“I haven’t proven it,” Shawn agreed, “but it is coming whisker-close, wouldn’t you say, old boy?”
“No, I wouldn’t say that,” Jack replied.
“Let’s put it this way. If I were to take this story as we know it today, combining Saturninus’s letter with the fact that the ossuary was right where he said he’d put it, and it hadn’t been touched for almost two thousand years — what if I were to take the story, the letter, and the ossuary to Vegas and ask the bookmakers if I had the Virgin Mary in the box. What kind of odds do you think they’d give me?”
“Stop it!” Jack snapped. “This is all ridiculous supposition.”
“So that’s how it is!” Shawn said suddenly. “You’re on James’s side, just like you always were in college. Some things never change.”
“I’m not on anybody’s side. I’m on my side, right in the middle, always trying to keep the peace between you two hard-asses.”
“James was the hard-ass, not me.”
“Excuse me. You’re right. You were the airhead.”
“And you were the asshole. I remember it well,” Shawn said. “And as the asshole, you were almost always on hard-ass’s side, just as I’m beginning to think you’ll be tonight. I’m warning you that tonight I’m looking for a bit of payback. During all our debates over the years, we’d always get to a point where James would throw down his trump card: faith! How can you debate that? Well, tonight we’ll revisit a couple of those debates, only this time I have facts on my side. It’s going to be entertaining. I can promise you that.”
Suddenly the two old friends sitting in the back of the taxi stared at each other and smiled. Then they laughed.
“Can you believe us?” Shawn questioned.
Jack shook his head. “We’re acting like teenagers.”
“Kids is more like it,” Shawn corrected. “But I’m just blowing off steam. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on Jamie boy tonight.”
Their taxi pulled up to the OCME DNA building, and Jack ran in to ask the guards for a cart to meet them at the receiving dock. Arriving about the same time, Jack and Shawn unloaded the glass and stacked it on the cart. Jack patted the top of the last stack, somewhat out of breath. “Glass might not look like much when you are looking through it, but I can tell you it’s damn heavy stuff.” Shawn nodded as he ran the back of a hand across a sweaty brow.
“Can I trust that you’ll be able to get this unloaded upstairs?” Jack asked, with his hand still resting on the glass.
“No problem,” Shawn said confidently. “I’ll have Ms. Flirtatious Independence upstairs lend a hand.”
“I wouldn’t take offense at Alex,” Jack said. “He’s just one of those very friendly, outgoing people. He likes everyone, and everyone likes Alex.”
“I don’t have any beef with Alex. My problem is that Sana has been slip-sliding to I don’t know exactly where. You know what I’m saying? Take her hair as we discussed. It was gorgeous long, and I told her not to cut it, so she cuts it. I ask her to do small things around the house, like iron my shirts; she tells me she works as hard as I do. I tell her I shovel the snow and take out the trash. You know what she said then?”
“I have no idea,” Jack said, hoping his tone conveyed that he didn’t know or care.
“She says she wants to trade. I do the ironing; she does the trash and the shoveling. Can you imagine?”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jack said vaguely, refusing to be drawn into a discussion of marital difficulties. “What is your address again?” he asked, to change the subject.
“Forty Morton Street. Do you remember how to get there?”
“Vaguely,” Jack admitted. He took out a small pad and wrote down the address. “Okay. Unless my wife has other plans, I’ll be there at seven. And what about tomorrow? Are you guys planning to work? If you are and you don’t mind, I’d like to stop in and see how things are going.”
“I’ll let you know what’s up. Sana might like to sleep in. As for me, I’m too psyched, so I’ll be here. Just as soon as I can I’ve got to know what Simon Magus has to say and see if he can redeem himself. I’ve always wondered if he’d just been a whipping boy. The first-century Church had been in such a disarray it needed someone to blame and there was poor Simon Magus and his wish to be a more effective healer, and of course his pals the Gnostics.”
“You sure you can handle all this glass?” Jack asked again, as he backed away. He was eager to get home to see if he could clear the deck for the evening event, hoping just maybe to convince Laurie to take some time to get out of the house. He knew it was a long shot, but he was going to try just the same.
“Sana and I will handle it fine,” Shawn said with a wave. “See you tonight.”
“I hope,” Jack said, giving a thumbs-up sign. Feeling progressively nervous and rather guilty since it was now a little after noon, Jack jogged back to the main OCME building at 30th Street and First Avenue. Resisting heading up to his office, he merely grabbed his Trek, waved to security, and headed uptown.
Once on his bike, he felt better knowing he’d be home in thirty minutes, where there would at least be a slight chance to assuage at bit of his guilt, provided he could get Laurie out of the house. Of course, if JJ was having a bad day, that probably wouldn’t happen, as Laurie would be reluctant to leave the poor child in Jack’s relatively incapable hands. Above and beyond the personal emotional issues, Jack admitted he was not a natural with sick children, as his rotation in pediatrics in third-year medical school had amply displayed.
Jack’s mental state progressively improved as the weather was near perfect with a crystal-clear sapphirine sky and a temperature that had risen to be mild for New York in December. There was also a festive feeling in the air, as the city was alive with early Christmas shoppers hoping to beat the crowds.
Jack’s route home took him past the Central Park Zoo, which was clogged with children and parents. Jack felt a sudden catch in his throat as he wondered if there would be a chance for him to enjoy such an outing with JJ. A little farther on, and coming abreast of a beautiful playground with a slide built of polished granite, Jack stopped for a minute to watch the children squealing, shrieking, and laughing. Their glee was infectious, and it almost brought a smile to Jack’s face, remembering his own exuberant childhood. But a moment later his thoughts were dominated by JJ’s neuroblastoma and the heavy question of which was going to triumph, the mystical power of JJ’s body to heal itself with the help of modern medicine if and when the medicine could be restarted, or the equally mysterious power of the DNA-driven neuroblastoma cells: a classic collision of right and wrong.
Experiencing another, more powerful catch in his throat, Jack jumped back on his bike and pedaled furiously to clear his mind. Luckily, because of the springlike weather, he quickly found himself enveloped in a mob of other bikers, runners, in-line skaters, roller skaters, and mere walkers such that thinking was difficult to avoid running into someone.
Jack exited the park at 106th Street. As he pedaled he could clearly see his house, which stood out sharply as the only one on the block that had been totally renovated. Then he caught a glimpse of something he wished he hadn’t: the sight of his neighbors warming up on the outdoor playground’s basketball court. Unable to resist, Jack jumped the curb and glided to a stop at the chain-link fence.
As soon as Jack had come to a halt, one of the players sauntered over to him. His name was Warren Wilson, and he was by far the best player. Over the course of Jack’s years in the city living in the neighborhood, he and Jack had become the best of friends.
“Hey, man, you coming out? I still got room for one.”
“I’d love to,” Jack said, “but Laurie’s been cooped up in the house with JJ, and I’ve got to go and relieve her. You know what I’m saying?”