“Ben, you TOLD me to buy some new outfits!” He heard his mother’s voice in the background. “And don’t get me started on all those silly old coins you bought from that shady antique dealer!”
“Now Louise, this is not about me, it’s about you!” the pastor replied.
Josh chuckled. “Well,” he said, “how about if I buy you two bankrupt tourists your breakfast?”
“That sounds lovely,” said his father. “I’ll see if I can get this wild woman tamed down enough to be presentable.” He hung up after that, but not before Josh caught his mother’s voice replying in mock outrage. He smiled fondly—his parents rarely ever fought, but they kept that kind of playful banter going almost constantly. He met them at their room a few moments later, and they chatted for an hour over coffee and breakfast rolls in the hotel’s restaurant. It was not a deep theological or historical conversation, just memories of good times and old friends, and an account of the things his parents had seen in Rome the previous day.
When the meal was done, Josh and his folks went their separate ways. He made sure they had their tickets for their flight back home, and promised to call them before he left for Rome that night, and again when he safely arrived. He also paused a moment for a private word with his mother.
After that he set out for the museum, where he found Isabella arriving just as he did. He greeted her warmly with a kiss, and they headed down to the lab. Castolfo and Guioccini were waiting for them, and Father MacDonald joined them shortly thereafter. Once they were all there, the president of the Antiquities Bureau began to speak.
“After we met yesterday, I became increasingly concerned about the safety of the scroll during tonight’s drive to Rome,” he said. “Even though the travel case we have devised is supposed to be bulletproof and fireproof, I am still worried that it could be damaged in a determined assault—especially if the jihadists have got ahold of some serious firepower. So I had a long conversation with a senior agent at the Security Ministry late last night, and we have come up with a plan. It will involve some subterfuge, which is why I am informing the three of you now. There is potential danger in it, but I do think it offers the best chance to get the scroll to Rome undamaged.”
The three team members looked at one another, then at the board president. Josh spoke up first. “Well, what are you proposing?” he asked.
“The convoy will leave as planned. One of you will carry a decoy case that looks exactly like the one we made for the scroll into the armored car, which will set out exactly as we have scheduled, about an hour after dark. The convoy will travel northward along this route ”—he unrolled a road map of Italy—“going from Caserta to Tivoli, then eastward into Rome itself. It is two hundred twenty-seven kilometers, so roughly a four-hour drive late at night moving at top speed. I will wait here at the museum with the remainder of the team and the actual scroll, secure in its case. I’ll be in contact with the police escort, and when the convoy is engaged by the jihadists, we will take the scroll and depart the museum and travel northward by the coast road, going through Formia and Latina. It’s a longer route, but we will avoid the ambush altogether and be safely in Rome long before dawn on Friday. Our enemies will be striking a heavily armed target and taking mass casualties in order to destroy an empty briefcase!”
Josh looked at the map carefully. “Sounds pretty ingenious to me,” he said. “I can travel with the convoy and carry the decoy case.”
Father MacDonald spoke up firmly. “No, laddie!” he said. “I’ll take that duty. No one will miss an old Scottish priest, but you and Isabella have a chance at a bright future together. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you when I could have stood in your place and given you two a chance to be happy!”
Josh and Isabella looked at each other, then at their friend. She spoke first: “That is beyond kindness, Father. How could we ask you to do such a thing?”
“You didn’t, lass, I volunteered!” he answered. “It is the most Christian thing I could think of.”
Josh nodded. “You can say that again,” he said. “Thank you for your willingness to put yourself in harm’s way for us.”
Castolfo laughed grimly. “I doubt he will be in much danger,” said the board’s president. “These jihadists will be sticking their fist into a hornet’s nest if they attack that convoy!”
“I am a bit uncertain, though, taking the scroll up that coastal road unaccompanied,” said Josh.
“I’ll have my cell phone open and active the whole time. I don’t see any way that the terrorists could possibly get wind of our little deception, but if we run into trouble, well—my BMW can outrun just about any car on the road, and we’ll be on the line calling for help,” Castolfo explained.
