As they walked to the car, Benicio said, “I’m exhausted. I think I’ll grab a cab and head to the hotel. The Vatican put me in the Holiday Inn Express. I need to get some sleep. It’s been a real whirlwind recently.”
“Listen,” Father McCallum said. “Why don’t you drop me off at my place and then keep the car. You’ll need it more than I will. That way I know you’ll stay in touch with me.”
Benicio smiled. “No, you don’t have to do that.”
“Really, I insist.”
Benicio nodded. “Okay.”
They headed for the older priest’s house. When they arrived, Father McCallum said, “Would you try and keep me in the loop?”
Benicio frowned. “Of course. Why do you ask?”
“Once you report and they find out the Voynich is gone, my usefulness might be at an end. I’ll be disappointed if I can’t follow this thing through. I’d like to help.”
Benicio knew Father McCallum was right: if the cdf saw no further use for the old man he’d be reassigned and forgotten. “If there’s any way I can swing it, I’ll make sure you stay involved. I won’t leave without saying goodbye.”
Father McCallum smiled broadly. “I was right about you. You’re a hard man to dislike.” He got out of the car and walked toward his house.
Benicio watched him walk around the house to the back before he put the car in gear and headed to his hotel.
Father McCallum hung his coat on a hook at the back door and walked through the kitchen. He went upstairs without calling a greeting to Evelyn and Fred. Then he remembered it was late Friday morning — they’d be out grocery shopping until after lunch.
He felt tired and sad. No, not sad — dejected. His energy completely drained.
He knew why. Father Valori would call the Vatican and report on the child. The church isn’t going to need me any longer. My job was to watch over the manuscript, and now it’s gone. I’m no good to them any more.
He tried to wash those thoughts from his mind. It was the exhaustion talking. He should just take a nap.
Ronald McCallum walked into his bedroom. He kicked his shoes off, sat heavily on the edge of the bed, and then dropped over sideways. He had to talk to someone.
The Most Reverend Thomas O’Regan, in the archdiocese of New Jersey.
The old priest thought of his dear friend, a respected figure in the Roman Catholic church. I’ll just call him up for a chat.
He sat, reached for the telephone, and dialed the number, thinking about what he would say. Thomas knew he worked at the Beinecke Library, but Father McCallum had been careful not to divulge the exact nature of his work. The cdf had insisted on secrecy even with other church members. It seemed too clandestine to Father McCallum, but a part of him enjoyed the top-secret feel of it.
“Office of the Archbishop.”
“Yes, could I speak with the archbishop please?”
“Who can I say is calling?”
“Ronald McCallum — an old friend.” This was true in every respect. Ronald and Thomas had attended seminary together years before and remained friends ever since.
“One moment.”
There was a pause and a clicking sound, then Thomas said, “Ronnie?”
It was good to hear his voice. “Hey Thomas. How are things?”
“Wonderful. Wonderful. What about you? Still guarding the books?”
He hesitated. “Yes. Still here.”
“Everything okay?”
Father McCallum heard concern in Thomas’ voice. Again he hesitated, then said, “Sure. I guess. Just reaching another milestone and feeling my age, I suppose.”
“What’s the milestone?”
“Well, I think that my job here at the library might be getting close to an end.”
“Why? What happened?”
The old priest weighed his words carefully. “I’m not sure. I really feel like I need to talk to someone. My world is getting turned upside down and I’ve never felt so disoriented, so disconnected.”
“Ronnie,” Thomas said, “why don’t I come visit you. I have some time in my schedule and could pop down there for the day.”
“No, no. I wouldn’t hear of it. I didn’t call to try and pull you away from your work. I just wanted to hear a friendly voice, I guess.”
“Can’t you tell me some of what’s going on? I might be able to help.”
“Well, the short version of the story is that I’ve been watching a certain manuscript for all the years I’ve been here.”
“Right.”
“No one has been able to make sense of the manuscript in fifty years, and then yesterday along comes a child who can easily read it.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“I thought so but I don’t know. The cdf sent someone to look into it and that person is reporting to the Vatican right now. I think the cdf is going to take things over. I’m worried I’m going to be out.”
“What was the manuscript?” Thomas asked.
Father McCallum bit his bottom lip. “Um, I’m not sure I — maybe I’d better not say.”
Thomas didn’t comment.
“I think it’s better if I don’t give any specifics.”
Thomas still didn’t speak.
“Hello? Thomas? You there?”
Still nothing.
“Hello?” the old priest repeated.
The line clicked again, and Ronnie McCallum heard a distant hum of static. He was about to hang up when a heavily accented voice spoke softly. “Your betrayal is noted.”
Then the line went dead.