House of the Beloved

By Tony Nichols

Kurt Lingstorm is doing an archaeological dig under a church in Jerusalem which is believed to be built on top of the home where John the Apostle lived with Mary, the mother of Jesus. He uncovers a secret burial niche and needs an expert on first-century Christianity. He knows who he wants to bring in to help him. Michael O’Brien is a priest and archaeologist who specializes in this area. He is brought in by Kurt and the Cardinal in charge of Holy Shrines. The attraction between the two men is instant but they must also deal with the burial niches and a Vatican representative to Jerusalem who is less than priestly and is blackmailing two of Kurt’s team members to steal from the site.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: May 24, 2024
• ISBN: 9781643780191

Tony Nichols

Tony Nichols was born and raised in a predominantly Italian neighborhood in the Midwest. He loves reading, especially historical fiction and mysteries. He is single, lives not far from where he grew up, and still practices his Catholic faith.

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About the Author

Tony Nichols was born and raised in a predominantly Italian neighborhood in the Midwest. He loves reading, especially historical fiction and mysteries. He is single, lives not far from where he grew up, and still practices his Catholic faith.

Dedication

To Jim S. in California, who gave me a good lead, and Patrick D. in Boston. You both bring much happiness to my life.

Copyright Information ©

Tony Nichols 2024

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Ordering Information:

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Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

Nichols, Tony

House of the Beloved

ISBN 9781643789330 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781643781303 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781643780191 (ePub e-book)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2024901031

www.austinmacauley.com/us

First Published 2024

Austin Macauley Publishers LLC

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New York, NY 10005

USA

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Acknowledgment

To Austin Macauley Publishers for having the courage to say yes to publishing my first book.

Jerusalem

A Friday in Spring Circa 33 A.D.

Near the foot of the cross of Jesus, there stood his mother, his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas and Mary Magdalene. Seeing his mother there with the disciple whom he loved, Jesus said to his mother, Woman, there is your son. In turn, he said to the disciple, There is your mother. From that hour onward, the disciple took her into his care.

(Gospel of John 19: 25–27)

Prologue

Jerusalem, 65 A.D.

The messenger hands the letter to the disciple known as the beloved of Jesus and takes a couple of steps back and bows his head. John smiles at him and asked how the journey with Peter went. The man replies that it went well but was long. But there is trouble now and the letter will explain more. As John opens the letter and reads, he gasps and begins to cry quietly.

It is from Peter. He says that he and Paul are now imprisoned in Rome and both are to be executed soon, probably by the time John receives this letter. Peter tells of the trial before the current Roman tribunal and how he and Paul passionately defended the message of the Savior before the court, amazed at how the words flowed from their mouths and how they held their heads up as they spoke. Both knew the words were definitely from the Spirit given to them on that day in the upper room so many years before. Peter asked John to give his affection to the mother and to the Magdalene. This causes John to weep more. Peter had not received the news that the Magdalene had passed away two months ago and is buried in the secret room of the house behind him.

The mother, as the Apostles came to call Mary, the mother of Jesus, was frail and resting in her room in the house. It is a matter of time now when they will soon lay her to rest with the Magdalene. Both women had become so important to the Apostles for their faith and encouragement of what they were doing to carry on the preaching of the Master. It has been such a joy for John to have cared for the mother these years, especially those years they had been in Ephesus. But the mother had wanted to return Jerusalem last year because she knew her time on this earth was coming to an end and wanted to be near her loved ones when the time came.

The journey was slow because both women were frail. The Magdalene had lasted just a few weeks after they settled in this house. The other women in the community had been so kind in caring for her and preparing her body at the end. John had her buried in the secret room he had carved behind the kitchen area so no one would be able to steal her body. He had the room built with three niches—one for the Magdalene, one for the mother and one for him when it would be his time.

John thanks the messenger for the letter and when he attempts to give him a token the man refuses but simply wants a blessing from John. As the man leaves John turns and enters the house and sees the mother sitting by the fireplace. Even though the weather is turning warm, she is always cold and sits by the fire to stay warm. Her eyes are closed but she opens them as she hears John approach. For her age, her senses are still remarkably good and John attempts to smile at her. She sees the sadness in his eyes and asked what is the matter. He shakes his head and attempts to change the subject but she presses him.

He tells her about Peter’s letter and she nods, bows her head and prays. He sees a tear on her cheek and knows of her sorrow for Peter and Paul. She has come to love them all as her sons. She looks up and says she wants to lay down again. John helps her up and gently lays her on the bed and puts the cover over her. He asked if she wants any wine or food and she says she is fine. She has not eaten in a few days but for a few morsels. He senses her time is near.

He sends the young girl who helps in the house to find one of the women of the community of believers who take turns visiting the mother. He needs to do an errand and does not want to leave the mother alone now. It is Lydia that the girl brings back and he smiles. Lydia is a sweet woman and has come to be a good friend to the mother and him. He tells her that he will be back as soon as he can. His errand is to write a letter to his brother James and let him know about Peter and Paul. He also needs to send word to Luke about the mother. He has visited her often over the years and has come to love her deeply and would want to be here when the time comes. He is not far away and can get to Jerusalem in a couple of days.

When he returns to the house, he finds Lydia kneeling by the bed crying softly and knows what is happening. The mother is dying. As he approaches the bed, she opens her eyes and smiles at them and lets out her last breath. He kneels next to Lydia and holds her close and both bow their heads and pray for the mother. Suddenly, they open their eyes and see a bright light.

