Seizure

thirteen

4:45 A.M., Tuesday, February 26, 2002

Despite the hefty security lock on the door, Stephanie slept poorly. Every noise from inside the hotel or from outside had caused a minor panic reaction, and there had been a lot of noises. At one point just after midnight, when guests had keyed and entered a neighboring room, Stephanie had sat up, ready for battle, certain the people were coming into her room. She’d sat up so quickly that she’d pulled the covers from Daniel, whose response was to yank them back angrily.

After two A.M., Stephanie finally fell asleep. But it was far from a restful slumber, and it was a source of relief when Daniel shook her shoulder to wake her after what had seemed to her to be about fifteen minutes.

“What time is it?” she asked groggily. She pushed herself up on one elbow.

“It’s five A.M. Rise and shine! We should be out in a taxi in a half hour.”

“Rise and shine” had been a phrase her mother had used to wake her when Stephanie had been a teenager, and since Stephanie had been an Olympic-class sleeper who hated to wake up, the phrase had always bothered her. Daniel knew the story and used the expression deliberately to provoke her, which, of course, was an effective way to wake her up. “I’m awake,” she said irritably when he shook her again. She eyed her tormentor, but he merely smiled before briefly mussing her hair with the palm of his hand. The gesture was something else Stephanie found irritating, even when her hair was in disarray, as it certainly was at that moment; it was demeaning, and she had told Daniel such on several occasions. It made her feel as if he considered her a child or, worse yet, a pet.

Stephanie watched Daniel go into the bathroom. She rolled over on her back and winced at the light. The multicolored glass chandelier was blazing above her. Outside, it was still as dark as pitch. She took a breath. It seemed as if the only thing she wanted to do in the whole world was to go back to sleep. But then the cobwebs in her mind began to clear, and she thought about how much she wanted to get on the plane with the shroud fibers and get out of Italy.

“Are you up?” Daniel shouted from the bathroom.

“I’m up!” Stephanie shouted back. She had no compunction about fibbing, not after how merciless he’d been in waking her up. She stretched, yawned, and then sat up. After shaking off a brief sensation akin to nausea, she got to her feet.

A shower worked wonders for both of them. Despite Daniel’s acting to the contrary, he had been far from feeling chipper initially and had had almost as much trouble getting out of bed after the alarm went off as Stephanie. Yet by the time they had gotten out of the bathroom, they were both in high spirits in anticipation of getting to the airport. They dressed and packed with great efficiency. By quarter past five, Daniel called the front desk to arrange for a taxi and to get someone to come get their bags.

“It’s hard to believe we’ll be in Nassau by late this afternoon,” Daniel said, as he closed and locked his suitcase. The day’s itinerary was to fly to London on Air France via Paris, connect to British Airways, and then fly on directly to New Providence Island in the Bahamas.

“What I find difficult to comprehend is that we’ll be going from winter to summer in a single day. It seems like ages since I’ve been in a pair of shorts and a summer top. I’m psyched.”

The bellman arrived and took their luggage down to the lobby on a garment cart with instructions that it should be loaded into the taxi. While Stephanie dried her hair, Daniel stood in the bathroom doorway.

“I think we should tell the manager about our intruder,” Stephanie said over the sound of the hotel’s hair dryer.

“What would that accomplish?”

“Not much, I suppose, but I’d think they’d want to know.”

Daniel looked at his watch. “I think it’s a moot point. We don’t have time. It’s almost five-thirty. We need to be on our way.”

“Why don’t you go down and check out,” Stephanie suggested. “I’ll be down in two minutes.”

“Nassau, here we come,” Daniel said as he left.

The phone’s insistent jangle yanked Michael Maloney from the depths of sleep. He had the phone to his ear before he was totally awake. It was Father Peter Fleck, Cardinal O’Rourke’s other personal secretary.

“Are you awake?” Peter asked. “Sorry to be calling you at such an hour.”

“What time is it?” Michael asked. He fumbled for the bedside light, then tried to make out what time it was on his watch.

“It’s twenty-five minutes before midnight here in New York. What time is it there in Italy?”

“It is five-thirty-five in the morning.”