“It does sound like a good plan,” said Isabella. “We’ll just need to make sure not one word of it leaks out of this room.”
“Nothing to fear there,” said Castolfo. “The only other person who knows about it is Agent Lucoccini. Even Chief Zadora thinks that the scroll will be with the convoy.”
They discussed the plans a bit further, and then Father MacDonald stood up. “I suppose it would not hurt to get the scroll ready for transport,” he said.
Josh stood too. “I want to see this new compound you were describing,” he said. “I still can’t believe it works so easily.”
The priest smiled. “I’m a constant source of wonder to those who know me, laddie!” he quipped. “Dr. Castolfo, do you have two of the plexiglass carrying tubes as well as two briefcases?”
“Indeed, we have several of them in our collections inventory,” said the board president. “What have you got in mind?”
“If we are going to play bait and switch, let’s make the bait look as good as we can,” replied the priest. “Joshua, be a good lad and go up to the gift shop for me. We’ll need a poster that is roughly the same size and shape as the
Testimonium.
”
Josh headed upstairs, and Isabella tagged along behind. “I swear he got this idea from watching
National Treasure
!” Josh exclaimed.
“You know, I bet you’re right!” Isabella said.
When they arrived at the gift shop they had to look at each other and laugh. Right behind the cash register was a life-sized facsimile of the
Testimonium
hanging on the wall, and there were about twenty more of them rolled up in a tray beneath it. Josh looked at the price tag and whistled as he did the mental conversion from Euros to dollars. “Wow! They wasted no time cashing in on our find, did they?”
“For a capitalist, you are awfully cheap!” laughed Isabella. “Here, let me use my ID card and get us the museum employee’s discount.”
They purchased the fake scroll and headed downstairs with it. When they arrived, MacDonald was just getting set up. Two identical steel cases were on the table, both opened to reveal their heavily foam padded interiors. Next to them were two plexiglass tubes with metal ends—one end on each tube was hinged to swing open. They looked like a slightly larger version of the pneumatic tubes banks used to make drive-through deposits. Josh handed the facsimile scroll to MacDonald, who looked at it and laughed.
“We should be getting some kind of royalties off of these,” he said. “Well, it will just make the decoy that much more realistic!” He deftly rolled up the facsimile scroll and stuffed it into one of the tubes, then closed and latched the metal cap into place. He set the tube into the foam padding and shut the case on it, then twirled the tumblers to deploy the combination lock.
“Excellent!” said Castolfo. “Now that is Case B, and the combination is thirteen-twelve-sixty-three—my wife’s birthday. Father, if you are committed to traveling with the convoy, you might write that down somewhere. That way if you are asked to open the case and retrieve the decoy scroll, you will be able to.”
The priest rolled up one of his sleeves and jotted the numbers on the inside of his wrist with a Sharpie. Then he took the case from the table and set it next to one of the filing cabinets. “I’m not even going to close the other case yet,” he said, “so that there is zero chance of confusing the two. But I do want to go ahead and prepare the scroll for transport. Josh, Bernardo, Isabella—you all will want to watch this, I think,” he said.
“So tell me, Father,” said Isabella, “How many times have you used this compound?”
“About forty times so far,” he said. “Of course, those were lab tests on papyrus and parchment samples. This will be my first actual field use on an ancient document.”
Guioccini swallowed hard. “I think I might be a bit more confident if I had not heard that,” he said.
MacDonald laughed. “Do you think that I would dare apply this compound to the
Testimonium
if I thought there was the slightest chance of damaging it?” he asked.
That pretty well shut them all up, and they watched as MacDonald carefully lifted the cover off of the plastic stand and metal tray that the ancient scroll rested upon. The ancient papyrus lay open and flat, to all appearances as stiff as a board. The Scot reached into his satchel and produced a spray bottle with a label that simply said UNBINDER in neatly printed letters. He started at one end of the scroll and began to spray the surface of it, working his way from top to bottom on each squeeze of the trigger, and then going over the same area again. The surface of the scroll darkened for just a moment, and then lightened again. A faint smell of paraffin and alcohol pervaded the air in the lab. By the time a foot of the scroll had been sprayed, the end he had started on began to curl up of its own accord. The team watched in astonishment as the ancient papyrus slowly rolled up behind the hand of Father MacDonald while he worked the spray down the length of the scroll. It took him about five minutes to cover the entire six-foot length, taking great care not to miss a single square inch of the surface. By the time he was done, the papyrus had rolled up into a loose scroll about six inches in diameter.
