The Sacred Bones (35 page)

Donovan checked his watch. "We really should get going. I don't want to be late."

Forcing a smile, Charlotte slung her laptop bag over her shoulder, took the sizeable presentation portfolio in her hands, and followed Donovan out into the corridor. "So where are we going exactly?"

He glanced over at her. "To the office of the secretary of state, Cardinal Antonio Carlo Santelli."

Traversing the Apostolic Palace's grand corridor, Donovan stole a glimpse at Charlotte as she strode beside him, seeing in her eyes the same awe he'd experienced the first time he saw this place. "Spectacular, isn't it?"

"Yes." She was trying to calm her nerves as she eyed the heavily armed Swiss Guards stationed along the corridor. "Amazingly grand."

He motioned to the lofty ceiling. "The pope lives one floor up."

At the guarded entry to Cardinal Santelli's office, Donovan and Charlotte were quickly cleared and escorted by a Swiss Guard into the antechamber where Father Martin stood from his desk to greet them.

He wasn't thrilled about the cardinal's decision to meet here. What was Santelli's motive? To illustrate what was at stake should she actually suspect something?

"Good to see you again, James." Donovan shook the young priest's hand, trying not to focus on the dark circles under his eyes. He introduced Charlotte, then asked if Martin could buzz the lab to see if Dr. Bersei had arrived.

Martin obliged and circled behind the desk to make the call. The ring tones chimed for fifteen seconds with no response. He shook his head. "Sorry. No one's picking up."

Donovan turned to Charlotte. "I guess you're on your own," he said apologetically.

The intercom on Martin's desk suddenly came to life. "James," a rough voice tore through the tiny speaker. "I asked you for that report ten minutes ago. What the hell are you waiting for?"

The priest rolled his eyes and smiled tightly. "Pardon me for just a moment." He leaned over and pressed the intercom's button. "I have it right here, Eminence. I apologize for the delay. Also, Father Donovan and Dr. Hennesey have arrived."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Send them in!"

Angrily snatching a folder off the desk, Father Martin led them into Santelli's office.

Inside, the cardinal was seated behind his desk, wrapping up a call. He acknowledged the visitors with a nod and motioned to the folder in Martin's hand. After the priest handed it over, Santelli waved him away as if he were a mosquito.

"He's all yours," Martin whispered to Donovan as he retreated to the antechamber.

Seeing Santelli's intimidating figure behind the desk, Charlotte suddenly realized that she'd been so preoccupied with Bersei's claims and Conte's creepy spy room that she'd failed to discuss etiquette with Donovan. Ending the call, the cardinal stood, tall and rigid, his face pleasant yet firm. Coming round his hulking desk, she could have sworn he exhibited the telltale signs of someone who'd recently stopped drinking, though there was no denying he had powerful presence.

"Good morning, Father Donovan." The cardinal extended his right hand as if to grasp an invisible cane.

"Eminence." Donovan stepped forward and bowed slightly to kiss Santelli's sacred ring, hiding his disdain for the superior gesture. "Eminence Antonio Carlo Santelli, may I introduce you to Dr. Charlotte Hennesey, a renowned geneticist from Phoenix, Arizona."

"Ah, yes," Santelli was grinning widely. "I've heard much about you, Dr. Hennesey."

A look of panic came over Charlotte as he closed in for a greeting. Perhaps sensing it, he offered her a standard handshake. Relieved, she shook Santelli's enormous paw. She sensed the musky smell of cologne. "An honor to meet you, Eminence."

"Thank you, my dear. You're very kind." Momentarily distracted by her beauty, he held her hand for a long moment before letting go. "Come, let us sit." Cupping his hand on her shoulder, he motioned across the office to a circular mahogany conference table.

Santelli kept in step with Charlotte, his hand still connected to her shoulder, Father Donovan in tow.

Donovan was amazed how Santelli could turn on the charm when required...a wolf in shepherd's clothing.

"I'm anxious to discuss this tremendous project you've been working on," Santelli stated exuberantly. "Father Donovan's told me many exciting things about your findings."

