Luis Rocha - Papal decree

Gavache went over to Ben Isaac, who was holding his face in his hands, as if he were carrying the weight of the world, his world, and put his hand on Ben Isaac’s shoulder. ‘We’re going to fulfill our part. Now it’s time for you to fulfill yours.’

Ben Isaac uncovered his face and looked at the Frenchman arrogantly. ‘Tell me, Inspector. What do you mean by “fulfilling your part”?’

‘Look around.’ Gavache raised his hand and pointed around the room. ‘An international team dedicated to solving your problem. No one here knows your son, but they’re doing everything possible to rescue him. As if he were their own son. They could lose their life doing it. A woman who could very well just turn her back on all this is risking her life without asking anything in return. We’re going to complete our part, Ben Isaac.’

The banker remained seated, staring into space. He analyzed all the options, and finally looked disdainfully at Sarah. ‘Why?’

Sarah didn’t understand the question. With her exhaustion and nausea, she was slow to respond.

‘Why are you risking yourself for us?’ Ben Isaac continued. ‘You’ve only known us for a few hours. You tried to kill her.’

Sarah lowered her glance. Duty, solidarity, ethics, love of one’s neighbor — there was no shortage of reasons. Ben Isaac could choose the one he wanted.

‘The kidnappers didn’t leave me any option,’ she chose to answer, with a half smile. She was nervous.

‘I don’t want to turn over the parchments,’ Ben Isaac finally confessed.

Garvis, who’d gone off, returned to the group. ‘The plane is being serviced now. It’ll take off from Gatwick in twenty minutes. We’ve got to hurry.’

‘We’re waiting for Dr. Ben Isaac,’ Gavache told him. ‘It looks like he doesn’t want to cooperate, is that right, Jean-Paul?’

‘Right, Inspector. He doesn’t want to pay the ransom.’

‘We’ll have to give them something,’ Garvis explained. ‘We’ll place a detector in the parchments, so we can keep track of their location at all times.’

‘You’ve seen what kind of people we’re dealing with, Inspector Garvis. They’re always one step ahead,’ Gavache warned.

Garvis approached Gavache conspiratorially. ‘We’ll have to improvise with whatever bait we can use.’

‘If an agent were making the delivery, I’d risk his neck, Garvis. But we’re dealing with professionals, and it’s an inexperienced civilian who’s going to be exposing herself to the bullets.’ He looked at Sarah, who was listening apprehensively. ‘Speaking figuratively, of course. I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to carry bait instead of the originals.’

‘There must be another solution,’ Ben Isaac offered.

Myriam shrugged off Sarah’s arm and turned to her husband. Tears were running down her face. The slap she gave her husband was hard, and echoed through the room. ‘This is all your fault, Ben Isaac,’ she said, giving him a sorrowful, cold stare. ‘Do you want to kill my son? Is that what you want? Do you want to send an innocent person to her death, carrying false papers? This is not the man I married.’ She turned her back and left the room.

The room was in shock.

Garvis looked at his watch and frowned. ‘We don’t have much time.’

‘What’s it going to be, Dr. Ben Isaac?’ Gavache pressured him as he brought a cigarette to his lips.

Ben Isaac took a pen, wrote something on a piece of paper, and handed it to the French inspector with a resigned expression. ‘The code to open the vault.’

Gavache gave it to Jean-Paul, who hurried toward the underground chamber.

‘Sarah, we’re going to wait for the parchments in the car. We have to hurry. Time’s running out.’

Two agents escorted Sarah to the car. Garvis put on his jacket and saw Gavache sit down next to Ben Isaac. ‘Aren’t you coming?’ Garvis asked.

‘Jean-Paul’s going to escort the woman. I’ll come later.’

‘As soon as I have Sarah sitting in the plane, it’s your problem.’

‘Don’t worry. Everything’s under control. Thanks, Garvis.’ Gavache looked at the defeated Ben Isaac. ‘Now I want to hear that incredible story that was interrupted by the phone call. Tell me about Jesus Christ.’

The conversation had reached a pause. Robin excused himself, his full bladder urging him. Rafael felt uncomfortable, and the Jesuit noticed it.

‘It’s out there to the left,’ Robin pointed to a door down the corridor. ‘You’ll see it. Relax. No one’s going to do anything… unless I give the order.’

Robin went into the second door on the left and didn’t take much time. Two minutes later there was a flush, followed by the priest washing his hands. He came out with his hands dripping and dried them on a towel hanging behind the office door.

‘Still afraid of germs?’ Rafael joked.

‘Laugh away. You have no idea of the pests that surround us. If we’re not careful, they’ll do us in,’ Robin said with conviction.

‘We have bigger things to worry about now.’

‘Do you know it was a Jesuit who discovered the microbes invisible to the naked eye that are responsible for the black plague and other diseases?’ Robin asked, assuming a professorial tone.

‘Athanasius Kircher.’ Rafael sounded like a student who thought he knew it all. ‘The master of a hundred arts. He was one of the first people to observe microbes through a microscope in the seventeenth century. German by birth, he was considered the ultimate Renaissance man. He was the author of innumerable treatises, not only on medicine but also on geology, magnetism, and even music. A true Da Vinci, this Jesuit.’

Robin looked at him with mock disdain before sitting down. ‘Now, where were we?’

‘You know very well where we left things. Keep going.’

Robin crossed his legs and licked his lips. ‘What do you know about Jesus?’

‘He was born in Bethlehem and crucified at thirty-three…’

‘Okay, I see you know nothing,’ Robin scolded him.

‘That’s what they taught us in catechism and at the seminary,’ Rafael argued.

‘Is that still taught in seminary? No wonder the society is so far ahead. How curious that they teach you to think better than most people and invest years and years in your moral, philosophical, and religious education, yet so often you fail to see the obvious.’

‘And you do?’ Rafael challenged, fed up with Robin’s know-it-all attitude.

‘What did the Jews in the first century call Him?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘By his first name, followed by the name of his father or place of birth. Yeshua ben Joseph; Jesus, son of Joseph; or Yeshua Ha’Notzri, Jesus of Nazareth. I never heard of anyone calling him Jesus of Bethlehem.’

Rafael had never thought of that, but he wasn’t going to give Robin the pleasure of knowing it. He played it down. ‘Okay. He was Jesus of Nazareth, and not Jesus of Bethlehem. There goes business for the Church of the Nativity,’ he joked again.

‘If the church was mistaken or, more accurately, gave misleading information about the birth of Christ, don’t you think it would do the same with other events in His life?’

As a matter of fact, yes, Rafael thought. He himself was living proof that the church defended herself by hiding, eliminating, and getting around every obstacle. He wasn’t the person to ask about the Holy See’s good intentions. He, better than anyone, knew they didn’t exist.

‘Look at me, Robin. I’m the guy ready to blow your brains out. Do you think I believe in the holiness of the church?’

‘Why do you, then?’ Robin wanted to know.

That was a question Rafael avoided asking himself, but more and more frequently occurred to him. Why did he believe? Because others had believed before him? Because life carried him in that direction? Why? Because, despite all the errors and injustices, the church was still the institution that prevented the world from falling into chaos. He still believed that, and perhaps that was the only reason, the one that made him get out of bed without knowing if he would do so the next day, not knowing if he would sleep that night, if he survived, where he would be, what the next step would be, in what direction it would take him. Every day, hour, minute, and second were unknown to fate. He only thanked God for the time He gave him.