“It has been my experience that nothing in Washington is ever off the record.”
“Does here in the Maryland countryside count?” Bill tried a smile, but the Prince of the Church wasn’t cutting him any slack, so he moved on. “I advise the president of the United States, and normally I need nothing more than my scientific acumen and research, but this matter crosses a boundary between science and faith. I need your counsel on the part where I am not an expert, and I am afraid there may not be time to hash this out through normal diplomatic channels, so I ask you once again. Will you go off record with me? If you like we can draw up a non-disclosure agreement to bind both of us.”
The bishop considered Bill’s offer. “Are you a Catholic?”
“Not as observant as I should be, but yes.”
“Then your affirmation of privacy will be all that I require, my son.”
“Thank you, Your Eminence. Now again, I am not a diplomat, so please excuse me if I am a little blunt. What would the possibility be of getting a Vatican statement in favor of the research?”
The man of religion weighed the question. He tapped his fingers for a few seconds and adjusted his position in the seat. “So you feel that a papal decree will defuse some of the animus being directed toward this research?”
Bill pulled up a picture on his iPad and handed it over to the bishop. “This is why I am asking.”
The bishop’s eyes widened as he saw the disturbing image of the dead priest in the trailer. “Have you identified this man?”
“Unfortunately, he’s one of yours.”
“Does the press have this?”
“No, sir. And they never will.”
“Unless I don’t cooperate?” the bishop said in a matter-of-fact way.
Bill was stunned; he never meant to imply this as a threat. He was about to say, no, no, no, that’s not it, and then he thought again.
“We are not interested in casting any suspicions on the Church. I am, however, not sure if Father Cleary acted alone or is part of a larger conspiracy. I want to make sure that there is no gray area in Church doctrine where his possible cohorts might hide.”
“What you are asking for would be a departure from past practices. We don’t often find ourselves bolstering the — science.”
“Father, that right there! You were trying to find another word, a word more politically correct than the one you were going to use — enemy!”
“I cede your point. Bias is difficult to spot, even in one’s own view of the world.”
“We can go back on the record now, Your Eminence.”
“Very well.”
“If I were to recommend to the president that our State Department initiate talks with the Vatican, the result of which would be to create a statement which would denounce anti-scientific violence, would the Vatican be disposed to agree?”
“Absolutely not.”
Bill was thrown a bit. Had he misjudged the man?
“I do believe there may be some meeting of the minds as to whether or not this kind of research is in concert with Vaticanum Secundum.”
“I see. The statement you are proposing doesn’t recognize violence, yet the scope is limited by Vatican II, which doesn’t lock the Pope into a corner. I think we could live with that.”
“And you said you weren’t a diplomat?”
Bill smiled; his mind was running at one hundred miles per hour because none of this was the reason he had held the bishop over. Although he had broken some diplomatic ground that could be helpful, when the bishop stood to leave, Bill felt the pressure. He purposely overreached as he accepted the Bishop’s proffered hand. “Ouch, what the — ” Bill retrieved his hand with a little shake.
“Sorry, my ring.”
“No, my fault. That’s some ring, Your Eminence.” Bill continued his little play-acting by rubbing his hand.
“Yes, it can be a little dangerous.”
“What is the significance of it?” Bill marveled at the ring, which looked like barbed wire, and felt like it as well.
“It is the last remnant of a very old order. I’m afraid I am rather sentimental.”
“What order is that, er, was that?”
The Vatican envoy’s sixth sense kicked in. “Why do you want to know?”
“I’m sorry. If it’s a secret fraternity or something, I didn’t mean to — ”
“No, it is an antique. Rings such as this were worn by the Knights of the Sepulchre.”
“So they are no more?”
“Pope Gregory disbanded them in the late 1800s.”
“Well, forgive the vernacular to a man of God, but that’s one hell of a ring!”
The stern patrician took the mild expletive with small exception, but noted nonetheless, “Go to church more, Dr. Hiccock.”
“Thank you. Yes of course, Your Eminence.”
“The Knights of the Order of the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem. Founded in the Holy Land, 1099 A.D. during the First Crusade by Godfrey I, de Bouillon, Duke of Lorraine, as a Sovereign French Military Religious Order.”
“Military?” Bill noted to Marilou Delacruz, a researcher from the State Department who had been hastily ordered to Camp David as a new member of the “Camp David Task Force.”
“Yes, their raison d’être was Class One artifact protection.”
“ — and Class One means?”
“Any artifact that has actually touched the body of Christ.”
“Like the Shroud of Turin.”
“Yes, but in their case, specifically the Ring of Thorns.”
“You mean the Crown of Thorns?”
“Yes, ring or crown, either translation from the original Aramaic is correct.”
Bill snapped his fingers, “That explains the ring! It wasn’t barbed wire, it was the Crown of Thorns.” The implication sunk in and Bill exploded out of the chair, leaving Marilou in the office.
Being in her first few hours with Wild Bill Hiccock, she just shrugged and figured that’s why he was called that.
Two seconds later, Bill called out to her, “Marilou, could you come with me, please?”
A minute later, they were back in the secure conference room. Marilou sat next to Bill as the techs hooked them back up to the Embassy in Paris. While they were waiting, Bill engaged in small talk. “How long have you been at State?”
“Six years, sir.”
“It’s Bill. I want you to speak your mind here, no pulling punches. This ain’t diplomacy, it’s science. And it’s even more blunt than science, it’s about national security.”
“Yes, sir — Bill, I understand.”
“By the way, are you Catholic?”
“Yes, my father was a deacon at an R.C. church back in the Philippines before they came to America and had me. I went to Catholic school and graduated from Fordham in international treaty law.”
“Listen closely, and if you want to add anything just do it, don’t hold back.” Bill said with a smile he had learned was a reliable personnel management tool.
Joey’s and Brooke’s images popped up on the monitors. Joey said, in an affected accent, “Bonjour!”
“Hi Brooke, Joe, this is Marilou. She is on loan from State and an expert on theological history. She has been briefed up a little bit, but she’s catching it on the fly as we go.”
“Welcome to the team, Marilou,” Joey said.
Bill handed a yellow pad to the tech and as he placed it under a camera on a copy stand, the image appeared on a monitor next to the one with Joey and Brooke on it.
In Paris, it was on the monitor next to the one displaying the faces of Bill and Marilou. Joey immediately recognized the pencil drawing. “That’s the knockers!”
“Wait, that’s a kind of ‘police sketch’ of the ring that both Sicard and the bishop had on. What are you talking about knockers, Joe?”