In the light, see the figure of a man and woman. They recognize the woman as the mother and John gasps as he recognizes the man. It is the Master himself and in that instant the light disappears. When they blink, John and Lydia look at each other and then at the bed. There is the mother’s body—it is lifeless but there is a glow surrounding it. They smile as they cry and know that they have witnessed her soul being taken to heaven by the Master himself. As dusk comes, Lydia goes and gets other women to help prepare the mother’s body and John sends word to the community.

Two days later, Luke arrives and the mother’s body is laid in the niche of the secret room along with the Magdalene. John and Luke add a few words in Aramaic and a couple of symbols. It is sealed again and John knows that when it is his time, his body will be sealed in here also.

Chapter 1

Jerusalem: Present Day

Damn, it’s only early May and it already is in triple digits. What will July and August be like? Dante should have added this desert heat as part of one of his levels of hell.

Kurt Lingstorm took off his wide-brimmed hat and wiped his face and neck with his handkerchief. Though Kurt Lingstorm had spent many years in desert settings as an archaeologist, he never could get fully accustomed to the heat. Lingstorm was in his late 40s, 6’2, lanky, and blond. His thinness sometimes made him appear taller than people thought. The years he had spent in the sun on archaeological digs left him with a perpetual dark tan that made his blond hair look almost white.

Not only was he a well-respected archaeologist but Lingstorm was also a well-read literature buff and had read Dante’s Inferno numerous times. Lingstorm had read it in its original Italian and in English and preferred the Italian version because English didn’t always capture the true meaning of the Italian. The professor also spoke Aramaic, French and could translate Hebrew and ancient Egyptian with great accuracy. This was a great help in many of the sites he had studied over the years.

Kurt had never married. He would always tell people the reason was that being at different archaeological sites for long periods of time made it difficult to maintain a healthy relation. And throw kids into the equation, he would have been more an absentee father than he would like. The truth was that he was gay yet tried to keep that as much as secret as possible. In his field being out would cause some problems. Some of the countries he worked in did not like homosexuals and had laws against them. He had been told that he was good-looking by many women, some of them his female students who came on to him. Some of his male students who were gay suspected his sexuality but never brought the topic up even when they were attracted to him.

In any case, he would tell an amorous student that he did not like to mix business with pleasure and that he was their teacher/adviser and wanted to keep the relationship professional. He knew of too many horror stories where faculty members crossed the line with a student and he didn’t want that in his life. He suspected his current student assistant to be gay and attracted to him, though the attraction wasn’t mutual. Joe was too young for him and definitely not his type.

Joe Riley chuckled at his professor’s reference to Dante and felt the same way about the heat. Not only was he a doctoral student of Professor Lingstorm, but was his assistant on this dig. Riley was 24 years old, blond, 5’9, thin but not as lanky as Lingstorm and had four days growth of stubble on his sun-burned face. Even putting aloe lotion on his face, it still peeled and hurt so that he could not shave as often as he liked. Lingstorm picked Riley as his assistant because the lad also had a background in Middle East studies and knew Aramaic. Many of the local workers often mistook Riley for Lingstorm’s younger brother or son.

Joe had the potential to be a really good archaeologist as far as Kurt was concerned. He had the smarts and a good personality, could work with people well, was respectable to and respected by the other students and workers. But Joe wasn’t always subtle about being gay. When he would drink too much, he would become very hands on with the other male students and once tried to come on to him. Fortunately, it was a rare time when Joe had had too much to drink and Kurt was able to put him in his own bed and escape to his own tent, both their virtues still intact. If Joe remembered any of that night, he never mentioned.

At least, some of the dig is inside the Church which gives us a break from some of the heat from time to time, Dr. Lingstorm, Joe said as he wiped the sweat from his own face.

Their dig site was inside the Church of the Dormition of Mary. It is a large Romanesque style basilica built over the site of the house that supposedly the mother of Jesus lived the last years of her life with the Apostle John until she died and, as Catholic and Orthodox traditions hold, was assumed into heaven body and soul. The Catholics believed Mary died though the Orthodox believe she fell into a deep sleep. The Greek word for a long sleep is dormition, thus the name of the church.

Lingstorm and his assistant looked at the church. It is a fortress like building and the church is round with a conical roof and four corner towers. It is actually the second church structure on the site. The original church was called Hagis Sion (House of Sion) built by the Emperor Constantine in the early 300s after his conversion to Christianity. It was destroyed by the Persians in A.D. 614. The present one was begun in 1899 after the Turkish sultan Abdul Hamid II donated the land to Kaiser Wilhelm II in 1898 and the Kaiser gave the land to the Catholic Church. It was finished in 1910. It sits on Mount Zion just outside the old city of Jerusalem. The church was damaged by a bomb in 1985.

After a quarrel between the Orthodox churches, the Catholic Church and the Israeli government were given the rights to the church and repairs were begun a couple of years ago. Workers uncovered an old structure that had been sealed over when the present church was built and was never included in any blueprints. When the structure was uncovered, they found some old artifacts and an antiques dealer dated them to be from the first century A.D. That was when Kurt Lingstorm and his team were called in since they had done several digs that uncovered similar artifacts.

Suddenly, a commotion arose from inside the church. Workers were shouting and running around, some excited and some seemed to be panicked. Lingstorm heard his name being shouted and saw one of the local archaeology students waving at him from the side doors of the church. The student was studying at the local university and acting as an interpreter between the English and Israeli workers. Lingstorm headed toward the waving student at a run, forgetting about the heat.

