Luis Rocha - Papal decree

One Saturday lunch Myriam said to Ben Isaac, ‘I’d like to get to know Israel, Ben.’ It was as if they’d been talking about it just yesterday, seconds ago, forever, without the hiatus of almost a decade in which Ben had not heard a syllable, an interjection, a complaint, or even a sob.

Ben Isaac took her to Israel, Cyprus, Italy, Brazil, and Argentina, and they talked all day about the things normal couples who have a lot of money, and normal couples who don’t, talk about. They smiled, laughed, made love again, kissed, felt their bodies breathing, felt the other’s sweat — everything a couple feels or ought to feel, except Magda. They never once talked about her. She was a sealed subject, forbidden, taboo.

Ben Isaac lived with silent bitterness, tied up with the strong cords of guilt, resigned to getting through the day, losing himself in his work, filling the hours, attending to Myriam. He didn’t return to excavations. Magda served as warning, a punishment from the Almighty, a closed door he could not open again.

All this went through his mind as he read the message he’d received on the cell phone. If you want to see your son alive again, get rid of the journalist. Sarah and Myriam continued to look over the ancient documents, neglecting the papal agreements that held no interest for them, despite the fact that they were the only documents whose language they could understand. The rest exercised a hypnotic fascination on them. Ben Isaac had felt it several times. The characters, ornate, stylized, but without pretensions or arrogance, unlike the papal blazons, which in those days didn’t yet exist.

He couldn’t lose little Ben. He couldn’t lose another child. Where was divine justice? Would he always be punished for sticking his nose into something he shouldn’t have? No. He had paid an enormous price. Magda, Myriam, and nine years of sepulchral silence.

How could they possibly know about the journalist? The leak had not come from his side. He was absolutely certain. He remembered when Cardinal William had introduced him to Sarah. The leak came from the Vatican at the highest level, and that was serious. He had to get Myriam to safety and put an end to the situation.

‘Myriam,’ Ben called. ‘A moment, please.’

Myriam returned to her husband, who showed her the phone screen. She read the message and raised her hand to her mouth in shock. Sarah noticed.

‘No, Ben. We can’t,’ stammered Myriam shakily, her legs weak. ‘It’s not true.’

‘We have to do it, Myr. Ben’s life is at stake.’ Ben put both his hands on Myriam’s shoulders. ‘We have to do it.’

Both of them looked apprehensively at Sarah. She realized something had happened that had to do with her.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked timidly.

Ever since she’d entered the underground storage vault, her heart had been beating nervously. She knew what she had to do. William had been completely explicit in the Palazzo Madama. A sacrifice that would make all the difference for millions of the faithful.

Myriam collapsed on the floor, sobbing. ‘No, Ben.’

‘I’m sorry, Sarah,’ Ben said, approaching her slowly. ‘I have no alternative.’

Sarah backed up until she bumped against a showcase. It was now or never. Ben’s threatening attitude helped her make up her mind. Ben clicked a number on the phone and said something in Hebrew. He was calling security.

Sarah put her hand in her jacket pocket and took out the small, six-shot revolver that William had given her. She aimed at Ben.

‘Not one more step.’

Ben looked at her, surprised. How was it possib… Cardinal William. Who would have suspected the cardinal?

Myriam raised her head, analyzing the situation.

‘Give me the documents,’ Sarah ordered, her voice stronger than she felt.

‘Put away the gun, Sarah. You won’t get out of here alive. Besides, you’re not a killer,’ Ben warned. ‘You don’t have what it takes to kill.’

‘Myriam, get up and come over here.’ Another order.

Myriam got up with difficulty and approached Sarah suspiciously. As soon as she was within reach, Sarah grabbed hold of her, turned her around, and pushed the barrel of the gun into her right temple. Myriam closed her eyes.

‘Still don’t think I have what it takes?’ Sarah asked. She hated herself at this moment. ‘Now, give me the documents so Myriam and I can take a walk.’

‘Do you really want to do this?’ Ben asked very calmly.

Sarah trembled with the gun at Myriam’s head. She tried not to press too hard, to avoid hurting her. Myriam was actually calmer than she was.

‘Don’t do something you’ll regret,’ Ben pleaded in a low voice.

‘Give me the documents,’ Sarah insisted.

‘That’s not going to happen, Sarah. Understand this very well. It’s the life of my son at risk.’

Sarah was losing her options. She’d never pull the trigger. Her bluff was about to be called.

‘Lower the gun, Sarah. My men are almost here. They’re pros and — ’

‘Good evening,’ a male voice said in perfect English.

‘Hadrian,’ Ben called without looking for him. ‘Do me the favor of disarming the lady, who’s beginning to annoy me.’

‘I’m sorry, but Hadrian couldn’t come,’ the voice returned.

Ben Isaac looked at the man perplexedly. What was going on here? Who was he? One of the kidnappers? ‘Who are you?’

‘You can call me Garvis. I’m an inspector for the Metropolitan Police, and I’m here to help.’

‘To… help with what?’ Ben asked.

Sarah and Myriam were just as perplexed. Sarah kept the gun resting lightly at Myriam’s head.

Two men came in the vault. No one recognized them.

‘Lower the gun, ma’am. I’m sick of killings,’ he said in heavily accented English.

‘Who are you? How dare you invade my property?’ Ben Isaac was indignant and nervous.

‘Who am I?’ The man was scandalized. ‘Who am I?’ Then he looked at the second man. ‘Who am I, Jean-Paul?’

‘Inspector Gavache of the Police Nationale,’ Jean-Paul proclaimed like a herald.

‘And you can call this a surprise visit,’ Gavache added, taking a drag on his cigarette.

Everything that exists is perfect and sacred because it was created by God in His great glory for the use of those who believe in Him, amen.

He believed this blindly, so he needed nothing more than he already had. He met her at the same time for lunch, grilled dorado with sauteed vegetables and an original touch of two tiger shrimps, also grilled.

She asked him about the verse of the day, which she almost chanted with respect and explained its meaning as he had done when he left the verses each week on her bedside table. It was the LORD who made this, and it is marvelous in our eyes. Everyone should be required to read the Bible, but that reading should never be done in private or independently. It should be done with the aid of a priest or theologian to understand what is not clear and to avoid bringing mistaken ideas to the Holy Scriptures. The unguided reading of the Word of the Lord was an evil that the church had always combated, not as severely as it should, in his opinion, and spread erroneous opinions about what God really had proclaimed. God wanted everyone to read the holy text without misunderstanding or difficulty.

He savored the dorado, vegetables, and shrimp frugally, along with a glass of white Frascati ’98, with a slightly sweet aftertaste that went down well. She drank water, since the blood of Christ was exclusively for men and denied to women, whose obligation was to subordinate themselves to a man and do what he ordered, or so taught the great Saint Paul, the father of the church, on a par with Peter.