Authors: Jerome R Corsi
“Any restrictions on what Ferrar can film or report on?” Duncan asked.
“None, as far as I’m concerned,” the pope answered. “That is, unless Ferrar or his camera crew get in the way of Father Bartholomew’s medical treatment. I’ll let you, Dr. Castle, make that judgment call. You are still Father Bartholomew’s attending physician. There should be no concern about Father Bartholomew getting excellent medical care in the flight across the Atlantic. Father Bartholomew may be leaving the hospital, but the chartered airplane I’m sending you will be the next best thing.”
Thinking through the trip, Castle realized that his associate, Professor Marco Gabrielli, was planning to unveil his modern Shroud duplicate at a press conference in Bologna on Thursday.
He explained this to the pope and archbishop.
“Should I plan to attend Gabrielli’s press conference?” Castle asked the pope.
“Absolutely,” the pope said. “You should attend and you should bring everybody with you, including Fathers Morelli and Middagh. Let them see firsthand what Gabrielli is capable of producing.”
“What about Fernando Ferrar and his camera crew?” Castle wondered.
“Absolutely,” the pope said again. “Take Fernando Ferrar and his video crew as well. On Thursday morning, the Vatican will charter another airplane to take you from Rome to Bologna. Coordinate with Professor Gabrielli so the press conference doesn’t start until after you get there. If your friend Gabrielli proves the Shroud is a fake, so be it. Let Ferrar broadcast the story live to the world from the press conference.”
“I admire your courage, Holy Father,” Dr. Castle said.
“Courage has nothing to do with it,” the pope said firmly. “I’m not about to let the credibility of the Catholic Church rest
on whether or not a relic is authentic. Nor am I going to bet on a priest who may turn out to be mentally disturbed. My job is to run the Catholic Church, absent the Shroud of Turin and absent Father Bartholomew.”
As soon as the conference call with the Vatican was over, Castle telephoned Gabrielli in Bologna to tell him he would be arriving in Italy on Wednesday morning and would be attending the press conference in Bologna on Thursday in person.
“That’s great news,” Gabrielli said with enthusiasm. He was also very pleased to know Castle was bringing along Fernando Ferrar and his television crew.
“This is going to be a huge international event.” Gabrielli was bubbling with excitement. “Wait until you see my Shroud. I think it’s the crowning achievement of my career.”
“Have you seen the videos of Father Bartholomew levitating in St. Patrick’s Cathedral?” Castle asked.
“Of course I’ve seen them,” Gabrielli answered. “I think every man, woman, and child in Europe has seen them. Too bad Bartholomew isn’t Italian. He might be our next saint, but first he would have to be prime minister.”
Castle laughed at the thought. “What did you think of the levitation?”
“Oldest trick in the book,” Gabrielli answered with conviction.
“What do you mean?”
“Every stage magician in the world has a levitation trick,” Gabrielli explained. “I’m sure you have seen them. The beautiful young woman assistant walks onstage with almost no clothes on. The magician appears to hypnotize her. He lays her down horizontally and appears to put her to sleep. Then he moves his hands about magically and appears to be causing her to rise into the air, still sound asleep. To top off the trick, the magician runs a hoop all around the levitating woman to show there are no ropes or
wires that are lifting her up. When he brings the woman back to earth and wakes her up, she appears to have had no recollection of anything that just happened.”
“So, you are saying Father Bartholomew’s miracle was nothing more than a magic trick?”
“That’s exactly what I am saying,” Gabrielli said in a tone of certainty.
“So explain to me,” Castle said. “How’s it done?”
“Easy. First you have to understand that nobody in the history of the world has ever levitated, not Hindu mystics and not Jesus Christ, though I will admit that his ascension into Heaven has to have been one of the world’s greatest illusions. I only wish I had been there to see it.”
Castle listened with quiet amusement to Gabrielli’s assessment of Father Bartholomew’s miracle. “So how is the levitation trick done?”
“Usually with hydraulics,” Gabrielli said. “The magician stands behind the levitating woman just right, so as to hide a hydraulic lift bar behind him that connects to a steel bed on which the sleeping woman rests. Sometimes the woman wears a thin body veil that helps hide the steel bar bed and the hydraulic mechanism.”