When they had all settled into their leather armchairs, Donovan provided a quick background to bring Santelli up to speed on the relics that had been presented to the scientists. Then he apologized on behalf of Dr. Bersei who could not attend the meeting due to a personal crisis.

The cardinal looked alarmed. "Nothing serious, I hope?"

The librarian was hoping the same thing. "I'm sure he's fine."

"That means you have the floor, Dr. Hennesey."

Charlotte handed Santelli a neatly bound report and gave Donovan a second copy. Flipping open her laptop, she waited for it to power up. "Our first order of business was a pathological analysis of the skeleton..." she began, allowing her professional persona to take over.

Step-by-step she walked the two men through a PowerPoint slideshow of crisp, enlarged color photos of the skeletal aberrations: the gouges, fractured knees, damaged wrists and feet. "On the basis of what you see here, both Dr. Bersei and myself concluded that this male specimen interred in the ossuary-- who was otherwise in perfect health-- died in his early thirties as a result of...execution."

Santelli managed to look surprised. "Execution?"

She glanced to Donovan who seemed equally puzzled, but nodded for her to continue. Directing her eyes back to the cardinal she got quickly to the point. "He was crucified."

The words hung in the air for a long moment.

Santelli leaned forward to put both elbows on the table and held the geneticist's gaze. "I see."

"And the forensic evidence unequivocally supports this," she continued. "Furthermore, we also found these objects in a concealed compartment inside the ossuary." Determined to steady her hands, Charlotte removed the three separate plastic bags from her carrying bag. Laying the first one down, she tried not to let the spikes hit too hard against the burnished tabletop. Next came the sealed bag with the two coins. The third contained the metal cylinder.

Santelli and Donovan examined each object closely.

The nails drew the most attention, but required little explanation. The two men must have been thinking exactly what she did the first time she saw them: what it would have been like to be impaled by them.

Charlotte expanded on the significance of the coins. Surprisingly, neither Santelli nor Donovan had yet to raise a question. Did they already know about these things? Had that bastard Conte been updating them with the findings from his spying? Trying to shake away her suspicions, she informed them that the cylinder contained a scroll that had yet to be studied. This particular relic had once again managed to hold Father Donovan's attention for some time.

"We submitted a bone sample and some wood splinters for radiocarbon dating." She passed across two copies of the dating certificates Ciardini had sent over. "As you can see, both samples date to the early first century. The wood turns out to be a rare walnut indigenous to ancient Judea. Organic material from flowers used during the burial ritual and flax were also found inside the ossuary. Again, both are specific to Judea." She flipped open more images and data.

"Why flax, Dr. Hennesey?" Donovan asked.

"Most likely from the linen strips and shroud used to wrap the body during the burial ritual." She paused. "Dr. Bersei performed a microscopic analysis of the ossuary's patina."

She moved on to images revealing the varying degrees of magnification applied to the stone's surface.

"And the biological composition was uniform throughout the sample set. Plus the mineral content of the patina is consistent with similar relics found in caves throughout that region. More importantly, no signs of manual manipulation were detected."

"I'm sorry, but what does that last point mean?" the Cardinal inquired.

"Simply that it's not a fake-- the patina hasn't been artificially created by modern chemical methods. And it implies that the ossuary and its markings are authentic."
But you probably already know that
, she thought. She brought up the 3-D skeletal imaging and swiveled the laptop toward them. "Scanning the skeleton, we calibrated the specimen's muscle mass." Working the mouse, she brought up the digitized, bloodred musculature, allowed them both a few seconds to absorb the image, then clicked a command to assign the monochrome "skin." "By incorporating the basic genetic profile found in the specimen's DNA we reconstructed this man's appearance at the time of death. And here he is."

She tapped the mouse button and the screen refreshed-- pigmented skin, eyes alive with color, the hair dark and full.

Both men were astounded.

"That's absolutely...extraordinary," Santelli muttered.

