Valerio nodded as if he understood, but he really didn’t. Exchanging bits of a relic for political favors was beyond his experience, especially with the caveat of having no official documentation. It was worrisome. At the same time, he knew that the few fibers in the silver box had come from a sample of the shroud taken many years previously, and the shroud itself had not been recently disturbed. The Holy Father’s main concern about the shroud was conservancy.
Luigi stood up. “If I am to make the appointment on time, I should be leaving.”
Michael stood up as well. “We’ll go together, if you don’t mind. I’ll watch the exchange from afar. After the sample is handed over, I intend to follow these people. I want to know where they are staying, in the event their identities are troublesome.”
Valerio stood up with the others. His expression was one of confusion. “What will you do if, as you say, their identities are troublesome?”
“I will be forced to improvise,” Michael said. “On that point, the cardinal’s instructions were vague.”
“This city is rather attractive,” Daniel said, as he and Stephanie walked west along streets lined with palatial ducal residences. “I wasn’t impressed at first, but I am now.”
“I had the same impression,” Stephanie said.
Within a few blocks of walking, they reached Piazza San Carlo, and the vista opened up to a grand square the size of a football field lined with handsome, cream-colored baroque buildings. The façades were ornamented with a pleasing profusion of decorative forms. In the center of the square stood an imposing, bronze equestrian statue. The Caffè Torino was midway along the western side. Inside the café, they found themselves enveloped in an aroma redolent of freshly ground coffee. A number of large crystal chandeliers hanging from a frescoed ceiling washed the interior with a warm, incandescent glow.
They did not have to look long for Monsignor Mansoni. The priest stood up the moment they entered and waved them over to his table along the far wall. As they wended their way toward him, Stephanie glanced around at the other patrons. Monsignor Mansoni’s odd comment that there shouldn’t be many priests in the café was correct. Stephanie saw only one other. He was sitting by himself and, for a brief moment, Stephanie had the unsettling sensation that his eyes had locked onto hers.
“Welcome to Turin,” Luigi said. He shook hands with both his guests and gestured for them to sit. His eyes lingered on Stephanie long enough to make her feel mildly uncomfortable, as she remembered Daniel’s inappropriate description.
A waiter appeared in response to the monsignor’s snapping of his fingers and took Stephanie and Daniel’s order. Daniel had another espresso, while Stephanie was content with sparkling water.
Daniel eyed the prelate. His description of himself as being portly was no understatement. A large dewlap practically obscured the man’s white clerical collar. As a medical doctor, he wondered what the priest’s cholesterol level was.
“I suppose to begin we should introduce ourselves. I am Luigi Mansoni, formerly of Verona, Italy, but now I live here in Turin.”
Daniel and Stephanie took turns introducing themselves by giving their names and that they lived in Cambridge, Massachusetts. At that point, the coffee and water arrived.
Daniel took a sip and replaced the cup in its tiny saucer. “Without meaning to be rude, I’d like to get to business. I assume you have brought the sample.”
“Of course,” Luigi replied.
“We must be sure the sample comes from an area of the shroud with a bloodstain,” Daniel continued.
“I can assure you that it does. It was selected by the professor entrusted with the conservancy of the shroud by the Archbishop, Cardinal Manfredi, who is its current custodian.”
“Well?” Daniel questioned. “Can we have it?”
“In a moment,” Luigi said. He reached into his cassock and produced a small pad and pen. “Before I deliver the sample, I have been instructed to get particulars as to your identities. With the controversy and media frenzy swirling about the shroud, the church is insistent on knowing who has possession of all samples.”
“Senator Ashley Butler is to be the recipient,” Daniel said.
“That is my understanding. However, until then we need to have proof of your identities. I’m sorry, but those are my instructions.”
Daniel looked at Stephanie. Stephanie shrugged. “What kind of proof are you looking for?”
“Passports and current addresses would be adequate.”
“I don’t have a problem with that,” Stephanie said. “And the address in the passport is my current address.”
“I suppose I don’t have a problem either,” Daniel said.
The two Americans produced their documents and slid them across the table. Luigi opened each in turn and copied down the information. He then pushed them back. Pocketing his pad and pen, he produced the silver box. With obvious deference, he slid it toward Daniel.
“May I?” Daniel questioned.
“Of course,” Luigi replied.
Daniel picked up the silver box. There was a small latch on its side, which he slid to the open position. Carefully, he lifted the lid. Stephanie leaned so she could see over his shoulder. Inside was a small, sealed, semitransparent glassine envelope containing a tiny but adequate mat of fibers of indeterminate color.
“Looks good,” Daniel said. He closed the lid and secured the latch. He handed the case to Stephanie, who slipped it into her shoulder bag along with their passports.
Fifteen minutes later, Daniel and Stephanie reemerged into the pale midday midwinter sunshine. They headed diagonally across San Carlo Square en route back to their hotel. Despite their jet lag, there was a spring to their step. Both felt mildly euphoric.
“Now, that couldn’t have been any easier,” Daniel commented.
“I’d have to agree,” Stephanie said.
“I would never remind you of your earlier pessimism,” Daniel teased. “I’d never do that.”
“Wait a second,” Stephanie chided. “We got the shroud sample with ease, but we’re still a long way from treating Butler. My worries are about the whole affair.”
“I think this little episode is just a harbinger of things to come.”
“I hope you are right.”
“What do you think we should do with the rest of the day?” Daniel asked. “Our flight to London is not until five after seven in the morning.”
“I need a short nap,” Stephanie said. “And you must need one as well. Why don’t we go back to the hotel, have a bite of lunch followed by a half hour of shut-eye, and then head out? There are a few things I’d like to see while we’re here, particularly the church where the shroud is housed.”
“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Daniel said agreeably.
Michael Maloney hung back as far as he dared without losing Daniel and Stephanie. He was surprised at how quickly they were moving, and he had to keep pace. When he’d emerged from the café, he’d been lucky to catch sight of them, as they had practically already cleared the square.
At the moment the two Americans had left the café, Michael had conferred briefly with Luigi to encourage him to run the identities through the civil authorities and let him know on his cell phone as soon as any information was available. Michael said he intended to keep the Americans in sight or at least know their location until he was satisfied with the information.
When the Americans disappeared around a corner, Michael broke into a run until they were back in sight. He was intent on not losing them. Taking a direct clue from his mentor and boss, James Cardinal O’Rourke, Michael was treating his current commission with great seriousness. He strongly aspired to rising in the church hierarchy, and to date, things had been going as planned. First, there had been the opportunity to study in Rome. Next had come the recognition of his talents by the then Bishop O’Rourke, the invitation to join his staff, and the elevation of the bishop to archbishop. At this point in his career, Michael knew his success depended solely on pleasing his powerful superior, and he intuitively knew this assignment concerning the shroud was a golden opportunity. Thanks to its importance to the cardinal, it was affording him a unique circumstance to demonstrate his unswerving loyalty, dedication, and even his ability to improvise, given the lack of specific guidelines.