“Sorry, but you told me when you called this afternoon that it was imperative you speak with the cardinal as soon as possible, and His Eminence has just returned to the residence. Let me put him on the line.”

Michael rubbed his face and patted his cheek to wake himself. A moment later, James Cardinal O’Rourke’s gentle voice sounded in Michael’s ear. He too apologized for calling at such an inconvenient hour and explained that he’d been forced to remain at an interminable function with the governor, which had started in the late afternoon.

“I’m sorry I must add to your burdens,” Michael said, with some trepidation. He was not fooled by the powerful man’s humble graciousness. Behind the apparent benevolence, Michael was well aware of how ruthless he could be, especially to a subordinate who was either foolish or unlucky enough to displease him. At the same time, to those who pleased him, he could be extraordinarily generous.

“Are you implying there has been a problem in Turin?” the cardinal questioned.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Michael said. “The two people whom Senator Butler sent to receive the sample of the shroud are both biomolecular scientists.”

“I see,” James commented.

“Their names are Dr. Daniel Lowell and Dr. Stephanie D’Agostino.”

“I see,” James repeated.

“From your instructions,” Michael continued, “I knew you would be distressed about this development because of its implications about unauthorized testing. The good news is that by working quickly with Monsignor Mansoni, I have managed to arrange that the sample will be returned forthwith.”

“Oh,” James said simply. There was an uncomfortable pause. As far as Michael was concerned, this was hardly the response he was expecting. By this point in the conversation, he counted on a definitively positive reaction from the cardinal.

“Obviously, the goal is to avoid any more scientific indignity for the shroud,” Michael added quickly. A shiver ascended his spine. His intuition was telling him the conversation was about to take an unexpected turn.

“Have doctors Lowell and D’Agostino voluntarily agreed to give up the sample?”

“Not exactly,” Michael admitted. “The sample will be confiscated by the Italian authorities when they check in for a flight to Paris this morning.”

“And what will happen to the scientists?”

“I believe they will be detained.”

“Was it true that the shroud itself did not have to be touched to produce this sample, as Senator Butler suggested?”

“That is true. The sample was a tiny piece from a swatch that had been cut from the shroud a number of years ago.”

“Was it turned over to the scientists in strict confidentiality, without official documentation?”

“To the best of my knowledge,” Michael said. “I had communicated that that was your specific wish.” Michael began to perspire, certainly not as copiously as he had while hiding in the hotel room the previous day, but from a similar stimulus: fear. He could feel a knot of anxiety building in his stomach and tensing his muscles. The tone of the cardinal’s questions had a barely perceptible sharpness that most people would not have perceived but which Michael heard immediately and recognized. He knew His Eminence was becoming progressively angry.

“Father Maloney! For your information, the senator has already introduced his promised legislation limiting charitable tort liability, which he now believes with his backing has a better chance of passing than he did when he proposed the idea on Friday. I don’t need to explain to you the value of this legislation for the church. As far as the shroud sample is concerned, with no official documentation, even if some ill-advised testing were to be done, the results could not be authenticated and could be simply repudiated.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael blurted lamely. “I thought Your Eminence would want the sample back.”

“Father Maloney, your instructions were clear. You were not sent to Turin to think. You went there to find out who took possession of the sample and follow if necessary to see to whom it was ultimately delivered. You were not to arrange for the sample to be returned and thereby put in jeopardy an extremely important legislative process.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Michael managed.

“Don’t say anything. Instead, I strongly advise you to reverse what you have set in motion if it is not already a fait accompli; that is, of course, unless your immediate career goal is to be assigned a small parish someplace in the Catskill Mountains. I do not want the shroud sample confiscated, nor do I want the American scientists arrested, which is a more accurate term for what awaits them than the euphemism you employed. Most important, I do not want Senator Butler calling to say he has withdrawn his bill, which I believe will be his response if what you have described were to occur. Am I clear, Father?”

“Perfectly clear,” Michael stammered. He found himself holding a dead line. The cardinal had abruptly disconnected.

Michael swallowed with some difficulty as he hung up the receiver. Being sent to a small parish in Upstate New York was the church’s equivalent of being sent to Siberia.

