At the base of the stair run up to the fourth floor, Father Karlin hesitated and waited for his colleague. “How are we going to get the phone numbers of these Marian societies?”
“There are plenty of ways,” Father Maloney said, “especially now, with the Internet. Besides, it was clear that the cardinal wants a particularly extreme individual. For that we go to the most radical organization. Maybe, if we’re lucky, one call may do the trick.”
“Are you aware of the most fanatical organization?”
“I believe I am,” Father Maloney said. “A friend of my family contacted me several years ago to try to get their child out of an organization called the Brotherhood of the Slaves of Mary. I had never heard of it, and it’s not that far away, literally up in the Catskill Mountains, although figuratively it’s on another planet. Apparently, it’s a modern revival of a seventeenth-century fanatical European Marian society, which the then Pope Clement the Tenth felt compelled to outlaw some of the practices of.”
“Good grief,” Father Karlin voiced. “What kind of practices?”
“Using chains and other enslavement instruments for penance for mankind’s sins.”
“Dear God,” Father Karlin added. “Did you manage to get the child out?”
“I didn’t. Multiple phone calls and even a visit were for naught. He apparently loved the place, as it was what he needed. I don’t know if he’s still there or not. I haven’t been in contact with the family, as they were disappointed in my efforts.”
“Do you still have the contact numbers?”
“I do. I’ll call first thing. Of course, if the cardinal knew the society existed and he visited it, he’d probably close it down.”
“That is an irony, especially if we find someone there who fulfills the cardinal’s needs.”
25
12:04 P.M., SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7, 2008
NEW YORK CITY
James enjoyed a heady sensation as he left the cathedral redolent with incense to make his way back to the residence. The cathedral had been packed for the High Mass, with people standing along the aisles and not a single seat available in the entire nave. The choir had done an excellent job with nary a mistake, and his sermon had gone well and had been well received. The previous evening, after the secretaries had left to return to their gabled rooms, James had decided to preach that morning about the role of Mary in the modern Church, both because it was appropriate for the feast day coming up the next day and because it had been dominating his mind for several days.
Now, with the stress of the High Mass out of the way, James was eager to get back to the Shawn, Sana, and the ossuary issue. He knew that the upcoming week was going to be critical, and he prayed that his secretaries had made some progress. As he came up the stair, the first thing he saw was that the wooden bench just outside his office was occupied by what looked like a fifteen- to sixteen-year-old towheaded boy with such a beauteous face, beatific smile, and lustrous, shoulder-length, golden hair that James did a double take, believing he could be having a vision of the Angel Gabriel. The boy was dressed in a black habit with a hood, cinched with a medium-blue cord.
Gathering his wits with some difficulty, James broke off eye contact with the youth and passed into his office. Quickly, he slipped behind his massive oak desk to catch his breath, knowing that Father Maloney would undoubtedly momentarily materialize. The big question in James’s mind was whether or not the boy was someone chosen as the possible interventionist. If so, James’s immediate impact was off the charts, which was something he was hoping for. Yet as positive as that was, there was a problem. The individual was too young, a mere boy, and James asked himself if he could possibly entrust someone so immature with such an important task.
As James expected, the door opened after a sharp knock, and in stepped the secretary. Carrying a folder, Father Maloney quickly crossed to the desk and handed it to James. “His name is Luke Hester, and yes, he was definitely named after the evangelist Luke.”
“He is striking,” James said. “I have to commend you on that, but isn’t he too young for a theological emergency? There is going to be a need for some innate psychology.”
“If you check the rapid biography I’ve thrown together, you will learn that he is older and therefore hopefully wiser than his youthful, angelic looks suggest. He is twenty-five years old, about to be twenty-six in a matter of months.”
“My word,” James exclaimed. He placed the folder on his desk and opened the cover and stared at the date of birth. “I never would have guessed.”
“There was a kind of mild hormonal problem that had never been investigated,” Father Maloney stated. “But that problem has been attended to and his hormones are now in the normal range. The brothers where he lives had him evaluated and treated a few years ago here in the city.”
“I see,” James said, rapidly glancing through the biography and learning that Luke was an only child of a devout Catholic mother and lapsed Catholic father. The boy had run away from home to join a Marian society called the Brotherhood of the Slaves of Mary when he turned eighteen.
“Have you spoken with him?”
“I have. I believe he comes the closest to the individual you described last night than anyone I’ve ever met. Charismatic is not a strong enough word. He’s also disarmingly intelligent.”
“Is he committed to the Virgin Mary?”
“Totally, heart and soul. He is a walking, talking homily to the Blessed Virgin.”
“Thank you, Father Maloney. Why don’t you have him come in.”
A half-hour later, James was as convinced as Father Maloney. From James’s perspective, Luke couldn’t have been better qualified if he’d been sent from central casting. His relatively short life had not been easy, caught among an alcoholic, abusive father and a victimized, overindulgent mother and a pair of rural priests who had failed him. James hated hearing about the priests, especially having heard a similar story the previous night from Jack about Shawn. But what he did like hearing was Luke’s description of finding the Virgin Mary and how she had saved him as well as returned to him his trust in the Church itself.
Once he was convinced that Luke was a good candidate to be the needed savior, James switched the conversation to the problem posed by Shawn and the ossuary, but not before extracting from Luke the solemn oath of secrecy based on his love for the Blessed Virgin.
“Appropriately enough, the problem involves the Mother of God,” James said, as soon as Luke had pledged his word. James went on to tell the story of the discovery of the ossuary, his belief that it was fake, its illegal transport to the United States, and its recent opening. He then described Shawn’s commitment to damage the reputation of the Virgin by suggesting the bones in the ossuary were hers, and thereby discrediting the infallibility of the pope. “It will be a devastating rebuke to both Mary and the Church,” James stated. “And only you will stand between Dr. Daughtry and such an abomination.”
“Am I worthy?” Luke questioned, in a deeper voice than one would expect based on his youthful appearance.
“As archbishop, I believe you are worthy and uniquely qualified because of your veneration of the Blessed Virgin. Although it will not be an easy task, as I believe your opponent has the help and attention of Satan, it is imperative you succeed.”
“How do you see me accomplishing this task?” Luke asked, in a tone belying his youthful appearance.
James sat back and thought for a moment. In truth, he’d not thought past finding the perfect person, but now that he believed he might have, he tried to think of the details. The first, of course, was to get Luke and Shawn together for an extended period of time. Only then would Luke have the opportunity to convey to Shawn the devastation he personally would suffer if Shawn goes along with his publishing plans.