's a big if – some of the clues are pretty cryptic, to say the least.'
'I can interpret them,' said Sister Chantal.
'Really? How come you're so confident?'
'I'm the Keeper. I've followed them in the past.'
'To get to the garden?' Ross frowned in disbelief. 'You've been there?'
'Yes.'
'So why do you need us to help you go back?'
'Because I'm old, the journey is difficult and it was a very long time ago.' She tapped the notebook. 'To find our way we'll need to follow this step by step.'
Ross rubbed his temples in frustration, unable to determine if the old woman was telling the truth or was a delusional fantasist. 'Sister, I want to believe your story. I really want to believe there's a miraculous garden out there that can save my wife. But if you think I'm going to leave Lauren in her current state, just because you say this garden exists and you've been there, you're wrong.'
'But what about your theory?'
'This isn't a science experiment. I can't leave my wife to check out an improbable hypothesis. I need more. I need proof.'
'I showed you the book.'
He shook his head.
She paused. 'I did have something that might have convinced you of the garden's healing power, but not enough. I used the last of it…' she levelled her beautiful eyes on Ross '… for Lauren.'
Ross's heart jumped. 'What are you saying?' Suddenly he remembered how he had found Sister Chantal kneeling by Lauren's bed – near the feeding tube. Then he remembered the nun's empty leather pouch. He felt sick. 'You gave her something?'
She gazed evenly at him. 'Only what I had left, which wasn't much. It was a futile gesture but I wanted desperately to make her well. I'd have given her more if I'd had it. I'm sure it'll have had some effect, but it won't cure her, I'm afraid.'
'What exactly did you give her?' demanded Zeb.
Ross jumped up and reached for the phone. Not only was the old nun delusional but she had poisoned his wife. 'What have you done? For Christ's sake, what have you done?' The phone rang as his hand touched it. He put it on speaker and glared at Sister Chantal. 'Ross Kelly.'
'Ross, it's Diana.' Lauren's mother sounded breathless. 'I'm calling from the hospital.'
Zeb's face turned pale and something cold uncoiled in Ross's stomach. 'What's wrong? What's happened?'
'Don't worry, Ross, it's good,' she said quickly. 'There's been a small but significant improvement. Lauren's off the ventilator. She's breathing for herself and the baby's getting oxygen. They've warned me not to get too excited because her prognosis hasn't really changed, but the baby's doing well.'
He was flooded with relief and shock. He continued to glare at the nun. 'When did they discover she was doing better, Diana?'
'Less than an hour ago.'
'Do they know how it happened?'
'Not yet. They're running tests – but the doctors said it was very unusual to get such a sudden improvement. Frankly it's a minor miracle, Ross.'
'I'll come over.'
'You don't need to. It's late and, like I said, they're running tests.
I'll stay with her till midnight. Why don't you come in first thing tomorrow morning?'
He glanced at his watch. It was late, and he wouldn't know any more until the test results were through. 'I'll do that, Diana. Thanks for letting me know.'
'See you tomorrow. Good night.'
He hung up, trying to process what had just happened. He didn't know whether to feel angry or grateful for the nun's meddling.
It was Zeb who broke the silence. 'You gave Lauren something from the garden?'
'Yes.'
'What?' demanded Ross.
'It doesn't matter. What matters is that it was all I had left, and it wasn't enough. We need more. A lot more.' She seemed suddenly very tired. 'Ross, I don't care how you explain Father Orlando's garden – religiously, scientifically, spiritually. Just know that it has the power to cure your wife and a lot more besides.' She slumped on to the chair beside him. 'And we haven't much time to find it. The medicine I gave Lauren was what I had saved for myself to help me make the arduous journey. I'm frail, and without me to interpret the directions I fear you'll never find it.' She smiled. 'So, whatever decision you make, Ross, make it soon. Because, with or without you, I'm going.'
21
That night, Ross slept on his decision, dreaming of his fragile family: Lauren and the baby, clinging to life; the baby trying desperately to enter the world, the mother fighting not to leave it.
While he slept, the assassin who had once been la mano sinistra del diavolo stealthily carried out his master's instructions.
First he attached digital taps to Ross's home phone lines.
Later, in the early hours of the morning, he entered the deserted corridors of the Sacred Heart Hospital wearing an orderly's uniform and carrying a black bag. When he was sure he was alone he entered room thirty-six of the spinal-injuries unit. As he approached the bed he checked the name on the chart and opened his bag. For a long moment he stared at the patient's inert form, listening to the rhythmic sound of the instruments that kept her alive. All the time his face remained expressionless, betraying no hint of what he was thinking. Eventually, he reached into the bag and did what the Father General had instructed him to do.
Then he cast a final glance at the bed and left. No one registered his presence, and if the bed's occupant had seen him she was in no position to tell.
22
