Papal decree

44

The dining room of Ben Isaac’s mansion resembled a command post. Computers, communication equipment, copiers, a commotion of technicians and agents from the Metropolitan Police, who entered and left in a whirl of activity that only they understood. Ben Isaac and Myriam were seated on a leather sofa, feeling upset. What would happen to little Ben? The kidnapper seemed to know everything. This meant the end of their son, everything they had tried to avoid from the beginning.

‘They told you to wait for instructions at home,’ Gavache recalled. ‘And you didn’t try to contact law enforcement?’ he asked angrily, with a reproving shake of his head.

‘It’s my son’s life at stake,’ Ben Isaac argued. ‘He could already be dead because of this whole circus.’

‘Don’t say that, Ben,’ Myriam cried out. ‘Let the officers do their work.’ She didn’t add that it was because they’d always done things his way that they found themselves in the present situation, but she thought it. Blame wouldn’t solve anything.

Garvis hurriedly joined the group. He was in charge of the whole operation. ‘Dr. Ben, everything is ready. Would you come with me, so I can explain the procedure when they call?’ He was there to help, and he knew what the father and mother were going through, more than he wished.

‘If they call,’ Ben grumbled as he got up.

‘They’ll call, Doctor,’ Gavache reassured him. ‘You have something they want very much. They’ve already proved how far they’ll go to get it. They’re not going to give up.’

Ben Isaac went with Garvis to the heart of the machines and connections that, God willing, would track down the kidnappers’ hiding place. Gavache was sitting in an armchair smoking, much to Ben Isaac’s disapproval. Myriam watched him, intimidated.

‘Do you believe what you’re saying?’ Myriam asked. She needed to know if Gavache was just talking.

‘Another one of my faults. I always say what I think,’ Gavache assured her again, blowing a puff of smoke into the air, ‘and I have to smoke to think.’

‘I understand,’ Myriam said, more at ease with Gavache.

‘Where’s that amusing young lady, Jean-Paul?’ Gavache wanted to know.

‘She went into the bathroom ten minutes ago,’ Jean-Paul informed him, appearing behind his boss.

‘Do you think she needs help?’

‘No, Inspector,’ Myriam interjected. ‘She not feeling well. She’s been nauseous lately.’

‘Did you hear that, Jean-Paul?’ Gavache asked.

‘I heard, Inspector.’

‘One more to keep us busy.’

‘But we need to work, Inspector,’ Jean-Paul contradicted him.

‘We already have enough for this lifetime and the next.’

Myriam found the exchange between them curious.

‘Tell Garvis to treat the young lady well. No interrogation and threats. There are enough psychos in this world without our creating another. Let me talk to her myself, with all respect for his command of the operation.’

‘Okay, Inspector,’ Jean-Paul answered, leaving to carry out the order.

‘You have a good heart,’ Myriam said, praising him for the sensitivity he had shown.

‘No, I don’t, ma’am. Almost all my arteries are clogged. Someday they’ll do me in,’ he joked, without showing any humor at all. ‘Not much to go.’

Sarah came out of the bathroom and joined them. She was flushed, tired, and sat down by Myriam.

‘Welcome,’ Gavache greeted her.

‘Sorry for the delay,’ Sarah said weakly. She was shaky.

‘We didn’t notice. Do you feel all right?’ Gavache wanted to know.

‘Better,’ Sarah said, recovering her courage a little.

‘We could call a doctor for you,’ Myriam suggested.

‘No,’ she immediately replied. ‘Thanks, Myriam. I promise you it’ll be the first thing I do when all this is over.’

Garvis and Ben Isaac returned from receiving the technician’s instructions. Ben Isaac was still angry. He was impatient for the call to come, but at the same time feared it. As a father he needed the call; as an old man, he just wanted to go to sleep and wake up from the nightmare the next day and discover nothing about it was real.

Ben Isaac sat down by his wife, and Garvis took an armchair.

‘What now?’ Myriam asked.

‘Now we wait,’ Garvis said.

Everyone felt self-conscious except Gavache, who continued to savor the aroma of his tobacco. The others exchanged glances, hoping something would happen.

‘Instead of looking at each other like idiots, why don’t we tell each other something about ourselves,’ Gavache suggested.

‘What about your history?’ Ben asked.

‘Mine is boring. From home to work, and from work to home. It’s tedious. But yours, Dr. Ben, I’d like to hear. Ultimately, this circus is because of you.’

Ben blushed with all the eyes turned on him. As a banker, he was used to being the center of attention, but usually he had everything in control, that is, he had the money, and that wasn’t the case here. The money that for so many years had been infallible in corrupting the human soul was useless now. He had lost control of the situation, if he’d ever had it. One of his mother’s sayings came to mind as a sign of wisdom: Man proposes, but God disposes. In fact, when it was least expected, life easily exposed the fragility of human control, and everything collapsed like a house of cards, as if everything had never existed.

Everyone waited for him to say something, except the technicians and other agents who kept busy maintaining the state-of-the art instruments at top operational capacity, or at least enough that they would not break down when it was time to use them. They weren’t interested in Ben Isaac at all, just the opposite.

‘You can start with Loyola,’ Gavache offered, to the surprise of everyone present, including Ben Isaac.

‘Loyola?’ Ben Isaac inquired.

‘Isn’t he the indirect cause of all this?’

‘No.’ Ben Isaac smiled, cynically, as if those present were not prepared for a greater truth only he knew. ‘Loyola only intervened in a story that was two thousand years old. Everything began with Jesus of Nazareth.’

Garvis shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

‘Hell,’ Gavache exclaimed. ‘Maybe we should have something to drink with this. Do you have any coffee?’

‘Of course,’ Ben agreed. ‘Myriam, could you do us a favor and ask in the kitchen for coffee, tea, milk, something to eat?’

Myriam got up. Sarah started to follow her, but Myriam didn’t let her. ‘Relax, dear. I’ll go.’

‘Let’s begin with Jesus of Nazareth, then,’ Gavache insisted. ‘We’re all anxious to hear about Him.’

Ben thought about all his options, but realized he didn’t have any. He would tell the truth and hope God was merciful.

‘The historical Jesus has nothing to do with the one the Christian world worships. The truth about Jesus has suffered from an enormous conspiracy. Jesus was born — ’

The ringing of his phone interrupted this story. The instructions were on the way.