All at once, Michael snapped the phone up out of its cradle. The American scientists’ plane wasn’t leaving until after seven. That meant there was still a chance to avert a career disaster. First, he phoned the Grand Belvedere, only to learn that the Americans had already checked out. Next, he tried to call Monsignor Mansoni, but the prelate had left his residence a half hour earlier on church business at the airport.

Galvanized by these revelations, Michael jumped into his clothes, which were conveniently draped over a bedside chair. Without shaving or showering or even using the toilet, he ran from his room. Unwilling to wait for the elevator, he took the stairs. Within minutes and out of breath, he fumbled with his rent-a-car keys before climbing into his rented Fiat. Once the engine turned over, he backed up and raced out of the parking lot.

Hazarding a glance at his watch, he estimated that he could get to the airport a little after six. The main problem was that he had no idea what he was going to do once he arrived.

“Are you going to give him a big tip?” Stephanie questioned provocatively, as the taxi mounted the ramp leading to the departure-drop-off area of the Turin airport. Daniel’s taxi phobia was beginning to get on her nerves, although to Daniel’s credit, the driver had completely ignored Daniel’s repeated requests for him to slow down. Every time Daniel had spoken, the man had merely shrugged his shoulders and said, “No English!” At the same time, he hadn’t driven any faster than the other cars on the highway.

“He’s going to be lucky if I even pay the fare!” Daniel snapped.

The taxi came to a stop in a sea of other taxis and cars discharging passengers. In contrast to the center city, the airport was already busy. Stephanie and Daniel climbed out, along with the driver. With the three of them working, they got all the luggage out of the small taxi and piled it on the curbside. Daniel grudgingly paid the man, and he left.

“How should we work this?” Stephanie asked. They had more bags than the two of them could reasonably carry. She glanced around the immediate area.

“I don’t like the idea of leaving anything unattended,” Daniel said.

“I agree. How about one of us going to get a cart while the other stands guard.”

“Sounds good. What’s your preference?”

“Since you have the tickets and passports, why don’t you get them out and ready while I find the cart.”

Stephanie worked her way through the crowd, keeping her eyes peeled for a cart, but all were in use. She had better luck inside the terminal especially after she had walked past the check-in counters to the security area. Travelers going through security to the departure gates had to leave their carts in the terminal proper. Stephanie took an abandoned one and retraced her steps. She found Daniel sitting on the largest of their suitcases, impatiently tapping his toe.

“It took you long enough,” he complained.

“Sorry, but I did the best I could. This place is hopping. There must be quite a few flights leaving around the same time.”

Together they loaded all but their laptop cases on the cart to create a rather precarious pile. The laptops went over their shoulders. While Daniel pushed, Stephanie walked alongside to keep the stack of bags from toppling over.

“I noticed a lot of police wandering around,” Stephanie said, as they entered the terminal. “More than I’ve ever seen. Of course, Italian carabinieri stand out with their snappy outfits.”

They stopped about twenty feet inside the door. The crowds swirled about them like a river of people. Standing where they were, they created a minor cataract.

“Where do we go?” Daniel questioned. Several people jostled him. “I don’t see any Air France display.”

“The flights are listed on the LCD screens next to each check-in counter,” Stephanie said. “Wait here! I’ll find our flight.”

It took Stephanie only a few minutes to find the right counter. When she got back to Daniel, she found that he had moved to the side to get out of the stream of people coming through the door. Stephanie pointed in the direction they had to go, and they set off.

“I see what you mean about the police,” Daniel commented. “A half dozen walked by just while you were gone. What caught my attention were the machine guns.”

“There’s even a group behind the counter where we have to check in,” Stephanie said.

They got to the rather sizable line waiting to check in for the Paris flight and joined the queue. Five minutes dragged by as the line inched forward.

“What the hell are they doing up there?” Daniel questioned. He stood on his tiptoes to try to see what was holding things up. “I can never imagine what takes so long. I wonder if the police are slowing up the process somehow.”

“As long as we don’t get bottled up going through security, I think we’ll be fine.” Stephanie glanced at her watch. It was twenty past six.

“Since this counter is just for this flight, we’re all in the same boat.” Daniel was still eyeing the front of the line.

“I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right.”

“My gosh!” Daniel said.