“How does the magician get away with passing a steel hoop all around the levitating woman to indicate there’re no wires involved?”
“The hydraulic lift bar can be built with a U-shape that connects the bar to the steel bed. The magician can move the hoop around the U-shape to create the illusion he has passed the hoop completely around the woman. Actually, he just moves the hoop to the end of the U-shape and then reverses direction. It looks like he has gone all around her, but actually he hasn’t. Remember, most magic tricks involve misdirection.”
“Do you think this is what Father Bartholomew did?” Castle asked. “Did he fake his levitation by using tricks an accomplished magician would easily recognize?”
“I don’t know. But after Father Bartholomew collapsed, I doubt if you, or anyone else, did much to search around that altar to see if there were any magician’s mechanisms around. I also doubt you checked around to find out if Father Bartholomew had any accomplices who were in on the illusion.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you said Fernando Ferrar and the film crew were inside the cathedral when Father Bartholomew levitated, right?”
“Yes, they were,” Castle said, intrigued by where Morelli was going with this. “Ferrar and his film crew were already in the cathedral when I got there.”
“Well, video cameras and news crews are not routinely admitted inside Catholic churches, and I doubt Fernando Ferrar had Archbishop Duncan’s permission,” Gabrielli said. “Who tipped Ferrar off to be at the church that morning?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ferrar has a vested career interest in being the only reporter to film Father Bartholomew’s supposed miracle, right?”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“And Father Bartholomew had a vested interest in making sure his miracle was filmed.”
“I guess you could look at it that way.”
“Well then, I wouldn’t rule out Ferrar as being an accomplice,” Gabrielli said, satisfied that he had made his point. “Maybe Ferrar both filmed the event and operated the hydraulics that made Father Bartholomew’s levitation possible. When Father Bartholomew sister screamed and fainted, that was perfect for the misdirection needed to end the illusion. All attention went to her.
Nobody paid any attention to the priest, until he then collapsed on the cathedral floor. I couldn’t have designed the illusion better myself.”
Castle had to admit he had not thought about these possibilities before. “I guess that’s why you are the world’s expert on debunking miracles,” he commented. “I guess I just don’t think like a magician.”
“I’ve made a career debunking the paranormal,” Gabrielli said proudly. “I don’t believe in levitating priests and I also don’t believe in Christ being resurrected or ascending into Heaven. It’s not our subject today, but I’m convinced Christ’s resurrection and his ascension are two of the better illusions ever produced by any professional magician anywhere, if they happened at all. As far as I’m concerned, Christ as a magician makes Houdini look like a schoolboy. Right now, what I want to debunk is the Shroud of Turin and I think I’m well along the way to doing so.”
“And you are pretty confident the Shroud you have produced will make your point that the Shroud could have been a fake.”
“In my opinion, the Shroud
has
to be a fake,” Gabrielli said strongly, “and I believe I’m well on my way to proving how a brilliant medieval forger could have made a fortune pulling it off.”
Monday evening
Beth Israel Hospital
Day 19
At Beth Israel, Dr. Castle met with Dr. Constance Lin in her office to go over Father Bartholomew’s most recent CT scans and MRIs.
“It’s pretty much the same story,” Dr. Lin said. “All the old wounds opened up again—the stigmata in the wrists and the scourge wounds all over the body. Then we have the new wounds, the stigmata in the feet and the head puncture wounds that would be from the crown of thorns.”
“Do the stigmata on the feet pierce completely through the feet?” Castle asked.
“Again, it could be that the wounds penetrated the feet when they were first made,” Lin answered. “But I took these CT scans and MRIs only a few hours ago, and the stigmata wounds on the feet are healing nicely and the stigmata in the hands appear almost completely healed.”
“How about the puncture wounds on the head?”
“Same scenario. The puncture wounds are healing, maybe a little slower than the scourge wounds. But the bleeding in all the wounds has stopped. Father Bartholomew is recovering once again in record time and I have no explanation for you on how or why it’s happening.”
Castle understood. “This is pretty much what I expected to see.”
“At least, it’s about the same as we saw before,” Lin said. “Father Bartholomew will probably suffer no permanent disabilities from these wounds, though wounds of this severity would have killed most people when they were first inflicted.”
