F Paul Wilson - Novel 03 (35 page)

           
 
Martha was standing beside him.

           
 
Dan couldn't tell who was more
surprised—Gregory or Martha.

           
Martha looked down at her newly
functioning legs and screamed. Pandemonium reigned then as the rest of the
Mary-hunters added their own screams to hers, surging forward, surrounding the
joyfully weeping Martha and the altar with its precious burden.

           
 
When a modicum of control was finally
restored, the Mary-hunters knelt as one and began to recite the Rosary.

           
 
Their hunt was over.

           
 
Dan felt Carrie's grip tighten on his arm. He
turned and saw her tight grin, the fierce gleam in her eyes.

           
 
"Let the
Vatican
try to keep her a secret
now!"

           
MIRACLES
IN
MANHATTAN

           
 
"We've had many healings," Martha
Harrington announced to reporters from the front steps of
St. Joseph
's church on the
Lower East Side
yesterday. Mrs. Harrington should know.
Three days ago she was wheelchair bound, barely able to stand without the aid
of two canes, and even then for only a minute or so. Now she breezes up and
down the steps of
St. Joseph
's like a teenager. She is reportedly the first miracle cure associated
with the mummified body on display within the church.

           
 
The body, which the faithful proclaim to be
the earthly remains of the Virgin Mary, appeared on the altar of
St. Joseph
's three nights ago during a prayer vigil on
the church steps.

           
 
Since then it has become an object of
worldwide devotion and the center of a storm of ecclesiastical controversy. So
far, the Archdiocese of New York has had no comment on the healings other than
to say that the phenomena are under investigation.

           
 
"Not everyone is healed," Mrs.
Harrington said. "We can't explain why some are healed and others are not.
It would be presumptuous of me to try. 'Many are called but few are chosen,' as
the saying goes."

           
 
Obviously, Martha Harrington sees herself as
one of the chosen.

           
 
THE NEW YORK TIMES

IN THE PACIFIC

           
11°
N, 140° W

           
 
Now a supercell, the storm increases the
whirling velocity of its central winds, growing wider, stretching into the
upper atmosphere as it angles northeastward. Its spinning core organizes into a
funnel cloud that dips down . . . down . . . down until it brushes the churning
surface of the ocean. The funnel latches onto the sea like a celestial leech,
whipping the water to a white froth as it draws up a thin stream into its
200-mile-an-hour vortex.

           
Haifa
,
Israel

           
 
Customs Inspector Dov Sidel sat in his office,
sipping tea and skimming this morning's
Ha
'aretz.
A low-volume day at the port so he was taking his full break. He
glanced at an article about inexplicable cures in a
New York City
church attributed to what was supposedly
the remains of the Virgin Mary. After reading half of the first paragraph, he
turned the page.

           
 
Two heartbeats later he flipped the page back.

           
 
A photo was connected to the article, a grainy
black-and-white close-up of the face of the miraculous relic in
Manhattan
. Something familiar about that face . . .

           
 
And then he recognized it! The sculpture he'd
so admired when it had been shipped through
Haifa
this summer. When had that been? July? He'd
jotted down the name of the Tel Aviv gallery that had shipped it, and on his
next trip to the city he'd stopped by the Kaplan Gallery in the hope of seeing
more works by the same artist. The owner had told him the Old Woman piece was a
one of a kind that he'd bought at auction. He'd had no idea who the sculptor
was.

           
 
And now Sidel knew why. There
was
no sculptor.

           
 
No wonder the owner had seemed so brusque and
unhelpful. He'd smuggled out an archeological artifact as a contemporary work
of art.

           
 
Inspector Sidel dropped the paper, picked up
his phone, and dialed his superior at the central Customs Office.

           
JERUSALEM
:
THE LADY IS OURS!

           
 
JERUSALEM (AP) The Israeli government has announced
that the mummified woman on display in St. Joseph's church in Lower Manhattan,
currently the object of hysterical devotion by throngs of Catholics and
Christians of all denominations, belongs to them.

           
 
Spokesman Yishtak Levin claims his government
has "indisputable evidence that the remains were smuggled out of
Israel
on July 22 of this year." Stating that
"the remains are a historic national relic and the rightful property of
the Israeli people," he demanded its immediate return.

           
 
THE
NEW YORK
POST

           
Manhattan

           
 
Kesev stood on the front stoop of a crumbling
brown-stone and watched the roiling mass of people that filled the street in
front of the church.

           
 
He seemed to be viewing the scene from deep
within a long black tunnel. He had known despair and hopelessness before, but
never like this. Of all the possible outcomes, this had been his worst-case
scenario.

           
 
His only hope was the Israeli government's
claim to the Mother. If its demand for her return was honored, he had a chance.
A slim chance, to be sure, but once she was again on Israeli soil, she was in
his domain. As a Shin Bet officer he would be standing by at all times, waiting
to leap upon any opportunity to spirit her away.

           
 
Certainly he would find no such opportunity
here. There was no way in or out of the street, let alone the church where the
Mother was on display.

           
 
The vulgarity of it drove Kesev into a near frenzy
of grief and guilt and rage. He fought the urge to turn and ram his fist
through the already cracked glass in the door behind him, then rake his wrist
across the razor shards.

           
 
But what would that do? What would that prove?
It would only draw unwanted attention to him. And the wounds . . . they'd bleed
a little, then they would heal up.

           
 
And if anyone saw it happen they'd call it
another of the
Lower
East Side
miracles. The door might even become a shrine.

