The Brotherhood Of The Holy Shroud Read Free Page B

have to follow up on it."
    "Yes, certainly, I'll tell my secretary, the young priest who showed you in, to gather the material for you as soon as possible. Padre Yves is very efficient; he's been with me for seven months, since my previous aide passed away, and I must say that his presence is a boon. He's intelligent, discreet, pious, he speaks a number of languages……"
    "He's French?"
    "Yes, that's right, but his Italian, as you've seen, is perfect; he speaks English, German, Hebrew, Arabic, he reads Aramaic…"
    "And who recommended him to you, Your Eminence?"
    "My good friend, the aide to the acting Under-Secretary of State for the Vatican, Monsignor Aubry, a remarkable man."
    It struck Marco that most of the men of the Church he'd known were remarkable, especially those who moved through the Vatican. But he remained silent as he gazed at the cardinal-a good man, he thought, wiser and more intelligent than he sometimes let people see and very skilled at diplomacy.
    The cardinal picked up the telephone and asked Padre Yves to come in. Almost instantly the young priest appeared at the door.
    "Come in, padre, come in. You've met my good friend Signor Valoni. He's asked that we prepare a list of all the scientific delegations and other important groups that have visited the shroud in the last twenty years and when they were here. Will you get to work on that, please? He'd like it right away."
    Padre Yves looked at Marco a moment before asking, "Forgive me, Signor Valoni, but could you tell me what it is you're looking for?"
    "Padre Yves, not even Signor Valoni knows what he's looking for, but he wants the name of anyone who's had any relationship with the shroud over the past twenty years, and we are going to provide him with that information."
    "Of course, Your Eminence. I'll try to get it to him as soon as possible, although with all this commotion it won't be easy. I'll have to go through the files personally; we have a long way to go in computerizing them."
    "Don't worry, padre," Valoni replied, "I can wait a few days, but the sooner you can get me that information the better."
    "Your Eminence, may I ask what the shroud has to do with the fire?"
    'Ah! Padre Yves, I have been asking Signor Valoni that same question for years. Every time something like this happens, he insists that the objective is the shroud."
    "My God, the shroud!"
    Marco studied Padre Yves. He didn't look like a priest, or at least most of the priests that Marco knew, and living in Rome meant he knew a lot of them. Padre Yves was tall, quite handsome, athletic; more than likely, he played some sport regularly. There was not a trace of that softness that resulted from mixing chastity and good food-a mixture indulged in widely by the priestly population. If Padre Yves weren't wearing his ecclesiastical collar, he'd look like one of those executives who work out in the gym every morning and play squash or tennis every weekend.
    "Yes, padre," the cardinal was saying, "the shroud. But fortunately the Lord protects it. It has never been severely damaged."
    "I'm just trying to follow up on anything that might shed some light on what's been happening," Marco assured them, "and to chase down any loose ends. There have been too many incidents connected with the cathedral. It's time for them to stop. Here's my card and my cell phone number, padre. Let me know when you have that list, and if you think of anything that might help us in the investigation, please call me, anytime."
    "Yes, of course, Signor Valoni. I will," the young priest assured him.
    Marco's cell phone rang as he left the cathedral offices. The coroner's verdict was short and sweet: The deceased was a male around thirty years old, average height, five foot eight, five foot nine, thin. And no, there was no tongue.
    "Are you sure?"
    "I'm as sure as I can be with a corpse turned to chacoal. The body had no tongue, and it wasn't the result of the fire-it was removed by surgery. Don't ask me when,