Authors: Jerome R Corsi
“I know, it’s spur of the moment,” he said, “but why don’t we go to this together tonight. It will be a great meal and the speeches will be mercifully short. If we get bored, we can skip out early.”
“But I didn’t bring any evening clothes with me,” Anne said worriedly. “Otherwise I’d be flattered to be your date tonight. Living in Montreal, I love French cuisine.”
“Evening clothes is a problem we can solve,” Castle said, anticipating he might get to spend the day with Anne. “You’re just
a few blocks from Saks and I can easily swing by with my limo. I don’t very often get the chance to buy a fashionable evening gown for a beautiful woman.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Anne said, happy Castle couldn’t see her blushing. “Give me a half hour and I’ll be downstairs at the Towers entrance.”
“You’ve got a deal,” Castle said with enthusiasm, as he headed off to make sure he looked his best to impress the young woman who was rapidly capturing his eye.
At Saks, Castle found himself actually enjoying shopping, especially with Anne willing to flirt as she changed dresses, trying to make up her mind.
“Don’t worry about the cost,” Castle told her. “You’re my guest tonight.”
Anne selected what Castle thought was a particularly stunning full-length black strapless evening gown that came with a matching cashmere shawl designed to keep her shoulders warm. The Saks sales staff had no trouble finding the perfect Italian-made black shoes and just-right color of sheer Italian nylons to go with the outfit. As Anne twirled this way and that with the cashmere shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders, Castle marveled at how perfectly her choice highlighted her blond hair and deep brown eyes.
On the way back to the Waldorf, Castle said, “I will come up to the suite to pick you up at seven tonight.”
“I’ll be ready,” she said with anticipation, thinking this day was already one of the best dates she had ever had.
With Anne safely back in the Waldorf, Castle took the limo to Beth Israel. He wanted to pay Father Bartholomew a professional visit.
At the hospital, Castle found Father Bartholomew resting alone and comfortably in what had become his private ICU room.
Castle read Bartholomew’s chart and quickly examined his wounds. From all signs, Bartholomew was recovering rapidly, much as Castle had expected, despite the severity of wounds that should have killed even a healthy and strong young man, which Dr. Castle knew this priest truly was.
“The way you are healing,” Castle told Bartholomew, “I can’t justify using costly hospital space to keep you here.”
“As far as I am concerned, you can check me out right now,” Father Bartholomew said, hoping Castle might listen. “I’m anxious to get back to my parish.”
“When I do agree to release you,” Castle continued, “it will be to the care of Archbishop Duncan and Father Morelli. I’m going to insist you stay with them at St. Patrick’s rectory, before I even consider releasing you to go back to work at St. Joseph’s. I’m not sure you’ve looked outside recently, but there are still a few hundred people standing out there holding candles and praying for you.”
“The archbishop’s residence is good for me,” Bartholomew said. “I will do as you say.”
Before he left, there was one thing Castle had to ask Bartholomew. It had been bothering him since yesterday and the conversation he and Anne had with Dr. Silver.
“Paul, I have to ask you something,” Castle said, sitting in the chair next to the bed.
“What’s that?”
“Your sister and I went to Princeton yesterday and we visited with Dr. Silver.”
“That must have been interesting,” Bartholomew said. He had no idea Castle and Anne had made the trip.
“Dr. Silver did his best to explain to us your work in physics, about how advanced particle physics says we live in a world of more than four dimensions.”
“Right,” Bartholomew said. “So what’s your question?
“Just this,” Castle said directly. “When you say you tripped in time and went back to Golgotha, what did you mean?”
“I meant just that,” Bartholomew said. “My experience is that I am back on Golgotha on the day Jesus died. Even more, I am experiencing myself as being Jesus. It’s like I am being scourged at the pillar and nailed to the cross.”
“But how could you or anybody else have any objective proof that you weren’t just going back to Golgotha in your mind?” Castle said. “Even your stigmata don’t prove to me that you were really at Golgotha. The same with the scourge injuries you suffered. You could have produced both sets of injuries through psychosomatic mechanisms.”
