“Do you want me to bring Charlie here?” Emilio said. “To the church? I’ll get him inside for you—one way or another.”
He imagined ramming a truck through the packed throng of Mary-hunters and driving it up the front steps of the church.
“No. He’s too weak to travel. He might not survive the trip. And even if he did...” The Senador’s voice trailed off.
Emilio knew what he was thinking: St. Joseph’s was ringed with photographers from newspapers all over the world. If someone recognized a sick and wasted Charles Crenshaw in the throng, the tabloids would have a field day.
“Whatever it is you want, Senador, you simply have to ask and Emilio will see that it is done.”
“Thank you, Emilio. I knew I could count on you. But what I’m about to ask will not be easy. It will be the most difficult task I’ve ever set for you, and most likely ever will.”
Emilio didn’t like the sound of this. He waited, holding his breath. What could the Senador possibly—?
“I want you to bring that relic, or mummy, or whatever it is, here, to Paraiso.”
Emilio froze. For a moment he couldn’t speak. Then…”Senador, did you say you want me to bring it to Paraiso?”
“You can’t fail me on this, Emilio. It may be Charlie’s only hope.”
“You want me to steal it? Right out of that church?”
“Not steal—borrow. I don’t want to own it, I simply wish to make use of it for a few hours, then you can return it.”
The Manhattan madness must be highly contagious. The Senador had caught it all the way out in California.
“Sir...how can I steal it when I can’t even get close to it?”
“Yes. That is the major problem. I’m working on this end to make that easier for you. But you must be ready to move at a moment’s notice.”
Emilio’s mind raced. The Senador was asking the impossible, yet he seemed to take it for granted that Emilio could pull it off. Normally Emilio would be buoyed by such absolute confidence, but not this time. He admitted limits to his own abilities, even if the Senador did not.
“I’ll...I’ll need help.”
“Decker and Molinari will be on their way on the jet. We’ll hangar it at LaGuardia so it will be at your disposal when you secure this relic. You’ve got the credit card—charge anything you need. And if you require cash, I can wire that within minutes. Spare no expense, Emilio. This is more important to me than anything else in the world. Remember that.”
“Yes, Senador.”
He hung up. Madre! How in the world was he ever going to pull this one off?
He shook himself. Why worry about it? As long as this thing in the church remained surrounded by a crush of people twenty-four hours a day, there was no possible way the Senador could expect him or anyone else to steal it.
VATICAN: THE LADY IS OURS!
ROME (AP) The Vatican released a statement today claiming the so-called Manhattan Madonna as property of the Catholic Church.
“The object was discovered on Church property and therefore must be considered Church property unless and until other ownership can be established,” contended Cardinal Pasanante, spokesman for the Vatican.
“Too much publicity attends this object already,” the statement reads. “It has become the focus of devotion of hysterical proportions. This is of great concern to the Holy Father. The Church intends to investigate the many claims of miracles associated with the object, and to substantiate the object’s authenticity, if possible.”
When questioned about Israel’s prior claim on the Madonna, Cardinal Pasanante replied, “We are disputing that.” When asked what the Church would do if the object should be proven to be the remains of the Virgin Mary and if Israel’s claim to ownership is upheld, the enigmatic cardinal replied, “There are too many if’s in that question.”
(The New York
Post
)
IN THE PACIFIC
15o N, 136o W
Quantas flight 902 out of Sidney encounters a massive storm along its route to Los Angeles. Faced with a raging front of swirling clouds, the pilot pushes the L-1011 to another 5,000 feet in altitude and angrily radios back to Sydney. He was told there was no weather on his flight path and here he is facing a monster.
The reply comes that radar shows no sign of the slightest storm activity at flight 902’s location.
The pilot tells Sydney to get its radar fixed because the mother of all supercells is moving northeast along his course.
TEHRAN: IT’S ALL A ZIONIST PLOT!
Ayatollah Seyed Ali Khamenei proclaimed from Tehran in a message to all Islam that the conflict between Israel and the United States over the supposed remains of the Virgin Mary is “a fiction, a plot cooked up between Zionist Israel and its puppets in the United States.” He further went on to state that the miracles associated with this false relic are as fictitious as the ownership conflict. “The infidels’ pitiful attempts to confuse the faithful by presenting false miracles that call into question the great Mohammed’s place as Allah’s one true phosphate will fail. Do not listen. It is the voice of Satan speaking!”
(The Daily
News)
TWENTY
Manhattan
Carrie turned away from the steaming stove and wiped the perspiration from her face. Hot down here. She saw Dan sitting in the corner staring at the floor.
“Why so glum, Father Dan?”
He looked up at her. The usual sparkle was gone from his eyes, replaced by a haunted look.
I don’t know.” He sighed as he leaned back in the chair. “Don’t you get the feeling that everything’s spinning out of control?”
“No,” she said, and meant it. “Just because we can’t see where events are leading doesn’t mean they’re out of control. We may not be in the driver seat, but that doesn’t mean we’re on a runaway bus.”
“Is anybody in the driver seat?”
“Always.”
He jerked his thumb toward the ceiling.”I’ll tell you something. No one’s in charge up there in St. Joe’s. It’s chaos.”
“Confused, maybe, but it’s not anarchy.”
“Talk to Father Brenner about that, why don’t you. He’s got a slightly different take on the situation.”
They’d both received a dressing down for opening the church to the Mary-hunters. They’d expected that. Father Brenner had lost control of his church—he couldn’t close it at night, couldn’t say Mass for his regular parishioners, couldn’t get on with the day-to-day business of the parish. Every square inch of St. Joseph’s, from the rear of the sanctuary to the vestibule, down the front steps and into the street, was occupied by a restless, weary mass of humanity in every imaginable state of dress and health.
Father Brenner placed the blame on Dan and Carrie.
Carrie’s order had restricted her to the convent until proper disciplinary action could be taken. Carrie refused to submit to what she saw as house arrest and, much to the dismay of Mother Superior, went about her usual duties at Loaves and Fishes. She’d broken her vow of obedience so many times already she couldn’t see what difference it made if she kept on breaking it. Besides, she’d made a vow to the Virgin to protect her and always stay near—that vow superseded all others.