“What now?” Daniel’s exclamation and his change of tone made Stephanie aware of how tense she still was. She tried to follow Daniel’s line of sight, but she couldn’t see over the people in front of them.

“Monsignor Mansoni, the priest who gave us the shroud sample, is standing up there with the police behind the check-in counter.”

“Are you sure?” Stephanie questioned. It seemed like too big a coincidence. She tried again to see but couldn’t.

Daniel shrugged. He glanced back at the counter again before returning his attention to Stephanie. “It certainly looks like him, and I can’t imagine there are too many priests quite as obese as he.”

“Do you think this has anything to do with us?”

“I can’t imagine, although combining his presence with the fact that someone tried to take our shroud sample from our hotel room makes me feel uneasy.”

“I don’t like this,” Stephanie said. “I don’t like this at all.”

The line ahead of them moved forward. Daniel hesitated, unsure of what to do until the gentleman immediately behind impatiently nudged Daniel forward. Daniel pushed the towering cart forward but purposefully stayed shielded behind it. He and Stephanie were now four parties away from the front of the line. Stephanie moved a few steps laterally and surreptitiously glanced ahead. She returned immediately to stand with Daniel behind the cart.

“It’s Monsignor Mansoni for sure,” she said. She and Daniel stared at each other.

“What the hell are we going to do?” Daniel blurted out.

“I don’t know. It’s the police who bother me, not the priest.”

“Obviously,” Daniel retorted angrily.

“Where is the shroud sample?”

“I told you earlier. It’s in my laptop case.”

“Hey, don’t yell at me.”

The line moved ahead. With the man behind them breathing down Daniel’s neck, he felt obligated to push the cart forward. Moving closer to the counter exacerbated both their anxieties.

“Maybe this is just a case of overactive imaginations,” Stephanie suggested hopefully.

“It’s too big a coincidence to explain away as mere paranoia,” Daniel responded. “If it were just the priest or just the police it would be one thing, but with both at this particular counter, it’s something else entirely. The problem is, we are going to have to make some sort of decision here. I mean, not doing anything is a decision of sorts, because in a couple of minutes, we’ll be front and center, and whatever is going to happen will happen.”

“At this point, what is there that we can do? We’re hemmed in here by a crowd of people and burdened with a truckload of luggage. Worst case, we give them the sample if that’s what they want.”

“There wouldn’t be this many uniformed policemen if they were merely planning to confiscate the sample.”

“Excuse me,” an out-of-breath, panicky voice called from behind them in irrefutable American English.

As tense as Stephanie and Daniel were, their heads shot around in unison to confront an obviously distressed cleric with wild, staring eyes. The man’s chest was heaving, presumably from the exertion of running, while beads of perspiration dotted his forehead. Adding to his distraught appearance was an unshaven face and an uncombed shock of red hair, both of which were in sharp contrast to his reasonably pressed priestly attire. Apparently he’d reached Stephanie and Daniel by forcing his way between the check-in counter queues, judging from the expressions of irritation on nearby travelers’ faces.

“Dr. Lowell and Dr. D’Agostino!” Father Michael Maloney panted. “It is imperative that I talk with you.”

“Scusi!” the man behind Daniel said irritably. He gestured for Daniel to move ahead. The line had advanced, and while eyeing Michael, Daniel had yet to do so.

Daniel motioned for the man to go ahead of them, and he gladly did.

Michael cast a quick glance ahead over the top of Daniel and Stephanie’s luggage cart. Catching sight of the monsignor and the police, he ducked down and squeezed in alongside Daniel. “We have only a few seconds,” he blurted in a forced whisper. “You must not check in for your flight to Paris!”

“How do you know our names?” Daniel questioned.

“There’s no time for me to explain.”

“Who are you?” Stephanie asked. There was something about the man she recognized, but she couldn’t place him.

“It doesn’t matter who I am. What is important is that you are about to be arrested, and the shroud sample will be confiscated.”

“I remember you,” Stephanie said. “You were in the café when we were given the sample yesterday.”

“Please!” Michael begged. “You have to get away from here. I have a car. I will get you out of Italy.”

“Drive?” Daniel questioned, as if the suggestion was ridiculous.

