Robin Cook - Seizure

After two A.M., Stephanie finally fell asleep. But it was far from a restful slumber, and it was a source of relief when Daniel shook her shoulder to wake her after what had seemed to her to be about fifteen minutes.

“What time is it?” she asked groggily. She pushed herself up on one elbow.

“It’s five A.M. Rise and shine! We should be out in a taxi in a half hour.”

“Rise and shine” had been a phrase her mother had used to wake her when Stephanie had been a teenager, and since Stephanie had been an Olympic-class sleeper who hated to wake up, the phrase had always bothered her. Daniel knew the story and used the expression deliberately to provoke her, which, of course, was an effective way to wake her up. “I’m awake,” she said irritably when he shook her again. She eyed her tormentor, but he merely smiled before briefly mussing her hair with the palm of his hand. The gesture was something else Stephanie found irritating, even when her hair was in disarray, as it certainly was at that moment; it was demeaning, and she had told Daniel such on several occasions. It made her feel as if he considered her a child or, worse yet, a pet.

Stephanie watched Daniel go into the bathroom. She rolled over on her back and winced at the light. The multicolored glass chandelier was blazing above her. Outside, it was still as dark as pitch. She took a breath. It seemed as if the only thing she wanted to do in the whole world was to go back to sleep. But then the cobwebs in her mind began to clear, and she thought about how much she wanted to get on the plane with the shroud fibers and get out of Italy.

“Are you up?” Daniel shouted from the bathroom.

“I’m up!” Stephanie shouted back. She had no compunction about fibbing, not after how merciless he’d been in waking her up. She stretched, yawned, and then sat up. After shaking off a brief sensation akin to nausea, she got to her feet.

A shower worked wonders for both of them. Despite Daniel’s acting to the contrary, he had been far from feeling chipper initially and had had almost as much trouble getting out of bed after the alarm went off as Stephanie. Yet by the time they had gotten out of the bathroom, they were both in high spirits in anticipation of getting to the airport. They dressed and packed with great efficiency. By quarter past five, Daniel called the front desk to arrange for a taxi and to get someone to come get their bags.

“It’s hard to believe we’ll be in Nassau by late this afternoon,” Daniel said, as he closed and locked his suitcase. The day’s itinerary was to fly to London on Air France via Paris, connect to British Airways, and then fly on directly to New Providence Island in the Bahamas.

“What I find difficult to comprehend is that we’ll be going from winter to summer in a single day. It seems like ages since I’ve been in a pair of shorts and a summer top. I’m psyched.”

The bellman arrived and took their luggage down to the lobby on a garment cart with instructions that it should be loaded into the taxi. While Stephanie dried her hair, Daniel stood in the bathroom doorway.

“I think we should tell the manager about our intruder,” Stephanie said over the sound of the hotel’s hair dryer.

“What would that accomplish?”

“Not much, I suppose, but I’d think they’d want to know.”

Daniel looked at his watch. “I think it’s a moot point. We don’t have time. It’s almost five-thirty. We need to be on our way.”

“Why don’t you go down and check out,” Stephanie suggested. “I’ll be down in two minutes.”

“Nassau, here we come,” Daniel said as he left.

The phone’s insistent jangle yanked Michael Maloney from the depths of sleep. He had the phone to his ear before he was totally awake. It was Father Peter Fleck, Cardinal O’Rourke’s other personal secretary.

“Are you awake?” Peter asked. “Sorry to be calling you at such an hour.”

“What time is it?” Michael asked. He fumbled for the bedside light, then tried to make out what time it was on his watch.

“It’s twenty-five minutes before midnight here in New York. What time is it there in Italy?”

“It is five-thirty-five in the morning.”

“Sorry, but you told me when you called this afternoon that it was imperative you speak with the cardinal as soon as possible, and His Eminence has just returned to the residence. Let me put him on the line.”

Michael rubbed his face and patted his cheek to wake himself. A moment later, James Cardinal O’Rourke’s gentle voice sounded in Michael’s ear. He too apologized for calling at such an inconvenient hour and explained that he’d been forced to remain at an interminable function with the governor, which had started in the late afternoon.

“I’m sorry I must add to your burdens,” Michael said, with some trepidation. He was not fooled by the powerful man’s humble graciousness. Behind the apparent benevolence, Michael was well aware of how ruthless he could be, especially to a subordinate who was either foolish or unlucky enough to displease him. At the same time, to those who pleased him, he could be extraordinarily generous.

“Are you implying there has been a problem in Turin?” the cardinal questioned.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Michael said. “The two people whom Senator Butler sent to receive the sample of the shroud are both biomolecular scientists.”

“I see,” James commented.

“Their names are Dr. Daniel Lowell and Dr. Stephanie D’Agostino.”

“I see,” James repeated.

“From your instructions,” Michael continued, “I knew you would be distressed about this development because of its implications about unauthorized testing. The good news is that by working quickly with Monsignor Mansoni, I have managed to arrange that the sample will be returned forthwith.”

“Oh,” James said simply. There was an uncomfortable pause. As far as Michael was concerned, this was hardly the response he was expecting. By this point in the conversation, he counted on a definitively positive reaction from the cardinal.

“Obviously, the goal is to avoid any more scientific indignity for the shroud,” Michael added quickly. A shiver ascended his spine. His intuition was telling him the conversation was about to take an unexpected turn.

“Have doctors Lowell and D’Agostino voluntarily agreed to give up the sample?”

“Not exactly,” Michael admitted. “The sample will be confiscated by the Italian authorities when they check in for a flight to Paris this morning.”

“And what will happen to the scientists?”

“I believe they will be detained.”

“Was it true that the shroud itself did not have to be touched to produce this sample, as Senator Butler suggested?”

“That is true. The sample was a tiny piece from a swatch that had been cut from the shroud a number of years ago.”

“Was it turned over to the scientists in strict confidentiality, without official documentation?”

“To the best of my knowledge,” Michael said. “I had communicated that that was your specific wish.” Michael began to perspire, certainly not as copiously as he had while hiding in the hotel room the previous day, but from a similar stimulus: fear. He could feel a knot of anxiety building in his stomach and tensing his muscles. The tone of the cardinal’s questions had a barely perceptible sharpness that most people would not have perceived but which Michael heard immediately and recognized. He knew His Eminence was becoming progressively angry.

“Father Maloney! For your information, the senator has already introduced his promised legislation limiting charitable tort liability, which he now believes with his backing has a better chance of passing than he did when he proposed the idea on Friday. I don’t need to explain to you the value of this legislation for the church. As far as the shroud sample is concerned, with no official documentation, even if some ill-advised testing were to be done, the results could not be authenticated and could be simply repudiated.”