           
 
He looked over the multitude again, all pressing
forward, hoping today would be the day they could get into the church. Some of
them had been here for days. They stretched the entire length of the street and
into the intersections at both ends. Traffic was snarled throughout the area.

           
Madness, that was what it was . . .

           
 
. . . sheer madness.

           
 
Emilio shook his head in disgust as he
squeezed between the bumpers of the overheating cars gridlocked on Avenue C. He
had always believed the world was full of fools, but this display of
gullibility amazed even him.

           
 
He checked his watch.
Noon
. Time for the first of his thrice-daily
calls to Paraiso. He found a booth with a functioning phone and leaned close as
he tapped in the secure line and calling-card numbers, shielding the buttons
from prying eyes. The theft of calling-card numbers had been elevated to an art
in this city.

           
 
"Yes, Emilio," said the
senador's
voice as he picked up the
line. "I'm glad you're a punctual man. I've been anxiously awaiting your
call."

           
 
This was not the
senador's
usual opening. Immediately Emilio was on alert.

           
 
"Yes, sir?"

           
 
"I know you've been following this thing
at
St.
Joseph
's
church. Do you still think it's nothing but mass hysteria?"

           
 
"All I see around the church are masses
of hysterical people, so . . . yes. I do."

           
 
"All right, it
is
mass hysteria, but I'm beginning to think it might be something
more."

           
 
Emilio leaned back and rolled his eyes.
Here we go.
But he kept his voice
neutral.

           
 
"Really?"

           
 
"Yes. I've been in touch with some of my
contacts in Manhattan, and the unofficial word—this is being kept from the
press for the time being—is that a number of the healings in that little church
are genuine. We're not talking psychosomatic reversals here, where someone
imagines himself a cripple and can't walk until some phony-baloney healer—and
believe me, I saw plenty of those while I was looking for a cure for
Olivia—lays hands on him and tells him to walk. They've got bona-fide cases of
far-gone osteoarthritis of the hip who now have normal X rays. And Emilio . . ."
The
senador
paused here. "Some
of those healed have been documented cases of AIDS."

           
 
"Do you want me to bring Charlie
here?" Emilio said. "To the church? I'll get him inside for you—one
way or another." He imagined ramming a truck through the packed throng of
Mary-hunters and driving it up the front steps of the church.

           
 
"No. He's too weak to travel. He might
not survive the trip. And even if he did . . ." The
senador's
voice trailed off.

           
 
Emilio knew what he was thinking:
St. Joseph
's was ringed with photographers from
newspapers all over the world. If someone recognized a sick and wasted Charles
Crenshaw in the throng, the tabloids would have a field day.

           
 
"Whatever it is you want,
senador,
you simply have to ask and
Emilio will see that it is done."

           
 
"Thank you, Emilio. I knew I could count
on you. But what I'm about to ask will not be easy. It will be the most
difficult task I've ever set for you, and most likely ever will."

           
 
Emilio didn't like the sound of this. He
waited, holding his breath. What could the
senador
possibly—?

           
 
"I want you to bring that relic, or
mummy, or whatever it is, here, to Paraiso."

           
 
Emilio froze. For a moment he couldn't speak.
Then,
"Senador,
did you say you
want me to bring it to Paraiso?"

           
 
"You can't fail me on this, Emilio. It
may be Charlie's only hope."

           
 
"You want me to
steal
it? Right out of that church?"

           
 
"Not steal—
borrow.
I don't want to own it, I simply wish to make use of it for
a few hours, then you can return it."

           
 
The
Manhattan
madness must be highly contagious. The
senador
had caught it all the way out in
California
.

           
 
"Sir . . . how can I steal it when I
can't even get close to it?"

           
 
"Yes. That is the major problem. I'm
working on this end to make that easier for you. But you must be ready to move
at a moment's notice."

           
 
Emilio's mind raced. The
senador
was asking the impossible, yet he seemed to take it for
granted that Emilio could pull it off. Normally Emilio would be buoyed by such
absolute confidence, but not this time. He admitted limits to his abilities,
even if the
senador
did not.

           
 
"I'll . . . I'll need help."

           
 
"Decker and Molinari will be on their way
on the jet. We'll hangar it at LaGuardia so it will be at your disposal when
you secure this relic. You've got the credit card— charge anything you need.
And if you require cash, I can wire that within minutes. Spare no expense,
Emilio. This is more important to me than anything else in the world. Remember
that."

           
 
"Yes,
Senador,"
Emilio said.

           
 
"Madre!”
he muttered as he hung up. How in the world was he ever going to pull this
one off?

           
He shook himself. Why worry about
it? As long as this thing in the church remained surrounded by a crush of
people twenty-four hours a day, there was no possible way the
senador
could expect him or anyone else
to steal it.

           
VATICAN
:
THE LADY IS OURS!

           
 
ROME (AP) The Vatican released a statement
today claiming the so-called Manhattan Madonna as property of the Catholic
Church.

           
 
"The object was discovered on Church
property and therefore must be considered Church property unless and until
other ownership can be established," contended Cardinal Pasanante,
spokesman for the
Vatican
.

           
 
"Too much publicity attends this object
already," the statement reads. "It has become the focus of devotion
of hysterical proportions. This is of great concern to the Holy Father. The
Church intends to investigate the many claims of miracles associated with the
object, and to substantiate the object's authenticity, if possible."

           
 
When questioned about
Israel
's prior claim on the Madonna, Cardinal
Pasanante replied, "We are disputing that." When asked what the
Church would do if the object should be proven to be the remains of the Virgin
Mary and if
Israel
's claim to ownership is upheld, the enigmatic cardinal replied,
"There are too many
ifs
in that
question."