“It is the only way. Planes, trains, all mass transit will be watched, but particularly planes and particularly this flight to Paris. I’m serious; you are about to be arrested and jailed. Believe me!”

Daniel and Stephanie exchanged glances. Both were thinking the same thing: This distraught priest’s sudden arrival and warning was unbelievably serendipitous, which lent powerful credence to what had been a mere fearful supposition seconds earlier. They were not going to check in for the flight to Paris.

Daniel started to turn the luggage cart around. Michael grabbed his arm. “There’s no time for all the luggage.”

“What are you talking about?” Daniel demanded.

Michael craned his neck to steal a brief glance at the counter a mere twenty feet away. Instantly, he pulled his head back down like a turtle, hunching his shoulders. “Damn! Now I’ve been seen, which means we’re all seconds away from disaster here. Unless you are interested in spending time in jail, we have to run. You have to leave most of the baggage! You have to make a decision about what is more important: your freedom or your luggage.”

“It’s all my summer clothes,” Stephanie said. She was aghast at the idea.

“Signore!” the man behind Daniel said, with obvious irritation, while gesturing for Daniel to move forward. “Va! Va via!” A number of people behind him chimed in as well. The queue had again moved forward, and by blocking the back of the line, Daniel and Stephanie were causing a scene.

“Where’s the sample?” Michael demanded. “And your passports?”

“They’re in my shoulder bag,” Daniel responded.

“Good!” Michael snapped. “Keep your shoulder bags, but leave the rest! Later, I’ll have the U.S. consulate try to deal with the remainder of your belongings and forward it to wherever you are going beyond London. Come on!” He tugged at Daniel’s arm while pointing away from the counter.

Daniel looked over the top of the loaded cart just in time to see Monsignor Mansoni grab the arm of one of the uniformed policemen and point in their direction. With mounting urgency, Daniel switched his attention to Stephanie. “I think we better do as he says.”

“Fine! We’ll leave the bags.” Stephanie responded with resignation by throwing up her arms.

“Follow me!” Michael barked. As rapidly as he could, he led the way away from the luggage cart. Travelers in the immediate area who were pressed together in their queues parted reluctantly and sluggishly. While repeating “scusi” over and over, Michael was forced to push people aside and trip over hand luggage resting on the floor. Daniel and Stephanie followed in his footsteps as if Michael were blazing a trail through a jungle of human beings. It was frustratingly hard going, and the effort reminded Stephanie of a nightmare she’d been having when Daniel awakened her an hour and a half earlier.

Cries of “alt!” coming from behind them spurred them on to greater efforts. Breaking free from the crowds surrounding the check-in counters, their progress was significantly easier, but Michael restrained them from running.

“It would be one thing if we were running into the terminal,” Michael explained. “Running out will attract too much attention. Just walk quickly!”

All at once, directly ahead, two youthful-looking policemen appeared, hurrying toward them with their machine guns unslung from their shoulders.

“Oh, no!” Daniel moaned. He slowed.

“Keep going!” Michael said between clenched teeth. Behind them, there was now an audible commotion with unintelligible shouts.

Heading on a collision course, the two groups closed in on each other rapidly. Both Daniel and Stephanie were sure the policemen were coming to apprehend them, and it wasn’t until the last minute that they realized they weren’t. Both sighed with relief as the policemen swept by without a glance, presumably rushing toward the furor at the check-in area.

Other travelers began stopping to stare at the policemen, with varying degrees of fear registered on their faces. After 9/11, disturbances at an airport anyplace in the world, no matter what the cause, put people on edge.

“My car is at arrivals on the lower level,” Michael explained, as he directed them toward the stairs. “There was no way I could leave it even for a moment on the departure level.”

They descended the stairs as rapidly as they could. Below the terminal was relatively deserted, since incoming flights had yet to arrive. The only people in evidence were a handful of airport employees preparing for the onslaught of passengers and baggage, and rent-a-car agents readying their kiosks.

“It’s even more important now not to rush,” Michael said under his breath. A few people glanced in their direction, but only for a moment, before going back to their respective tasks. Michael led Daniel and Stephanie to the main doors, which opened automatically. They quickly exited, but then Michael halted. With his arms out to his sides, he stopped the others as well.