So far, neither the cardinal nor the priest was letting on about whether they had any advance knowledge of the skeleton's identity or the ossuary's origin. As they studied the image, she eyed both of them in turn. Could these two clerics possibly be involved in a theft that had left people dead? "Lastly, Dr. Bersei was able to decipher the meaning behind this symbol carved onto the side of the box." She was confident this next exhibit would elicit a reaction. She held up a close-up photo clearly showing the dolphin wrapped around a trident, and explained the significance of each symbol taken separately. "The fusing of these two pagan symbols was how first-century Christians represented...Jesus Christ."

Santelli and Donovan exchanged uneasy glances.

Mission accomplished
, Charlotte thought.

Silence fell over the room.

Cardinal Santelli was the first to break the atmosphere. "Are you telling us, Dr. Hennesey, that you believe these are the mortal remains of Jesus Christ?"

Though she instinctively liked it when people got to the point, this was more than she'd bargained for. Swallowing hard, Charlotte felt a bolt of energy shoot through her system-- fight or flight. She actually had to temper the urge to look toward the open door.

Now she was glad that before leaving the Domus that morning, she had put in an hour's reading of a book that was always readily available. In the drawer of the nightstand, in fact. If the report was going to even remotely suggest that these bones might have been those of Jesus Christ, double-checking related parts of the New Testament was prudent.

"At face value," she began, "the evidence is compelling. But there are discrepancies in the pathology report and contradictions to accounts in the Bible. For example, we found no evidence that a spear was thrust into the rib cage as the Bible states. And this man's knees were broken." She went on to detail how the Romans speeded up death with a metal club.

Father Donovan's attention wandered momentarily as he thought about this anticipated inconsistency. He knew Charlotte was referring to the Gospel of John, verse nineteen, which stated that a Roman centurion pierced Jesus's side with a spear to help expedite his agonizing death:

Donovan always mused that two lines included in that passage-- thirty-six and thirty-seven-- actually concisely explained the incongruent account:

Interestingly, none of the synoptic Gospels-- Matthew, Mark, or Luke-- made mention of this event. Donovan could only surmise that the Gospel of John included this embellished account to convince Jews that Jesus had been the true Messiah foretold by Old Testament prophets-- "
so that Scripture would be fulfilled
." He was certain that the skeleton laid out in the Vatican Museum was actually telling the truth: Pontius Pilate and the Romans had treated Jesus just like every other faceless criminal that threatened the empire's social order. They had ruthlessly annihilated him and when he wasn't dying quickly enough, they had smashed his knees to speed up the process.

Charlotte forged on. "I'm sure you're far more aware than I am about what the Bible says about Jesus's occupation before his ministry."

Donovan played along with this. "He'd been a carpenter since boyhood." In fact, the Bible never made explicit reference to Christ's occupation. Jesus was
thought
to have been a carpenter merely because the Gospel of Matthew referred to him as "the carpenter's son." It was assumed he would have been employed in the family business-- even though Matthew's Greek word, "
tektonov
"-- loosely translated as "carpenter"-- really could have applied to anyone who had worked with their hands, from builders to day laborers to farmers.

Charlotte nodded. "All those years of hard manual work would have resulted in visible changes to the finger joints and wrists, where the bone and surrounding tissue thicken to accommodate increased demand. The joints would have shown signs of premature wearing in at least one of the hands." She flipped to close-ups of the hands. "Yet this man's show no obvious changes."

"That's fascinating," Donovan managed, almost sounding sincere.

"But most importantly," she pointed to the monitor, "his genetic makeup isn't what you'd expect of someone born in ancient Judea. I carefully reviewed the DNA's gene sequencing and it doesn't match any documented Middle Eastern profiles for Jews or Arabs. The Bible states that Jesus Christ was born from a long bloodline of Jews. As you both know, Matthew's Gospel begins by retracing Jesus's lineage-- forty-two generations-- and all of them Jews. Way back to Abraham. That blood line would have been flawlessly Jewish. Yet this man's DNA has no identifiable genealogy."