Shout in the Dark (50 page)

There had been no opportunity for a
private viewing of the contents. Natalia returned the hug, though
he hardly noticed. His heart felt as though it was pushing pure
adrenaline round his body. The bust was on the table, revealing the
newly cleaned features of a bronze head skillfully modeled by an
ancient craftsman.

One of the TV crew moved a light, and the
face seemed to come alive as the shadows danced on the nose and the
eyes. The expression changed from one of gravity to laughter. Marco
bit his lip then smiled. The face of Jesus Christ. This face had
been fashioned by a skilled artist who had seen Jesus talking to
the people, and had probably seen him heal the woman of her
internal bleeding, making her acceptable and clean in her own eyes
and the eyes of the people. This face had been seen by Eusebius,
and over a thousand years later it was given away by
Il
Ruinante
, Donato
Bramante.

Jesus of Nazareth, revered by the Brothers
at Monte Sisto for centuries.

The features showed a younger man than
Marco was expecting: a man of about thirty. An extremely short
beard. Deep set eyes. Very definite mid eastern features. An
expression that captured something that he could only describe as a
look of laughter and love. This was not the sorrowful face of an
older man seen in so many Western churches. Theologians and
historians believed that Jesus was only thirty-three when he was
crucified. So why the older man in subsequent images? The program
tonight was going to cause more than ripples.

He heard raised voices outside. Monsignor
Giorgio flung open the doors to the Vatican apartment and stormed
into the room, followed by two members of the Swiss Guard in their
red, blue and gold Renaissance uniforms.

The TV crew looked on as the Monsignor
shouted, "How dare you! How dare you do this in secret!" He sounded
so emotional that he was trembling. The Swiss Guards waited tensely
for his instructions.

Marco pushed the TV Roma camera aside.
This contretemps was not the sort of thing that should be shown to
the world. He raised a hand in an attempt to restore some peace.
"Father Josef will explain, when he comes back from London," he
said firmly. "He thought this was the best way to do
it."

"
The best? The best for whom?
" cried Augusto Giorgio.

"
Father Josef arranged it with the Holy Father." Marco
walked forward, keeping his voice steady under the withering glare
of the Monsignor. He had a shiver of doubt.
Please, God, let it be
true.

"
I'm holding you responsible for this, Sartini." Augusto
Giorgio's voice could have filled the Basilica without need of the
sound system. "His Holiness is out of Rome this week. He could not
possibly have given any sort of permission."

Marco tried to sound calm but was finding
it hard. "I think we should talk with the Holy Father. The phone is
over there."

"
And I suppose you have his number?"

Marco pulled the crumpled paper from the
back pocket of his jeans. Going to the black telephone on the table
at the end of the room he lifted the receiver and dialed.

A sudden noise outside the shuttered window
made everyone turn. Pigeons, startled by the arrival of two more
members of the Swiss Guard, were rising quickly into the early
morning air.

Marco thought of the doves at Monte Sisto.
The bitter sound of dispute in the room became a loud clatter of
frantic wings.

A flutter of wings. Climbing, above the
rocky outcrop, above the ruins.

High into the open skies, searching for
peace.

Natalia moved close to take his hand. He
stared across the room at the face looking from the open box. Old
Savio had surely been wrong in the Piazza Venezia. A relic that
could end the Church? Not the Church. This face would destroy the
neo-Nazi doctrine that Christ had not been a Jew. The Church would
weather the storm. Natalia tightened her grip, seeming reluctant to
let him go again. The telephone was answered with a voice that
Marco recognized immediately.

"
Holiness? This is Marco Sartini. Father Marco Sartini. I
think I can handle it, but I'm having a small problem with a member
of your staff. Monsignor Augusto Giorgio would like to speak to
you."

MARCO WATCHED THE evening news special
on
TV Roma, fascinated
as religious and secular experts were wheeled on to outline their
pet theories on the development of Christian art.

Cardinal Amendola was in the studio, smiling
benevolently from behind heavy, black-framed spectacles.
Occasionally he would nod wisely as though the recovery of the
bronze head was due to his persistence. Monsignor Giorgio was
unobtainable for interviews, refusing to issue any further press
statements.

Everyone in the studio quickly dismissed
the possibility of the head being an example of ancient Byzantine
art, except one young professor of oriental illustration. A senior
expert of the Renaissance thought it to be a missing work by
Leonardo da Vinci, while an authority on the Baroque disagreed
violently. It was obviously ... well ... possibly by ... or from
... the school of Bernini. A Spanish historian knew almost for
certain it had been produced by an Iberian metal worker of the late
Renaissance. A close-up shot of the parchment heralded the
appearance of an authority in mediaeval documents, who was prepared
to stake her reputation that it was genuine.

By the next morning one or two of the
experts who had so far been quiet, probably taking the opportunity
to think things through a little more carefully, were prepared to
admit the obvious: that the style of the bronze was Classical, not
neo-Classical, and could definitely be contemporary with Christ.
One even risked his reputation by going so far as to say that it
might actually
be
Christ.

An American professor of microbiology, an
active believer in the Shroud of Turin, was interviewed live by
satellite. He pointed out that the difference in beard length
between the two images proved nothing. Jesus could easily have
grown his beard longer in the period leading up to his final
journey to Jerusalem. A New Testament scholar agreed that this was
not only possible, but likely. A close-up of the bronze face filled
the screen. Marco realized that the ripples were turning into shock
waves. The arguments alone sounded as though they would reverberate
around the Church for decades.

A political commentator predicted that
over a million people would arrive in Rome over the next
forty-eight hours. They were coming simply because they wanted to
be near the likeness of Jesus Christ. The interest throughout the
world was extraordinary. Marco knew that the Church could no longer
keep the relic hidden from public view. Numbers like this would
exert real influence. His cell phone rang.

His friend from England was on the line. He
believed that a senior member of the laboratory staff in Oxford was
deliberately falsifying DNA tests on bone fragments from Russia.
The deception was connected with an announcement on the Internet of
a special exhibition in Berlin to celebrate the birth of the German
Führer. Since Marco was already mixed up with investigating the
neo-Nazis, was he interested in coming straight over to hear the
full story?

The
carabinieri
had interviewed him several times, but no one had told him
to stay in Rome. He still had his passport. Marco decided to leave
immediately, before Father Josef could return and give him other
instructions. This time he'd keep his movements to
himself.

His cell phone rang again while he was
packing his overnight bag, and he let it ring several times before
answering. It was a message from the hospital. Laura would like to
see him. He looked at his watch, realized he had plenty of time to
catch the plane if he went by taxi, and told the nurse he'd be
straight round.

He finished his packing and made a quick
phone call to Natalia at TV Roma. Could she meet him at Fiumicino
airport with her passport at two-thirty? If she was willing to fly
with him to England, he could guarantee her something special in
the way of a story.

THE END

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