What is it, Ahmed? What happened? Is someone hurt? Lingstorm asked as he reached the doors.

Dr. Lingstorm, we found something in the wall of the structure when we removed the sand and dirt. There were some stones laid in the wall of the structure that were different from the rest of the stones in the wall. The stones had some writing on them that were old Aramaic. When we tapped along the stones the mortar crumbled and the stones fell away. You have to come see what we found, Ahmed was almost out of breath by this time because of his excitement and practically yanked Lingstorm toward the wall with an opening in it that wasn’t there when he went outside.

Ahmed, what did you find? Slow down and tell me?

Dr. Lingstorm, you will not believe me but have to see for yourself.

Just then they came upon the scene. The opening in the wall was about 2 feet by 2 feet. Some of the workers were shining flashlights into the opening. They move away when Lingstorm approaches and hand him a flashlight. He bends down and peers in. It appears they have uncovered another room behind the wall. Lingstorm sees the space is not deep maybe 3 feet beyond the present wall and as he moves the flashlight around, he sees it is about half as high as the room they are in. The air is dry and close in here, much like the air outside. As he moves the flashlight up, something catches his eye. There is some pottery on the floor in this new room and is similar to the pottery found in the outer room.

Then Lingstorm sees something on the wall. There is writing on the far wall in what appears to be first century Aramaic. There are three rows of it. Not many people can read this language but he has studied it because he has encountered in places like Ephesus and Corinth where he found evidence of early Christians that were Jewish. There are also a couple of symbols among the words. Then he makes out faint outlines of three niches—one under each row of letters and symbols. As Lingstorm tries to make out the words and translates, he cannot believe what he is reading. He tells the workers that more of the wall has to come down so he can get a closer look.

They make an opening large enough for Lingstorm to crawl through and he makes out for certainty the presence of the three niches that seem to resemble what he has seen in ancient catacombs. These burial niches seem to still be intact and sealed with some kind of waxy substance. He touches the substance with a finger and it is hard as a rock. Maybe the dry air over time has hardened it. He takes a closer look at the wording and realizes he was not wrong about what they said. He summons Joe Riley to come in to look at what he is seeing. Riley does and gasps as he reads the writing.

Professor, you know what that says? Riley says shocked when the meaning of the words sinks in.

Lingstorm puts his fingers to his lips and says, Yes but we can’t say anything to anyone about this. I need to bring someone else I have heard about to confirm this. He’s an expert on the early Christian movement and can determine if this is authentic.

Lingstorm moves Riley out of the space and tells the workers to seal up the hole in the wall again. He doesn’t want to contaminate the air and space any more than it already has. Then he posts his own workers there to guard the area and clears everyone else out and tells them no one is to enter there until he gives permission.

As he reaches the outside, he has his phone in his hand. He has two phone calls to make and knows the first one will the most difficult. It is to the cardinal in Rome who suggested that he do this dig. He will not be happy about this. The second one is to a man he has never met but knows him by reputation and would like to know him better.

Chapter 2

Philadelphia, PA

Present Day

…and that, my dear young ladies and gentlemen, is why Noah did not take any termites on the Ark.

Some of the students laugh, others groan and roll their eyes at the professor’s lame attempt at humor. Some of his jokes were funny, some not so much. But they all loved Father M.P., as they referred to Fr. Michael Patrick O’Brien. The college students found him funny, approachable and not your typical ‘stuffed collar’ of a priest. His classes on early Christianity and archaeology were always full each semester. Fr. Mike wasn’t a soft touch when it came to grading. He was tough as they came but he was always willing to answer their questions about religion, faith and what it all meant to them today. He didn’t give the platitudes of other priests but was willing to meet them were they were and guide them to the truth of faith. Whether they accepted it or not was up to them and Fr. Mike didn’t judge them or try to brain wash them.

He knew faith was a personal response to God (whatever or whoever that was to the students of today). All he could do was to lead them to make their own decision. This did not always go over well with his religious superiors but he wanted the kids to come to faith in their own time and space.

Michael Patrick O’Brien was 45 years old, dark wavy hair and piercing blue eyes. At 6’2 and 200 pounds he was built like a linebacker and was solid. He still ran a couple of days a week and tried to work out when he could in order to keep his weight in check since he liked to eat but sometimes the food won. While he was recruited to play football in college he opted for lacrosse because it was more active playing for him and less stressful on the joints and much fewer concussions. He entered the seminary after he received his first doctorate in archaeology and was ordained at 33.

He received his second doctorate the next year in comparative religious studies with an emphasis in the early Christian era and began teaching at the university a year later. He was adored by the female faculty and students and the male faculty and students saw him as a brother they could talk to about anything. The students always knew that Fr. M.P. always kept his office door open when they came to talk unless they wanted to go to confession. He did this for his and their protection since he was gay but few people knew and fewer would suspect. There was never any question about intentions, which was good for Fr. Mike. He had friends on the faculty, some closer than others and only a few knew about his sexuality. The diocesan superiors didn’t know and he wanted to keep it that way. The only one who knew was his spiritual director and wouldn’t tell even if tortured.

Fr. M.P., what’s on the final exam? asked Joe Pulanski, one of the bright kids in the class but always was the one to ask about tests and papers. The rest of the class groaned at the question because they were hoping Fr. Mike would forget that finals were next week and forget about giving them a test (he was known to do that on occasion).

