The Fifth Gospel(157)
I understand now. He forbade discussion of the exhibit because he doesn’t want Boia finding out about the visiting Orthodox—but without that testimony, Nowak has no idea why Ugo was killed either and can only guess who had a reason to kill him. Simon has kept everyone in the dark about 1204. Even the man who signed the papers bringing the Shroud here from Turin.
“Your Grace,” I say, “Ugo Nogara discovered that Catholic knights stole the Shroud from Constantinople during the Fourth Crusade. The Shroud doesn’t belong to us. It belongs to the Orthodox.”
Nowak studies me. A pinch of something registers in his eyes. Surprise. Maybe disappointment.
“Yes,” he says. “That is correct.”
“You already knew?”
“But there is something more?” he says. “Something in addition to this?”
“No. Of course not.”
The archbishop reaches out and takes my hand. “You are very unlike your brother.”
Never taking his eyes off me, he taps the seat twice with his hand. The driver opens his door and steps out of the car. A moment later, the door beside me opens.
“I don’t understand,” I say. “Are you going to make Cardinal Boia let Simon go?”
I feel the driver’s hand on my shoulder, instructing me to step out.
“Father, I am sorry,” Nowak says. “It is not as simple as you believe. Your brother has not told you the whole truth.”
He reaches out and squeezes my hand, the way John Paul used to do in Saint Peter’s Square when comforting perfect strangers. As if I’ve come all this way for something I don’t really understand.
A Swiss Guard behind me says, “Father.” Nothing more.
Nowak’s hand lets go of mine as I slide out. Even then, he continues to watch me.
THERE ARE ALREADY THREE messages on my phone from Mignatto, urgently commanding me to return to the Palace of the Tribunal. I ignore them.
I walk up to the Swiss Guard on duty at the eastern door. He saw me get out of Archbishop Nowak’s car.
“It’s David?” I say.
“Denis, Father.”
“Denis, I need to see my brother.”
Cardinal Boia’s apartments are overhead. Simon is right up there.
“I’ll call up for you,” he says.
“No, I’ll see myself up.”
I step toward the door, but he blocks my way. “Father, I’ll need to call first.”
I push him aside. “Tell Cardinal Boia that Simon Andreou’s brother is coming to see him.”
A second guard materializes from thin air.
“Loris,” I say, recognizing him, “I need to get through.”
He puts an arm around me and guides me down the steps. At the bottom he says, “Father, what’s wrong?”
I pull away. “I’m going to see Simon.”
“You know you’re not allowed to do that.”
“He’s up there.”
“I know.”
I stop short. “You’ve seen him?”