“I wouldn’t have believed it!” Josh said. “That is truly an amazing technical achievement!”
The priest executed a mock bow, and then donned a pair of acid-free gloves in order to handle the scroll. He rolled it up a bit tighter, till it was small enough slide into the plexiglass cylinder, although it was still not as tightly rolled as it had been at the Villa Jovis when they found it. He snapped the lid of the cylinder into place once the scroll was inside, and then reverently laid the cylinder in its cushioned cavity, but left the lid of the carrying case open.
“There it is, laddie,” he said. “Just snap it shut and spin the dials this evening, and hightail it for Rome!”
“Sounds like a plan,” Josh said. “By the way, Dr. Castolfo, what is the combination on this case?”
“Well, I will be traveling with you,” said the Italian, “but it would be bad if I had a heart attack or something and you didn’t know how to open the case! The combination is four-eleven-eighty-one. That is my son’s birthday.”
Josh wrote the number on a slip of paper and slid it in his wallet, then jotted it on the back of his hand just to be safe. “Well, I guess that’s about it, then, as far as getting ready goes,” he said.
Castolfo nodded. “I could ask you to spend some time going through the items recovered from the wreckage of the lab,” he said, “but frankly none of those things are as urgent as this. I’ll be arranging our escort vehicles this afternoon, and I don’t really need the three of you for that. You may take off until four PM if you like. That is when we will begin preparing for the evening’s subterfuge in earnest.”
“Father, would you like to join Isabella and me?” Josh asked.
“I think I will pass, my lad,” said the priest. “I want to talk to Dr. Henderson and the other folk at the lab in Rome, and then I really need to speak to the Vatican. I will be spending the afternoon on the phone. Besides, when young folks get a chance to spend some time together, there are few worse third wheels to have along than a priest!”
Isabella laughed as she and Joshua walked toward the elevator. “So what would you like to do?” she asked.
He thought for a moment. “You know,” he said, “we have not had a true American date yet. How about lunch and a movie? Normally it would be dinner and a movie, but our evening is already booked up.”
Her eyes widened. “You know, I watch some films on my computer or TV at home,” she said, “but I have not been to the cinema in ages! There is a theater not far from here that shows American hits. Let’s go!”
They paused at a sidewalk café for a quick lunch and made it to the theater by 1 PM, just a few moments before the feature started. The movie was
The Avengers
, which Josh had seen when it came out the previous year. He loved the big-screen comic book characters, although Isabella was a bit confused by the plot at first. After a half hour or so, however, she was able to follow it well enough to quit asking him who was who and simply enjoy the film. They stuffed themselves with popcorn and soft drinks, and applauded at the end, when the credits began to roll. Josh made sure they stayed until the little teaser popped up after the credits, and then walked her out onto the street.
“Now, I have never been on an American-style date before,” she said. “But is it not traditional to now park our car in an isolated location and make out?”
Josh blushed. “You are right about that,” he said, “but it is broad daylight, and that takes all the fun out of it. However, I do have something to make up for the loss a bit.”
“What is that?” she asked.
He dropped to one knee in the middle of the sidewalk and pulled a small box out of his pocket. “Isabella Sforza,” he said, “will you marry me?”
She stared in disbelief at the beautiful gold ring with its gleaming diamond solitaire. “Where—how?” she asked.
“The ring?” Josh said. “It was my grandmother’s. My mom actually brought it over from the States when she saw that I finally had a girlfriend. Dad thought that she was being hopelessly optimistic, but you should have seen his face when I asked her for it this morning.”
She took him by the hands and lifted him from his knees. “You know that I have not yet believed in your God the way you want me to,” she said, looking into his eyes.