Shrouded In Silence

37





Pushing with her elbow, Michelle pried open the front door of Santa Maria Church and struggled through the entrance with her arms filled with books. The reverent sound of an organ playing signaled that worship was unfolding in the sanctuary and people would still be on their kneelers. Down the marble floor to her left, the door was already open to the offices the new priest had given them. Her steps echoed down the hall as she hurried toward their nook in the large church. She found Guido already hunched over a desk, studying some document.

"Buongiorno," Guido said politely and returned to the material in front of him.

She set the books down on the edge of the desk. Two desks had been pushed together to make room for a third now sitting against the wall. One empty file cabinet stood near the door. Paint had started to peel from the wall, and the color had faded long ago. An old statue of some saint stood in one corner as if watching over everything that might happen in the room and keeping an eye on a dilapidated fireplace in the center of the room. Someone had hauled in a small table placed in another corner with a coffeepot and cups ready for use. Recovered books from the wreckage had been stacked on the floor next to the wall and Michelle's desk was piled high with papers that Guido and the workmen had gathered up after the explosion. One look told her it would be days before the mess was completely straightened out. Not an encouraging thought.

"Looks like we've got our work cut out for us today," Michelle said.

Guido took off a pair of reading glasses and settled back in his chair. "I had no idea where to put what we picked up so I left the loose papers in a stack on your desk. I hope that is acceptable."

"More than acceptable. Jack and I appreciate all of your efforts while we were out of commission. Acquiring this room from the church officials helped infinitely more than I can say. Our apartment is simply too small to accommodate the research we are doing."

Guido held up the manuscript he had been reading. "This morning I took a long look at the Sarajevo Haggadah Dov had been working on. He must have found something fascinating in there that he never told any of us about."

"He probably did. Jack first met Dov while researching in the Armenian Library in Jerusalem. We quickly realized that Dov had an unusual ability to work with languages. From there, one thing led to another until he was part of our work here."

"Yes," Guido said. "I found him to be a thorough scholar. "We cannot make up for his absence."

Michelle whispered to Guido. "I think he stumbled on to where The Prologue of James might have been hidden if only Jack could remember what he said. We can only hope we will eventually recover that information.

Guido nodded. "Are we sure this room is electronically clear?"

Michelle shook her head and mouthed a no.

"As I suspected, we must be cautious."

"Unfortunately," Michelle said.

Guido got up and came around to sit on the edge of her desk. "We must not discuss any sensitive matters in this room. It is one of the reasons that I haven't told you and Jack about the next step in our search. If you knew where we are going, you'd be subject to attack and search. Not knowing allows you to stand above the chase. When the right moment comes, I'll tell you what comes next."

"I understand. You are a thoughtful man, Guido. I know you will reveal this crucial and strategic portion of our pursuit at the right time. Jack and I are both comfortable with this arrangement."

"For the moment, we must allow matters to settle and make sure the police really are on top of the pursuit of the criminals. As soon as we get some sense of where it's all going, we'll be ready to move."

"Super."

Guido pointed at the old fireplace with one hand and cupped the other over his mouth. "When you push the top of the irons in the fireplace, it opens a secret door that allows you to walk down to the crypts below. Apparently it was a little escape mechanism that Cardinal Antonio Barberini built in here back in the 1600s. The Capuchin monks apparently were surrounded with considerable danger back in those days."

"Back in those days?" Michelle laughed. "I bet no one ever put a bomb under their bed."

"Good point. Today's world isn't a hair safer than theirs."

"I suppose I should get this office straightened up first thing," she said. We want to be able to move the moment you're ready to tell us where we're going."

Guido smiled and went back to the Haggadah.



Late afternoon shadows had already fallen by the time Michelle got the last of the papers off her desk and in order. The file cabinet no longer stood empty and many of their reference books had been placed in order. The complete collection of the works of The Ante-Nicene Fathers and The Post-Nicene Fathers had been stacked together for a quick grab. She knew well they contained all the writing of the earliest Christians during the first couple of centuries. Next to them, she had arranged other books that they used frequently.

"I can give you a ride home although I'm not sure it will be any faster than the subway," Guido said.

Michelle laughed. "This time of day it's a madhouse out there on the streets."

"I think that tomorrow we will be able to accomplish more," Guido said. "You have done a great deal today."

"We're getting there." Michelle slipped her topcoat on. "I guess we can go out the front door."

"I'd suggest the back," Guido said. "It's closer to my car."

"Whatever you say." Michelle picked up her briefcase. "Let's go."

Without saying anything more, they walked down the corridors Jack had always followed in his many excursions through the church ambling around like a fascinated tourist. Candlelight had now illuminated most of the building with the high altar bathed in a soft glow. Stepping outside, Michelle could see the moon had not yet come up, but the ruins of the house looked like a jumbled mess of splintered boards still sticking up at strange angles, looking like an abstract painting in black and white.

A figure emerged out of the alleyway, and Guido grabbed her arm, jerking it toward him.

"Watch out!" he whispered.

The man leaped forward and raised his arm.

"He's wearing a black hood over his face!" Guido pushed her toward the door they had just existed. "Run!"

The pinging sound from a pistol with a silencer sliced through the quiet, and a bullet ricocheted off of the back of the church. Michelle ran like she never had before in her life.

