just be thankful that his scheme was never carried out. Because unlike today, where skilled scientists like yourself can detect foul play, in ancient times, a physical body could have been extremely problematic.”
“And the ossuary was found only recently?” She braced herself for the answer.
“The Ephemeris Conlusio was obtained by the Vatican in the early fourteenth century. But it wasn’t taken seriously until a lone archaeologist unearthed a tomb just north of Jerusalem a few weeks ago. Luckily he was smart enough to know that if he approached us discreetly we’d pay him very handsomely for it.”
Momentarily perplexed, Charlotte let the explanation roll over in her mind a couple times. If Donovan was telling the truth, that would mean that this anonymous archaeologist might have killed people to get the ossuary and the Vatican may have been none-the-wiser about its procurement. Possibly Bersei had jumped to the wrong conclusion. But he was a smart man—a very smart man. She’d personally witnessed that he wasn’t the type who’d make hasty assumptions about anything. What had he discovered that made him so sure of his claims? “A first- century relic of a crucified man bearing the symbol of Christ,” she murmured. “A priceless artifact...for all the wrong reasons.”
“Exactly. This was a seemingly authentic discovery that, without proper explanation, may have caused needless hardship for the Christian faith. We needed to be sure it all matched the accounts in Joseph’s journal before finalizing any transaction. And thanks to your hard work, I’m certain we’ve closed this case.”
Charlotte’s eyes wandered back to the opened manuscript where Joseph’s drawings inventoried the ossuary and all its contents. Then she noticed something. The scroll cylinder wasn’t included there. Her brow furrowed.
“Is something wrong?” Donovan asked.
Taking the plastic-sheathed cylinder in her hand, she said, “Why isn’t this shown there?” She motioned to the drawings.
Donovan suddenly looked nervous. “Not sure,” he said, shaking his head. He tentatively glanced over at Santelli. He had tried to avoid this, not knowing what the scroll inside might actually say.
“Why don’t you open it?” Santelli boldly suggested.
Taken aback, Charlotte said, “I’ve never really handled ancient documents before. We were waiting to...”
“Nothing to worry about, Dr. Hennesey,” Santelli cut in. “Father Donovan is an expert in handling ancient documents. Besides, I doubt we’ll be wanting to put any of this on display in the Vatican Museum.”
“Okay.” She handed the bagged cylinder to the white-faced librarian.
“Go ahead, Patrick,” Santelli urged. “Open it.”
Amazed that the cardinal could be so brazen, Donovan proceeded to open the bag. Withdrawing the cylinder, he removed the loose end cap and tipped the scroll out onto the table. He exchanged eager glances with Santelli and Hennesey. “Here we go.” With the utmost care, he unfurled the scroll on top of the plastic and held it flat with both hands. Seeing what was there, he felt instantly relieved and pushed it further along the table so the others could see it too.
All eyes took in what had been inked onto the ancient vellum. It was an unusual drawing that blended all sorts of images. The focal point was a Jewish menorah superimposed over a cross entwined with leafy tendrils. The symbol that was on the ossuary’s side was repeated here four times, at the end of each arm of the cross.
“What does this all mean?” Santelli asked Donovan.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. He tried to conceal the fact that he noticed the edge of the scroll that faced toward him looked freshly scored. Had someone purposely cut away part of the scroll? He rested his thumbs flat over the edge to conceal the marks.
“Whatever it means, it’s beautiful,” Charlotte interjected.
“Yes it is,” Donovan agreed, smiling.
“Well then, Dr. Hennesey,” Santelli spoke up. “You’ve done a brilliant job. We cannot thank you enough and the Holy Father extends his thanks as well. Just please be diligent in adhering to our request to not discuss this with anyone—including members of your own family as well as the press.”
“You have my word,” she promised.
“Excellent. If you don’t mind, I’ll have Father Martin escort you out. I just have a few items to discuss with Father Donovan. And though your work here is finished, please do feel free to stay with us as long as you’d like.”
58
******
Leaving the Apostolic Palace, Charlotte headed directly to the lab to see if Bersei had returned.
Walking along the basement corridor, her eyes were drawn to the door of the surveillance room. It was still ajar. Against her better judgment, she wrapped her knuckles on it.
“Mr. Conte. Can I have a word with you, please?”
No answer.
She pushed it open and poked her head inside. It was empty—nothing
but bare shelving lining the walls. Even the ceiling panel had been moved back in place. “What the...”
Pulling the door closed, Charlotte proceeded cautiously down the eerily quiet hall. She slid her keycard through the reader next to the lab door, fully expecting that it would not work. But the lock disengaged with an electromechanical tumble and she made her way inside.
For the first time since she’d been here, the lights and air-conditioning in the lab had been turned off. Groping along the wall for the control panel, she flicked a few switches up.
When the lights came on, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The entire lab was empty—the ossuary, the bones, the relics...all gone. Even the computer CPUs were missing from their bays.
Fearing the worst, she didn’t move into the room—just turned the lights off again and doubled back to the door. That’s when she heard footsteps out in the corridor, growing louder as they approached.
Now what? There was no window on the door, so she couldn’t see who was coming. Father Donovan? Bersei? She listened closer. She’d strode up and down the corridor with both of them, but couldn’t recall this rhythm—this smooth stepping she now heard.