Great timing on that question, Joe. I was just going to hand out the study guide for the final. On it you will see that you have two options. You can take the final exam or do a 5–7 page paper on one of the topics we covered in class. The guide gives you the outline of what is to be included in the paper and what will be covered by the exam. The paper is due by the time of the exam. The written exam is scheduled for noon next Thursday.

Half of the students expressed an interest in the paper. Though Fr. Mike was fun in presenting his material and kept the presentation fresh which kept the students coming to class each week, his tests were tough and very thorough. His classes usually filled up quickly. When he did a summer archaeological dig every other year for course credit, there was usually a waiting list of students who wanted to go. He was an outstanding archaeologist and would be called on for his expertise on digs that centered on important religious sites, especially in the Middle East, Europe and northern Africa. Being able to apply what the significance of the finds were at these sites to various religions put him in high demand, sometimes to the frustration of his religious superiors and dean who wanted him to teach more summer courses at the university.

As the last students received their study guides, the class period ended and the students pack up their books, backpacks and started to leave. Some stopped and asked questions about the final paper. Fr. Mike looked over at the door and noticed his teaching assistant, Jackie Reid, giving him a high sign and holding a note in her hand. He waved her in, took the note from her, and read it, a frown crossing his face. It was from the dean of the department who wanted to see him ASAP.

Doctor Aloysius Green had received his doctorate before Mike was even born and had been dean of the archaeology department for 20 years. He was at retirement age but there was never any rumblings that he was even considering retirement. He was a short, slight built balding man with a beak of a nose and a pinched face that gave him a perpetual look of having eaten something sour. His face was half covered with dark-rimmed bifocals that seemed to constantly slide down his nose. He never married saying that he was married to academia and giving all of himself to educating young people to become fulfilled adults. Truth be told, no woman ever gave him a second look.

Why is it that Dr. Green always wants to see someone ASAP? Fr. Mike mutters. He realizes he has muttered slightly louder than he intended when his TA, a petite brunette with a dusting of freckles and a crush on Fr. Mike, giggles at him and shrugs as Fr. Mike looks at her and smiles himself. She knows what Fr. Mike means because all the TA’s and professors say the same thing about the dean. Most of the females keep him at arm’s length because he is known to have roaming hands.

Okay kids, I have to get going. I have an ‘important meeting’ with Dr. Green. Let me know at the next class as to what your choice is for the final.

As Fr. Mike leaves the classroom and walks up one flight of stairs to the dean’s office, he groans inwardly at the prospect of this (or any) encounter with the dean. The man is not pleasant on a good day and those seem to be few and far between. Dr. Green was a professor of anthropology for more than 20 years before becoming dean. He looks at archaeology as a lesser science of mankind and considers clergy on his staff as a waste of good financial resources but the university was founded by a religious order and maintains a presence on campus. He also knows Fr. Mike’s credentials brings a status to his department so he tolerates him at best. Fr. Mike’s popularity with the students and the faculty, especially the females, sticks in Green’s stomach. If only Green knew of the gossip in the faculty lounge of his reputation with the women, he’d be even more unpleasant to them.

As Mike stands outside the dean’s door debating whether to knock first or just enter unannounced and catch the dean off guard the door flies open and out storms Professor Magdelene Rizzo (Maggie to her friends and fellow professors). Maggie teaches religious studies and advises a few of the doctoral students in the department. In her late 40s and standing at a curvy 5’10 with long wavy dark hair, she looks ten years younger. She has had her own share of run-ins with the roaming hands of Dr. Green. It doesn’t matter to the lecherous dean that Maggie is happily married with 3 children, the youngest a second-year student at the university. They nearly collide outside the door before Maggie looks up and sees Fr. Mike at the door.

Sorry Mike, didn’t see you there, she says as she adjusts her over the shoulder bag and tries to smooth her blouse at the same time.

Not a problem, Maggie. Dr. Green must be having a busy day meeting with the faculty today. You okay? Mike gives her a knowing smile and wink. He has listened to her tirades, some of them through tears of frustration, about Green and his attitude about women in general and women faculty and his leering eyes many times over the years.

He’s on one of his tirades about the end of the semester, graduation and one of the doctoral students I am mentoring. He doesn’t think this student has enough credits and that his dissertation is below par. One of these days, Mike, someone is going to have enough of that runt of a leech and stand up to him and knock him into tomorrow. She notices Mike’s raised eyebrows and crooked grin.

Sorry Mike. Today he was worse than ever and his leering really gave me the creeps. I just don’t know how much longer I or any of the other female staff can tolerate his behavior before one of us goes to the ethics committee and Board of Regents and files suit against him.

Maybe someone needs to do the same thing to him sometime and see if he likes the unwanted attention.

No woman wants to do that, Mike. No woman is that desperate.

Who says it has to be a woman, Maggie?

They both try to smother a wild giggle at that thought and were both glad the door was closed. Maggie and her husband have been good friends with Mike and know of his sexuality and respect him for his struggle and faith and willingness to serve the Church as he does. Just then Maggie catches sight of a man with less respect for women than Green and little use for Fr. Mike—Father Thomas Kinnard from the Board of Regents.

Father Kinnard is in his early 70s, overweight, bordering on mildly obese, a member of the order that founded the university. He is disagreeable on a good day to most people and not happy that he has to have a diocesan priest on faculty. Father Kinnard sees Fr. Mike as an interloper because he feels that one of his own community should have Mike’s teaching position but no one has Mike’s degrees or credentials. Fr. Kinnard also doesn’t trust the diocese and thinks Fr. Mike is a mole from the diocese to dig up dirt on the community and take the university away from the order; if only he knew better.

