Shrouded in Silence (23 page)

M
ichelle Townsend had dressed early and packed her bags to leave the hospital. After visiting her comatose husband, she came back to the room before checking out. Seeing Jack lying comatose left her drained and feeling woozy. Michelle didn't want to leave him behind, but she knew she had been dismissed and had no choice but to go home. After three days in the hospital, the doctors had released her with a warning that her concussion remained an issue. Michelle had promised she would pay attention. The heavy bandage across the top of her head remained, leaving her looking like a war refugee.

Guido walked in with a nurse pushing a wheelchair. "They tell me that they have to wheel you out of here regardless of how good you feel."

"Afraid so," Michelle said and sat down in the wheelchair.

"How was Jack this morning?" Guido ask

"I'm afraid there's been no change. He's still in a coma and doesn't look good. I keep praying for progress. That's about all I can say."

The nurse started pushing her out of the room and toward the elevator. When the elevator reached the ground floor, Guido pointed toward the entrance. "My car is already parked out front. We'll be out of here in a flash."

The nurse helped Michelle into the front seat, wished her the best, and waved good-bye. Guido pulled away, and they were back on the streets of Rome. The insanity of Roman traffic ran full tilt, and she had little choice but to hang on.

"I want to go back to what was once our offices," Michelle said. "I was unconscious when the ambulance took me away. I must see the wreckage. I just have to see the disaster with my own eyes."

"It's not a pretty sight."

"I'm sure that's true. Anything happen lately?"

"A guy named Dr. Albert Stein showed up and said you were associates. True?"

Michelle bolted forward. "The man has been a source of constant severe problems. Our book
An Answer to the Cynics
violently upset him. Jack always said Stein would remain our enemy until the clocks quit running."

"I caught him rummaging through the debris and had the police check him out," Guido said. "I thought something was wrong with the guy."

"In the rubble?" Michelle shrieked. "That scoundrel was trying to steal from us! In the past, he has been obsessed with whatever we were doing."

"Exactly what I expected. He hasn't been back."

"This report is alarming," Michelle said. "There's no telling what he's up to."

Guido wound his way skillfully through the traffic and slowed for a stoplight. "We found one other clue," he said softly. "Your offices had been wired. Someone had been eavesdropping on your conversations."

"Stein is capable of such a thing," Michelle said. "I'd put him at the top of the list."

"The police are checking it out. We'll see."

"I trust so." Michelle looked out the window. "Jack's condition has kept my attention focused on him, but Dov Sharon keeps coming back to my mind. The Jewish community has already buried him?"

"Yes," Guido said. "They have."

"He loved working on the
Sarajevo Haggadah.
I was never sure what he was after, but Dov will always remain in our hearts as a precious person. I know he was thrilled when he came up with this search for
The Prologue of James,
or the Brown Book, as the backroom boys at the Vatican call it. I must write his parents today and tell them how much we cared about Dov. "Michelle's voice trailed away. "Who would ever have thought such a thing could . . ."

They drove in silence for a considerable distance. Finally, Guido said, "Earlier, Jack said that loud noises affect you negatively."

Michelle took a deep breath. "You might as well know that I have a psychological hangover from a childhood accident, but I can't allow it to control me, Guido. I'm forging ahead regardless of what I feel."

"You are a brave woman."

"I'm not brave," Michelle protested. "I'm simply faced with an inescapable alternative. Jack would want me to make sure that our work continues. While he is hanging on to his life by a thread, I can't let old fears stop the work. I must carry on. I believe that is what God would want me to do as well. So, I must grit my teeth and keep trying to jump through the hoops regardless."

Guido turned slowly and studied her face for a moment before looking back to the road. "I find you and your husband to be two of the most Christian people I've ever met. I am highly impressed. I want to say it again. I will stick with you regardless of how long it takes Jack to recover."

"Thank you," Michelle said softly. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate your steadfastness. We've got an uphill road ahead."

"But together we can climb it."

"Yes," she said. "We can with God's help."

Guido turned into the alley and pulled into the reserved parking space left for the Townsends. Michelle stared out the window at the ruins. All the walls were now gone. Only a pile of broken slats and split 2x4's stood in a heap to one side.

"It's all vanished," she lamented. "Disappeared."

"I went through the wreckage with the workmen and saved many of your books and papers. They have been stored in the church. Of course, much was lost, but your books did surprisingly well all things considered."

Michelle got out of the car and walked toward the ruins. "It's hard for me to imagine who could have done this to us. In five lifetimes, we couldn't have offended anyone this bad, or so I thought. The whole disaster is nothing but craziness."

Guido stood beside her, but said nothing.

"We are not going to stop," Michelle said. "No matter why this happened we won't allow a bombing to terminate our work."

"Why would they do this?" Guido ask.

