Shrouded in Silence (13 page)

The old priest rushed up the center aisle and into the narthex. In a second, he could see that the lock remained secure and jerking the box he determined the coins had stayed inside. Yet, he thought it worthwhile to check out every aspect of the entryway, but nothing was missing. Father Raffello still wasn't satisfied. A nagging suspicion haunted him, and the old man always found his intuitions to be important to follow up on until he was completely satisfied everything was in order.

Some kids might have come in and could be stealing a few bones from downstairs under the church. Yes, that was it. Every now and then, teenagers showed up for just such a prank. Grabbing a candle, the priest hurried down the stone steps into the crypt. He had been down there so many times that he could quickly recognize any loss. Hurrying up and down the long corridors, he found nothing amiss, but as he turned to leave, Father Raffello noticed muddy footprints on the floor. Decades earlier, dirt from the Holy Land had been sprinkled on the floor of the crypts and never removed. Someone had been walking around that evening leaving muddy footprints in the loose dirt. Kneeling on the floor, the priest could tell the footprints were much larger than the usual size of teenagers. No question about it! He had heard that person leaving and that was what woke him up. Father Raffello rushed back up the steps.

If nothing was amiss in the church proper, possibly the intruder might have gone around to the back and was working on the Townsends' offices behind the church. If nothing else, it was worth a look. Father Raffello pushed the large front door open and peered out. The rain storm had passed and the heavy clouds moved on so he could walk around the building without an umbrella, but the night air felt brisk. Quickly, the priest returned inside and unlocked a closet at the side of the narthex. Pulling out a black cloak, he fastened it over his robe and pulled the hood over his head. Undoubtedly slinking through the early morning hours, he looked as scary as the dead monks propped up against the stone walls in the crypts below.

As quietly as possible, the priest found his way along the side of the tall church and started down the cement path. Just as he reached the back of the church, a tiny light flashed on in one of the rooms. Father Raffello froze. He looked again. No light. Possibly, he had made a mistake. The windows were filled with darkness. Yes, he had only imagined the light. Breathing a sigh of relief, he tucked his hands in his robe and thought of returning to the church.

A small light flipped on again.

Father Raffello caught his breath. No question about it! Someone was walking around in those offices. He should run back in the church and call the police, but if he did the thief might leave and he'd miss seeing who it was. If nothing else, he could stand there and get a good view of the crook so he could identify the thief at the police station. That might prove to be the most useful thing to be done. Just wait. Then again, that was certainly a dangerous path to take.

The door knob turned. The man was coming out. No time to run. Just watch.

The figure quickly shut the door behind him and turned as if doing something to the lock. In a matter of seconds, the black figure turned back around and started to leave the porch. Only then did Father Raffello realize the man had a black mask over his face.

"Stop!" the priest demanded.

The man's scream echoed off the stone walls of the expansive church before he launched forward with a vicious thrust.

Father Raffello felt the excruciating pain of a knife blade plunging into his stomach. The torment was so severe that he couldn't scream. All the strength went out of his body and the priest crumpled to his knees. He felt the blade pulled out only to come again at his upper chest. Blackness instantly swallowed the priest.

14

E
ven though it was an early morning in late September, the temperature felt unusually warm. Jack and Michelle Townsend pulled their small Fiat into their reserved parking space behind their offices. Michelle noticed Jack kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye and was studying her composure.

"You satisfied yet?" she said.

"Satisfied?" Jack frowned. "I don't understand."

"Yes, you do. You're checking me out to make sure I've got my head together."

"No!" Jack protested.

"Our little dinner the other night at Der Pallaro was about my stability. You're checking me out again this morning."

Jack stiffened. "That's not fair."

Michelle laughed. "I want you to know that I am hunky-dory, as my little mother use to say, just fine. You can relax."

Jack squirmed. "Of course. Sure you are."

Michelle giggled. "You are one funny man, Jack Townsend. I know you worry about me all the time." She squeezed his hand. "I want you to know that's no problem. Your love keeps me going. OK?"

Jack leaned over and gave her a kiss. "You bet. Let's go."

Slamming the car doors shut, the couple started up the walkway holding hands, teasing, laughing while swinging briefcases at their sides. Jack pointed ahead. "Looks like a crowd of people milling around our front door."

"What would anybody be doing out here at this early hour?" Michelle ask. "Aren't a couple of guys bending over something in the grass?"

"I-I don't know." Jack stopped. "Good heavens! Someone is on the ground!"

Michelle dropped her briefcase. "God forbid! That's a man lying in the grass!"

"Stay here until I see what's going on," Jack said forcefully. "I mean it. Stay exactly where you are. I'll be back."

Michelle felt her anxieties starting to build. A black form sprawled in the grass looked like a priest from the church. Her heart started to pound and fear began grabbing at her throat.

Jack broke into a trot to get to the front of the white house.

Dov Sharon and Father Donald Blake stood behind a group of men gathered around the porch. Several policemen were kneeling over the figure lying on the ground. Only then did Jack discover a pool of blood spreading from beneath the body.

"It's Father Raffello," Dov said. "I found his body when I arrived this morning. I immediately called the police."

