"Did any of these professors seem different in any way from the others? More driven, more aggressive…?"
"Signor Valoni, for many years I have received scientists studying the shroud; the Church has been most open and has given them excellent access. These particular professors were very pleasant, very 'nice,' shall we say; only one of them, Dr. Bolard, seemed more reserved, less talkative than his colleagues, but I attributed that to the fact that it makes him nervous when we do work on the cathedral."
"Why is that?"
"What a question, Signor Valoni! Because Professor Bolard has spent years helping us with the conservation of the shroud, and he is afraid-as well he might be, it turns out-that we might be exposing it to unnecessary risks. I have known him for many years; he is a serious, rigorous scientist, a world-renowned scholar, and a good Catholic."
"How often has he been here?"
"Oh, coundess times. As I said, he works with the Church on the conservation of the shroud. He is so much a part of our effort, in fact, that when other scientists come to study it, we often call him in so he can ensure that the shroud won't be exposed to any possible deterioration. We also have files on all the scientists who have visited us, who have studied the shroud, the people from NASA, that Russian-what was his name? I don't remember… Anyway, and all the famous scholars-Barnett, Hynek, Tamburelli, Tite, Gonella- all of them. Oh, and Walter McCrone, the first scientist to insist that the shroud was not the cloth that Christ was buried in; he died just a few months ago, God rest his soul."
"I'd like to know the dates this Dr. Bolard has been here and to have a list of all the teams of scientists that have done studies on the shroud in recent years, plus the dates they were in Turin. You might include any other noteworthy groups as well."
"How far back should we go?" the cardinal asked. "The last twenty years, if possible." "My word! Just what are you looking for?" "I don't know, Your Eminence, I don't know." The cardinal gazed at him steadily. "For years you have insisted that the shroud is somehow connected with all these accidents, that it is the object behind them, but I, my dear Signor Valoni, simply cannot believe that. Who could possibly wish to destroy the shroud? And why? As for the robbery attempts, you know that much of the art in the cathedral is priceless, and there are many unscrupulous men who have no respect even for the house of God."
"You're right, I'm sure, Your Eminence, but you have to concede that these incidents cannot be random, unrelated events, given the bizarre circumstances-the repeated involvement of these mutilated men. This is a sustained effort of some sort, and it seems to me that only an object of singular renown, such as the shroud, could be at its center."
"Yes, of course it's disturbing, as you say, and the Church is very, very concerned. In fact, I have gone several times to visit that poor wretch who tried to rob us two years ago. He sits there in front of me and doesn't respond in any way, as though he doesn't understand a word I say."
Marco sensed that there would be no more concrete information forthcoming from the cardinal, so he gently tried to steer the discussion back to the information he needed.
"So, Your Eminence, will you get that list ready for me? It's just routine, but I have to follow up on it."
"Yes, certainly, I'll tell my secretary, the young priest who showed you in, to gather the material for you as soon as possible. Padre Yves is very efficient; he's been with me for seven months, since my previous aide passed away, and I must say that his presence is a boon. He's intelligent, discreet, pious, he speaks a number of languages……"
"He's French?"
"Yes, that's right, but his Italian, as you've seen, is perfect; he speaks English, German, Hebrew, Arabic, he reads Aramaic…"
"And who recommended him to you, Your Eminence?"
"My good friend, the aide to the acting Under-Secretary of State for the Vatican, Monsignor Aubry, a remarkable man."
It struck Marco that most of the men of the Church he'd known were remarkable, especially those who moved through the Vatican. But he remained silent as he gazed at the cardinal-a good man, he thought, wiser and more intelligent than he sometimes let people see and very skilled at diplomacy.
The cardinal picked up the telephone and asked Padre Yves to come in. Almost instantly the young priest appeared at the door.
"Come in, padre, come in. You've met my good friend Signor Valoni. He's asked that we prepare a list of all the scientific delegations and other important groups that have visited the shroud in the last twenty years and when they were here. Will you get to work on that, please? He'd like it right away."
Padre Yves looked at Marco a moment before asking, "Forgive me, Signor Valoni, but could you tell me what it is you're looking for?"
"Padre Yves, not even Signor Valoni knows what he's looking for, but he wants the name of anyone who's had any relationship with the shroud over the past twenty years, and we are going to provide him with that information."
"Of course, Your Eminence. I'll try to get it to him as soon as possible, although with all this commotion it won't be easy. I'll have to go through the files personally; we have a long way to go in computerizing them."
"Don't worry, padre," Valoni replied, "I can wait a few days, but the sooner you can get me that information the better."
"Your Eminence, may I ask what the shroud has to do with the fire?"
'Ah! Padre Yves, I have been asking Signor Valoni that same question for years. Every time something like this happens, he insists that the objective is the shroud."
"My God, the shroud!"
Marco studied Padre Yves. He didn't look like a priest, or at least most of the priests that Marco knew, and living in Rome meant he knew a lot of them. Padre Yves was tall, quite handsome, athletic; more than likely, he played some sport regularly. There was not a trace of that softness that resulted from mixing chastity and good food-a mixture indulged in widely by the priestly population. If Padre Yves weren't wearing his ecclesiastical collar, he'd look like one of those executives who work out in the gym every morning and play squash or tennis every weekend.
"Yes, padre," the cardinal was saying, "the shroud. But fortunately the Lord protects it. It has never been severely damaged."
"I'm just trying to follow up on anything that might shed some light on what's been happening," Marco assured them, "and to chase down any loose ends. There have been too many incidents connected with the cathedral. It's time for them to stop. Here's my card and my cell phone number, padre. Let me know when you have that list, and if you think of anything that might help us in the investigation, please call me, anytime."
"Yes, of course, Signor Valoni. I will," the young priest assured him.
Marco's cell phone rang as he left the cathedral offices. The coroner's verdict was short and sweet: The deceased was a male around thirty years old, average height, five foot eight, five foot nine, thin. And no, there was no tongue.