Although Father Michael Maloney could not see Stephanie D’Agostino, he was so close he could hear her breathe. He was terrified his own heartbeat pounding in his temples would give him away or, if not that, then the sound of drops of perspiration dripping from his face and falling to splatter against the floor. She was mere inches away.

In utter desperation when he’d heard the key thrust into the door, he’d dashed behind the drapes. It had been a reflex act. In retrospect, going behind the curtains was an embarrassment in and of itself, as if he were some common thief. He should have stood his ground, accepted his fate at being caught, and taken full responsibility for his actions. He understood the best defense was an offense, and in the present situation, to justify his actions he should have used his indignation about these people’s true identities and the upcoming unauthorized testing of the shroud that they were obviously planning.

Unfortunately, his fight-or-flight reaction had been overwhelming, particularly on the flight side, such that when he’d come to his senses he was already hiding, and once hiding, it was too late to play the indignation card. Now all he could do was hope and pray he’d not be discovered.

At first he thought all was lost with Stephanie’s exclamation the moment the door opened. He imagined that he’d either been seen or at the very least the curtain’s movement had been apparent. It had been a relief beyond words when he realized it had been the flower arrangement that had caught her attention.

Then he had to endure Stephanie’s discovery of his ineptness at searching her suitcase and the fact that he’d taken her key from the desk. That was when his pulse began to rise again after having slowed a degree from the initial shock. He feared she would start searching the room, which would mean he’d be immediately discovered. The embarrassment and consequences of such an event were too horrible to contemplate. What had begun as a way of ensuring his future career was now threatening to have the absolute opposite effect.

“What we think about the shroud is not important,” Daniel said. “It’s just what Butler thinks that matters.”

“I’m not sure I agree with you entirely,” Stephanie responded. “But that’s a discussion for another day.”

Michael stiffened as Stephanie brushed against the drapes. Thankfully, they were heavy Italian brocade, and she apparently did not notice that she had also touched Michael’s arm through the fabric. Another adrenaline rush coursed through Michael’s body, resulting in more perspiration. To him, the sound of the intermittent drops of sweat splattering against the floor were as loud as pebbles dropping on a drum. He never imagined he could perspire so profusely, especially when he wasn’t even all that hot.

“What should I do with the sample?” Stephanie asked, as she moved away.

“Give it to me,” Daniel replied from someplace in the room.

Michael allowed himself to take a deep breath, and he relaxed a degree. He had himself pressed up against the wall as flat as he could be, to minimize the bulge his body made in the drape. He heard more sounds he could not identify, along with what he guessed was the silver casing snapping shut.

“You know, we could change rooms,” Daniel said. “Or even hotels if you want.”

“What do you think we should do?”

“I think we should just stay put. There are multiple keys for every room in every hotel. Tonight when we sleep, we’ll be sure to use the dead bolt.”

Michael heard the heavy click of the security lock being activated on the door to the hall.

“That’s a lock and a half,” Daniel commented. “What do you say? I don’t want you to feel nervous. There’s no need.”

Michael heard the door to the hall shake.

“I guess the lock’s all right,” Stephanie said. “It seems secure.”

“With that dead bolt thrown, no one would be able to come through that door without us knowing it. They’d have to use a battering ram.”

“Okay,” Stephanie said. “Let’s just stay here. It is only one night, and a short one at that, since you have us flying out to London at five after seven. What an ungodly hour. By the way: How come we’re going through Paris?”

“There was no choice. British Airways apparently doesn’t serve Turin. It was either Air France to Paris or Lufthansa to Frankfurt. I figured it was better not to backtrack.”

“It seems ridiculous not to have a direct flight to London, of all places. I mean, Turin is one of the major industrial cities of Italy.”

“What can I say?” Daniel questioned with a shrug. “But for now, how about you getting your walking shoes and whatever else you want so we can get back to our sightseeing.”

“Oh, please do!” Michael pleaded silently.

“I’ve had a change of heart,” Stephanie said, to Michael’s immediate chagrin. “What about staying in until we go out to dinner? It’s already after four, and it will be dark soon. As little as you slept last night, you must be exhausted.”

“I am tired,” Daniel admitted.

“Let’s take off our clothes and get in bed. I’ll even give you a little back rub, and we’ll see what else happens, depending on how tired you are. What do you say?”

Daniel laughed. “I’ve never heard a better idea in my life. To be honest, I wasn’t all that interested in the sightseeing. I was doing it more for your benefit.”

“Well, that’s no longer necessary, my dear!”

Michael cringed as he heard sounds of disrobing, giggles, and endearments. He feared one of them would come to close the drapes, but that didn’t happen. He heard the sounds the bed made, as bodies settled into it. He heard the sound of lotion being squeezed from a bottle and even the sound of flesh against slippery flesh. There was the murmur of contentment from Daniel, as his massage progressed.

“All right,” Daniel said finally. “Now it’s your turn.” The bed complained as bodies shifted.

Time dragged. Michael’s muscles began to ache, particularly in his legs. Fearing he might get a cramp, which he knew would surely give him away, he shifted his weight, then held his breath in case his movement was noticed. Thankfully, it wasn’t, but the pain came back within minutes. Yet worse than the physical discomfort was the torture of hearing the sounds of intimacy between a man and a woman leading to the rhythmic and unmistakable noise of actual lovemaking. Michael was being forced by circumstance to be an auditory voyeur, and despite his attempts at silently reciting by rote selections from his breviary, he found himself titillated to mock his vows of celibacy.

After a few moans of pleasure, the room fell silent for a few minutes. Then there were whispers Michael could not make out, followed by laughter and giggles. Finally, to Michael’s relief, the couple went into the bathroom. He could tell by the muffled sounds of their voices over the sound of the shower.

Michael allowed himself to rotate his head, flex his stiff shoulders, raise his arms, and even walk briefly in place. After less than a minute, he returned to his frozen position, unsure when one of the couple would choose to return to the room proper. He didn’t have long to wait and soon heard one of them at the suitcases.

Unfortunately for Michael, it took Stephanie and Daniel another three quarters of an hour to dress, don their coats, and find their remaining room key before they finally left for dinner. At first, the silence seemed deafening, as he strained to hear any noises that would suggest they were returning for some forgotten item. Five minutes crept by. Finally, Michael warily reached around the edge of the drape and slowly drew it aside, revealing progressively more of the now-darkened room. The couple had left the light on in the bathroom, and it spilled out into the room to puddle alongside the bed.

Michael eyed the door to the hall and tried to estimate how quickly he could get to it, through it, and get it closed behind himself. It wouldn’t take long, but it made him nervous he’d be completely exposed before putting some distance between himself and room 408. At this point, being caught would be significantly more problematic than when Stephanie and Daniel had first come home.