Oh, oh, Mike. Looks like more trouble coming our way.

Mike turns around and sees the older priest heading their way, wiping his sweaty brow with his big white handkerchief. His wire rimmed glasses perched on his veined nose does little to hide his protruding black eyes that constantly shift from side to side. This makes him look like his trying not to miss anyone or anything. He can be obnoxious and has no sense of tolerance for those he considers fools and he thinks most of the laity are fools. The students give him a wide berth by staying as close to the walls as possible.

Crap! This doesn’t look good, Mike mutters barely audible for Maggie to hear.

Good afternoon, Fr. Kinnard, Mike and Maggie say in unison. They both know the priest hates to be called Fr. Thomas by anyone, even his community.

I see you received the message to come to Dr. Green’s office, Fr. O’Brien. There is something important we need to discuss with you. He waits for Mike to knock on the dean’s door and open for him to enter, giving Professor Rizzo the briefest nod of acknowledgement as he passes her.

Mike and Maggie look at each other and roll their eyes. Both know that this may be a bad thing and Maggie gives her friend the thumbs up for good luck and walks down the hall from where Fr. Kinnard just came. Mike enters the dean’s office and closes the door. He notices that the other priest has taken the only other chair in the office. Dr. Green has only one other chair besides his own behind the desk and only select people are invited to sit down. He knows this is done for effect. He will be treated as an errant student sent to the principal’s office for some offense. He just wonders what he did wrong this time.

Both men look at Mike and then at each other. Mike can feel the tension between the two men. He knows they consider the other to be an inferior to themselves but think even less of him. It feels like they are having a silent test of wills to see who will speak first. Mike beats them both to the punch.

Good day, Dr. Green. Fr. Kinnard says that you have something important to tell me. It must be something really grand for both of you to be here, Mike says with as pleasant a smile on his face as he can muster under the circumstances.

Yes, Fr. Michael we do. Fr. Thomas and I received phone calls from Cardinal Cucci in Rome. Have you heard of him? Dr. Green uses Kinnard’s first name knowing how it irks him and smiles at the senior priest’s discomfort.

Yes, he is the prefect of the Congregation of Holy Shrines. He oversees the sacred churches in the Holy Land and around Rome and their upkeep. He was just appointed a few years ago by Pope Benedict before his Holiness retired. Pope Francis reappointed him when he was elected. What is this about?

Apparently, a situation has developed in Jerusalem that requires an expert in archaeology and early Christian communities and someone with excellent credentials and in good standing in the Church. Apparently, they want someone in religious life and your name was referred to his Eminence. He first called your bishop to see if you were available and discovered you were teaching here. So we were called to see if you could be available for this situation. Fr. Kinnard explained, now wiping his glasses with his handkerchief. His eyes saying that Green was not going to get the jump on him this time.

I have read that there is only one archaeological study being done in Jerusalem at the Church of the Dormition of Mary. It is being led by Dr. Kurt Lingstorm. He is quite an expert himself. What is the situation that I would be needed to help him? Mike knew of Dr. Lingstorm, mostly by reputation, but had attended a seminar where Lingstorm gave a presentation but hadn’t gotten the chance to meet the man personally (but definitely would have like to). Lingstorm had more digs under his belt than Mike did since Lingstorm did it full time and he had a third doctorate also. He was more qualified than Mike for this dig. It must be something Lingstorm couldn’t figure out on his own but Mike couldn’t figure out why he would be called in to help.

Well, Fr. O’Brien, Kinnard continued, apparently, an unexpected discovery was made on the site. We were not told the details. All we know is that Cardinal Cucci was called yesterday on his private number by Dr. Lingstorm about this discovery and that he needed someone with credentials and in the Church to help him. Cardinal Cucci immediately thought of you and suggested you to Dr. Lingstorm. This Dr. Lingstorm seems to be aware of your credentials also and told the cardinal you were the one he was going to request. You are to be in Jerusalem by Friday morning.

This Friday? Mike is shocked by how soon he would have to be there and that both the cardinal and Lingstorm knew of his credentials. But it is the end of the semester and finals are next week. I can’t leave now.

It’s not the best timing but there is no choice, Fr. Michael. I tried to explain that to the Cardinal Cucci but he would not take any excuses or any delays of your departure. The look on Green’s face told Mike that Green wasn’t happy about the situation and that he didn’t like having to give him to someone he didn’t know and couldn’t control. Touché for His Eminence, thought Mike. Dr. Green had met his match.

We are aware of what this does for your classes, Fr. O’Brien, at this time of the year. We will have to give your students an Incomplete for your class. This from Fr. Thomas who thought he could have the upper hand on both Green and Mike.

Like hell you will! Mike said, his voice rising with anger at the injustice of the announcement.

Father O’Brien, you will NOT talk to me in that tone. I am a Regent of this university. I have the right to make that decision. Fr. Kinnard stood to face his subordinate, his face turning red, his eyes bulging bigger.

Actually, you don’t have that right, Father. Only the professor and I, as dean, can make that decision. The Regents may govern the university’s finances and direction but grades do not come under your jurisdiction, said Green calmly with a knowing smile. Mike began to understand the dynamics between these two men and saw that they hated each other. No wonder the tension between them was palpable.

