Робин Кук - Intervention

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Intervention: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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It’s been more than thirty years since New York City medical examiner Jack Stapleton’s college graduation, and almost as long since he’s been in touch with former classmates Shawn Daughtry and James O’Rourke. Jack was once a highly regarded ophthalmologist, but his career took a dramatic turn after a tragic accident destroyed his family. And that, too, is very much in the past: Jack has remarried — to longtime colleague and fellow medical examiner Laurie Montgomery — and his the father of a young child, who unfortunately has been diagnosed with neuroblastoma, a childhood cancer.
No matter what stresses he faces, Jack’s renegade, activist personality can’t rest. After performing a postmortem on a promising young college graduate who had recently been treated by a chiropractor, Jack begins researching alternative medicine as a way to avoid obsessing about his child’s illness. Quickly he is confronted by the question of what makes some people step outside the medical establishment to seek help from therapies based on dubious science, Eastern philosophies or even faith healers.
Jack’s classmate Shawn Daughtry is now a renowned archaeologist and biblical scholar. Brash, impetuous, and completely career-driven, Shawn makes a spectacular find at a souk in Cairo: an ancient codex, whose contents may vault him to international fame. His discovery takes him on a secret journey to what is held to be Saint Peter’s tomb beneath the basilica in Rome, where he hopes to unearth a two-thousand-year-old ossuary, the contents of which may have earthshaking ecclesiastical and medical implications.
Shawn can’t wait to flaunt his treasure before his old college buddy James O’Rourke — now James Cardinal O’Rourke, bishop of the Archdiocese of New York: the treasure may jeopardize the very nature of papal infallibility. Desperate to protect his church and his own political ambitions, James turns to his friend Jack to help safeguard an explosive secret, one with the power to change lives forever.

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“What I think I’ll do is call myself. My curiosity has been tweaked.”

“If you change your mind, I’m certain one of the day investigators would do it.”

“Thanks for your help,” Jack said.

“No problem,” Janice replied.

Jack disconnected with the forefinger of his left hand while still holding on to the receiver. With his right hand he pawed through the OCME record, looking again for the ID sheet for Mrs. Abelard’s phone number. The second he found it, the phone rang under his hand. It was Vinnie, saying all was ready down in the decomposed room.

After a moment’s hesitation, Jack replaced the receiver on the cradle. There was no rush to speak with Mrs. Abelard, as it was not a call he relished having to make. He was happy to put it off until he finished the next autopsy, although had he any inkling about what he’d learn from the mother, he wouldn’t have put off the call for a second. Mrs. Abelard was going to tell him something he never would have guessed.

6

5:05 P.M., MONDAY, DECEMBER 1, 2008

CAIRO, EGYPT

(10:05 A.M., NEW YORK CITY)

So there you have it,” Shawn said. “Sorry it’s taken so bloody long. Greek was obviously not Saturninus’s forte. As I mentioned after the first reading, the letter is signed simply Saturninus, with the date of the sixth of April, AD 121.”

For a few beats Shawn studied his wife. She didn’t move or even blink. She had a dazed expression on her face; she didn’t even seem to be breathing.

“Hello,” Shawn called, to get Sana’s attention. “Say something! Anything! What are you thinking?” Shawn stood up and stepped back to the desk, where he gently deposited the papyri sheets for their protection, using the assorted weights to hold them flat. He slipped off the white gloves, placed them on the desk, and then returned to the straight-backed chair. Sana had followed him with her eyes, but it was clear her thoughts were on what she’d been hearing over the last few hours. When Shawn had laboriously finished reading the letter the first time, she’d seemed equally shell-shocked, managing to say only that she’d needed to hear it again.

“I know I didn’t do a good job at translating it,” Shawn confessed, “especially that first time. Again, I’m sorry it took so long, but the grammar and the syntax are both so convoluted. It’s obvious that Greek was not Saturninus’s first language, and because of the sensitive nature of the subject matter, he did not want to entrust the writing of the letter to a secretary. His mother tongue would have been Aramaic, as he was from Samaria.”

“What are the chances it is a fake? Perhaps a second-century fake, but a fake nonetheless.”