Guido swung the door open and they rushed in. He grabbed for the latch, but the defective lock didn't catch.

"Keep running!" he shouted again.

Dashing through the halls they'd just come down, they headed for their office. Michelle grabbed her keys and unlocked the door. The sound of racing footsteps wasn't far behind them. Once inside, they locked the door and darted behind the desks. Fumbling with the briefcase, she pulled out the Walther PPK Father Blake had given her. Barely able to hold it steady in her shaking hand, she made sure a bullet was in the chamber. The running noise increased.

"Do you think he knows we're in here?" Michelle whispered.

Guido groaned pessimistically.

Footsteps increased, and it was obvious that the assailant had come out in the narthex.

"What's going on out there?" Some man's voice echoed down the hall. "This is a church. What . . . what are you wearing . . . on your face?"

The gun cracked again and the man's voice stopped.

Guido crawled across the floor and grabbed the irons on the fireplace. A creaking noise sounded and the panel behind the grating slid open. "Let's get out of here."

Michelle could hear the assailant coming closer to their door. She started creeping backward toward the fireplace. "Get in there," she said. "I've got the gun and will be the last one in."

Guido darted inside as Michelle kept inching toward the opening.

Suddenly the man in the hall threw his weight at their door. The old portal made a cracking sound, but didn't come open. Michelle fired two shots at the door before dashing into the fireplace and hurrying down the ancient stone steps behind Guido.

"I've got five bullets left," she said.

"Hang on to them. We've got to get down into the crypt to escape."

The noise of the door breaking open and slamming into the wall above them echoed down the hidden stairway. Two more shots rang out.

Michelle and Guido ran down the dark passageway filled with the bones of dead monks. When they came to the first corner, she stopped. "I've got to see if he comes down those hidden steps," she said. "That's everything!"

Guido cowered against the wall and held his breath.

At the other end where they'd come out, Michelle saw movement and fired three shots. The assailant fired back.

"Get out of here!" she gasped. "I've only got two bullets left."

Michelle ran down the corridor until it ended, and they turned to the right. Fifty feet away they realized they had come to a dead-end wall. Standing in total darkness, Michelle knew they were trapped.

"Get down," she whispered. "Flatten out on the floor and don't make a sound."

The smell of dirt filled her nose, and she remembered that soil from the Holy Land had been sprinkled on the floors and was never swept up. Sticking the pistol straight in front of her and resting the butt of the gun on the floor, she tried to stop shaking and aimed into the darkness.

Only then did the fierce thumping of her heart signal that an emotional rumble was beginning. Like a runaway gasoline truck careening down the road straight at her, she felt the tearing pain of raw emotion exploding within her. Her eyes started to blur, and a roaring noise filled her ears. Her mouth turned dry and her hands shook fiercely. She couldn't close her eyes, fearing the attacker would come running straight at them. All she could do was gulp in the sour, soiled air arising from the dirt on the floor.

No sounds echoed down the corridors. For five minutes, she and Guido lay side by side staring into the darkness. No other noise filled the tombs of the dead.

"Police!" a man yelled from somewhere far away. "We're the police. Put your weapons down."

"It could be him," Guido whispered. "Don't be deceived."

Michelle nodded.

"We're the police," the man shouted.

"We're with them," a different voice yelled. "We're the carabinieri, the military police. We're behind them."

"Thank God," Michelle said. "I think we're rescued."

"Oh, I hope so." Guido stood up slowly. "Let me get some light. I've got a cigarette lighter in my pocket."

"Back here!" Michelle shouted. "We're being chased by a gunman." Her voice echoed down the long tunnel with a hallow sound.

Guido flipped on the light. Crunched up in a small space carved in the wall, a skeleton sat wrapped in a deteriorating brown robe. Six inches from his face, a skull stared at him through empty eye sockets. Breathless, Guido sputtered, trying to catch his breath.

"You down there?" Detective Alfredo Pino's voice echoed through the crypt.

"Barely," Michelle answered.



Long after the detective and the police had gone, Michelle sat in the small office alone, looking at the pistol laying on her desk. Her father had kept a gun hidden in the large chest in their bedroom, but she always feared the weapon. When Father Blake brought the guns to their apartment, she would never in her wildest dreams have imagined firing the Walther PPK at someone. In truth, she would have completely rejected the idea of keeping the weapons if Jack hadn't accepted them. Michelle had always hated violence in any form. And yet she had fired at the person pursuing them.

It was a hard thought to accept, but she could see that the saying was absolutely true. Violence begets violence until the world is filled with the uproar of a volcano of fury. Right here inside this church with its gospel of peace, lives had been taken. Father Raffello had fallen as well as the man killed just outside their door. Jack had nearly been destroyed and Dov Sharon murdered. And all they had been interested in was completing their work on Holy Scripture. With only the best intentions in mind, they had marched into a battle with evil that had nearly taken her life that very afternoon.

What a strange world, Michelle thought. The absolute best can bring the total worst. Never would I have expected such a possibility. I suppose I have no choice, but to keep this weapon close at hand. Even holding this loaded pistol violates my deepest and most heartfelt intentions. Then again, I have no other choice. The battle is joined to the final blow and I cannot acquiesce lest the other side win.

Michelle put the gun back in her briefcase, locked the door behind her, and headed home.