Father Michael, what do you suggest be done with the students’ grades? You surely can’t give them a final and grade them when you are out of the country? Dr. Green said with a sneer, thinking he had Mike like a spider had a fly in his web. Now he knew how both men felt about him.

I apologize for my tone, Fr. Kinnard. There is a solution to this. My students are bright and have worked hard all semester. They know I demand the best from them. My final exams are already made and my teaching assistants can administer them and correct them or grade any final papers. The TA’s know what I expect in terms of answers and qualities of final papers. The students don’t deserve Incomplete. In fact, a couple of them are seniors and wouldn’t be able to graduate. And how would it look to the other Regents and our benefactors if so many students in this department received Incompletes? Mike knew he had both men where he wanted them and won. They didn’t want any bad press coming out of this.

If you have everything in place, Fr. Michael, than you can leave everything to your teaching assistants. Dr. Green loved having the upper hand with his faculty but was almost giddy to think he had pulled one over on a member of the Regents.

Yes, Dr. Green, they can. Both are doctoral students and just had their dissertations approved by their advisors. If they have any questions, they can call me on my cell or ask one of the other faculty members for advice, Mike said.

With a look of defeat and hatred directed at the dean, Fr. Kinnard pulled an envelope from his habit pocket and handed it to Mike. Here is your ticket and your itinerary, Father. I assume your passport and visa are up to date.

Thank you, Father, and yes they are up to date. Now if you gentlemen don’t mind, I need to make some arrangements about finals and then go home and pack. Mike turned and walked out the door, glad for once that Green only had two chairs in his damn office. It made for a quicker exit. Somehow he felt that the other two men felt the same—glad that he was getting out of their hair.

Chapter 3

Doctor Mary Kathleen O’Brien Ponzini dropped into her chair in her office, exhausted. She put her elbows on the desk and rested her head in her hands. At 38 years old, she was one of the lead forensic pathologists for the city. At 5’10 with a slim figure, she stood out in the crowd. She was a beautiful woman (or so her husband constantly told her but she felt he was biased) with red hair, green eyes and fair complexion. She had a good metabolism so that no matter what she ate never could put on weight which made her the envy of her friends who said they could eat a carrot stick and put on five pounds.

But she didn’t rely on her looks to get where she was. She was also smart. She went to college on a full scholarship and got into Columbia University Medical School with the highest score in its history. She gave surgery a try in her rotations but the thought of someone’s life in her hands was too daunting for her. When her best friend from high school died mysteriously while she was doing her rotations, she knew what she wanted to do—forensic pathology.

She wanted to find answers to deaths like her friend. Her intellect and hard work paid off when she was recruited by Columbia’s forensics lab. It was a great experience with its state of the art technology and the pay was exceptional. It helped put her husband, Dominic, Nick to family and friends, through graduate school where he earned his doctorate in Church History. However, the long hours for both of them had left them little time to each other and no time to start a family.

Then about 5 years ago Dominic heard there was an opening for a professor of Church History at the seminary in Philadelphia. He applied and got the job and Mary Kathleen (or Mary Kate, as her family called her) jumped at the chance to move with him to be closer to her family. Within six months, there was an opening at the University Medical School about a mile from the seminary for a forensic pathologist. With her background, Mary Kate was hired on the spot as lead pathologist so she was able to set her own hours.

When the phone rang at four in the morning, she reached for it before her husband could roll over. She knew at that time of the morning it wouldn’t be good. It turned out to be her brother Anthony O’Brien, affectionately known as Tony the cop by family and friends. He was a homicide detective with the city police. He was 42 years old and had been a detective for 8 years. He had made detective earlier than most others because he was smart but also had a great intuition into people and situations. He called them hunches and was correct most of the time. His Irish family would joke with him that he must be fey (an old Irish term for being psychic) but he didn’t believe in that (at least he wouldn’t admit it out loud to anyone but his wife).

Hey, Mary Kate, I hope I am not disturbing anything at this time of the morning? Tony says to his sister.

No, Tony, I just like to sleep at this time of night and I was having a great dream about me and Nick on a yacht anchored off Hawaii, Mary Kate said, stifling a yawn. What’s the matter? Did something happen with your wife or the kids?

No, sis, they are good but I need a favor from you. One of my detectives was just killed doing an undercover job and I need you to do the autopsy. You’re the only one I can trust with this case. He explained that his detective was working undercover on a drug case and he had received a tip that a drug deal was going down at an abandoned warehouse. However, the warehouse wasn’t abandoned. It turned out to be a trap set up by his informant.

Why me, Tony? Why not the police department coroner? Mary Kate asked, fully awake now and so was her husband.

I think there is a leak in the department, sis, and I want this autopsy done by someone I trust. This detective was a good friend of mine and I know he did everything by the book on this case so there should not have been this kind of a mistake. Mary Kate knew Tony must be really shaken by this. Rarely had he lost a fellow detective in the line of duty, but when he did, Tony was a mess. At 5’9 and 180 pounds, Tony was often mistaken as a former football player and could drink a little too much at times, but he was a softie underneath, especially when his family or his unit was involved.

Tony, have him brought to the back door of my lab. I will be there in less than 30 minutes. She filled in her husband on why Tony called as she dressed. Nick got out of bed and walked her to the garage where she parked and kissed her as she left. She felt so lucky with this handsome man who was her husband.