“That’s a good question, and if the letter had been addressed to one of the early Orthodox Church fathers, the idea it was a fake might be something I’d question, if only to discredit the Gnostic heretics by making a direct association with them and the archvillain Simon Magus. But it was sent to an early Gnostic teacher, from someone who had theological inclinations in that direction. This was kind of an ‘inside communication’ sent to someone with answers to specific questions. There’s almost zero chance it’s a fake, especially where it ended up. It wasn’t as if someone ever expected it to be found.”

“When do you believe the codex was put together? I mean, when was this letter presumably sandwiched into the leather cover?”

“Let’s say it had to be before approximately AD 367.”

Sana smiled. “Approximately AD 367! That’s a pretty specific date.”

“Well, something specific happened in AD 367.”

“So the letter was saved for several hundred years. It was important, but then it became less so?”

“Yes,” Shawn agreed. “But it’s something I cannot explain.”

“What happened in AD 367, and what’s the theory of why these codices ended up being sealed in a jar and buried in the sand?”

“In AD 367 the Gnosticism movement had peaked and was on the decline, as ordered by the Orthodox Church. In compliance, the influential bishop of Alexandria, Athanasius, ordered the monasteries under his jurisdiction to dispose of all heretical writing, including the monastery that existed close to modern-day Nag Hammadi. It’s supposed that some of the monks rebelled at that monastery and instead of destroying the texts, hid them, with the intention of eventually retrieving them. Unfortunately for them, it didn’t happen, and their loss turned out to be our gain.”

“And you think this letter is a response to a letter that Basilides wrote to Saturninus.”

“There is no question in my mind, considering Saturninus’s syntax. He surely didn’t pull any punches in his description of his former boss and teacher, Simon the Magician. It is clear to me that Basilides had specifically asked if Saturninus thought Simon was divine, a true Christ in the footsteps of Jesus of Nazareth, and whether or not Simon possessed the Great Power as he claimed. Although Saturninus suggests that Simon himself thought he was either divine or was possessed of a spark of the divine, Saturninus surely didn’t. Saturninus clearly states that Simon’s magic was trickery, for which Saturninus and Simon’s other assistant, Menander, were largely responsible. Saturninus also says Simon was extremely jealous of the supposed curative power of the Apostles, especially Peter. This is a canonical fact. It appears in the Bible’s Acts of the Apostles, where it specifically states that Simon tried to buy Peter’s power.” Shawn paused to catch his breath but then added with a contemptuous chuckle, “Thanks to Saturninus and this letter, we know now that Simon didn’t give up after that initial rebuff.”

“What I find ironic is that we have this extraordinary historical information because of one person’s venality.”

“True,” Shawn agreed with a more open laugh. “But what I find ironic is that the same venality is quite likely going to vault me into the archaeological stratosphere. Belzoni, Schliemann, and Carter will have nothing on me.”

Sana couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Although Shawn’s seeming self-confidence had impressed her at the beginning of their relationship, she now found it puerile and self-absorbed, again suggesting Shawn harbored insecurity that she had not initially suspected.

Catching her reaction and misinterpreting it, Shawn added, “You don’t think this is going to be a big event? You’re wrong! This is going to be huge. And you know who I’m going to have the most fun breaking the news to?”

“I can’t imagine,” Sana said. She was more interested in continuing the discussion of the contents of the shocking letter, rather than its potential effect on Shawn’s career.

“His Eminence!” Shawn said with a touch of mock disdain. “James Cardinal O’Rourke, bishop of the Archdiocese of New York.” Shawn laughed, savoring the anticipation. “I can’t wait to drop in on my old Amherst College drinking buddy, now the most elevated member of the ecclesiastical establishment that I know and the one who’s forever lecturing me to mend my ways. I’m going to have a lot of fun rubbing his nose in this letter, proving to him that one of his uppity-up popes, believing he was infallible, was dead wrong. Mark my words!”

“Oh, please!” Sana scoffed. Too often, she’d witnessed her husband and the archbishop arguing uselessly into the wee hours of the morning, particularly about papal infallibility, after a dinner at the cardinal’s residence. “You two are never going to agree on anything.”

“This time, thanks to Saturninus, I’ll have proof.”

“Well, I hope I’m not there,” Sana remarked. She’d never enjoyed those evenings and lately had stopped participating. She’d asked if they could go out to a restaurant instead, which Sana thought would calm their behavior. But neither Shawn nor James were willing. They enjoyed their endless, seemingly acrimonious debates too much and didn’t want to be restrained.

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