“Right now, I can’t prove it to you objectively,” Paul said.
“That sounds like you think there will be a time when you can prove it?”
“Yes, I believe that time will come.”
Castle probed. “What do you mean?”
“Just this,” Bartholomew said. “I think there is a reason I am Jesus.”
“Is that what Jesus has told you?”
“Yes,” Bartholomew said. “I know you believe I am imagining all this, but if I am right, you will continue to be intrigued by the Shroud. When you finally realize that you cannot prove the Shroud is a forgery, you will then be ready for an experience that will change your life. None of this is happening by accident, Dr. Castle.”
“What do you mean?”
“My destiny is not just to find my mother. It’s like I told you in our first therapy session in your office: my destiny is to unlock for the world the codex of the Shroud of Turin.”
“We will see, Paul,” Castle said, not convinced Paul wasn’t simply slipping further into his delusion. “We will see.”
Leaving the hospital, Castle called Father Morelli on his cell phone. “I’m checking Father Bartholomew out of the hospital. Can you be here later this afternoon to pick him up? I want him to stay with you at St. Patrick’s.”
“I can be there in an hour,” Morelli said.
“Good,” Castle said, “and I will want to see you both in my office early on Monday morning for a therapy session.”
“How early?”
“Make it eight o’clock. Father Bartholomew will be my first patient of the day.”
When Morelli agreed, Castle left the hospital, confident Father Bartholomew would be in good hands until Monday.
Saturday evening
New York City
Day 17
As Castle put on his tuxedo for the evening with Anne, he called the Waldorf room service and ordered up a chilled bottle of his favorite champagne and some of the hotel’s best caviar.
Arriving at Anne’s suite at 7
P.M.
, he was delighted to find her looking beautiful in the black strapless evening gown, her hair done up perfectly. The hotel’s beauty parlor was top-notch.
“The champagne and caviar are a nice surprise,” Anne said, welcoming him into the living room of the suite.
“This way I thought we could miss the cocktail hour at the restaurant,” Castle said with a smile. “I’d much rather spend the time talking with you.”
He enjoyed the pleasure with which Anne sipped the champagne and tasted the caviar. “You’re going to spoil me living like this,” she said, unafraid to show much she was enjoying the moment.
“I hope so,” Castle said, raising a glass in a toast. “Here’s to many more evenings together.”
The limo ride to the French restaurant was nice and short.
Once inside the restaurant, Dr. Castle introduced Anne to several of his friends before they were shown to a relatively private side table, a banquette facing into the room.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Castle said, “but while attending these charity events is sometimes a social necessity, I still prefer to dine as privately as possible.”
“Fine with me,” Anne said, relieved she was not going to be thrown into a long evening of conversation with people she didn’t know.
“Meeting you has been the silver lining in my taking on your brother as a client,” Castle told Anne as they proceeded through the first course accompanied by a delicious French white wine Castle had perfectly selected.
“It’s been doubly important for me,” Anne added. “I’m thrilled to be reunited with my brother.”
“Is your brother the person you expected to find?” he asked.
“In a way, yes,” Anne answered. “Reading about my brother on the Internet, I realized how devoted he was both to his career in physics and to our mother. Now meeting him, I believe he is a very driven person. I have to admit I don’t understand all his concerns, but the conversation with Dr. Silver in Princeton yesterday helped.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s hard to explain, but all my life I have had the sense that I too am somehow suspended in time. After my father died, it was like I reconnected with a hidden life I never knew I had, not until I found those divorce papers. Now, in meeting Paul at the
hospital, it somehow doesn’t feel like we were ever separated. When I first saw him lying there unconscious, I panicked, worried that he might slip away before we had a chance to connect. When we were alone, I held his hand and I felt we were the same flesh. I understood him without him having to say very much. I’m sure I would have loved Mom and I’m sorry I never had the chance to meet her.”
Castle listened carefully, moved at how much Anne cared for her brother.
“Do you really think all this is being caused by psychological problems my brother is going through?” Anne asked.
