For a few moments, neither Bingham nor Calvin moved. They stared at each other, still shocked.
“Has his work really been suffering?” Bingham asked, breaking the silence.
“Not from my vantage point,” Calvin said. “It’s true he’s more behind than usual, but the quality is up to par, and, although he’s behind, he’s still been by far our top producer, with about one and a half times the output of everyone else.”
“You didn’t have any idea about this terrible news concerning his child, did you?”
“Not the slightest,” Calvin said. “Even Laurie’s decision to extend her maternity leave didn’t raise any red flags for me. I just thought she was loving being a mother. I knew how much she’d wanted children.”
“He’s always been such a private person. I’ve never understood him, to tell you the honest truth, especially back when he first started here. He was self-righteous and self-destructive, and I’m not sure which is worse. When the suit came in this morning and I fielded the call from the mayor’s office, I thought he was reverting to bad habits.”
“The thought went through my mind as well,” Calvin confessed, “which, I suppose, is why I didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt with this current affair.”
“Talk to the general counsel,” Bingham said. “Tell her we’re going to defend the case unless she thinks we should settle. And with that said, get out of here so I can get some real work done.”
12
8:15 P.M., TUESDAY, DECEMBER 2, 2008
ROME
(2:15 P.M., NEW YORK CITY)
The flash of the one hundred million volts of electricity came first, followed by a sputtering crackle as it knifed through the humid air to ground itself on the ancient Egyptian obelisk in the center of Piazza San Pietro. A blink of the eye later came the sharp crack of thunder that literally shook the Fiat.
“What the hell was that?” Sana demanded, before her mind told her exactly what it was.
“Thunder and lightning,” Shawn said disdainfully, although he had jumped nearly as much as his wife had. He’d never seen a bolt of lightning so close. “For God’s sake, calm down! You’re out of control.”
Sana nodded as she looked out the rent-a-car’s windows. In the darkness there were lots of pedestrians on their way home, bent into the wind using their umbrellas like shields against the near-horizontal rain. “I can’t help it. Are you sure we should be doing this?” Sana questioned. “I mean, we’re sneaking into an ancient Roman cemetery on a rainy night to steal an ossuary. It seems more like the script for a horror movie than something appropriate. What if we get caught?”
Shawn drummed his fingers irritably on the rent-a-car’s steering wheel. He too was tense, and Sana’s second thoughts were only magnifying his anxiety.
“We’re not going to get caught,” Shawn snapped. He didn’t want to hear any negativity. He was on the verge of making his most spectacular find, provided Sana cooperated.
“How can you be so sure?”
“I worked in there at night for months, and unless I brought people in with me, I never saw a soul.”
“You were using pencil and paper and photography. We’re going to be using a drill and hammer and chisel. As you suggested, what if someone up in the basilica hears us?”
“The basilica is closed up tight as a drum,” Shawn spat. “Look, don’t do this to me. You already agreed to do it. The time is right. We’ve got the tools. We know where to look. And by using the drill to probe for the stone ossuary, we should be in and out in a couple of hours. If you’re dying for something to worry about, worry about lugging the ossuary out of the necropolis and into the trunk of the car.”
“You make it sound so easy,” Sana commented. She stared out the windshield into Piazza San Pietro with Bernini’s curved, elliptical colonnades sweeping off on either side.
“I’m telling you it will be easy,” Shawn said with apparent conviction, though Sana’s misgivings were heightening his own. In reality he knew there were plenty of opportunities for things to go wrong. Despite what he’d just said, he was aware they could get caught. A more probable problem was they wouldn’t find the ossuary. If they didn’t, he’d have to tell the authorities about Saturninus’s letter and share the prestige if the ossuary was eventually found. Of course, that would happen only if the pope allowed the search to take place — unlikely, since the ossuary’s discovery would put Church dogma and papal infallibility in question.
“All right,” Sana said suddenly. “If we’re going to do this, let’s do it and get it over with. Why are we still sitting here?”
“I told you. We got here faster than I thought. The last security sweep of the basilica is at eight p.m. I want to give them plenty of time to finish and get the place locked up tight.”
Sana looked at her watch. It was almost eight-thirty. “What if they find something amiss, like the Pietà is gone?”
Shawn turned to study his wife’s profile in the dark. He was hoping she was teasing him, but that didn’t seem to be the case. She was looking out the car windows like some kind of hyperalert prey about to be eaten. “Are you being serious?”
“I don’t know,” Sana admitted. “I’m nervous and exhausted. I mean, we traveled all the way from Egypt today. That might be easy for you, but it’s not for me.”
“You can be nervous, that’s okay. Hell, I’m nervous, too. It’s natural to be a little nervous.”
“What if I get claustrophobic?”
“We’ll make sure you don’t. I won’t make you come into the tunnel. There probably won’t be room for you anyway.”
Sana regarded her husband in the half-light of the car’s interior. Headlights from the multitude of passing cars played intermittently across his face. “Are you sure you won’t need me in the tunnel?”
“If we’re down there and you don’t want to go into the tunnel, we’ll deal with it. Let’s think positively. Can I count on you?”
“I suppose,” Sana said, without a lot of confidence.
At quarter to nine Shawn started the car and eased away from the curb. With the windshield wipers struggling to keep up with the rain, he had to strain to see. The traffic entering the piazza careened past them at breakneck speed. Entering Saint Peter’s Square, he drove along Bernini’s Colonnade toward Arco delle Campane. “If the Swiss Guards question why you don’t have a Vatican ID card, let me do the talking,” Shawn said. The two dark-brown guard shacks loomed out of the mist ahead. The guards stepped out, wearing dark rain capes over their black-and-orange uniforms. They didn’t look pleased to have pulled guard duty on such a night. Shawn lowered his window as he came abreast of the guard shacks and stopped. A few wayward raindrops immediately blew in through the open window and danced in the swirling air.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Shawn said pleasantly, making an effort to suppress any nervousness in his voice. As he had expected, the shift had changed. They were different guards.
As was the case that afternoon, the guard took Shawn’s Vatican ID card without a word. He examined it with a flashlight, comparing the photo to Shawn’s visage. As he handed it back, he asked, “Where are you going?”
“To the necropolis,” Shawn said, while handing over his access permit. “We’re going to do a little maintenance work.”
The Swiss Guard studied the permit for a minute before handing it back. “Pop the boot,” he said, disappearing toward the rear of the car.
Sana sat uncomfortably as the second Swiss Guard shined his flashlight in her face. Prior to that, he’d used the flashlight and a mirror on a long stick to inspect the underside of the car for bombs.