Michelle shook her head. "We have apparently stumbled on to a serious matter with our pursuits of hidden manuscripts like
The Prologue of James
codex that Jack and Dov were chasing before the explosion. It's hard to believe anyone in the Vatican would destroy our offices because we had such an interest. On the other hand, Albert Stein has been sinister and draconian in the past. This bombing would be extreme, but he is an extreme character. Then, there's a conversation that Father Don Blake had with Jack. I overheard him warning that anti-American sentiment had been behind the bombing of the subway and he was worried that we were vulnerable."

"You've named enough enemies to start World War III," Guido said. "You'd better rethink what you just said. Sounds to me like you've got everything from religious nutcases to sinister terrorists on your trail. Obviously, Father Blake knew what he was talking about.

"Blake?" Michelle said. "It's vaguely coming back to me that he was with me at the hospital. Have you seen Father Blake recently?"

"No," Guido said. "I have no idea where he's gone."

30

T
he fall air felt brisk and snappy, leaving more than a hint of autumn in the air. Leaves had already fallen from the trees along the Virginia highway. A black Ford SUV sailed down the highway with the windows so heavily tinted that no one could see in. A man in the backseat watched the scenery drift by while the almost barren tree branches shook in the wind.

"I trust you are comfortable," the driver said. "When I pick up our agents at the airport coming in from abroad, I always want them to have the amenities of home."

"Thank you. I am quite fine."

The large vehicle slowed at the edge of Langley. Once again beyond the city limits, the driver picked up speed until he came to the Central Intelligence Agency entry gates. The driver flashed his credentials, and the SUV continued through. Only then did the man in the backseat pull the clerical collar from around his neck and unfasten the shirt at the top. Setting aside the image of a priest, Donald Blake reached in his coat pocket for his personal credentials. At the next checkpoint, the driver leaned out the window. "I have Agent Donald Blake returning from Rome. We have an appointment on the third floor."

The guard flipped through the pages on his clipboard and signaled for them to go on through. The SUV drove away.

"We've gotten even more strict," the driver said over his shoulder. "Since the 9-11 attack, we dot every 'i' and cross every 't' with no exceptions. You know how it is."

"Sure," Donald Blake said. "That's the new reality."

The vehicle pulled into a parking zone and stopped. The two men entered the large gray building and took the elevator to the third floor. Once they had exited, Blake walked toward a door marked PRIVATE, and the driver sat down on a bench along the hallway. "I'll be here when you come out," he said and pointed at the door. "Have a good time in there with the big boys."

Donald Blake nodded, and went in. Immediately, a man at the head of the table stood up. "Don! Great to see you. I believe you know our special assignment people."

"Thanks, James." Two men on each side of the table stood up. Blake nodded. "Sure. Sam. Brad." They shook hands. "We've worked together before." The men sat down.

James started the interview. "Please update us on what is unfolding in Rome."

Blake leaned back in his chair. "By masquerading as a priest, I've established contacts all over Rome and made inroads at important points. I can cover those areas if you wish."

No one nodded. James shook his head.

"Good. I'll leave the descriptive data out for the moment. Following the bombing of the terminal at the Piazza del Cinquecento stop, I began working to discover the source of the attack. As we all know, the Italian police aren't the sharpest in the world and let many details slip. However, my contacts led me to an informant that I have been paying for information. Through him, I was able to penetrate the cell that set off that blast. I now have inside information on what is going on in the terrorist attacks."

"Excellent!" James added. "Exceptional work."

"A single man stands behind the blasts and is now supported by two other assistants he acquired for this operation. The media calls these punks The Scorpion and thinks they're a multitude of terrorists lurking behind every street corner. Fortunately, there isn't. One of the lead man's assistants is my informant. The mouthpiece told me that they are not connected with any other groups. The lead man simply hates Americans. Believe it or not, that's the whole point of what these hatchet men are in to, killing Americans and their influence."

Sam smiled. "Nice work, Don."

"After I got the big picture of what these hair bags were doing, I noticed that an American scholar got his big story published in
Ill Messaggero.
His name's Townsend, Dr. Jack Townsend. I warned him that this wasn't a good time for Americans to be getting publicity. Unfortunately, Townsend didn't take me seriously. To make some kind of bizarre point, The Scorpion boys blew up his offices, killed one of his associates, and put Townsend and his wife in the hospital. Bad news."

"These terrorists are Italians?" James said.

"Yes," Blake replied. "They can't be extradited to America."

"Hmm," James said. "That could create a problem."

"What brought me back today was the most recent information I picked up on these guerrillas. One of the options they are now pondering involves bombing the American Embassy. They apparently want to raise the ante."

James leaned over the table. "I thought the three of you needed to hear this report as it changes the game we've been playing in Italy. They may be local Boy Scouts playing with dynamite, but when one of our embassies is mentioned, it's no longer little boys picking up merit badges. We have to be highly concerned."

Brad held up his hand. "When could this occur?"

"I have no working target date yet," Blake said. "At this point, I felt it was necessary that I be debriefed and you have time to consider options."

"Good planning," James said. "Obviously, we are deeply concerned when one of our citizens is hit. However, we must immediately start preparations to make sure that our embassy remains secure. Don, I'll have Sam start the debriefing. As soon as we're through, you can return to Rome."