“This does not look good.” Michael moaned. “Unfortunately, that’s my rent-a-car up there.”

About fifty feet ahead, a tan Fiat van with its blinkers flashing was parked by the curb. Immediately behind it was a blue-and-white police car with its blue light flashing. The heads of two officers were silhouetted in the front seat.

“What should we do?” Daniel asked urgently. “What about renting another?”

“I don’t think the rent-a-car concessions are open yet,” Michael retorted. “It would take too long.”

“What about a taxi?” Stephanie offered. “We have to get away from this airport. We could rent a car in town.”

“That’s a thought,” Michael said. He looked at the empty taxi line. “The problem is, there won’t be taxis down here until the first flight arrives, and I don’t know when that will be. For us to get a cab, we’d have to go back upstairs, which I hardly feel is a good idea. I think we have to risk taking my car. These are Vigli Urbani, or municipal traffic police. I doubt they are specifically looking for us, at least not yet. They’re probably waiting for a tow truck.”

“What will you say?”

“I’m not sure,” Michael admitted. “There’s no time to be particularly creative. I’ll just try to take advantage of my status as a priest.” He took a breath to fortify himself. “Come on! When we get to the car, just get in. I’ll do the talking.”

“I don’t like this,” Stephanie said.

“Nor do I,” Michael admitted. He urged everyone forward. “But I think it is our best shot. In a few minutes, every security person here at the airport is going to be searching for all of us high and low. Monsignor Mansoni caught sight of me.”

“You two know each other?” Stephanie asked.

“Let’s say we are acquaintances,” Michael responded.

There was no more talking as the group walked quickly and deliberately toward the Fiat Ulysse. Michael went around behind the police car to pass on the driver’s side. When he got to the Fiat, he keyed it open and slid in behind the wheel as if he hadn’t even noticed the police car. Stephanie and Daniel arrived at the passenger side and immediately climbed into the backseat.

“Padre!” one of the policeman yelled. He’d alighted from his car when he’d caught sight of Michael getting into the Fiat. The second policeman stayed in the car.

Michael had not yet closed the car door when the policeman called. He climbed back out of the car and stood up.

Daniel and Stephanie watched from inside. The policeman walked up to Michael. He was dressed in a two-tone blue uniform with a white belt and a white holster. He was a slightly built fellow who spoke in a rapid staccato fashion, as did Michael. The conversation was accompanied by lots of gesticulations culminating in the policeman pointing ahead and then making sweeping motions with his hand. At that point, Michael climbed back into the car and started the engine. A moment later, the Fiat emerged from beneath the departure ramp and headed for the airport exit.

“What happened?” Stephanie questioned nervously. She looked out the back window to make sure they were not being followed.

“Luckily, he was mildly cowed by my being a priest.”

“What did you say?” Daniel asked.

“I just apologized and said it was an emergency. Then I asked where the nearest hospital was, which apparently he bought. From then on, all he was doing was giving me directions.”

“You speak fluent Italian?” Stephanie asked.

“It’s not too bad. I went to the seminary in Rome.”

As soon as he could, Michael left the main thoroughfare to drive along a small country road. After driving a short distance, they were in a rural setting.

“Where are we going?” Daniel asked. He looked out the window with obvious concern.

“We are going to stay off the autostradas,” Michael said. “It will be safer. To tell you the truth, I don’t know the extent to which they will search for you people. But I just don’t want to risk going through the tollbooths.”

When an opportunity presented itself, Michael pulled off onto the shoulder and stopped the car. With the engine running, he got out of the car and disappeared for a few minutes into the darkness of the bushes. The sun had yet to come up, but it was light.

“What’s going on?” Stephanie asked.

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Daniel said. “But if I had to guess, I’d say he’s relieving himself.”

Michael reappeared and climbed back into the car. “Sorry,” he said, without further explanation. He leaned across and got several maps out of the glove compartment.

“I’m going to need a copilot,” he said. “Are either one of you good at reading a map?”

Daniel and Stephanie exchanged glances.

“She’s probably better than I,” Daniel admitted.

Michael unfolded one of the maps. He looked over his shoulder at Stephanie. “How about coming up here in the front seat. I really am going to need help until we get beyond Cuneo.”

