'So you think the Shroud was in the Ark all those years?' Christopher asked after listening to Decker's story.
'I don't know, but it would answer some questions about the Shroud. And about you,' Decker added.
As they talked and looked at the carvings on the Arch, they were unaware that two young boys had approached them from behind. 'Scusi, Signor Goodman, potremmo avere la sua firma?' the older of the two boys asked.
Decker, who spoke no Italian, had no idea what the boys wanted, and was quite surprised when Christopher took a pen out of his jacket pocket and began to sign his name on some scraps of paper the boys handed him. 'Autographs?' he asked, making no attempt to hide his surprise.
Christopher nodded in answer to Decker's question. He spoke for a moment with the boys in perfect Italian, smiling broadly and shaking their hands as if they were important dignitaries, before dismissing them. The boys walked a few steps, each showing the other the autograph he had received. Then waving their scraps of paper in the air like trophies, they broke into a run toward a lady whom Decker took to be their mother, shouting, 'Il Principe di Roma.'
For a moment Decker just looked at Christopher, who seemed a little embarrassed by the whole thing. 'So that's what all the attention was about at the airport. You're a local celebrity.'
Christopher shrugged.
'Don't be embarrassed. I think that's great. You must be doing quite a job here.'
'It's not really anything I've done: I've just gotten a lot of credit for some of the United Nations programs we've implemented. Popular programs make for a popular administration.'
The next morning Decker and Christopher arrived early at Christopher's office at the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization. Jack Redmond's arrival time would be dependent on Rome's morning traffic. FAO headquarters occupied an immense building complex covering more than four square blocks in the modern city of Rome and towering well above all of the surrounding buildings. Located on Viale delle Terme di Caracalla, the FAO employed more than 2500 professional administrative personnel with a biannual budget of two and a half billion dollars.
At Christopher's office they were greeted by a young, attractive Italian woman. 'Buon giorno, Signore Goodman,' the woman said.
'Good morning, Maria,' Christopher answered in English. 'This is my very good friend, Mr. Decker Hawthorne, Director of Public Affairs of the United Nations. Decker, this is Maria Sabetini.'
'Mr. Hawthorne, it's a pleasure to meet you. Mr. Goodman mentions you frequently.'
'The pleasure is all mine,' Decker answered. 'Are you any relation to President Sabetini?' he asked, recognizing that she bore the same last name as Italy's president.
'Maria is the president's youngest daughter,' Christopher answered.
'Oh… uh, well, then it's even more of a pleasure.' Decker tried to not seem too surprised, but the question about her name had just been small talk; he never expected the answer he got.
'Mr. Redmond will be arriving a little later,' Christopher told Maria. 'When he gets here, please, show him in.'
After Christopher closed the door behind them Decker blurted out, 'Your secretary is the Italian president's daughter?!'
Christopher shook his head, trying not to make too much of it. 'She's not a secretary, she's an administrative assistant,' he said. 'She wanted a job. And I needed an administrative assistant.'
'Yeah, but the president's daughter?'
'It was Secretary Milner's idea.' Decker's expression requested an explanation. 'Secretary Milner was here on some business shortly after I became Director-General of FAO. He and the president are old friends. I just happened to mention to him in passing that I needed to find an administrative assistant.'
'I don't suppose it's hurt your relationship with the Italian government any,' Decker said.
'No, things have been very cordial.'
Christopher's office was spacious and luxuriously decorated and furnished. On the walls were pictures of Christopher with several members of the United Nations Security Council; numerous Italian government officials including the Italian Prime Minister, the Italian Ambassador to the U.N., and the Italian President; and with leaders of the Roman Catholic Church, including three cardinals. Most prominent in the room were two pictures displayed side by side, one of Christopher with Secretary-General Jon Hansen, and the other of Christopher with Robert Milner and the Pope. 'You've been a very busy boy,' Decker commented as he scanned the photos.
'To tell you the truth, most of this has been Secretary Milner's doing. He's been here four or five times a year since I've been FAO Director-General,' Christopher said. Milner, now ninety, seemingly had not aged a day since the transfusion of Christopher's blood eight years before. If anything, he seemed younger, far younger. 'I had no idea Secretary Milner had so much business in Italy.'
'Hmm, neither did I,' Decker responded. Decker was certain that Milner's frequent trips were not a coincidence. He was obviously doing everything he could to advance Christopher's position with those in power in Italy. It was not that Decker objected in any way; still, there was a mystery here. He didn't have long to think about it, though. His eye was caught by a familiar face in another picture of Christopher with a very distinguished man in front of the Coliseum. 'When was David Bragford here?' Decker asked.
'Oh, that was last summer. He was here with Secretary Milner for a meeting of world bankers.' At that moment Maria announced Jack Redmond's arrival.
'All hail the Prince of Rome,' Redmond said, addressing Christopher and bowing in mock obeisance as he came in.
Decker had no idea what prompted Jack's greeting but assumed it to be a joke; the look of mild annoyance on Christopher's face indicated there was more to it than that. 'Okay, I'll bite,' Decker said. 'What's going on? What's this 'Prince of Rome' stuff?'
'Haven't you seen last week's issue of Epoca?' Jack asked Decker, referring to the Italian magazine that is the equivalent of Time or Newsweek.
'No,' Decker answered, looking back and forth from Jack to Christopher, hoping for an answer.
'Here,' Jack said, as he opened his briefcase and handed the Italian magazine to Decker. On the cover was a very complimentary picture of Christopher with the words 'Christopher Goodman, Il Trentenne, Principe di Roma' boldly displayed underneath.
Decker examined the photo for a moment and then asked for a translation of the caption. Christopher just sat silently, looking a little embarrassed, as Jack answered. 'It says, 'Christopher Goodman, the 30-Year-Old Prince of Rome.'' Decker looked proud enough to burst. He couldn't read a word of Italian but he quickly flipped through the magazine trying to find the accompanying article. 'Will somebody please tell me what this is all about?' he asked impatiently.
'It seems our boy Christopher has made quite a name for himself around these parts.' Jack's voice was laden with an exaggerated Cajun accent – something he did whenever he wanted to do a little friendly ribbing.
'It's nothing,' Christopher protested. 'The editor o fthe magazine came up with that to insult the Primo Ministro della Repubblica. Uh, the prime minister,' he added in translation. 'They've had a running battle for months. Apparently the people at Epoca thought that it would serve their purposes to build me up while tearing down the Primo Ministro. The article right after the one about me calls the Primo Ministro a useless, ineffective bore.' Decker flipped to the article about the Prime Minister and found a most unflattering picture of the man. He wondered if the photo had been altered to make him look so bad.
'Me thinks the prince doth protest too much,' Jack said, intentionally misquoting Hamlet.
'I just think the whole thing is a little silly. I called the Prime Minister as soon as I saw the article and let him know that I had no idea they were going to use the story as they did. Fortunately, we've had the opportunity to establish a very affable relationship over the past several years. He took the whole thing very well. Now, could we please get some work done?'
'Okay, okay,' Jack said, still joking, 'I'll behave.'
'Wait a second,' interrupted Decker. 'I want a copy of this and an English translation.'
'You guys make it awfully hard to be modest,' Christopher protested.
'Listen,' said Jack Redmond, donning his political advisor's hat, 'you can be damned proud of that article. It's not often that a U.N. official other than Hansen gets that type of recognition in the press. I mean, after all – and