Now Mary Kate was tired. She had finished the preliminary autopsy and retrieved not one, but two bullets from Detective Flynn’s body. This was indeed a strange thing and now she understood her brother’s concern. The bullets didn’t even match each other. She was waiting on some other lab results as well as what type bullets she recovered. One bullet had entered the detective’s back and lodged in his heart. The second had entered through his lower right side went through his liver and travelled to his groin. Either one would have killed him. She looked up at the clock on the wall and saw that it was just past one o’clock and realized why she was tired and hungry. Almost on cue her husband walked into her office holding a bag from her favorite sandwich shop. She could smell a pastrami sandwich (her favorite) through the bag from across the room.

You are an answer to my prayers, Mary Kate said as she reached for the bag.

Me or the sandwich? her husband said with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye.

Both, she said as she unwrapped her sandwich and began to eat with gusto.

Professor Dominic Ponzini was of Sicilian descent. His parents had immigrated to New York shortly after their honeymoon. His father had been a bricklayer and his mother was seamstress who had a talent to be able to look at a garment and figure out a pattern and copy it. She had made many of the family’s clothes by hand from left over material that everyone thought were store bought. Nick was 40 years old, with auburn hair and was as tall as his wife though didn’t have her metabolism so he had to fight the battle of the bulge. His brown eyes could pierce any of his students tough exteriors but were sympathetic when they were in trouble.

Nick and Mary Kate had been set up on a blind date when Nick was starting graduate school and Mary Kate medical school. It was love at first sight and they were married less than a year later. Nick left graduate school and taught high school so Mary Kate could finish medical school first. He told her that his doctorate could always wait until she could be called doctor. It was one of the things she loved about him (along with his amazing good looks and gentle spirit)—his unselfish and loving heart. Their only unhappiness was their inability to conceive. They had tried almost everything and nothing happened. Their families and friends stopped asking but their parents never stopped praying for a miracle for them. In the meantime, they were their nieces’ and nephews’ favorite aunt and uncle.

Nick and Mary Kate had come to accept the situation though they didn’t talk about it either. Nick always made sure Mary Kate took care of herself and thus he knew she had probably not eaten since she left the house early that morning and knew she would be starving by now. It helped that they worked just minutes away from each other and he had a couple of hours between classes. The seminary administration liked Nick a lot because of how he got through to seminarians no one else could. He had also talked his brother-in-law, Fr. Mike to come teach a course each semester in archaeology and the early Christian community.

As they began to eat their belated lunch Mary Kate’s cell phone rang. Each of her family members had their own ringtone and she knew that it was her brother Mike calling since it was ringing The Bells of St. Mary. She still had a bite of her sandwich in her mouth when she answered with her familiar joke, Hello Your Eminence.

Mike laughed and replied with his own comeback, Hello Dr. Frankenstein. I hope that by your muffled answering that you haven’t fallen asleep in your job.

No I haven’t fallen asleep in one of the bodies though I could use a nap since I was awakened very early this morning by our brother the cop to take on a special autopsy. My wonderful husband stopped by with my favorite sandwich for a late lunch. He knew I had missed breakfast and didn’t want me to miss a second meal. What’s up with you? Shouldn’t you be grading final papers or teaching students or something like that about now?

Well, I am glad to hear that my favorite brother-in-law is taking care of you. So what has our brother involved you in now? You’re not working for the police department now, are you?

I haven’t gone to the dark side yet. One of the detectives Tony works with was killed in an ambush last night and he doesn’t trust the police department on this. He thinks his detective was set up and wanted someone he could trust to do the autopsy and retrieve any evidence. Apparently, Tony thinks this may become something that will be swept under the rug and he doesn’t want that to happen. And Nick is your only brother-in-law so far, Mary Kate said with a sad smile.

Their sister Bridget was the youngest of the O’Brien siblings and still single at age 30. It wasn’t from a lack of family and friends trying to play match maker for Bridget but none of the guys seem to be THE ONE for their sister. She was tall, lithe, athletic and with her blonde hair and blue eyes was a head turner wherever she went. She had full scholarship to New York City College and earned extra money as a model. She graduated cum laude with a degree in advertising and fashion. She had many offers from across the east coast and finally accepted one from a leading department store in the Boston area.

She was the youngest advertising executive for the company. She was currently seeing a wonderful man she worked with for the past few months (which had been her longest relationship since high school) who fit well in the family. They were expecting him to propose soon because it appeared he was really in love with Bridget.

To what do I owe the honor of your call, Mike? You rarely call me during the day when I am working. It must be important, Mary Kate said as she wiped her hands and crumpled up her empty sandwich wrapper.

It is, my dear sister. I just came from a meeting in Professor Green’s office with him and Father Kinnard.

You didn’t get fired, did you?

No, not yet. I am leaving Wednesday and flying to Jerusalem. There is an archaeological dig going on headed by Dr. Kurt Lingstorm. They uncovered something that he feels I may be able to help with since it involves a major church there and dates to the first century.

Do you know what exactly they uncovered? Mary Kate asked.

No. Professor Green and Fr. Thomas only had a few details about what was going on. It involves the Church of the Dormition of Mary and that some Cardinal in Rome was hot to get an expert there by Friday. No other details were given and it seems that I was specifically requested by both the cardinal and Dr. Lingstorm. At least, the Church is paying my way.

Do you know this Dr. Lingstorm, Mike?

Only by reputation, Mary Kate. He is top notch in the archaeology world and in his area of the Middle East but not with Christianity. A clicking noise came through on Mike’s cell phone and he checked and saw that it was an out of area call. I have another call coming in, sis. Can I call you right back?