"Stabbed," Father Blake added. "I just happened to be in this area when the story broke. "I got here shortly after the police arrived. Nasty business."

Jack covered his mouth and groaned. "No! It can't be. How could anyone kill such a kind old priest of the church?"

"We're not sure," Father Blake said. "My hunch is that he caught a thief breaking into your offices. A struggle resulted and the assailant killed the priest. Rigor mortis has already set in, so the stabbing must have occurred in the middle of the night."

Jack looked back at Michelle and motioned for her to stay put. "Lord, help us! We don't have anything of value in that office that a thief would kill for. Books and manuscripts. Some work lying around. But nothing a common thief could trade in for much return and certainly not for a human life."

The priest put his arm around Jack's shoulder and pulled him farther to the back. "We've got to think this assault through carefully. I told you the other day that the publicity in the paper had problems. Now the bubble's burst. I'm sure this murder is tied to what happened in the subway explosion. You're underestimating your standing with someone who hates Americans. My hunch is that this is another example of hostility toward Yanks. I think poor Father Raffello simply got caught in the backlash of an attack. It's hard to say, but think again. What have you got in there that's worth stealing?"

Jack ran his hands through his hair. "We've been doing research at the Vatican Library but haven't made any breakthroughs. Dov's been working on a copy of the
Sarajevo Haggadah,
but his research is not worth much money either. I just don't know. I'm left completely mystified."

"Hmm," Father Blake stroked his chin. "Of course, no one would know what you've got in those offices, but they'd probably guess a great deal. Most of the folks around here assume that Americans keep bucket loads of money under their beds at night. See what I mean? You're vulnerable. Even though we don't know for sure, it still doesn't negate my hunch. You've got to be careful, Jack. I believe these people will come after you."

"Hey, what's going on?" Heavy-set Tony Mattei hurried up the walkway. "I heard that there was a killing over here."

"Yes," Jack said. "The priest in charge of the church was killed last night.

"Heaven help us!" Mattei rolled his eyes. "Serious business indeed."

Father Blake eyed him suspiciously. "How'd you find out?"

"When a priest is down?" Mattei puckered his lips and looked like the question was nonsense. "This is Rome! You think the report of a murdered priest doesn't spread like a flooding river? Of course, I heard! The word is everywhere."

A detective standing over the body got up and came over to the three men. "I'm Alfredo Pino with the police. As best we can determine, the murder happened outside of your offices, and the doors remained locked. No evidence of a forced entry. We don't see any problem with you going back, but you will need to use the back door and stay away from the entry as well as out of this front area. An ambulance will be here shortly to pick up the body, and our investigation will be going on all day. If you find anything amiss inside, we want to know at once.

"Of course," Jack said. "We will call you immediately if anything turns up."

"Excellent." Alfredo Pino walked away.

"Looks like we can get in," Jack said to Father Blake and Tony Mattei. "See you gentlemen later."

Jack led Michelle and Dov to the back of the house, but getting inside proved to be arduous. Small tables, chairs, and boxes had been stored in the kitchen, and no one ever came in the back way. Dov Sharon pushed on the door while Michelle stared silently at the ground. Once the door had been pried open, Jack cleared a path through the junk into their working area.

"Come on in," he called out. "I think we can get our house in order."

For several minutes no one spoke while they turned on lights and cleared their desks. Watching Michelle out of the corner of his eye, Jack could clearly see that she was deeply disturbed, but didn't want to talk about it as usual. Periodically, he peered out the window to follow the progress of the police. Eventually, medics rolled in a gurney and hauled Father Raffello away. Only then did he break the silence hovering over their offices.

"Let's meet in the conference room and consider where our work has taken us this morning," he said. "I know it's going to be difficult to function normally."

Michelle and Dov walked mechanically into the adjacent room and laid their notepads on the gnarled old table without saying a word. No one spoke for what felt like an eternity.

"I know working is nearly impossible under the circumstances, but I believe the best thing we can do is to continue," Jack said. "Activity will help us emotionally stay on track."

"Just a minute," Michelle interrupted him. "Dov, you're saying the man was dead when you arrived? You found him?"

Dov Sharon nodded his head.

Michelle stared intensely at the young man. "You didn't have any disagreements with Father Raffello? No problems?"

Dov's eyes narrowed. "None."

"OK," Jack interrupted the exchange. "Enough of questioning what happened. That's up to the police. Let's begin by reviewing what we found at the library yesterday. Dov?"

"Rosh Hashana begins tomorrow," Dov said. "So, I put in extra time yesterday and stumbled upon a most surprising find. During the first centuries of the Christian era, a Laterani family was involved with a number of important documents that the public doesn't know about. Their connection to the early church remains highly important, but the Roman Catholic Church is rather defensive about the materials attributed to the Lateranis. Behind these stories, I discovered that there's supposedly a book of some sort that the priests judiciously keep hidden in the Vatican Library. I don't know if this has any connection to what we are seeking, but it's an intriguing lead."

"Where's this hidden book located?" Jack asked.

"That's part of the riddle. Only a couple of their priests seem to know where it is, and believe me, they're not talking. I'm not even sure the pope knows about this story. It's that secret."