Робин Кук - Intervention

“Was Elaine Smith’s ass something to admire?”

“According to Shawn and the number of times he had to confess he’d fantasized about giving it a good look.”

“I know this amusing anecdote has to be going somewhere bad, so let’s hear it.”

“Shawn said he struggled with this epic battle for as much as six months, trying to regain his chaste life so as to be in accordance with Church dogma. To do so required him to confess his transgressions week after week, such that to remember what he’d done when he got into the confessional, he began to keep a very accurate diary of his masturbation episodes, which had moved out of the shower because, as he said, his skin became too dry. As for his unclean thoughts, they had expanded to take in more parts of Elaine Smith’s supposedly enchanting anatomy.”

“You’re dragging this out,” James complained.

“Okay,” Jack agreed. “Sorry. As I said, this battle went on for months, with Shawn doing his best to remember everything he did and confess it each Friday in minute detail.”

“And?” James asked impatiently.

“Shawn began to notice that the two priests who normally heard confessions began to get progressively interested.”

“Good Lord, no!” James uttered.

“Don’t get upset,” Jack warned. “Nothing really happened, at least overtly.”

“Thank God!”

“But no matter how much detail Shawn offered in the confessional, it was never enough, and each week toward the end, he was asked more and more questions, such as even he, as a newly pubescent teenager, knew that something was wrong. The crowning moment for Shawn was when one of the priests offered, in the confessional, to meet with him privately to help him overcome this soul-endangering habit.”

“Did they ever meet?”

“Not according to Shawn. Instead it was at that point, to the consternation of his parents, that Shawn decided he and the Church would sever relations, supposedly on a temporary basis but which has been maintained until today.”

“That is an unfortunate happening,” James agreed. “It is a pity that he didn’t have more knowledgeable priests to help him at such a crucial juncture.”

“But isn’t that one of Shawn’s points? Celibate priests are probably not the best guides for children through the stresses of puberty, just as they are probably not the best guides for young adults starting families. Having children is always much more problematic than people imagine, even in the best of circumstances.” Jack couldn’t help but think about his own current situation.

“I cannot contest that, and it is an issue I will pray upon. But now I have to concentrate on the problem at hand.”

“You mean your hope of talking Shawn out of publishing his findings?”

“Exactly.”

“Here’s my sentiment. You are fighting an awfully steep uphill battle. Unless Shawn and his wife come up with definitive proof somehow that the bones cannot be the Blessed Virgin’s, he is going to publish that they are, even if he cannot prove it. You are not going to talk him out of it. Your switching your attack from talking about his hurting the Church in general to hurting you personally was clever, but even that didn’t sway him, especially after he got you to admit you didn’t believe yourself that it was inevitable you’d be punished for his errors.”

“Unfortunately, I think you are right,” James said with resignation. “I’m the last person who should be trying to talk him out of something he truly wants to do and has convinced himself he should do as if he’s on a mission from God. When I heard that, I knew I was surely barking up the wrong tree. Thank goodness it’s not as messianic as I’d feared when I first heard it.”

“Why do you think you are the last person who should be trying to influence him?” Jack questioned. “I think you are the perfect person. He knows you, trusts you, and you have probably the most clerical credibility of anyone in this country.”

“We’re too good friends,” James explained, as he exited from the West Side Highway at 96th Street. “I know he was quite besotted, but he still feels comfortable calling me lardo, which is what he used to call me in college when he was angry, which he knows I detest, probably because it is rather accurate. But such familiarity puts me at a distinct disadvantage.”

“If not you, who?” Jack asked. “I hope you’re not thinking of me, because I haven’t been any more successful than you’ve been. In fact, I’ve been completely unsuccessful. Especially compared with you two guys, I know nothing about the Catholic Church.”

“Where is it you live again?” James asked, after reassuring Jack he didn’t intend to saddle him with the problem of Shawn and Sana. Jack gave him the street and the number.

“So if not me, who?” Jack persisted.

“That’s the problem,” James said, approaching Jack’s home. “I haven’t the faintest idea, although I’m beginning to have an idea of the qualities I’d like the person to have.”

“Like what?”

“Persuasive, of course, but more important, absolutely and completely devoted to the Blessed Virgin. I mean a young person who has totally dedicated his or her life to the study and veneration of the Virgin Mary.”

“That’s an idea,” Jack said, suddenly sitting up. “A young attractive woman! Or we could find his old friend Elaine Smith, especially if she’d maintained her figure and had become a specialist in Mariology.”

“I know you are trying to buoy my spirits by being humorous, but I’m being serious here, my friend. I need to find immediately an incredibly persuasive zealot, tell him or her the story, and force Shawn to put up with him or her for a number of days. That is my last hope. I hadn’t thought of such a plan, because I was hoping not to have to tell anyone else the story to avoid anyone besides the four of us from knowing it. Obviously, I’ve decided it is a risk we have to take.”

James pulled over to the side of the road directly opposite the stoop on the front of Jack’s house. “Thanks for coming tonight. I really appreciate it. And thank your wife for letting you come, and tell her I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

After shaking hands, Jack put his hand on the door opener, then looked back at James. “How are you going to find this person you’ve described in time? I don’t think I’ve ever met a single person who comes close to fulfilling those narrow requirements.”

“Actually, I don’t think it will be too difficult. Christianity has never been without its share of fanatics and zealots. Luckily, the early bishops recognized these people and supported them, creating in the process the concept of monasticism, where people could go to commit themselves entirely to God, or later to the Virgin Mary. Monasticism thrived, and it still does. In my archdiocese alone there are probably a hundred or more, some of which the chancery doesn’t even know about, and some of which if we did, we would try to shut down. I’m going to start a rapid search of these institutions and find the perfect person.”

“Good luck!” Jack said, climbing down from the Range Rover’s cab and shutting the door behind him. Then he stood there in the street for a few minutes, waving and watching James’s taillights until they reached Columbus Avenue and turned left. Heading up his front steps by twos, Jack was invigorated. He felt like he was a participant in a kind of unfolding real-life mystery-thriller, the denouement of which taxed his creativity to even imagine how it was going to play out. The only thing he sensed was that Shawn was not going to back down easily.

James felt better than he had all day, and specifically better than he had all evening. Plan B had evolved out of nowhere, and he gently chided himself for not thinking of it earlier. As the early monks had helped stabilize the early Church, particularly after Constantine had legalized Christianity and let in the masses, the monks of today would come to the Church’s aid. Somehow James was sure of it, and sure that he would find the individual who could do it.