Sure Mike. I’ll be waiting. As she hung up, Mary Kate filled her husband in on Mike’s call. Nicky smiled and said, Mike sure gets the lucky calls, doesn’t he? What a way to get out of grading finals. They both laughed because they both knew how much Nicky and Mike hated grading papers.

Mike looks at his cell phone and the number comes up as unknown. Hello, this is Fr. Mike O’Brien.

A deep voice with a slight accent Mike cannot figure out answers, Father O’Brien, this is Dr. Kurt Lingstorm. I hope that I am not taking you away from a class or something important.

No, Dr. Lingstorm, the timing is good. I was just talking with one of my sisters. I understand that you have a situation there needing some of my humble expertise.

You’ve already heard? News travel faster in the Church than I thought. I just talked to the Vatican contact in the United States a couple of hours ago. He gave me your contact information and told me to talk to you directly. And from what I know about you, your expertise is far from humble. I have followed your articles in some of the journals and think you would be the ideal help for the discovery here. But how do you know about it?

I just got out of a meeting with my department head and one of the regents of the university. They gave me a thumbnail sketch of what is going on and handed me my tickets. I leave Wednesday for Jerusalem. All I know is that you are working on a dig connected with the Dormition basilica. What’s happened that you need my help?

Well, Father O’Brien, the church was damaged by a bomb some years ago. Things don’t move too fast here because of the fighting and the government. The Benedictines have been trying to repair it. I was called in because in the midst of removing some of the debris a large room was uncovered that no one knew about and contained some first century artifacts. Yesterday we discovered another smaller room that was hidden behind a wall. It seems to be a burial chamber with Hebrew and Aramaic writing and some early Christian symbols. There are what appears to be three burial niches that are still sealed and don’t seem to have been disturbed in centuries. We don’t know if there are still bodies in the niches but we presume they are still there.

As Dr. Lingstorm talked, Mike was becoming slightly aroused by his voice. He knew what Lingstorm looked like from his pictures in a couple of journals and was the type of man he would be interested in. He was thankful he was sitting down behind his desk. When Mike heard about the discovery, he was even more glad to be sitting down. This was a shock to say the least. This kind of discovery had many questions and possibly some major ramifications for the Catholic Church. No wonder the hierarchy wanted an expert on early Christianity on site.

Fr. O’Brien, are you still there? Lingstorm asked when Mike didn’t respond.

Yes, I am. I was just taken back by what you said. There are going to be a lot of questions about this discovery and maybe some major ramifications for the Church. Is the room secured now? Have the niches been disturbed by any of the digging? Mike asked, not having any details of all that had happened with Lingstorm’s team.

The room is secured by my security team and the niches are still intact and the seals around the edges are still solid. It appears to be some kind of hard wax or sap that was used around the edges of the niches. As soon as I saw the writing and symbols I evacuated everyone from the room and had the room resealed as it had been. No one has reentered the room or disturbed anything.

What does the writing say? Can you translate it? What are the symbols? Mike asked, almost breathless with excitement about this discovery.

I tried to translate the Hebrew and Aramaic but some words were used that didn’t make sense to me, like it was a dialect of some kind. There were a couple of crosses and what looks like fish intertwined. I wasn’t in there for very long but I did snap a couple of pictures with my phone. I can send them to you if it would help. What I could translate from the Hebrew words I knew you would not believe me if I told you. That’s why you need to come. And please call me Kurt. I think we are going to be working quite closely together. When will you be arriving?

I will text you my flight information, Kurt. I should arrive early Thursday afternoon. Please send me those pictures. It will be good if I can have a head start with the translation. And please call me Mike.

Okay, Mike. I will personally pick you up at the airport and we can talk more on the way to the site.

Looking forward to meeting in person, Kurt. What a way for us to finally meet.

As both men hung up, they had a smile on their face and had to readjust their pants.

Mike called his sister back and told her about the call from Lingstorm. My God, Mike! This sounds like an archaeological find of the century. Does this Dr. Lingstorm know the condition of the bodies? Mary Kate asked her brother. The wheels in her head were spinning and wondering what she would give to be there when those niches were opened.

It’s more like the discovery of a millennium, sis. No he didn’t say what condition the bodies were. They don’t know if there are any bodies in the niches. They are still sealed and don’t appear to have been disturbed in centuries. Lingstorm said that as soon as he saw the writing in Hebrew and Aramaic and the early Christian symbols, he immediately had the room resealed and put under tight security. He is going to send me copies of the pictures he took. Can you imagine, with the desert air and an unbroken seal, what condition the bodies would be in? Mike said.

Mike, there is a good chance those bodies, if they are still in there, would be in almost pristine mummy condition. At least that is my understanding of what I have read in forensic journals about discoveries like this. But remember the Jews didn’t use embalming back then. So it could be anybody’s guess. Keep me posted, big brother. Wish I could be going with you to be there when they open those niches. They hung up and Mary Kate filled in her husband on what Mike had told her on the phone.

Mike is really walking into something big on this discovery for him and the Church. There are going to be some major questions and ramifications here, dear wife. I hope Mike and this Lingstorm don’t get shut down by the hierarchy on this before all their research is done, Nicky said as he stood up to leave to get back to the seminary.

"I hope so too, dear. But I have a feeling about this, Nicky, and I hope it won’t end up being big trouble for them. I think Mike’s life is going