"Heavens, I thought we were the early birds, but you see, Charles, that our friends have risen even earlier than we have."
"Early birds indeed, out to get the worm. No doubt taking advantage of the morning to talk business," huffed the husband.
The French gentleman assured them that they wanted nothing more than to get started. More guests continued to drift into the dining room, until at last there were thirty people standing or milling about. There was a good deal of animated conversation.
The elderly man looked at them resignedly. He hated hunting, as did his colleague-brethren, but he could not stand off from such a very English diversion. The members of the royal family adored this sport, and they had asked him, as on so many occasions in the past, to organize an event on his splendid estate. And there they were.
Sofia had spent most of the morning with the cardinal. She hadn't seen Padre Yves; another priest had showed her into His Eminence's office.
The prelate was happy with the finished repair work and remodeling. He had special praise for Umberto D'Alaqua, who had personally interceded to increase the number of workers on the job, at no additional cost to the cathedral, and to ensure that the work was completed sooner than estimated.
Under the supervision of Dr. Bolard, the shroud had been returned to the Guarini Chapel, to its silver display-case. But neither Sofia nor Marco had called the cardinal to update him on the progress of their investigation, and he subtly let her know he was not pleased. Sofia apologized, and she managed to win her way back into his good graces by giving him a broad, undetailed outline of where they were with their work. On Marco's instruction, she gently urged him to take even greater safety precautions than usual now that the shroud was back in the cathedral and she advised him of Marco's search for possible entry points from the tunnels beneath the city.
"You say that Signor Valoni is looking for an underground tunnel that leads to the cathedral? But that's absurd. Your team asked Padre Yves to review our archives, and I believe he sent you a detailed report on the history of the cathedral. Nowhere does it indicate that there is a tunnel or secret passage."
"But that doesn't mean there isn't one."
"Or that there is. Don't believe all the fantastic stories written about cathedrals."
"Your Eminence, I'm a historian. I don't generally deal in fantastic stories."
"I know, I know, dottoressa; I apologize. I admire and respect the work you and your team do. It was not my intention to offend you, I assure you."
"I'm sure of that, Your Eminence, but I want to assure you, too, that history is not just what's written down. We don't know everything that happened in the past, much less the intentions of the people who lived in it."
When Sofia returned to the hotel she ran into Ana Jimenez in the lobby. She had the feeling the reporter had been waiting for her.
"Dottoressa Galloni…"
"How are you?"
"Fine, thank you. Do you remember me?"
"Of course. You're our friend Santiago Jimenez's sister."
"Do you know what I'm doing in Turin?"
"Investigating the fires in the cathedral."
"I know your boss isn't too happy about that."
"That's only natural, don't you think? You wouldn't like it much if the police started meddling in your work"
"No, I wouldn't, and I'd try my best to give them the slip. But this is different. I know I may seem naive, but I really believe I can help you, and I want you to know you can trust me. My brother is everything to me-I'd never do anything to get him in trouble, or even give him a headache, for that matter. It's true that I'd like to write a story on this-I'm dying to cover it. But I won't. I swear to you I won't write a line until you and your team have closed the investigation, until the case has been solved."
'Ana, this isn't about trusting you or not. You have to understand that the department can't let you into its investigative team just because'-because you're honest and trustworthy and have an interest in the case. Surely you understand that?" Sofia responded.
"But we can work in parallel. I can tell you what I'm finding out, and you do the same with me."
'Ana, this is an official investigation."
"I know, I know…"
Sofia was struck by the urgency in the young woman's expression. "Why is this so important to you?" she asked.
"I don't know if I can explain. The truth is, I never cared about the shroud at all or paid any attention to any of the things that happened in the cathedral. But my brother took me to dinner at your boss's house under the impression it was just another dinner-a few friends over, that sort of thing-and it turned out that Signor Valoni wanted Santiago and another man, John Barry, to give him their opinion of the fire. They talked all night, speculating, you know, and I was hooked. There's so much there-layers and layers of history, intrigue-"
"What have you found out?" Sofia interrupted her.
"Shall we get some coffee?"
Sofia hesitated, then said, "Sure," instantly regretting her decision when Ana beamed with relief.
She liked this young woman, even thought she could trust her, but Marco was right-why should they? What was the point?
'All right, tell me what you've found out so far," Sofia said when they'd found a table.
"I've read several versions of the history of the shroud-it's fascinating."
"Yes, it is."
"In my opinion, someone wants the shroud, just as Signor Valoni speculated that first night. The fires are a smoke screen, if you'll excuse the expression, to throw the police off. Or maybe there's some other factor linking the incursions with accidents. Either way, the objective is to steal the shroud. But we need to look in the past. It's not just a question of stealing the shroud- someone wants to get it back," Ana half whispered intensely. "Someone with some tie to the past, the shroud's past."
'And how have you reached that conclusion?"
The reporter shook her head and shrugged. "I don't know. It's just a feeling I have when I think about the long road it's traveled, the hands it's passed through, the passion it has always inspired. I have a hundred theories, each one crazier than the last, but-"
"Yes, I read your e-mail."
"So what do you think?"
"I think you've got a great imagination, no doubt about that, and maybe you're even right."
Ana abruptly changed course. "I think Padre Yves knows more than he's saying about the shroud."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because he's too perfect, too correct, too innocent, and too transparent-it makes me think he's hiding something. And handsome-I mean, he's really hot, you know? Don't you think so?"
"He's a very attractive man, he certainly is. How did you meet him?"
"I called the bishop's office, explained that I was a journalist and wanted to write a story about the shroud. There's an older lady there, a former reporter, who's in charge of press relations. We met for two hours, and she basically repeated what the tourist brochures say about the shroud, although she also gave me a history lesson on the House of Savoy.