And now Vincenzo saw the outcome of that plan.

The Virgin was to be revealed to the world.  And when she was brought to the Vatican, when she joined the Holy Father in Rome, it would herald a new age.  Perhaps it would signal the Second Coming.

Philosophers and academics had been speaking of the end of history for years already.  What will they say now?

The staggering immensity of the final sequence of events that might be set into motion numbed him for a moment.

The end of history...all history.

But he couldn’t tell these two what he knew.  At least not now.  He could, however, try to reassure them.

“There is a plan at work,” he said.  “And we are all playing our parts.  You’ve played your parts, and now I must play mine.  And the Vatican must play its own part.”

“But what if the Vatican doesn’t play its part?” she cried.  “What if, instead of showing her to the world, they hide her away in one of the Church’s deepest vaults where they’ll test her and probe her and argue endlessly whether to reveal her or keep her hidden from the world?  Don’t say it couldn’t happen.  This may not look like much, but here at least she has some contact with the world.  People are benefiting from her presence.  Leave her here.”

“I can’t make that decision.”

“Once she gets to Rome, she may disappear forever, as if we never found her.”

“That is absurd,” Vincenzo said.

But within he wondered if she might not be right.  He was more familiar than she with the internecine ways of the Holy See, and realized it was all too possible that the Virgin might be lost in the labyrinth of Vatican politics.

“Please!” she cried.

He was wounded by the tears in her eyes.  How could he separate her from the Virgin?  That seemed almost...sinful.

Vincenzo shook himself.  His duty was clear.

“I’m sorry, but I really have no choice.  I must report this to Rome at once.”

Sister Carolyn began to sob.  The sound tore at his heart.  He had to leave.  Now.  Before he changed his mind.

“I’ll be back as soon as I have the Vatican’s decision.”

“Don’t be surprised if you find an empty room,” Father Fitzpatrick said.

Vincenzo swung toward him.  “Please do not do anything so foolish as to move her or try to hide her.  I found her here.  I can find her anywhere.”

He hurried out of the room leaving behind the sobbing nun and the stricken, silent priest.

This is the way it has to be, he told himself.  This is the best way, the only way.

Then why did he feel like such a villain?

He would make it up to Sister Carolyn.  He would see to it that she was not separated from her beloved Blessed Mother.  He would convince the Holy see that Sister Carolyn Ferris must accompany the Virgin to Rome to tell her story.

But first he had to convince the Holy See that the body in the subcellar of this church was indeed the Blessed Virgin.  He could do that.  They’d believe him.  He’d debunked so many reputed visitations in the past that they’d listen when he told them he’d found the real thing.  More than a visitation—the greatest find since the dawn of the Christian Era.

And then it would begin.

The Second Coming...the end of history...

‡

Carrie clenched her teeth and tried to rein in her emotions.  What was wrong with her?  She’d never cried easily before.  Now she couldn’t seem to help herself.

She’d just about regained control when Dan stepped up beside her and gently encircled her in his arms.  His touch, and the depth of love and warmth in the simple gesture, toppled her defenses.  She sagged against him and broke down again.

“It’ll be all right, Carrie. We’ll work something out.”

But what could they work out?  Her worst nightmare had come true.

She straightened and faced him.  “They’re going to take her, Dan.  They’re going to take her and seal her away where no one will ever see her again, where no one but a privileged few will even know she exists.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that.”  Anger was beginning to elbow aside the fear and desperate sorrow.  “And I know we didn’t go to all that trouble to find her and bring her here just so she could be locked up in a Vatican vault!”

“But what the monsignor said about a ‘plan’ makes sense.  Don’t you feel it?  Don’t you sense a hand moving the pieces around a chessboard.  We’re a couple of the pawns, Carrie.  So’s the monsignor.”

“Maybe,” she said, although she knew exactly what Dan was talking about.  She’d felt it too.  “And maybe the ‘plan’ isn’t meant to play out the way the monsignor sees it.  We can’t let the Vatican have her.”

“How are we going to stop it?  You heard what he said about being able to find her if we try to hide her.  I don’t know how or why, but I believe him.”

Carrie believed him too.  Maybe it was the cure he claimed the Virgin had performed, maybe it was part of the “plan.”  Whatever it was, the monsignor seemed to have been sensitized to the Virgin.  He was like a smart bomb, targeted on Carrie’s dreams.

She had to find a way to stop him.

And suddenly she knew how.

“All right...” she said slowly.  “If we can’t hide her from the monsignor, we won’t hide her at all...from anyone.”

“I don’t—”

“You will.”

Excitement and dread blossomed within her as she considered the repercussions of what she was about to do.

She drew Dan to the Virgin’s side.

“Will you carry her upstairs for me?”

“Upstairs?  Into the kitchen?”

“No.  Further up.  Into the church.”

‡

Dan stood in the nave of St. Joe’s with the Virgin’s stiff remains in his arms, and tried to catch his breath.  The church was locked up tight for the night, silent but for the muffled voices of the latest contingent of Mary-hunters chanting their nightly Rosary outside on the front steps.  He wasn’t puffing from the exertion of carrying her up from the subcellar—the Virgin was as light as ever—but from anxiety.

What was Carrie up to?  She wouldn’t explain.  Was she afraid he’d balk if she told him?  No.  He’d do almost anything to keep her from crying again.  He’d never heard her cry before.  It was a sound he never wanted to hear again.

“Now what?  Where do I put her?”

She stood in the church’s center aisle, turning in a slow circle, as if looking for something.  Suddenly she stopped her turn.

“There,” she said, pointing to the space past the chancel rail.

“In the sanctuary?  There’s no place—”

“On the altar.”

Dan felt his knees wobble.  “No, Carrie.  That wouldn’t be right.”

She turned and faced him, her expression fierce.  “Can you think of anyone with more of a right to be up there?”

Dan couldn’t.

“All right.  But I don’t like this.”

He passed her and walked down the center aisle, genuflected, then stepped over the chancel rail and approached the altar, a huge block of Carerra marble.  It stood free in the center of the sanctuary so the celebrating priest could say Mass facing his congregation.

This was strange, really strange.  What was this going to solve or prove?  Carrie didn’t expect the Virgin to come alive or anything crazy like that, did she?

The thought rattled Dan as he stood before the altar.  His life had been so full of strange occurrences lately that nothing would surprise him.

As he set the Virgin gently upon the gleaming marble surface of the altar, he heard a metallic clank at the far end of the church.  He turned in time to see Carrie pushing open the front doors.

“She’s here!” he heard her cry to the Mary-hunters gathered outside.  “You don’t need to look any further.  The Blessed Mother is here!  Come in!  See her!  She’s waiting for you!”

“Oh. no!” Dan said softly as he saw the Mary-hunters edge through the doors,  “Oh, God, Carrie.  What are you doing?”