Stephanie shrugged, got out from the backseat, and came around to get in the front.

“This is where we are,” Michael said, after turning on the interior light and pointing to a spot on the map northeast of Turin. “And this is where we are going.” He moved his finger down to the base of the map and plunked it down on the coast of the Mediterranean.

“Nice, France?” Stephanie questioned.

“Yes. That’s the closest major airport outside of Italy if we go south, which I recommend, since we can travel on minor roads. We could head north to Geneva, but that would require going on major roads, including a major border crossing. I think south is safer and therefore better. Do you both agree?”

Daniel and Stephanie shrugged. “I suppose,” Daniel remarked.

“All right,” Michael said. “Here’s the route.” He again used his finger as he spoke. “We’ll drive through Turin on our way to Cuneo. From there, we go over the Colle di Tenda. Once we cross the border, which is unmanned, we will stay in France, even though the main road south goes back into Italy. At Menton, on the coast, we can get on the toll road, which will take us in short order to Nice. That section will be the quickest part. As far as timing is concerned, I’d say the whole trip will take us five or six hours, but it’s just a guess. Is this acceptable?”

Daniel and Stephanie again shrugged after glancing at each other. They were both so befuddled by the events that they hardly knew what to say. It was difficult even to think, much less talk.

Michael looked from one to the other. “I’ll take the silence as a yes. I can understand your bewilderment; it’s been an unexpected morning, to say the least. So first let’s get through Turin. Hopefully, we can beat the worst of the traffic.” He opened the second map, which was a plan of Turin and the immediate environs. He showed Stephanie where they were and where they wanted to go. She nodded.

“It shouldn’t be difficult,” Michael said. “One thing the Italians are good at is signage. First we follow signs for Centro Citta, and then we follow signs for route S-twenty heading south. Okay?”

Stephanie nodded again.

“Let’s do it!” Michael said. He settled back behind the steering wheel and put the car in gear.

At first the traffic was not bad, but as they got closer to the city, it got worse, and the worse it got, the more time the driving took, and the more time the driving took, the worse the traffic became, in a self-fulfilling prophecy. Just before they reached the city center, the day dawned clear and bright with a pale blue sky. They rode in silence, save for occasional directions from Stephanie, who attentively followed their progress on the map and pointed out appropriate signs. Daniel didn’t say a word. He was at least pleased that Michael was a prudent and defensive driver.

It was almost nine A.M. by the time they broke free, heading south on S20 to leave the Turin rush-hour traffic behind. By then, Stephanie and Daniel had had time to relax a degree and collect their thoughts, which centered mostly on their driver and their abandoned luggage.

Stephanie carefully folded both maps and put them on the dashboard. From then on, the route was clear. She eyed Michael’s hollow-cheeked, hawklike profile, the stubble on his face, and his mat of disarrayed red hair. “Perhaps this is a good time to ask who you are,” she said.

“I’m just a simple priest at heart,” Michael said. He smiled weakly. He knew the questions would come, and he wasn’t sure how much he wanted to say.

“I think we deserve to know more,” Stephanie said.

“My name is Michael Maloney. My present affiliation is with the Archbishop of New York, but I happen to be in Italy on church-related business.”

“How did you know our names?” Daniel asked from the backseat.

“I’m sure both of you are intensely curious,” Michael said. “And for good reason. But the fact of the matter is, I would rather not get into the details of my participation. It would be best for all concerned. Would it be possible for you to accept that I have been able to save you from the major inconvenience of being arrested without your questioning me? I’m asking it as a favor. Perhaps you can just attribute my help as a bit of divine intervention, for which I was merely the Good Lord’s servant.”

Stephanie shot a glance back at Daniel before refocusing on Michael. “It’s interesting you used the term divine intervention. It’s a coincidence, since we heard that specific phrase in association with what brought us to Italy, namely to get the sample of the Shroud of Turin.”

“Oh?” Michael questioned vaguely. He tried to think of a way to turn the conversation away from sensitive areas, but nothing came to mind.

“Why were we going to be arrested?” Daniel asked. “That shouldn’t have anything to do with your participation.”

