Richard Beard - Acts of the Assassins

‘You’re speculating, so speculate about the body. The body, Claudia. No one ever found a body.’

‘You’re fixated on his corpse. Move on. Even if Jesus survived the cross and the tomb he’d have died soon after from his injuries. That’s the strongest probability. They could have hidden his body anywhere in Israel.’

‘No mysteries,’ Gallio says. ‘Just like the CCU promised us. You don’t believe I killed the disciples, but we both have a suspicion about who did. Doesn’t look good for me, though, I see that now. Baruch is dead. Soon Peter will be dead, then John. If I die next no one is left alive to remember Jesus.’

‘Except Paul.’

And Paul works for Valeria. He portrays Jesus as a non-political pacifist eager to pay his taxes. With Valeria’s help Paul travels the world, speaks at conferences, writes his letters, and together they encourage converts of the acceptable sort: Paul’s type of believer, short on the radical tendencies of the original Jesus movement. Paul advises his correspondents to respect the rule of law and put in a solid day’s work for the benefit of the civilised economy. Instead of miracles, he opts for conference theology with regular breaks from spiritual engagement for complimentary light refreshments.

‘And he gets handsomely paid,’ Claudia says, patting the soft envelope on the counter between them. ‘You’ve seen how he lives, and every time a disciple dies Paul’s influence increases. I can’t say he comes very well out of this.’

‘I’m a loose end, aren’t I? I was at the tomb. I can’t explain what happened but I was there, like the disciples were there up to the crucifixion and then afterwards for the life-after-death appearances. Valeria has to kill me to protect Paul’s version of Jesus. That’s why you’re telling me this.’

Claudia holds up her hands. ‘I’m going into the drawer again. Don’t grab me. I haven’t got a gun.’

She pulls out a Circus ticket and slides the stiff card across the counter. ‘Check the seat number.’

Gallio recognises the row and seat as the place next to the pair of tickets Valeria gave him the day before. Jesus is not alone in planning ahead.

‘If you turn up without John, and if Jesus fails to make an appearance, and if we don’t all die in a terrorist attack, then I’m supposed to do the cleaning.’

‘I was right. You’re my assassin.’

‘Except I’m telling you about it now. That usually means it isn’t going to happen.’

‘You’re young, you’re starting out. Making independent decisions could go very badly for you.’

‘So I’m changing my little portion of the future, as the least I can do. I used to believe we were the good guys, and I jumped at this mission. If we’d found Jesus or explained the resurrection we’d genuinely enlighten an unsatisfactory mystery that misleads as many people as it helps. Now I find out that Valeria’s idea was to replace one version of the superstition with another, and by killing lovely men like Bartholomew. I liked Bartholomew.’

‘I liked him too. He was a force for good.’

‘He was skinned alive. It doesn’t end there. Valeria brought Alma to Rome, and she shouldn’t play her games with children. That’s why I’m about to disobey orders. I have daughters of my own.’

‘Thank you,’ Gallio says. ‘I think. Just checking, but it has nothing to do with me?’

‘You’re not wrong as often as Valeria thinks you are. Let’s leave it at that.’

‘What happens if I do find John, and bring him to the Circus?’

‘Everything is mapped out. After Peter is dead I make the payment to Paul at a drop-site outside the city, where fewer people are likely to recognise him. Just me and him and the bodyguard, and Valeria will be there too if you’ve found John.’

‘Then what happens?’

‘I hand over the envelope to Paul, no one the wiser. Valeria takes John off your hands. I doubt the two of them will be going on holiday.’

‘I mean what happens to me?’

‘You could run before we get there, between the Circus and the pay-off. I’ll say I couldn’t stop you.’

‘She has Alma.’

‘Tricky. Depends how much revenge she feels is adequate, but I doubt we can rely on her compassion. Anyway, never pays to look too far ahead. Maybe Jesus appears at the Circus Maximus to save Peter’s neck. He genuinely comes back from the dead, not once but twice, and the world as we know it ends and neither of us has to worry about Valeria or John or the CCU. Silver linings.’

‘Could happen.’

‘Could do. But if it doesn’t, you’re in luck. I know where they’re holding Alma.’

The SOS Children’s Village is to the south-west of the city, about half an hour by Fiat minicab door-to-door from Claudia’s villa. The sign on the driveway reveals what the village really is: an orphanage. Valeria is looking to the future, and Cassius Gallio is suddenly as concerned for Judith as he is for poor fatherless Alma. Though he mustn’t rush to judge.

The orphanage is eight bungalows grouped between large houses in a leafy residential area. Six children live in each building, and the orphanage is full. Cassius has borrowed a yellow high-vis waistcoat from the coat stand inside Claudia’s front door, and he walks slowly through the compound acting as if he belongs. Keep it slow, he thinks, and a fluorescent jacket makes him invisible. Don’t mind me, I just work here.

Through the windows the furnishings in each bungalow look sparse but clean. The kids inside play computer games or they’re on Facebook, while others enjoy the fresh air at the play area. Gallio is impressed, and would like to know who pays for this.

At the playground Alma is catching smaller children as they come down the slide, and her leg is visibly more flexible than it was. The physiotherapy is working, and Judith was right — Alma can receive better treatment in Rome than Jerusalem. Maybe. Gallio doesn’t know what Valeria is thinking, not when she makes unspoken threats to feed Alma to the Circus, but he believes people are basically good, or have good intentions. He looks at the bungalows constructed for forty-eight orphans: the world is full of unintended results.

A flurry of children run for the gate. Not again, Gallio thinks, but yes — Jesus is also here. He’s carrying sweets in his fists and an armful of DVDs. Gallio watches him hand out his gifts and, predictably, with children Jesus is funny and approachable. As one of the older ones, Alma mocks a bow and links arms with Jesus as far as the orphanage office, and while they’re inside Cassius Gallio threads himself into a picnic table and settles down to wait. Time goes by, and he notices a change in the weather. Clouds are moving in, grey and elegant, the colour of Claudia’s sweater.

Before too long Alma and Jesus reappear from the office. They seem inseparable, his hand in hers, and she brings him to Gallio’s picnic table. Alma and Jesus sit down on the opposite side to Cassius Gallio. Alma pushes a straw into a lunchbox carton of orange juice, sucks the juice through to check the straw works, then hands the carton to Jesus. He drinks, one big suck and swallow, smacks his lips with satisfaction. Alma settles her head on her hands on the tabletop, gazes up at his luminous face.

‘Hello John,’ Gallio says. He hadn’t been looking, but here John is. It must be.

‘Matthew, is that you?’

John has an unconvincing beard, as in the images pinned to the incident-room wall in Jerusalem, but his Jesus-look radiates from sharp cheekbones and a faraway gaze. He sucks on the straw, more cautiously this time.

‘I’m sorry,’ Gallio says. ‘I’m not a disciple. Matthew is dead.’

‘I hadn’t heard,’ John says, ‘but I’m not surprised. Another one gone ahead. Who are you?’