“I know,” Castle said. “Believers worldwide consider Father Bartholomew’s case to be a miracle.”
“What do you think?”
“About the same as I always thought,” Castle said without emotion. “Father Bartholomew’s subconscious is particularly strong.”
Visiting the priest, Castle found him awake, in the company of Anne and Father Morelli.
“I suppose you’ve heard we’re going to the Vatican?” Castle asked Father Bartholomew.
“Archbishop Duncan called me a few minutes ago and let me know,” the priest said.
“We will leave tomorrow evening and we’ll fly all night. We’ll arrive Wednesday morning.”
“Am I going to be okay to make the trip?” the priest asked.
Castle reassured him. “The Vatican is sending a charter airplane with hospital-like medical facilities aboard. You’ll be fine.”
During the limo ride back to his Fifth Avenue apartment, Castle called his favorite hotel in Rome, the Hassler in the Piazza della Trinitá at the top of the Spanish Steps, and reserved two suites, one for himself and the other for Anne. He still wanted to keep Anne close at hand, both so he could keep an eye on her and so
he could immediately get any additional insights she might have about her brother.
Father Bartholomew was to stay under Vatican care in Agostino Gemelli University Polyclinic. The hospital, known in Rome as the official hospital of the popes, kept a suite of rooms permanently reserved for the pope or top Vatican patients. Father Middagh would be put up in the Vatican’s visiting priests’ quarters and Father Morelli would return home to the private apartment he maintained year-round in Rome.
Tuesday evening
Flight from JFK Airport, New York,
to Leonardo da Vinci–Fiumicino Airport in Rome
Day 20
Dr. Castle and Anne took the psychiatrist’s limo to the airport, following behind the ambulance that carried Father Bartholomew.
Castle was impressed by the police escort, which shortened the trip from Beth Israel in midtown Manhattan to JFK to around thirty-five minutes, despite late afternoon traffic.
Arriving at the international terminal for private passengers, Castle could see that the private jet sent by the pope was the customized Boeing 767 that Alitalia kept reserved for heads of state, including the pope. The customized interior included ample first-class seats, a conference room for meetings, several private sleeping quarters for VIPs, and an infirmary in the rear. Among the crew were a medical crew from the Vatican, including two nurses and a physician.
Once Fathers Morelli and Middagh were on board, together
with Fernando Ferrar and his three-man video crew, the pilot was ready to take off. Leaving JFK at around 6
P.M.
Tuesday, their estimated time of arrival was early morning Wednesday in Rome. They would gain six hours in the time zone changes involved in going to Italy, making the night a short one, despite a cross-Atlantic air trip of some 4,260 miles.
On the flight over, Dr. Castle did his best to make himself scarce. The Alitalia crew served a multicourse dinner, complete with excellent Italian wines.
Still, Fernando Ferrar managed to get him alone as they were finishing the meal with an assortment of fine cheeses and after-dinner drinks.
“I understand you cannot talk to me about Father Bartholomew because that would violate doctor-patient confidential privileges,” Ferrar began. “But could you answer me one question?”
“What’s that?” Castle asked, hoping one question had to be harmless. Besides, he could always decline to answer.
“You have all the money in the world, so you don’t need to take Father Bartholomew’s case for the money. What is it, then? Why are you interested?”
“Don’t necessarily assume money isn’t important,” Castle said, correcting him.
“Okay,” Ferrar said. “I concede the point.”
“But to answer your question, I guess what drives me is the people. I’ve worked with Archbishop Duncan and Pope John-Paul Peter I before, when he was a cardinal. They asked me to take on this case and I guess I couldn’t refuse.”
“Why not? I doubt you take every case you’re asked to take.”
“You’re right,” Castle conceded. “But let me ask you. Why did you take up this story? You’re obviously ambitious, but is that the extent of why?”
“Maybe,” Ferrar answered. “Is there anything wrong with being ambitious?”
“No, not necessarily. But there’s lots of stories out there. Why this one?”
“In my case, I’m intrigued,” Ferrar said. “I was raised Catholic in Puerto Rico. The Shroud is fascinating to me and you have to admit, Father Bartholomew is a good story.”