Julia Navarro - The Brotherhood Of The Holy Shroud

"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.

"I left knowing no more than I'd come with. She wasn't exactly the right person to expect a lead from. So I called again and asked to speak to the cardinal; they asked me who I was and what I wanted, and I explained I was a journalist investigating the fires and other accidents that had happened in the cathedral. They sent me back to the nice press lady, who this time was a bit huffy with me. I pressed her to get me an appointment with the cardinal. No go. Finally I played my last card-I told her they were hiding something and that I was going to publish what I suspected, plus certain things I'd found out.

"So then Padre Yves called me. He told me he's the cardinal's secretary and that the cardinal couldn't see me but that he'd asked Yves to 'put himself at my disposal,' which I took to be a good thing. So we met, and we talked for a long time. He seemed pretty straightforward when he told me what had happened this last time, and he went with me to visit the cathedral-then we went for coffee. We agreed to talk again. When I called for an appointment yesterday, he told me he was going to be busy all day but said if I didn't mind we could have dinner. And that's it."

"He's a very odd priest," allowed Sofia, thinking out loud.

"I imagine when he says Mass the cathedral is full to the rafters, eh?" laughed Ana. "If he weren't a priest^ I'd…"

Sofia was surprised at how uninhibited Ana Jimenez was. She'd never have told a stranger that she found a young priest sexy. But younger women were that way. Ana couldn't be more than twenty-five, and she belonged to a generation that was used to screwing when they felt like it, without hypocrisy or complications, although the fact that Padre Yves was a priest did seem to slow her down a bit, at least for the moment.

"You know, Ana, I find Padre Yves intriguing, too, but we've looked into him and there's just nothing that would indicate there's anything but what meets the eye. Sometimes people are like that-clean, transparent. So, what are you planning to do next?"

"If you could cut me some slack, we could share information…"

"No, I can't."

"No one would find out."

"Don't misread me, Ana. I don't do anything behind anyone's back, much less the people I trust, the people I work with. I like you, but I've got my work and you've got yours. If Marco should decide at some point that we should let you into the loop, then I'll be delighted to share information with you, and if he doesn't, then honestly, it's all the same to me."

"If someone wants to steal or destroy the shroud, the public has a right to know that."

"I'm sure you're right. But you're the one making those claims. We're investigating the cause or causes of the fires. When we've concluded our investigation we'll send our report to our superiors, and they will make it public if they believe what we've found is of public interest."

"I'm not asking you to betray your boss."

'Ana, I understand what you're asking me, and the answer is no. I'm sorry."

Ana bit her lip in disappointment and got up from the table without finishing her cappuccino.

"Well, what're you gonna do?" She shrugged, then smiled. 'Anyway, if I discover something, is it all right if I call you?"

"Sure, call whenever you like."

The young woman smiled again and strode purposefully from the hotel cafe. Sofia wondered where she was headed. Her cell phone rang, and when she heard the voice of Padre Yves she almost laughed out loud.

"We were just talking about you," she said.

"Who?"

'Ana Jimenez and I."

"Oh! The reporter. She's charming, and very sharp, eh? She's investigating the fires in the cathedral, just like you, it seems. She told me that your boss, Marco, is a friend of her brother, Spain's representative to Europol in Italy."

"That's right. Santiago Jimenez is a friend of Marco and all of us. He's a good person and a total professional."

"Yes, yes, so it appears. But the reason for my call, Dottoressa Galloni, is that the cardinal asked me to phone you. He'd like to invite you and Signor Valoni to a reception."

'A reception?"

"Yes, for a committee of Catholic scientists that comes to Turin periodically to examine the shroud. They make sure it's maintained in good condition. Dr. Bolard is their chairman. Whenever they come, the cardinal has a reception for them-not too many people, thirty or forty at the most-and he'd like you to come. Signor Valoni had mentioned that he'd like to meet these scientists, and now the opportunity has presented itself."

"And I'm invited too?"

"Yes, of course, dottoressa, His Eminence expressly asked that you be invited. Day after tomorrow, at the cardinal's residence, at seven. We are also expecting a number of businessmen who work with us in maintaining the cathedral, the mayor, representatives of the regional government, and perhaps Monsignor Aubry, aide to the interim Vatican Under-Secretary of State, and His Eminence Cardinal Visier, in charge of Vatican finance."

'All right, padre. Thank you very much for the invitation."

"Our pleasure, Dottoressa Galloni."

Marco was in a foul mood. He'd spent most of the day in the tunnels under Turin. The archaeological logs showed that some of them had been made in the first centuries a.d. Many of them dated back to the sixteenth century, others to the eighteenth, and there were even some that Mussolini had widened along certain stretches. Going through them was hard, treacherous work. There was a whole other Turin under the ground-in fact, several Turins: the old territory of the city-state conquered by Rome; the Turin besieged by Hannibal; the Turin invaded by the Lombards; and then finally the city that came under the rule of the House of Savoy. It was a place in which history and fantasy intermingled constantly, at every footstep.