“That’s what I’m trained to think,” Castle said. “Still, the discussion with Father Middagh and Father Morelli about the Shroud has presented me with a lot of information I never considered before. I remain convinced the carbon-14 testing is likely to be correct and that means the Shroud has to be a forgery. The story about the carbon-14 sample being contaminated is a little bit too convenient for me. Still, I have to admit, the image of the man in the Shroud has begun to haunt me.”
“It haunts me, too,” Anne said, “especially when Paul has come to look so much like the man of the Shroud.”
“Then I had no idea modern physics was so seriously considering other dimensions,” Castle said. “The idea of parallel worlds and time travel had always seemed just science fiction to me.”
“Do you think it’s real?” Anne asked.
“I don’t know, but your brother and Dr. Silver both seem to think other dimensions are a reality and they are the professional physicists. After all, your brother was appointed to the Institute for Advanced Study and Dr. Silver still considers him to have one of the most brilliant minds in physics that he has ever seen. That’s
quite a compliment coming from an emeritus professor who used to head the Physics Department at Princeton.”
“My brother insists his life will unlock the meaning of the Shroud,” Anne said. “That’s what he told me when we were alone. He said that’s why he looks so much like the man in the Shroud. He believes that his life and Christ’s life are uniting as one, as if the two thousand years between them had never happened.”
“That’s more than he has told me,” Castle said, making a mental note to add the information to his file.
“Paul also made me feel like my destiny and his were linked,” she went on. “He said that I was meant to find those divorce papers and I was destined to come back and meet him.”
Sipping the red wine and finishing the entrée, Anne could see the room was getting ready for the speechmaking to begin.
“I was thinking,” she said coyly, “that maybe we could have dessert back at the hotel, unless of course you think you need to stay for the conclusion of the evening here.”
“A great idea,” Castle said with enthusiasm. “I’ve already made my donation to this charity for the year, so it seems to me that in my case the speeches we are about to hear are superfluous.”
Back in the limo, Castle called the Waldorf Towers room service and arranged to have another bottle of champagne brought to Anne’s suite, along with some chocolate soufflé.
When they arrived, Castle was pleased to see room service had been so efficient. The room was arranged for dessert for two by candlelight, just as Castle hoped it would be.
Finishing the dessert and champagne some forty minutes later, Castle decided it was time to excuse himself for the evening.
“You’re a charming woman,” Castle told her sincerely. “But you are also the sister of a patient. I want to thank you for a delightful
evening. When this is all over, I hope I can ask you out to dinner again, maybe on less formal terms.”
Anne was flattered by his comments. “I’d be honored to accept, Stephen,” she said, happy to already be on somewhat less formal terms with a man she admired as much as she did Dr. Castle.
Sunday morning
St. Patrick’s Cathedral, New York City
Day 18
Castle slept late, enjoying a Sunday morning he hoped would lead to a day totally without patients.
But just as he was rolling over in bed, ready for another round of sleep, his cell phone rang.
“Dr. Castle, I hate to bother you again,” Father Morelli said in a clearly worried tone, “but you have to get over here right away.”
Not again,
was Castle’s first thought. “What is it this time,” he said, not attempting to disguise his annoyance. He suspected this was going to develop into yet another Father Bartholomew crisis.
“Before I was awake, Father Bartholomew got dressed and left the rectory. He went over to St. Patrick’s Cathedral and he has begun to say Mass. I’m there now, standing in the back vestibule.”
“Doesn’t sound like anything out of the ordinary,” Castle said, trying to figure out what exactly was the problem. “I didn’t want him out in public, but it doesn’t sound like anything unusual is going on.”
“It might not seem much to you,” Morelli said, “but Father Bartholomew put on purple vestments to say Mass. It’s not Advent or Lent. Today there is nothing special in the liturgy. Father Bartholomew ought to be wearing green vestments.”
“So what?” Castle said, still feeling irritated at being disturbed, particularly this Sunday morning.
“Violet is the color that designates royalty and penance,” Morelli told him. “It makes no sense to wear purple today unless Bartholomew is focused on Christ’s passion again.”