“Because it was learned you are biomedical scientists. That was an unexpected and unwelcome surprise. Presently, the church does not want any more scientific testing concerning the shroud’s authenticity, and because of your backgrounds, there is the legitimate worry that that is what you intend to do. At first, the church merely wanted the sample of the shroud returned, but when that seemed not to be feasible, they wanted it confiscated.”

“That explains a few things,” Stephanie said. “Except why you decided to help us. Are you confident we are not going to test the sample?”

“I’d rather not get into that. Please!”

“How did you know we were going to London when we were checking in for a flight to Paris?” Daniel strained forward to hear. Michael’s voice didn’t carry well into the backseat.

“That is a question I’d be too embarrassed to answer.” Michael’s face reddened as he recalled hiding behind the curtain in the hotel room. “I beg of you. Can you just let it go? Accept what I have done as a favor: merely a friend helping a couple of fellow Americans in need.”

They drove in silence for a few miles. Finally, Stephanie spoke up. “Well, thank you for helping us. And for whatever it’s worth, we are not at all interested in testing the shroud’s authenticity.”

“I will convey that to the proper church authorities. I’m certain they will be relieved to hear it.”

“What about our luggage?” Stephanie asked. “Is there a chance you can help us retrieve it?”

“I will be happy to do my best in that regard, and I am optimistic I will be successful, especially knowing for certain you have no intention of testing the shroud. If all goes well, I will have your belongings forwarded to your home in Massachusetts.”

“We’re not going to be home for a month,” Daniel said.

“I will leave my card with you,” Michael said. “As soon as you have an address, you can call me.”

“We have an address already,” Daniel said.

“I have a question,” Stephanie said. “From now on, will we be personae non grata in Italy?”

“As with the luggage issue, I am confident that I will be able, as they say, to have your slates wiped clean. You won’t have any trouble visiting Italy in the future, if that is your concern.”

Stephanie turned and looked back at Daniel. “I suppose I can live without knowing the gory details. What about you?”

“I suppose so,” Daniel said. “But I would like to know who it was who managed to get into our hotel room.”

“I certainly don’t want to talk about that,” Michael responded quickly, “which is not to suggest that I know anything in particular.”

“Then just tell me this: Was he or she a member of the church or a professional hireling or part of the hotel staff?”

“I can’t say,” Michael added. “I’m sorry.”

Once Daniel and Stephanie resigned themselves to the fact that Michael was not going to be forthcoming about the whys and wherefores of his helpful intervention, and once it was apparent to them that the Italian authorities had indeed been evaded by the Fiat’s passing into France, they relaxed and enjoyed the drive. The scenery was spectacular as they rose up into the snow-covered Alps and passed through the ski village of Limone Piemonte.

On the French side of the pass, they descended the craggy Gorge de Saorge on a road literally cut out of the side of the canyon’s sheer rock walls. At the French town of Sospel, they stopped for a bite of lunch. By the time they pulled into the Nice airport, it was after two in the afternoon.

Michael gave them his card and took the address of the Ocean Club in Nassau, where Daniel had made a reservation. He shook each of their hands, promised to look into the baggage issue the moment he got back to Turin, and then drove off.

Daniel and Stephanie watched the Fiat until it disappeared from sight before turning to each other.

Stephanie shook her head in amazement. “What a weird experience!”

Daniel nodded. “That’s an understatement.”

A quick, derisive laugh escaped from Stephanie’s lips. “I don’t mean to be cruel but I can’t help but remember how you gloated yesterday morning how easy it had been to get the shroud sample and how you thought it was a harbinger of things to come in terms of treating Butler. Do you want to take that back?”

“Maybe I was a little premature.” Daniel admitted. “Yet things turned out okay. We’re certainly going to lose a day or maybe two, but otherwise it should all be smooth sailing from here.”

“I can only hope,” Stephanie said. She hoisted her bag onto her shoulder. “Let’s get inside and see about connections to London. That’s going to be the first test.”

They walked into the terminal and looked up at the flight schedules displayed on a monster electronic board. Almost simultaneously, their eyes spotted a British Airways nonstop flight to London at three-fifty P.M.

“See what I mean,” Daniel said happily. “Now that could hardly be more convenient.”